The Edge of Paradise: Christmas Key Book Three

by Stephanie Taylor

  Holly smiles at the picture he’s painting. “You’ve been here a day and you’re already thinking of ways to jump in with both feet. I like it.”

  “I’m not used to the laid-back island life, I guess,” Vance admits. “I need to have my hands busy and my mind working on a project.”

  Holly peers into the dark shop next to Vance. “I’m impressed. Seriously.” She checks her watch and glances over her shoulder to see Bonnie pulling into the B&B’s little parking lot with bags of food on the seat next to her. “How about if I grab the keys from my office and we can check it out?”

  “Really?” Vance grins. “So the mayor really does have the keys to the city?”

  “This mayor has the keys to this city,” she says, laughing, “because her grandparents bought the island in the eighties and groomed her from birth to run the place.” Holly points at the B&B. “Give me a sec—I’ll be right back.”

  “Hey, sugar,” Bonnie says, pulling sandwiches from the white paper bags and setting up lunch on their desks. “I got you a diet Coke and a club sandwich with a pickle. Come and get it.”

  “Thanks, Bon. You start eating—I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Holly opens a desk drawer and fishes around for the ring of keys that she knows will open every door on Main Street.

  “What’s shakin’?” Bonnie sets a bag of potato chips on Holly’s desk and one on her own. She’s been in high spirits all morning, surely anticipating her departure the next day, but has wisely kept her excitement under wraps.

  “Vance wants to check out the empty shop next to Mistletoe,” Holly says. “He thinks he’s got a good idea for the space.”

  Bonnie sits down and unwraps her own turkey sandwich. “I forget that little place is even there—I walk by it every day and think nothing of it.”

  “Let me show him really fast, and I’ll come back so we can eat together.”

  Holly walks out the front door of the B&B and down the steps to the sidewalk, her flip-flops smacking the pavement behind her. She’s left Pucci with the boys, who are back with their dad, holding sticks and rocks in their small hands that they must have found near the dock.

  “Let me unlock it and we’ll open the back door so we can get some light in here,” Holly says, bending over and sliding the key into the rusty lock. The salty air is quick to corrode metal this close to the ocean, and the lack of use that some of the locks see only serves to speed up the process. She wiggles the key around and turns the knob. “Here we go.”

  The air inside the small shop is still and dusty. The boys cough dramatically as they step up and into the narrow space. Holly walks to the back and opens the door, throwing more light into the building.

  “The power is off, obviously, but it’s wired for electricity and phone, though that may not be necessary anymore, given the fact that we have cell service and WiFi,” she says, holding the keys in her hand as she gestures at the walls. “You could probably run shelves along as much of the walls as you want. And out here,” Holly says, stepping out the back door, “it’s pretty overgrown, but there’s a lot of potential.” The trees and tall grass behind the shop give way to a thicket of palm and lemon trees, and Holly knows that if they clear it out, there’s a good opportunity to use the space for a reading area.

  “I can see it,” Vance agrees, and it’s clear that he’s calculating cost, effort, and viability as he takes it all in. “Woodworking is a hobby of mine,” he says in his smooth baritone, “and I could probably put together a pretty natty deck out here. Maybe string some lights up around it.”

  “Natty—nice word,” Holly says, picturing the things he’s describing. “If you tear out some of these bushes, there’s a pretty view of the trees, and over there,” she points beyond the building, which ends with Mistletoe Morning Brew, “if we clear that out as well, there’d be a view of the water.”

  “The water?” Vance says with boyish excitement. “Oooh, this is getting good.” He claps his hands together, rubbing his palms like he’s rolling a marble between them. “I can see it all now, Holly. This is great.”

  “I can, too.” There’s a loud banging sound from inside the shop, and Pucci comes out the back door to join Holly and Vance on the uncleared patch of land. He looks up at his mistress warily.

  “Boys?” Vance calls. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing!” they shout in unison.

  “They’re never doing nothing,” Vance says conspiratorially.

  “Maybe we should close up and come back when Calista is free?” Holly offers, leading Pucci back into the shop. Mexi and Mori are in there, pounding their rocks on the floor like cavemen trying to crack them and shape them into weapons.

