The Edge of Paradise: Christmas Key Book Three

by Stephanie Taylor

  “Right. Two women who are married,” Bridget says flatly. “I almost don’t even care about that anymore.” She’s on a roll now, picking up steam. “But I grew up in a small town, and I’m feeling kind of freaked out right now.”

  “By what?” Holly is beyond stunned, and there’s no way to hide it.

  “These people who are moving here.” Bridget takes a couple of dramatic steps across the pool deck like she’s trying to hit her mark on a film set. “Come on, Holly. They’re black,” she says in a stage whisper.

  Holly stumbles—she actually takes two steps back and trips over her own heels like she’s been socked in the jaw—and catches herself by grabbing onto a pool chair. “What?” she says hoarsely. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I’m not kidding, I’m being honest with you. I know you’ve lived in this bubble of paradise your whole life,” Bridget says, gesturing at the palm trees and sky around them, “but some of us come from a world of reality, Holly.” Her voice has gone from the sweet, practiced lilt she normally uses to a flat, harsh tone that doesn’t match her pretty face.

  The taste of acid burns Holly’s throat as she feels the thickening sensation that comes before vomit. She grips the metal of the pool chair tightly with one hand, keeping her distance from Bridget.

  “Come on. Don’t act like the thought hasn’t crossed your mind,” Bridget says with disdain.

  But it hasn’t. The thought that they’ll have children on the island has crossed her mind. The notion that newcomers will always change the make-up and the interpersonal relationships of the population has crossed her mind. But the race of their new neighbors hasn’t warranted more than a passing awareness. A sharp pain creases Holly’s stomach and she holds onto the chair for support.

  “I’ve got bigger things to think about now,” Bridget says with a toss of her head. She places one open palm on her stomach. “If Fiona can confirm for me what I think is true, then I need to worry about the future for me and Jake and for—” she pats her belly, “well, for everyone else.” A beatific smile melts the ugly look on Bridget’s face.

  The world shrinks in Holly’s line of vision, and the ground feels unfixed beneath her feet. She watches as Bridget turns again and leaves. The gate clangs with her exit, and Holly sinks to the chair. She focuses on the ripples in the turquoise water in front of her, fighting back the waves of nausea.

  Like a tsunami rushing the shore, Bridget had just confirmed for her in one fell swoop what she’s been feeling all along: beneath the sweet, curious demeanor of Jake’s new girlfriend is a person who Holly can’t—and won’t ever—like. This flip from the dingy girl who doesn’t know what scurvy is to a blonde bigot in a miniskirt has left Holly reeling. Racism and ugliness have no place on her island, and neither does Bridget. But if what she’s hinting at is true and a visit to Fiona confirms that she’s carrying Baby Zavaroni, is there any way Holly can get rid of her?

  She lays back on the pool chair and stares at the blue sky overhead with blank eyes, wishing she could get far, far away from this mess. What would her grandparents have done in this situation? Surely not have stood by and waited for hate to infect their island—and neither will she. Holly watches as a plane the size of a fruit fly crosses through their airspace.

  Chapter 14

  The village council meeting is short and to the point. Half a dozen villagers lodge formal complaints about unscreened visitors coming to Christmas Key, with accusations of prowlers and Peeping Toms leading the charge against large groups of tourists.

  Holly debates the concerns with vigor, even putting herself up as an example of someone who should be afraid of prowlers (given the fact that she’d found a man rustling around in her bushes after dark) but isn’t fearful of progress and the challenges it might bring. It feels like old news to her as she stands at the podium looking out at the faces of her neighbors, and a sense of weariness overcomes her. The only thing keeping her from dropping the pink marble gavel and walking out is the knowledge that a solid majority have moved beyond their initial concerns and are actively supportive of having people visit Christmas Key.

  “Listen,” Cap says, standing up. “May I speak, Mayor?”

  Holly nods and leans on the podium with both elbows, fingers laced together as she waits for whatever Cap has to say. It hasn’t been long since he’d actively spoken out against the reality show crew being on the island, so she’s curious about what he might add to the conversation now, just a few months later.

