Sandcastles Under the Christmas Moon (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 9)

by McKeehan, Vickie

  “Maybe we should name it after Gram,” Beckham suggested. “If she hadn’t gotten sick, we might not be talking about it.”

  Quentin exchanged looks with Charlotte. “That’s an idea. How do you feel about that?”

  “No need to make a fuss on my account. Douglas owned that ugly building for decades. I don’t much care what you call it as long as that eyesore gets a makeover. If it can be of use as a worthwhile part of the town so much the better.” As if changing the subject, she fluffed her hair that had been coiffed in a stylish cut, and went on, “And speaking of makeovers, Abby did a fine job on my hair and makeup, don’t you think?” Charlotte held out a manicured hand. “She even did my nails. After spending such a long time in bed, I feel as though I’ve been given a new lease on life.”

  The talk turned to Abby’s talents and more jovial subjects like Christmas.

  “With money coming in, Faye and I will be in much better shape this year than last,” Andy admitted.

  Beckham bobbed his head in understanding. “Why do you think I’m so excited about working at the tree lot? Shelby is paying me ten dollars an hour. That’s twenty dollars a day after school and eighty dollars a day on the weekends. With that kind of money Gram and I will be able to have a good Christmas.”

  Sydney chimed in, “Maybe we should go around the table and see what everyone wants to find under their tree this year.”

  Stone turned to Winona, clasped her hand. “I’ll go first. As long as I’m with this woman here, I have everything I need and everything I ever wanted.”

  Quentin grinned. “A sentiment you’ve used every year since I’ve known you, mainly to get out of unwrapping another pair of socks.”

  “Well, I for one, could use another pair of socks,” Stone said with a wink.

  “Me too,” Beckham said.

  “I think I want a new bicycle.” Charlotte announced. “I could ride up and down Ocean Street feeling the wind on my face. I used to do that you know.”

  Beckham nodded. “That too. What do you want, Faye?”

  “Hmm, I’d like it if we could have a tree this year. Last year we didn’t have one.”

  “Neither did we,” Beckham returned. “But things are looking up for everybody. What do you want, Quentin?”

  The doctor looked around the table at all the faces. “I think maybe I have it all right here. Good friends, family. What more could I ask for?” And a new woman in his life, he thought. “How about you, Syd?”

  “I want my mom and stepdad to come for a visit. What about you, Winona?”

  Winona had already made her wish. From the looks that Sydney and Quentin kept sending each other, it seemed she was on the right track there. But instead of divulging her fervent hope, she went with something lighthearted. “I’ll settle for a refresher course on how to grow orchids. Mine always turn brown before they blossom.” She turned to Andy. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be happy if that job lasts till next spring and I don’t break another bone.”

  Quentin raised his glass again. “Here’s to everyone getting what they want.”

  After filling up on an assortment of pies, the entire group pitched in to help with the cleaning chore.

  Faye and Andy left shortly after the dishwasher kicked into gear. And a tired Beckham and Buckley headed off to bed.

  That left the adults to mull over how the day had gone while sipping cognac in the library.

  “I hope you aren’t in too much trouble with your sister,” Quentin said to Sydney.

  “Don’t worry about it. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t spend Thanksgiving last year with her and Ethan either. I was invited, but they went to Santa Cruz to spend the day with Marcus and Lindeen. I felt like doing something else so I spent the day exploring the area, getting to know my new town. Then I went back to my little house and watched Christmas movies until I fell asleep.”

  “That doesn’t sound very exciting.”

  “I didn’t need it to be,” Sydney explained. “I love the slow pace here.” Looking around the study, she went on, “But this house is nothing like mine. This one has a perfect view to hold a gathering like we just had today. So much elbow room and atmosphere.”

  “It’s definitely seen its share of get-togethers,” Charlotte stated. “I remember one time there were at least two hundred people crammed in here for New Year’s Eve.”

  “How do you know that?” Sydney asked.

  “Oh, this isn’t the first time I’ve been in this house,” Charlotte explained, sipping her brandy. “Douglas used to throw the most amazing parties.”

