The other women nod knowingly.
“Well, it happened, and now we get to help them pick up the pieces,” Holly says with a charity she almost feels. “Let’s get dinner out to everyone and make sure no one needs anything else, then we can go down to the coffee shop and put some plastic over that window. I promised Ellen and Carrie-Anne I’d get that done tonight.”
“How are the parents doing?” Iris asks as she passes on her way to the fridge. “They must be feeling pretty guilty about their wee lads causing such a ruckus today. Not to mention the outcome.”
“I think they’re okay.” Holly had talked to Calista and Vance, who were beside themselves as the aftermath of the soccer ball incident had unfolded. They’d gone home with the boys, checking in once with Holly by text to see if there was anything—anything at all—that they could do to help. “They were pretty upset about it the last time I talked to them.”
“As they should be,” Mrs. Agnelli says, reaching for one of the crackers that Glen is about to crumble for the casserole’s topping. “Those hellions need some discipline.”
“Oh, they’re just little boys, Maria. It was an accident. A tragic one, but an accident nonetheless,” Gwen argues.
“But where were the parents?” Mrs. Agnelli demands. “Six-year-old boys shouldn’t be left to their own devices. Not even on an island like this. It’s not safe.”
“For anyone,” Iris adds as she passes by them again, heading the other direction with a bottle of rice vinegar in hand.
“I’m sure it won’t happen again,” Holly says, touching Mrs. Agnelli’s shoulder and moving away from the group. She needs to excuse herself from the discussion and help to get everything prepped and out the door before it gets too late to deliver the meals.
But she isn’t sure it won’t happen again—she knows nothing about kids and parenting, and she has no idea how Calista and Vance are going to work and run a bookshop and watch over their boys. And even though they’re kind and patient people, there’s no guarantee that this incident hasn’t soured the islanders toward having small children around. As Holly loads the rice and dumplings onto the seat of her cart to run over to Ellen and Carrie-Anne’s, she wonders how she’ll mend fences and make the Guys feel at home on Christmas Key after an incident like this.
It’s dark outside when Holly finally leaves the B&B, and there’s no one on Main Street. She pulls out of the lot and turns on her headlamps. Ellen and Carrie-Anne’s bungalow is on the north side of the island, situated on a piece of property with enough room for two animal pens. Ellen is a die-hard animal lover who’d agreed to take on the ten live turkeys Holly accidentally ordered for Thanksgiving dinner, but then hadn’t had the heart—or the stomach—to eat. On top of that, Ellen had convinced her wife to adopt a homeless donkey named Madonna, who’d promptly been christened ‘Madonkey’ by Holly.
She pulls up to their house and parks, lifting the tray of food by its handles and carrying it up the front walk. From the side of the house, Madonkey brays at Holly, sending the ten turkeys into a frenzy.
“Hey, hon,” Carrie-Anne says, flipping on the porch light and opening the screen door as Holly approaches. “The animals are like our own private alarm system around here.” She nods at the fenced-in pens that she and Ellen built for their pets. “Come on in.”
Inside the house, Ellen is sitting at the small table in the kitchen, a cup of tea next to her as she scrolls through her laptop.
“Holly,” Ellen says. She’s looking less shell-shocked than she had that afternoon. “Can I get you some tea or coffee?”
“Nothing for me, thanks. I just wanted to bring a dinner by and see how you ladies were doing.”
“Oh, that’s so nice!” Carrie-Anne reaches for the dish and takes it from Holly’s hands. She sets it on the butcher block counter of their galley-style kitchen. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s from all of us.”
Ellen shuts the laptop. She picks up her mug of tea with both hands. “How are Jake and Bridget doing?”
“I’m not sure yet. Mrs. Agnelli and Iris are running dinner over to them, and the triplets are taking a casserole over to Hal’s to check on him.”
“Oh, Hal!” Ellen covers her mouth. “How is he?”