  “The pirates were a rowdy bunch, but no real harm’s come of their visit,” Cap says in placating tones.

  “Is it you plugging the damn holes they drilled all over this island?” Maria Agnelli pipes up. “And did you hear they paraded around Snowflake Banks with their willies out and scared poor Holly half to death?”

  Holly blushes; she didn’t know that word of that incident had spread beyond her and Bonnie, but she isn’t shocked—news travels like a virus around the small island.

  “Well, it isn’t like she hasn’t seen a willy or two in her day,” says Hal Pillory, standing slowly on creaky knees to address the crowd without invitation. “But those pirates certainly did a number on my yard.”

  “Oh, your yard again,” Mrs. Agnelli rolls her eyes with disgust. “I’m less concerned about your damn lawn than I am about you making accusations about how many naked men Holly’s seen.”

  The lightheaded feeling that rushes through Holly feels like the response she’d had to being in Fiona’s office with a bandaged pirate. It also feels a little like the revulsion she’d felt that very morning when Bridget had talked to her on the pool deck. She clears her throat.

  “We seem to have lost the plot here,” she says into her microphone, hoping to calm everyone down and turn the subject away from her experiences with the male anatomy. “Thank you for your input, but I’ve recovered from both the surprise visitor on my property, and the accidental peep show I got at Snowflake Banks.”

  Hal and Cap sit down again, and Mrs. Agnelli clenches her jaw tightly, frowning at both men.

  “I think if we look at this as another experiment, we can all agree that having people visit us adds a certain flavor to our lives that’s lacking when we don’t invite tourists to Christmas Key.”

  Without meaning to, Holly’s eyes go to Bridget; she’s sitting next to Jake, her hand resting on his thigh. There’s an impassive look on Bridget’s face that reveals nothing.

  “And along these lines, I’d like to announce that we have a new full-time family joining us on the island. Calista and Vance Guy will be here next week with their twin boys, living in the pink house on White Christmas Way,” she says, keeping Bridget’s face in her peripheral vision.

  “How old are the kids?” Hal Pillory asks, putting a finger in the air like he’s trying to get a waiter’s attention.

  “Six,” Holly says. She looks back at Jake and Bridget. He’s leaning into his girlfriend, listening to her as she whispers in his ear. “The boys are six, and they’re full of mischief and energy.”

  “That’s little boys for you,” one of the triplets adds. “Between my sisters and I, we have seven boys. I can tell you it’s going to take a village to raise those kids.” She looks at the identical faces next to her, and all three women nod wisely.

  “What about school?” asks Iris Cafferkey. “We don’t have Eleanor and Sadie with us anymore, and we couldn’t have gotten you and Emily educated without them.”

  A warm feeling passes over Holly at the mention of the two retired teachers who’d given her and Emily the most fun, hands-on school experience she could have ever dreamed. They’d spent hours reading books in the shade with Sadie and Eleanor, and had learned to bake in their kitchens for home economics credit. They’d gone swimming in the ocean and done stretches on the sand to learn physical education, and had been taught to identify leaves, insects, birds, and plants in the thick trees as a way to learn science. After both she and Emily had gotten their high school diplomas and Ho
lly had moved to Miami for college, Eleanor Smith moved back to Ohio to live with her kids. Sadie Pillory had passed away peacefully in her sleep, leaving her husband, Hal, to become the lonely, cantankerous widower he is today.

  “School is something to consider,” Holly says. “But lots of kids do distance learning these days, and homeschooling by the parents is a pretty popular thing right now. Calista mentioned that they’re looking into that.”

  The older islanders exchange curious looks; in their day, parents educating their children at home was virtually unheard of, and they knew nothing about kids taking courses online from teachers they’d never even seen face-to-face.

  “Let’s assume that Calista and Vance will take on the concern for their kids’ education at this point. We just need to worry about welcoming the family to Christmas Key and getting their house in order. Calista wants to get right to work at the salon when they arrive.”

  “What will the husband do?” Mrs. Agnelli asks. “Is he one of those new-style stay-at-home-dads?”