  Quentin stared at Charlotte. “You knew Douglas?”

  “Everyone knew Douglas. The man was well-versed, well-traveled. He could tell stories about Ireland or Scotland as if you were right there in the room with him. I remember this one time he went on about a countess on some cruise ship who wouldn’t leave him alone.”

  “I guess she didn’t know he was gay,” Quentin said.

  “Gay? Douglas?” Laughter streamed out of Charlotte until she started coughing. Sweat broke out on her brow.

  Quentin handed her a glass of water.

  After drinking a few sips, she set the crystal down. “I’m curious. Where did you get the notion that Douglas was gay?”

  “From my mother, his sister, she always said her brother led a secretive life, distancing himself from his family, never wanting to have much to do with them. He never married and was very private about sharing anything of a personal nature. I guess…she assumed…that equated to a secret about his sexuality? Was my mother wrong? Because I also mentioned the gay thing in passing to Jack Prescott, who knew him well since his college days. If Douglas wasn’t gay, wouldn’t Jack have taken the opportunity to clear up the misconception then and there? Jack didn’t deny it.”

  Charlotte dabbed at her forehead with a handkerchief and picked up her water again. “It isn’t true. Douglas wasn’t gay. At least he wasn’t with me.”

  It was Sydney’s turn to stare. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? You and Douglas were an item?”

  Charlotte’s lips parted with a wry smile. “He was such a dear sweet man to me. It was during that time right after Beckham’s father died that he knocked on my door one day to ask how things were going. I needed someone to talk to and Douglas fit the bill. Once he found out we were having trouble making ends meet, he offered me a job as his housekeeper. I took it because I could bring Beckham to work with me when he wasn’t in school. During my time with him the two of us became…friends…quite close. I fixed all his favorite meals. He listened to my worries. And it worked out fine for both of us until one day last February I came to work and discovered he’d died in his sleep. Just like that my friend was gone. Imagine my horror. From there, things went downhill for me too, and for Beckham. A woman my age has little hope of finding another job like the one I had. And then I started getting sick. I was barely able to get up and go to the bathroom much less get up and go to work.”

  Quentin scratched his chin. “But you didn’t say a thing to anyone last night.”

  “I didn’t know you were related to Douglas until Winona mentioned it while we were in the middle of preparing dinner. How would I know that? And the other night I wasn’t sure what to say when you put me in the car and drove Beckham and me here to spend the night. I wasn’t sure what was going on. It’s not a big deal. Although coming back here does bring up a lot of memories for me.”

  “Good ones, we hope,” Winona tendered.

  “Absolutely. Douglas hosted some of the best Christmas parties right here. He’d open his home to the town every year for a big shindig. Other times, he’d even make up an excuse to invite people over.”

  Winona’s eyes lit up. She aimed her gray orbs at Quentin. “We could do that.”

  “Nonnie, you know I’m way too busy for that kind of planning and preparation.”

  “Then Stone and I will do it for you, with Charlotte’s help of course.”<
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  Charlotte grew misty-eyed. “Plan a party? Oh, I’d love it.”

  Quentin leaned over to Sydney. “What do you say we sneak out of here? Leave them to their game plan.”

  “And go where?”

  “You said the best thing about this place was the view. Let’s go take advantage of it. How about a bonfire on the beach?”

  Twenty-Three

  They found the ribbon of beach wasn’t deserted. They spotted Beckham huddled against a rock with a flashlight and a book.

  “What are you reading?” Sydney wanted to know.

  “Drawing From Memory,” Beckham said, sending Quentin a sheepish look before admitting to Sydney, “Quentin suggested I read it. It’s about an artist, the autobiography of Allen Say, whose dad didn’t understand him at all while he was growing up or what he wanted to do in life. I thought it’d be boring…but it’s not.”

  “Glad you’re enjoying it. Why didn’t you make a fire?” Quentin asked. “It’s chilly out here. And it’s always better to read when you’re cozy and warm than cold. Am I right, Sydney?”

