A woman in a floppy hat and a red sundress decorated with snowflakes approached the booth and picked up one of the vases, turning it this way and that.
Helene held up a finger to Maria. “Can I help you, hon?” she asked the potential customer.
“I can wait until you’re finished,” the woman said.
“I’ve taken up enough of your time,” Maria told Helene. “Thanks for looking at the photo.”
“No, thank you for what you’re doing for my sweet girl,” she replied. “Kayla wears her heart on her sleeve, you know. This job with her uncle Carl means a lot to her. She’ll be crushed if it doesn’t work out.”
“Then I hope my advice helps.” Maria liked Helene Fryburger. A lot. The woman obviously had her daughter’s best interests at heart. “I’ll let you take care of your customer. Nice meeting you.”
Maria showed the age progression to a few other merchants who didn’t recognize Mike, then went in search of Logan. She found him within minutes, looking through landscape paintings of the Florida Keys at an artist’s booth.
“Hey,” she called as she approached him. “Any success?”
“None,” he said. “How about you? Was Kayla’s mom any help?”
“No.” Maria indicated the vendors to the left of them, one who sold homemade soap and another peddling straw baskets. “If you hit those booths, we got everybody.”
“I did,” he said.
She swallowed her frustration and gestured at the paintings he’d been looking through. “See anything you like?”
He flipped to a rendering of a typical Key West house surrounded by lush vegetation, the pastel-blue siding contrasting with the green of the palms and the red flowering trees. “I like the juxtaposition of the colors in this one.”
“It’s nice.” Maria angled her head, taking a closer look at the painting. “You’re way more talented than whoever painted it, though.”
“A matter of opinion.”
She shook her head. “It’s a fact. You have a gift. I don’t understand how you could have given it up, especially because you were so passionate about painting.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Logan muttered under his breath.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Forget it.” He turned away from the booth and began walking through the crowd.
Maria hurried to catch up. “I’d rather not forget it. I’d really like to know what you meant by that.”
He slowed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “C’mon, Maria. Today couldn’t have been easy on you. We don’t need to talk about this. There’s no point.”
“Why not?” She knew she was belaboring the point but couldn’t stop herself. “I only stated the obvious. I can’t understand how you could love something so much and just give it up.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. It occurred to her that her words had a double meaning. Once upon a time, back in the days when she’d believed in happily ever after, Logan had claimed to love her, too.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” His voice was tight. “I only gave up on painting. You gave up on me.”
Before Maria could form a reply, cries of delight split the air. All around them people pointed at the horizon, where the sun was dipping in a sky that glowed red, yellow and orange. Camera shutters whirred, street performers suspended their acts and people jostled for better positions. Two girls about nine or ten years old held hands, jumping up and down in delight.
“The show’s on,” Logan said.
He walked to a less crowded area, staking out a spot with an unobstructed view. Maria stared after him, dumbfounded by what he’d said, as the crowd oohed and aahed at the sun’s fiery descent.
Questions filled her head, paramount among them how Logan could have such a skewed view of the past. She wouldn’t ask any of them, though. Logan had been right.
There was no point in discussing it. What was done was done.
* * *
KAYLA CHECKED THE VIDEO stream on her smartphone and assured herself Santa was untouched before filling her lungs with jasmine-scented air.
Giving silent thanks for the technology that rescued her from doing surveillance work sitting in a car, she smoothed down her flirty red skirt and tried not to notice that her hands were shaking.
Since she could check in on Santa every ten or fifteen minutes, she hadn’t allowed her big case to wreck this long-awaited chance with Alex. She wouldn’t let her nerves derail her, either. Instead of acting like the schoolgirl he’d initially thought she was, she’d be adult and sophisticated.
Holding her chin high and lifting her lips in a smile she hoped was serene, she glided into Estrada’s Pub.
A young man at the door thrust out a Santa Claus hat similar to the one he was wearing. “You can’t get in tonight without one of these.”
Kayla’s hand flew to the hair she’d spent thirty minutes styling so it fell just so. “You’re kidding me. I really have to put that on?”
The bouncer picked up a white bit of fluff that looked like it was made from cotton balls. “It’s either the hat or the clip-on beard.”
Kayla put on the hat and stepped into the bar. Paralysis hit her hard. People in Santa hats and beards laughed, talked and hoisted mugs of beer and assorted drinks. Dartboards lined a wall in the back. Strung above them was a banner that read First Annual Christmas Mixed Doubles Dart Tournament. Multicolored Christmas lights twinkled from every fixture, adding to the assault on the senses.
She ventured forward on her high-heeled sandals.
“Kayla!” Alex beckoned to her, breaking away from a knot of people and meeting her halfway. He wore a grin and a Santa hat similar to hers yet still looked so handsome she had a hard time catching her breath. “Glad you could make it.”