  Holly shakes her head. “I’m not sure. He might be.” There’s still a lot she doesn’t know about their new neighbors, and with each question, she’s realizing that having children on the island is going to change things more than she’d imagined.

  In the crowd, Jake snakes an arm around Bridget’s chair and rests his hand on her shoulder, pulling her closer so that he can kiss her cheek.

  “I think we’ve covered everything on this month’s agenda,” Holly says, looking away from them quickly and consulting the typed paper in front of her. “If no one has anything else to add, I’d like to adjourn and remind the ladies that we’ve got a function to attend at Jack Frosty’s in honor of Bonnie.”

  “No men allowed?” Wyatt Bender hollers, cupping his hands around his mouth.

  “Nope, no men,” Holly confirms. “Just a going-away party that the ladies are throwing for our favorite redhead.” She keeps the smile plastered on her face as she sets the gavel on its block. Having a send-off for Bonnie is a painful reminder that this move is actually happening. Even though Holly’s been over at Bonnie’s most nights helping her decide what to pack and what to leave behind for what Bonnie promises will be “frequent visits” to the island, it still hasn’t felt as real as a going-away party.

  The islanders get to their feet at varying paces, some leaning on canes as they make their way out of the B&B’s dining room. Holly hangs back, chatting with the stragglers as the rest of the women head over to Jack Frosty’s. She’s let the triplets take the helm as far as planning the bash, and she’s just as happy to show up after everyone is situated so that Bonnie can bask in the glow of her friends’ well wishes, rather than stew under the storm cloud of Holly’s disapproval. It’s been hard to keep her feelings and tone about the whole thing neutral, but Holly’s bitten back her words in Bonnie’s presence on more occasions than she can count, saving the vitriol she feels for Sinker McBludgeon for the times she and Fiona share a drink on her lanai.

  After everyone has gone, Holly sits in one of the empty chairs and looks around the room. There are discarded agendas on the chairs around her, and the double doors leading out of the dining room are open at different angles. The sound of the front desk phone ringing in the distance filters down the hallway and into the large room.

  Some days feel uneventful and routine, and others have so much packed into twenty-four hours that Holly can barely believe all that’s happened at the end of the day. It’s only lunch time, but she’s already had a horrifying discussion with Bridget, run the monthly village council meeting, and is about to go and pretend to be happy for the woman who’s been her mother and confidant for most of her twenties.

  Holly rests an arm on the back of the chair next to hers. There are tables pushed against the wall, covered with half-empty boxes of pastries and a coffee tureen. Everyone should be seated at Jack Frosty’s by now, and Buckhunter has undoubtedly mixed up the first batch of margaritas for the ladies. Holly pushes herself out of the chair and walks around to pick up the agendas people have left behind.

  She gives the dining room one last look as she stands in the doorway with a stack of papers in one hand, then flips out the lights and closes the door. She’ll deal with putting the tables and chairs back later.

  “Margarita with salt, or no?” Buckhunter asks as Holly steps up into Jack Frosty’s. He’s moved all the tables around and set up one giant seating area in the middle, where twenty-two women are currently drinking and toasting a smiling Bonnie. There are gift bags scattered around the long table, and someone has set a crown on Bonnie’s head and wrapped a pink feather boa around her neck.

  “Salt, please,” Holly says, tucking her loose hair behind one ear.

  Buckhunter salts the rim of her glass and pours the lime green concoction straight from the blender. “Key lime—Bonnie’s request,” he says, handing it across the bar. “You doing okay?”

  Holly nods and grabs the drink with both hands. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “They went pretty easy on you at the meeting,” Buckhunter says. “But I think some of the questions were good ones.”

  “About the Guys and having children on the island?”

  “Yeah.” Buckhunter checks the burgers he has on the grill. He flips the front row of patties and sets his spatula down, wiping his hands on a towel before he looks back at Holly. “They were valid concerns. For the next twelve years or so, we’ll have kids on the island. That changes things.”

  Holly puts the cold glass to her lips and tastes the salt. “I don’t think it has to be a bad change,” she says after swallowing her first sip. She reaches for a square cocktail napkin on the counter.