  “You bet. That’s my favorite way to read a romance novel, huddled up in my afghan in front of the fire.”

  “I don’t know how to build a fire,” Beckham admitted.

  “Come on. We’ll fix that.” Quentin turned to Sydney. “Take a seat while we gather some wood.”

  “It’s too cold to sit,” she pointed out, bouncing on her toes. “I’d rather keep moving. Besides, with three of us it’ll go faster.”

  The trio set off in search of suitable branches or whatever else might make a good fire. They found pitcher sage and dry maple leaves to use for tinder and enough scrub oak and pinyon to make a decent start.

  Quentin showed Beckham how to stack the larger pieces of wood, then took out a Swiss army knife he’d carried since his boy scout days. He trimmed the oak and pinyon down to sticks, and then the sticks to smaller shavings. He crumbled the shavings into the pit they’d formed and took out a book of matches he’d grabbed from the kitchen.

  “Let me do it,” Beckham offered.

  Sydney sat back to watch the two light the fire. She watched as it started to smoke and little sparks float up into the night sky.

  “That’s perfect,” she called out.

  A foghorn sounded somewhere off the coast in the distance.

  “That’s a lonely sound,” Beckham remarked.

  “Your grandmother tells us you’ve been coming to this house a lot. You must’ve hung out here before.”

  “Yeah. It’s a nice place to come and think.”

  “About what?” Quentin prodded.

  “About how things might’ve been a lot different if my dad hadn’t gone to L.A. that day.”

  Quentin stretched out his legs and got comfortable. “Fate. Destiny. It’s caused me to think that way about the night my own dad died. For the longest time I blamed myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he always worked so hard to help everyone else, to keep my mother happy, and me fed and well cared for. It just seems if he hadn’t gone out that night to take care of the business side of things, he might’ve lived a long life.”

  “That’s it exactly,” Beckham said in agreement. “If things had gone better here and he’d been able to find a job in town, he wouldn’t have gone off to L.A. He might still be alive.”

  “Whoa, guys,” Sydney cautioned. “You can’t change the past. What’s the point of dwelling on what might’ve been? You guys are right here, right now, right where you need to be. You should make the most of it. I know that because I’m happier here than I’ve ever been before. I believe with absolute certainty that I’m here because this is where I belong.”

  “But have you ever lost anyone?” Beckham queried.

  “My father. He died when I was in high school, dropped dead while teaching his class.”

  Quentin turned to stare at her. “I didn’t know that. Do you know what this means?”

  “I think I do,” Sydney said. “All three of us lost our dads. Beckham lost his at the youngest age.”

  “What difference does it make?” Beckham lamented. “My dad’s still gone.”

  Quentin looked out into the night sky. “I think what Sydney’s trying to say is, look at the two of us. We lost our fathers and for a while we went to a dark place. But we survived, we overcame that bleak time in our lives and you will too. Don’t give up on yourself. Don’t go to that dark place and stay there.”

  “Promise me that one thing, Beckham,” Sydney stated with some vigor. “You have us to rely on. We’ll be there for you.”

  “When do I get to be part of the Miwok tribe like Stone said?”

  Quentin grinned. “Saturday night. All ceremonial inductions happen then.”

  Twenty-Four

  With Thanksgiving behind them, it didn’t take long for people to move into a Christmassy mood.

  Beckham spent most of Friday working at the tree lot. Sometime between Wednesday afternoon and Friday morning, Caleb and Cooper had put up a tent where all the high-dollar, flocked trees were housed.

  To get the right mix of flocking, not too heavy, not too light, they’d used an old Jennings family recipe—soap shavings and corn starch. The balance worked. The Fraser firs and balsam pines were sprinkled all over to give them a snow-kissed look.

  Beckham’s first job that morning was to tag and price this premier collection. He was in the middle of the project when Shelby stepped into the tent carrying a cup of steaming hot chocolate.

  “This is for you.”

  “Me? Thanks.”

  “How was your Thanksgiving?”