“He’s pretty banged up, but we’re taking turns checking on him since he didn’t want to stay at the B&B. He was a little confused at first, and he kept asking for Sadie,” Holly says, remembering how he’d pled with them to find his late wife and let her know he was okay. It had taken twenty minutes for him to remember that she was gone, and when he did, the sadness that settled in over his face had nearly broken Holly’s heart.
“The poor button,” Carrie-Anne says. “He’s been keeping to himself so much lately that I don’t think any of us really know how he’s doing.”
“I think we need to do better about checking on him. And on Maria, too,” Ellen adds. “We’ve got some neighbors who are getting up there in years, and they need us—we all need each other.” Her eyes get misty as she reaches out a hand from her spot at the table. Holly walks over and takes it.
“It’s all going to be okay,” Holly assures them both. “I’m meeting Cap and Wyatt back at Mistletoe here in a few minutes to cover your window, and we’ll have everything back up and running like new as soon as possible.”
Ellen lets go of Holly’s hand and places a palm on the closed laptop in front of her. “I’ve been researching glass repair in Tampa and Key West, and I think I found a place that can come out to us early next week and fix the window.”
“The good thing is that the weather isn’t unbearable yet, so we can take down the plastic during the day and just run the ceiling fans to keep things moving in the shop,” says Carrie-Anne. “I already turned off the air-conditioning and I think we can get through four or five days that way. We won’t be able to keep the bugs out, but we’ll have coffee.”
“We’ll be like the postal service,” Ellen jokes, cracking a smile for the first time all day. “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night…”
“There shall be coffee!” Carrie-Anne holds up a triumphant fist.
“You two are the best.” Holly gives each woman a quick hug. “Let me know if there’s anything else we can do, okay?”
“You’ve done enough. Thanks for covering the shop window for us.” Ellen blows on her mug of tea.
“And thank you for dinner,” Carrie-Anne says, lifting the corner of the foil that covers the dish. “Mmm, we love dumplings and rice. And we forgot to eat tonight, so this is perfect.”
“No problem. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Holly lets herself out the front door. She stops to put a hand through the fence so that Madonkey can sniff her. “Hi, girl,” she whispers, petting the sweet animal on the top of her head. Madonkey looks back at Holly with big eyes. “What a day, huh?” she asks mildly, touching the donkey’s silky fur. “Don’t let these birds give you too much grief, you hear?” She nods at the pecking turkeys with the floppy wattles under their chins.
The porch light goes off, and Holly climbs back into her cart to make her next stop.
Vance ducks under the rounded archway that separates the kitchen from the front sitting room. He’s carrying a pot of tea. The boys have already been put to bed at the back of the house.
“We feel horrible,” Calista says. She’s sitting on the edge of her new couch with her elbows on her knees, and she lowers her face into her hands so that her fingers rest on her temples.
Vance sets the pot on a trivet in the center of their low coffee table. “Honey or milk?” he asks Holly as he pours steaming tea into a mug for her.
“No, plain is fine—thanks.” She picks up the cup by the handle and sets it on a coaster in front of her.
Vance sinks into the armchair next to the couch that the women are sharing. He dips a spoon into a jar of honey and sets it in his cup of hot tea to dissolve.
“I’m not even sure where to go from here,
” he says in his deep, rich voice. He leans back in the chair and steeples his hands beneath his chin. “We spent the evening having a long talk with the boys, and we haven’t even told them that their actions caused a young lady to…to…” His eyes look glassy and faraway as he grapples for words.
Calista reaches out a hand and gently places it on her husband’s knee. “They’re six, Vance. I’m not even sure they’d understand at this point.”
“It might be a lot for them,” Holly agrees, lifting her mug of tea and holding it in both hands. “And I think the bigger issue at this point for everyone on the island is how to handle having two little guys underfoot.” She takes a sip of the scalding liquid, preparing for what she has to say next. “And one of the main concerns going forward is how you two will supervise them.”
Vance and Calista exchange a look. “Well,” she says and stops there.