  “Mex, Mor,” Vance warns. “Let’s not bust up the shop before Dad even signs a lease.” Holly can’t imagine moving fifteen hundred miles with a couple of rambunctious six-year-olds, and the fact that Calista is spending their first full day on the island getting acquainted with her new job has to be stressful for Vance and the boys.

  “I need to get back to work,” Holly says, walking to the front door. “But why don’t you holler at me when you guys want to look at it again, and we can crunch numbers and talk more about the logistics. I think a bookstore is a rock-solid choice for this spot, and I know everyone will be on board if we put together the details and bring it up at the next village council meeting.”

  “When is that?” Vance says, shepherding his boys through the shop by their shoulders.

  “Third Wednesday of every month, so our next meeting would be…” Holly re-locks the store with her key, jiggling the rusty lock again as she bites her lower lip. “The next meeting would be March fifteenth.”

  Vance nods, thinking. “That gives us a few weeks to kick some ideas around. Thanks, Holly,” he says. “I’m going to take these monsters out for lunch, and I’ll talk to you in the next couple days.”

  “Perfect.” Holly jingles the key ring on her hand. “You guys have a good day, okay?” she says to the boys. “Make sure Mexi orders something he can eat now that he’s down a tooth.” She winks at Mori.

  “He can eat apple-thoth,” Mori says, punching his brother lightly on the arm.

  “I hate applesauce!” Mexi shouts back, running down the sidewalk in the direction of Jack Frosty’s.

  “Food time,” Vance says apologetically. “Thanks again.”

  Holly waves as the boys race up the steps to Buckhunter’s grill. They disappear into the open air bar with loud shouts and laughter.

  Holly walks back to the B&B lost in thought. The idea of another new business on Christmas Key has her wheels turning. It isn’t until she’s seated across from Bonnie and unwrapping her club sandwich that she remembers there’s a message from River on her phone.

  Chapter 17

  “I’m emotionally vulnerable right now.” Holly watches the boat that’s taking her beloved Bonnie to the mainland as it shrinks in the distance. “He caught me at a weak moment.”

  “You do have a lot going on,” Fiona says.

  Bonnie had gotten onto the boat with little fanfare, but with more than a few tears. Holly has been dreading this moment, but she stands there now with dry eyes, her heart heavy and sad.

  “If I’d waited any longer to text him back it would have been rude.”

  “That’s probably true,” Fiona says, wrapping an arm around Holly’s waist and pulling her close. The sun is sinking, and it’s an uncharacteristically windy afternoon on the island. They stand there together, their summer dresses billowing wildly around them, looking like two women huddled together to stay safe in the middle of a storm. “What did he say?”

  “He said he misses me.” Holly squints into the wind, her hair flying around her; a piece sticks to her lips and she pulls it away. “He wanted to know if I missed him.”

  “Wow.” Fiona doesn’t say anything else. They watch the boat as it turns into a tiny speck on the horizon.

  Saying good-bye to her friend has turned Holly inside out. She’d s
pent the previous night at Bonnie’s house, and even though she’s promised to call Holly as soon as she makes it to her new home in Clearwater, Holly is still feeling unsettled about the whole thing.

  “Hey, it’s after four,” Fiona says, checking the waterproof watch she wears when she swims. “Wanna go to the Ho Ho? Everyone should be there tonight…”

  Holly nods, arms wrapped around her body as she holds herself tightly against the wind. “Yeah, that would be fun.” She glances at Fiona, whose hip is touching hers. “But don’t let me drink, promise? Alcohol and this mood do not mix. I’ll end up crying in a corner by myself or something.”

  “I promise,” Fiona swears. “I’ll make sure Joe only mixes you virgin drinks all night.”

  Holly takes Fiona’s hand and they walk up the sidewalk together, past Mistletoe Morning Brew, which is closed for the day, and past the empty storefront that she’d shown to Vance the day before.

  “Hey, did I tell you that Vance wants to turn this into a bookstore?” Holly points at the dirty window of the shop as they pass.