He touched her arm, making her think of the other places she’d like him to touch. She almost groaned at the thought. Think adult and sophisticated, she warned herself.
“My pleasure,” she said.
Ugh! Had she really said that? With that snooty intonation?
“No, it’s mine.” Alex raised his voice a little to be heard over a jukebox that was playing a corny Christmas song with barking dogs. “Something came up and my partner couldn’t make it. Can you fill in?”
Uh-oh. She shouldn’t have told him she knew how to play darts.
“Is that allowed?” she hedged. “Don’t tournaments make you preregister or something?”
“This tournament’s for fun,” he said. “Nobody will mind if you step in. Come on.”
The hope on his face decided her. That, and the chance to spend time with him. After all, how hard could darts be?
“I’m in,” she said.
“Terrific.” He took her hand and led her to a group of men and women roughly his age. She didn’t know any of them. “Everybody, this is Kayla, my new partner.”
“Alex always picks quality partners.” The comment came from an exotic-looking woman with slanted cheekbones, short dark hair and a willowy build. “She must be a ringer.”
A ringer? Kayla would be lucky if she could hit any of the rings on the dartboard.
“You can keep up with her, querida.” A handsome man with dark hair, olive skin and a Spanish accent slung an arm around the woman. To the group, he said, “Nalani looked great in warm-ups.”
“Do I get some practice throws?” Kayla asked Alex.
“’fraid not.” He indicated the area with the ad
jacent dartboards. Two couples had already started squaring off against each other. “We’re starting. It’s 501, by the way, not cricket.”
The only cricket Kayla knew of was the English game played with bats and balls. She had a better handle on 501.
“That’s the game where the first team to reach 501 points wins, right?” she asked.
“Not quite,” he said slowly. “The objective is to count down from 501 points to zero.”
Kayla thumped her forehead. “Of course. The principle’s the same, though. Aim for the 20s and the 19s.”
“And the triple line,” Alex added.
There was a triple line?
“We’re up next, against Jorge and Nalani,” he said, “but I’ve got time to get you a drink. What would you like?”
“Tonic water, please,” Kayla said. “With lime.”
“Not gin?”
“I don’t drink,” she said. “I’m silly enough as it is.”
He laughed. While he was gone, Kayla moved away from his friends to a quiet corner where she could check her smartphone. As expected, Santa was unscathed. Somebody would have to be awfully bold to pull off another prank at this relatively early hour of the night when lots of people were in the street.
She slipped the phone back into the deep pocket of her skirt and watched the side-by-side games. The teams took turns, with each contestant throwing three darts per visit at the board. She couldn’t figure out all the rules, though. She sidled up to Nalani. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a question.”
“Not at all,” Nalani said with a friendly smile. Her speech had a musical quality.
“What does going bust mean?”
“The last dart you throw needs to hit the bull’s-eye or a double segment,” she said. “If it doesn’t, or if you don’t end on a double, it’s a bust.”
“Duh! Of course!” Kayla said. “Thanks for the refresher.”
Nalani smiled. “I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Bars aren’t really my scene.”
“So Vanessa doesn’t have anything to worry about?” Nalani asked.
Kayla thought the name sounded elegant, as if it belonged to a woman of great beauty and poise. “Who’s Vanessa?”
“Alex’s regular partner.” It seemed to Kayla that Nalani put extra emphasis on the word partner. Did that mean Vanessa was also Alex’s girlfriend?
He returned with her drink a few moments later and stood beside her as the other teams finished up their games. And then it was their turn at the dartboard. Alex and Jorge squared off to determine which team would start, with Alex’s bull’s-eye beating Jorge’s throw.
“Ladies first,” Alex told her, sweeping his hand out with a flourish.
Kayla fought the urge to wipe her damp palms on her skirt. Drawing in a deep breath, she gathered the three darts in her left hand and stepped up to the line. Now what? One of the previous competitors had flicked her wrist back and forth four or five times before letting the dart fly. That seemed like a good idea.
Kayla went into the motion and sent the dart airborne. It hit the outer portion of the board. A four. Kayla forced herself to smile and looked at Alex over her shoulder.
“Just warming up,” she told him.
Her next toss landed on a two. The third throw missed the board entirely. Nothing was left to do but take the walk of shame back to Alex’s side while Nalani started her turn.
“Now you know I’m a fraud,” Kayla said. “I can’t play at all.”
“Sure you can play,” he said. “You hit the board twice.”
“I only got six points!”
“Better than zero.” He winked at her and waited for his turn, where he racked up ninety-nine points. He didn’t strut when he rejoined Kayla, probably because a high score was nothing unusual for him.
“You’re really good at this, huh?” she asked.
Nalani turned around and called, “He’s really good at it.”