  Beckham didn’t need much prompting. He went into the day’s activities until he realized he was becoming a motor-mouth. “How about yours?”

  “We had a lovely dinner until Cooper and Caleb had to go back to work.”

  “Setting up the tent to flock the trees, I’ll bet. They got all this done in a day and a half?”

  “Wouldn’t have taken that long if Landon hadn’t been sidelined. This is our busiest time of year. Since you’re new to retail, I’ll give you a quick rundown on what to expect. We don’t just sell trees here. We have all kinds of seasonal flowers. You’ll find that most of our customers will already have in mind what they want. But a few will be indecisive, even forgetful and in a rush. Always ask those people if they need anything else to go with their Christmas tree. We sell live wreaths, ornaments, mistletoe, flowers, all kinds of decorative things for the house. You don’t have to push these, but I’d like you to gently remind each customer that they might want to add a poinsettia or an amaryllis to their order.”

  “I get it. Once they’re here you want to sell them as much as you can.”

  Shelby winked knowingly. “That’s exactly right. You catch on quick. If you have any questions, anything at all, hunt up Caleb or me. Caleb’s working in the loading area until noon. I’ll be behind the cash register. There’s no need to get anxious about anything when we get busy. And we will get overrun with customers. So have a little fun with it. Okay?”

  “I’ll try.”

  His first customers of the day turned out to be a family of four. Nick and Jordan Harris had brought along their two kids. Beckham got a kick out of watching Hutton and Scott dart up and down the rows of spruce and fir. Occasionally the kids would stop and point to the tree they wanted, oftentimes begging for this or that. But the parents held firm and didn’t have a problem saying no.

  Jordan knew what she wanted. “I need one for my large front room so it has to be at least eight feet tall, minimum.” She cut her eyes over toward a nice blue spruce. “And then we need one for the upstairs, not as tall but definitely wide at the bottom to hold lots of ornaments. What about this one?”

  Beckham shook his head. “I’ve got a better one than that.” He led them through a maze of Douglas fir that just kept getting taller and taller. “This is my favorite. It measures nine feet. See how thick it is. And feel how so
ft the branches are. It hasn’t dried out yet, not one bit. This sucker will hold a ton of ornaments. Trust me, I’m holding one just like this for Quentin’s grandmother. She doesn’t know it yet.”

  “This is perfect. Could you load it on top of the car for us?”

  “No problem.”

  As soon as he finished securing the tree to the roof, Jordan handed him a twenty-dollar bill as a tip. “This is for you.”

  “That’s way too much.”

  She closed her hand over his. “No it isn’t. Now hush. Besides, it’s the season of giving. You see to it that Caleb keeps his promise and delivers my other tree for the upstairs later today and that dozen poinsettias I bought. You remind him so he doesn’t forget, okay?”

  “Sure thing. Thanks, Mrs. Harris. Thanks.”

  It seemed like half the town was in the market for their tree. That’s pretty much how he spent the rest of the day, wrestling with too-big trees that had clunky branches. The customers either wanted them tied to the roof or insisted on cramming them into tight, narrow confines of an economy-sized car.

  He got better at it as the day wore on, careful not to break off too many tender pine needles that might make the customers unhappy with their purchases.

  And he did as Shelby had directed. He steered as many customers as he could inside to peruse the aisles for containers that held seasonal flowers and a wall of decorations.

  At the close of business Beckham went to find Caleb. He found him in the huge greenhouse fussing with a sick winter jasmine.

  “I’d like to buy one of those four-foot noble firs you have. Is it okay if you take it out of my pay?”

  “Sure. Don’t forget you get a twenty-five percent employee discount. And if it’s for your grandmother—”

  “It’s not for Gram. I’m buying it for a girl that goes to my school. She lives over on Cape May. She and her brother are having about as tough a time as me and gram are having. I don’t think they have much extra money for a tree this year. And Mrs. Harris reminded me that this is the season of giving. I thought, you know, Faye’s always been nice to me on the bus, I should do something nice for her in return.”