  “Seriously? That would be awesome.”

  “He’s got big dreams. We even looked out back and talked about building a deck where people can hang out and read.”

  “They could get their coffee next door and come over,” Fiona says. “Hang out, read books, drink java…it all sounds very Portland, doesn’t it?”

  “As in Maine?”

  “No, as in Oregon—where all the hipsters are.”

  “Oregon is also where you-know-who lives.”

  “Ohhhh, right,” Fiona says. “I forgot River and his fishing buddies were all from the Northwest.” She tugs Holly’s hand to keep her moving. “Okay, so what else do we need to hash out with regards to Old Slugger?”

  “Bonnie always called him Old Slugger,” Holly moans, her face falling again. It feels like she’s wandering around in the dark, trying not to run into sharp things, but at every turn she nearly impales herself. River. Bonnie. What next—Jake and Bridget? Her mother?

  “Sorry, scratch that. What did you say when he asked if you missed him?” Fiona nudges Holly as they approach the B&B’s parking lot. They’re both parked there, and the rest of Main Street feels almost deserted because Bonnie had demanded that everyone say their good-byes before she went down to the dock, so only Holly and Fiona are still there. Most of the other islanders have already gone home for an early dinner or converged on the Ho Ho for the Saturday evening gathering.

  Holly stops next to her cart. The wind blows the sand of the parking lot and it swirls around the two women, coating their sandal-clad feet in a fine dusty powder.

  “I told him things had been hard since he left. I told him I hated the way it felt when he went home on Christmas Eve, and I hated that things ended so badly between us. I told him I felt like it was all my fault.”

  “But did you tell him that you miss him?”

  Holly chews on her lower lip and pushes the hair out of her eyes as the wind works overtime to blow it back into her face. “No. Not yet.”

  “Woman, you’re killing me!” Fiona throws both hands in the air.

  “Why?”

  “Because, you’re, you’re…” Fiona pulls her hair into a low twist and holds it over one shoulder to keep the wind from tangling it. “Because, you have these beautiful, amazing men who would do anything for you, and you can’t commit. Like, you cannot commit. I feel like you came pre-programmed to be a lone wolf, and a part of you wants to have a man and be in love, and the other part of you is all ‘Love. I cannot compute,’” Fiona says this last part in a robotic voice. “You have to make a decision.”

  “Says who?” Holly asks simply. And the weird part is, she means it. Who says she has to choose one guy and settle down forever? She isn’t opposed to it, but who says it’s that easy? Who says she has to do it that way?

  “Says the universe!” Fiona argues. She looks around the lot and at the back door of the B&B. “I don’t know,” she finally acquiesces. “Maybe I’m the one who’s wrong here. Maybe this island follows different rules than the rest of the world.”

  “Like the Bermuda Triangle?”

  Fiona laughs. “Yeah. But my honest advice—as a woman nearly ten years older than you—is not to let great men and potentially great relationships pass you by. Not for progress, not for your duties as mayor, not for work at the B&B. I’ve known a lot of not-so-great men, and you’ve got two rockstar examples of the species in your orbit, but you’re so blasé about it that it makes me want to throttle you.”

  Holly is holding back a smile. “But how do you really feel, Fee?”

  Fiona reaches over and pinches Holly’s upper arm. “Oh, come on.” She takes the few steps to her own cart and slides behind the wheel. “I guess if you want my advice,” she shouts over the rush of wind, “then you’ll ask for it. Now let’s go and do some non-drinking at the Ho Ho and pray that Joe takes the stage so we can dance a little.”

  “I can dance anyway,” Holly says with a shrug, getting into her hot pink cart.

  “Yes, you do dance to your own beat, my friend,” Fiona says, backing up and looking over her shoulder. She puts the cart in gear. “I’ll see you over there.”

  Holly waits for Fiona to pull out of the lot and turn right onto Main Street. When she’s alone, she sits for a minute, watching the empty, dark windows of the B&B. They look back at her like unblinking eyes. She knows Fiona would never say the things she just said if she didn’t really mean them and want her to be happy. Holly taps the steering wheel with her fingers, thinking about the way things ended with Jake and with River. She even goes back over the short relationships she had in college. Fiona’s right—what is it about her that makes her push men away just when things are getting serious?