“Now I feel worse,” Kayla admitted.
“Then cut it out,” he said. “I like to win as much as the next guy, but the fun is in playing. If not for you, I wouldn’t have a partner.”
“Because your girlfriend, Vanessa, couldn’t make it?”
One of his eyebrows lifted. “My girlfriend? Vanessa and I only hook up at darts.”
“Oh,” Kayla said. Now she had something else to feel embarrassed over.
“You’re up next, Kayla,” Jorge called.
“My partner’s a bit inexperienced,” Alex told his friends. “Mind if I give her a few pointers?”
“We would if we were losing,” Jorge said. “But since we’re up, go right ahead.”
They approached the dartboard together, with Alex standing close enough behind her that she could feel his breath. Her heart drummed, her legs felt rubbery and she thought she might hyperventilate. He took gentle hold of her forearm.
“Align your shoulder, elbow and hand to point at the board in a straight line,” he said, his mouth close to her ear. “Yeah, that’s right. Now keep the dart level and throw it with the same motion you would a hammer. Got it?”
She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded. The instant she did, he released her. She felt strangely bereft.
“Now let that dart fly,” he said.
She concentrated on what he’d told her, this time hitting the ten, the twelve and the fourteen. Her contribution wasn’t nearly enough even though Alex was the best player in their foursome. Jorge and Nalani prevailed and advanced to the next round.
Alex snagged a table for two near the action, pulling out a chair for Kayla. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had done that.
She sat down. Across from her, Alex looked darkly handsome. “I’m sorry I wrecked your chances to do well in the tournament.”
“Forget about that,” he said. “I’m glad you could come at all. I thought you might be tied up on surveillance.”
“I have to leave at ten o’clock,” she said. “I’m pulling another all-nighter.”
“I might stop by later tonight to say hello, then.”
“Oh, I won’t be in my car,” Kayla said. “I’ll be watching Santa from the comfort of my own home.”
His nose scrunched up. “How will you do that?”
“I’ll show you.” She reached into her skirt pocket, pulled out her smartphone and went to the video stream of Santa. “It’s really cool. We installed a wireless security camera in the souvenir shop across the street from the statue.”
“We? I thought you were a solo operator.”
“I’ve got a—” Kayla hesitated, thinking about how to word it “—a consultant who knows about these things. Once we connected the camera to a router, we could access the feed. Voilà! Twenty-four-hour surveillance.”
“That’s why you keep looking at your phone,” he said.
She nodded. “I check Santa every ten or fifteen minutes. It seems pretty unlikely anything will happen while the night’s still young, though.”
“What if it does?” he asked. “Won’t you miss it?”
“I’m staying up all night, but the camera has a recorder and a rewind button. Even if I don’t see the guy in the act, I’ll have him on tape.”
Alex took a long pull of beer. “As long as the newspaper doesn’t get any more embarrassing photos, sounds good to me.”
“About that.” Kayla took a deep breath. “There’s something I should tell you. The Sun almost got a shot like tha
t this morning.”
She told him about waking up to find that somebody had marked up Santa and how she’d rushed to a nearby drugstore for toothpaste and baking soda and wiped Santa clean. As she was walking away, she’d noticed a photographer wearing a Key West Sun T-shirt approaching the statue. She hadn’t stuck around to talk to him.
“That was lucky,” Alex said.
“You’re telling me. The thing is, it was really early in the morning. Before seven. Who’d expect a photographer to be on the scene so fast?”
“Maybe the photographers make a habit of driving by Santa just in case they can get another good photo,” Alex suggested.
“Possibly. But not that early in the morning. I think somebody tipped him off.” Kayla wondered why this line of thought hadn’t occurred to her before. “That could be how he got the photo of Zombie Santa, too.”
“Could be,” Alex said.
Kayla didn’t agree. She thought it was likely. She’d even go so far as to say it was probable. She’d find out tomorrow when she paid the Sun photo department a visit.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LOGAN STRAIGHTENED FROM the wall where he’d been leaning, watching Maria leave the latest in a seemingly endless stream of bar managers who booked live talent. She headed Logan’s way, weaving through the crowd.
She met his gaze and gave a quick shake of her head. This guy had never seen Mike before, either.
Unlike most of the other women in the bar, she wore neither red nor green. In a pale blue summer dress and with her long hair swaying slightly, she was the picture of tired elegance. Her shoulders sloped, the corners of her mouth sagged and putting one foot in front of the other seemed to be a chore.
Enough was enough, Logan thought. He closed the gap between them and took her gently by the arm.
“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested.
He expected an argument, but she nodded and let him guide her from the bar. After leaving the sunset celebration, they’d spent the evening walking from one establishment to the next, operating on her theory that Mike might be making some money playing the guitar.
Wish Upon a Christmas Star Page 12