“Part of why we moved here was to escape the need for constant supervision for the boys,” Vance says, lifting the spoon from his cup of tea and tapping it against the side of the mug before he sets it on a saucer. “Paradise for us is the idea that our boys will have the freedom to explore and to—essentially—raise themselves.”
Holly swallows hard, trying not to blanch at the idea of two rambunctious six-year-olds“raising themselves.”
“Studies have shown that children who are given freedom and decision-making opportunities often do better as young adults than those who are given too much structure,” Calista says, going into parenting mode. “Mexi and Mori are busy little boys, yes, but they aren’t bad kids. They just need to learn about action and consequence. For instance,” she says, setting her own tea on the table, “they kicked the ball and nearly hit a man driving down the street, causing him to crash and hurt himself.”
“And they do feel badly about that,” Vance interjects, holding out a large hand, palm to the floor. “Make no mistake: they have a conscience.”
“No one is questioning that,” Holly assures them. “They’re adorable, spirited boys, and having kids on the island has the potential to invigorate all of us. In fact, the future of our island depends on bringing young people to Christmas Key.”
“Exactly,” Vance says, putting the outstretched hand on his denim-clad thigh. He readjusts the tortoise-shell glasses on his face and crosses his legs at the knee.
“We need to come to an agreement about what that looks like so everyone is comfortable. Some of us haven’t been around children in quite a long time.” Holly knows that this discussion has to happen, but there’s an awkwardness to a childless woman making demands and offering child-rearing guidance to a couple who’ve raised twins for the past six years.
“And what would make everyone comfortable?” Calista asks, an invisible defensive guard falling over her face. It’s the automatic response of a mama bear whose children are being attacked, and Holly inhales through her nose, ready to lay it all out.
“I think everyone would like to know how they’ll be accounted for on a daily basis. As you know, I grew up here—as did Emily Cafferkey—and we haven’t had kids around since she and I put away the Barbies and stopped playing hide-and-seek in the trees.”
The Guys nod patiently. Vance sniffs and reaches for his tea.
“We were fortunate enough to have two retired school teachers on the island to help guide us through our education. We don’t have that anymore, so I think their schooling is a concern.”
“But not yours,” Calista says with a tight shake of her head. It’s the first time Holly has sensed an edge to this gentle woman.
“Calista,” Vance warns. “Let’s hear her out.”
“As mayor,” Holly says, hoping to calm Calista’s nerves, “it’s my concern to address the services available on this island to all residents—and that includes Mexi and Mori. What I’m saying is that we don’t have schooling to offer, and at their age, that’s an issue.”
“We’re looking into online courses,” Calista says. “There’s no need to have certificated teachers on hand anymore with the different homeschooling resources out there.”
“Okay,” Holly says. “But who will make sure they’re sitting down and doing their courses? If you’re working at the salon and Vance is busy opening a bookstore, how is this going to work?”
Vance and Calista search each other’s eyes for answers.
“We’re working on that,” Vance admits. “We are, I promise you. My mother is one option that we’re exploring, and if the boys double up in one bedroom here then we’d have room for her to stay.”
“She would move down here?” Holly asks, eyebrows raised over the edge of her tea mug as she prepares to take a drink.
“She could.” He nods, working his lips as he thinks. “She’s widowed and already missing us, and I think it would do her some good to be down here with her grandsons and other people her own age.” Vance spreads his arms wide, indicating the neighbors all around them who are similarly-aged. “We just started kicking the idea around tonight, so we’ll need to work on it a little more.”
Holly considers this. Another older person on the island would certainly add something to the mix of the current population, and if they’re going to push forward with progress and change, then it couldn’t hurt to entertain the idea of Vance’s mother moving to Christmas Key. It would certainly ease some minds if she took over the daily care of her grandsons.
“That’s an interesting proposition,” Holly says. “Do you think she’d be open to it?”
“I think there’s a reasonably good chance.” Vance trains his eyes on his wife, and Holly can see the silent negotiations that pass between them. It’s the dance of a well-seasoned couple: I’ll trade you one mother-in-law for the freedom to work and not worry about the kids during the day.