  The wind whips the palm fronds around in the trees overhead. Bonnie’s absence and the fact that she’ll walk into an empty B&B office on Monday morning hits her hard, twisting her stomach and clenching her insides. She doesn’t want to be alone forever, pushing people away as soon as they get close. She doesn’t want to hang onto the childish feeling that just because her own mother left her, everyone else will eventually leave too. Fiona’s words are worth considering, and River deserves an answer.

  Holly reaches inside the purse on the seat next to her and pulls out her phone.

  The bar is already full when Holly gets there. Fiona’s cart is parked next to the palm tree that’s always wrapped in holiday lights, and Holly wheels into the unmarked spot next to it, putting her cart in park and shutting it off. The sun is hanging out over the water on the west side of the island, and she watches it for a minute, letting the roar of the ocean and the wind soothe her.

  The islanders are always pleasantly rowdy on a Saturday evening at the Ho Ho, and Holly knows tonight will be no different. The only thing that’s changed is that Bonnie’s gales of laughter won’t rise above the crowd as she and Wyatt Bender flirt with one another mercilessly. And when someone does something worth noting (as they almost always do), Bonnie won’t be there to cock an eyebrow at Holly to remind her that they need to discuss the event over coffee at their desks on Monday morning.

  It all feels so colorless and changed to Holly, but she’s determined to put on a brave face and push forward. After all, life is about change and progress—two things she’s been pushing for on the island in recent months, and two things she knows are painful, but necessary.

  “I thought you got lost!” Fiona shouts, carrying two frosty glasses in her hands. “I got you a virgin daiquiri, though Joe says that’s almost sacrilegious on such a gorgeous evening. Something about rum and wind going hand-in-hand.” Fiona passes Holly a frozen drink. “Should we sit on the beach?”

  Fiona leads them out the back of the open bar and onto the sand, where they sit facing the waves.

  “Looks like this is the place to be!” Gwen, Gen, and Glen are trailing down the stairs with their own drinks in hands. “Mind if we join you?” asks Glen.

 
; “Not at all,” Holly says, kicking off her sandals and tossing her purse on top of them. She finds a spot in the sand and sits down. The fading sun warms her face, and a sweep of goodwill and peace floods her unexpectedly.

  As the other women settle on the sand around her, Buckhunter shouts at them from the top of the stairs. “Is the party outside this week?” He’s already barefoot and wearing an unbuttoned shirt, his tanned, wiry upper body exposed to the wind and the late winter sun.

  “Come on out!” Fiona says over her shoulder. She scoots over on the sand, making room for her boyfriend. It’s still strange to Holly sometimes when she takes a step back and remembers that her best friend and her uncle are dating. Pretty, petite, fiery Fiona, and rough, tattooed, mysterious Buckhunter. A doctor and a bar owner. A ball of energy and an enigma. But somehow it works.

  Buckhunter sinks to the sand next to Fiona and leans over to kiss her through his neatly-trimmed silver-gray goatee. He puts an arm around Fiona’s shoulders. “Since there are no guests on the island right now and I knew everyone would be coming over here, I thought I might as well close up shop and join you all.”

  “Glad you did,” Holly says, smiling at her uncle as he gazes happily at Fiona’s freckled face.

  Before long, the triplets’ husbands make their way onto the sand, and then Cap and Heddie sit on the bar’s steps, watching the group from a distance as they talk quietly. Holly waves at them both and turns around again, closing her eyes and feeling the sun on her eyelids. It’s only been a few months since Heddie and Cap started hanging out with one another again, and a whole history between them has been exposed and healed. The fact that they’re both German and love the same books and movies doesn’t hurt, nor does Heddie’s gorgeous, regal presence. The echo of her youthful film star beauty is still evident in everything about her, and from the look on Cap’s face, he’s only too happy to be basking in her presence again after several years of estrangement.