  “No, but we need to be prepared,” he says. “Their parents are coming here to live a dream, and as far as we know, they’ve never lived anywhere but in a big city. This is a huge change. They’re going to need help.”

  “I see your point.” Holly wipes the condensation off her glass with the napkin.

  “It’s just something we all need to think about.” Buckhunter flips the second row of burger patties. “But it’s going to be fun. I’m up for the challenge,” he says over his shoulder.

  “Thanks for hosting Bonnie’s lunch,” Holly says, watching her uncle’s back in his faded Hawaiian shirt.

  “No problem, kid. You should go and join the other hens. We can talk later.”

  There’s an empty seat at the center of the table between Iris Cafferkey and Fiona, so Holly pulls it out with one hand and sets her margarita down.

  “Hi, sugar!” Bonnie waves from the head of the table. Her cheeks are already pink from laughter and tequila. “Sit down—burgers are on the grill!”

  Holly scoots up to the table and hangs her purse over the back of the wood chair.

  “What do you think of all of this excitement, love?” Iris elbows Holly and leans into her. “Bonnie finding her soul mate and leaving us, new folks headed our way…big changes, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yep. Big changes.” Holly lifts her glass and takes another long drink, wishing immediately that she hadn’t. “Ow, ow, ow,” she says, pounding her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Brain freeze.”

  “Slow down, sugar,” Bonnie says, laughing. “Last time you were here you overdid it by a long shot. Wouldn’t want to have to call Jake to give you a lift home at two o’clock on a Wednesday!”

  The other ladies giggle, but Fiona puts one hand on her best friend’s arm protectively. “Sip it, girl, don’t chug it,” she says in a low voice that only Holly can hear. “You don’t want to be wrecked before the food comes.”

  As if on cue, Buckhunter arrives at the table with two trays of burgers and fries. “I’ve got one with no ketchup and one with extra pickles and mustard,” he says, passing out the burgers.

  “No ketchup over here.” Glen raises a hand.

  “And I’ve got the pickles and mustard,” Gwen says from across the table. It takes Buckhunter three more trips, but he gets everyone
situated with burgers and fries, then disappears to mix up the next batch of margaritas.

  “Tell us everything, Bonnie Lane. You’re such a minx, moving off the island and taking up with a man you just met,” Fiona says. The women all look to Bonnie as they take the first bites of their burgers. Heddie Lang-Mueller picks up a knife and fork and cuts a small piece off of hers like it’s a steak.

  “There isn’t much to tell yet.” Bonnie holds her burger in both hands. “Doug is waiting for me to get there, and we’re going to set up the house with the stuff I bring.”

  “Are you taking everything?” Gwen asks, dipping a french fry in ketchup.

  “No, I’m leaving most of it here. I want to come back to my house and visit as often as I can. And besides, I want to feather my new nest with things that Doug likes, too.”

  “Doug,” Iris says, sighing dreamily. “I wonder what he looks like when he’s not wearing pirate clothes.”

  “Well…” Bonnie’s eyes dance with mischief.

  “Iris,” Holly warns, “you might want to re-think that statement.”

  Iris blushes. “I meant in his regular work clothes, lass, not in his birthday suit.”

  The table roars with laughter. Bonnie adjusts her rhinestone crown and holds the boa out of her way so that she can take a bite of her sandwich. Holly watches her assistant bask in the attention of their favorite neighbors. It’s good, this send-off party. Bonnie deserves to know how much she’ll be missed by everyone, but there’s no way she can know how much she’ll be missed by Holly.

  The women’s laughter tinkles through the open-air bar as they tease Bonnie, and Buckhunter brings more baskets of fries to the table to fuel a gabfest that lasts all afternoon.

  Chapter 15

  The pink house on White Christmas Way is nearly ready for the Guy family to arrive and move in. Holly has spent the week following Bonnie’s farewell luncheon juggling B&B stuff and working on the house, and now, as she stands in front of it and looks at the turquoise paint she’s just touched-up on the shutters, she feels accomplished.