“It’s a possibility,” Calista allows, turning to look at Holly next to her on the couch. “We’re just starting that discussion, so we’ll let you know if things go that direction.”
“Fair enough.” Holly sets her mug on the coffee table and stands up. “Anyhow, I should let you get on with your evening. I really just wanted to touch bases with you and make sure everything was okay.”
“Thanks, Holly. We appreciate it.” Vance stands up from the chair and puts his big hands into his pockets. “I’m hoping we can find a way to move forward from here, but we do understand the gravity of the situation.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, probably,” Holly says, picking up her purse from the couch and putting the strap over her shoulder. “Try not to worry too much. Accidents happen, and the people on this island are far more forgiving than you can imagine.”
Vance and Calista wave at Holly somberly from the doorway to the pink house. They stand next to one another as Holly gets into her cart again to drive home. As mayor, she knows she should stop by Jake and Bridget’s house to check on them, but as Jake’s ex-girlfriend, she knows she shouldn’t. With a glance at Jake’s dimly-lit bungalow, Holly rolls past. She’ll let them be for the night. After all, what could she possibly say or do that would make things better?
As she speeds up, the sound of her tires against the sandy road fills her ears.
Chapter 20
Holly opens her email at work the next morning to find a string of messages that Bonnie’s sent in the middle of the night.
1:14 am: Oh, sugar—I don’t know what to think. Doug is so...different. I think I made a huge mistake.
1:57 am: Ignore me. I’m ranting and raving like a madwoman, and that’s not fair to you. I knew where you stood on the whole thing, and I did it anyway. Now I should be forced to clean up my own mess here. Pretend you never heard from me, okay?
3:03 am: And you know what the worst part is? He isn’t even a pirate—not at all! I knew he wasn’t going to dress like one all the time, but he doesn’t even act like the same man. Can I call you in the morning?
5:13 am: I’m so tired, Holly Jean. I haven’t slept a wink tonight. Not a single bloomin’ wink. I’ve been up
and sitting on the lanai out behind Doug’s condo (Yes, I live in a condo. In Clearwater.) and all I can think about is how dark and quiet it is on Christmas Key. It never gets that dark and quiet here. I think I’m losing my mind. I’m calling you in three hours. I know you’ll be in the office by then.
As Holly reads through the emails, she nibbles on pieces of her chocolate chip scone from Mistletoe Morning Brew. She brushes her hands together to get rid of the crumbs, and puts her fingers to the keyboard.
8:08 am: Hi, Bon. I’m here. Call me. I hope you’re sleeping now after that all-nighter you just pulled. Holler at me whenever you get this!
Holly takes a sip of her hot coffee. The sidewalk outside the B&B is quiet. Fiona is unlocking the front door to Poinsettia Plaza across the street when the phone rings.
“Sugar?” Bonnie is already talking before Holly even says hello.
“Hi, Bon.” Holly leans back in her chair and watches as Fiona disappears into the building across the street. “Tell me everything.”
“Honey, I don’t even know where to start.” Bonnie sounds tired. “Doug snores like a freight train and I can’t sleep at all. I haven’t had a full night since I got here.”
“That sucks.” Holly picks up a pen and starts to doodle on the notepad next to her computer. Bonnie’s spot across from her is empty, and the chair is pushed in. Everything is neat and organized. Her absence has felt like a gaping void in the B&B office, and hearing her voice now makes it almost feel like she’s there. “Can you sleep on the couch or in a spare room?”
“He likes to wake up next to me,” Bonnie says. “It must be nice to have some sleep to wake up from.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, it’s painful. And he likes me to make him breakfast and coffee, which I haven’t done for anyone but myself in years. It’ll just take some getting used to. I didn’t mean to flood your inbox with nonsense,” Bonnie says, choking up. She stifles a quiet sob on the other end of the line.
The Edge of Paradise: Christmas Key Book Three Page 14
