The Edge of Paradise: Christmas Key Book Three

by Stephanie Taylor

  Holly gazes longingly at the lips she’d loved to kiss. Her knees feel weak thinking of River’s strong arms, of the way her fingers had traced the hard muscles of his abs in her darkened bedroom, of the way it had felt to wake up next to him in the morning. She’s completely distracted by River as she reaches for the bowl of pasta. Her fingers miss the edge of the dish, and instead of grabbing it, she knocks into the bowl and sends it tumbling off the edge of the counter. The noodles plop onto the tile floor in a greasy pile.

  “Yes,” she says, looking at her dinner on the floor. “Yes. Let’s go. We’re doing this.”

  River gives a hoot. “Was that your pasta? And are you serious? You’re not kidding?”

  “It was my pasta, and I’m not kidding.”

  “We’re going?”

  “We’re definitely going. I want to see you again. And you’re right: it needs to be somewhere else—not here.”

  River laughs to himself and puts his chapped hands in front of his chin. He rubs them together like sandpaper. “Okay. But first you need to figure out what you’re going to eat tonight, because I’m guessing Pucci will get to that pasta before you do.”

  Holly bends over and scoops up the noodles in big handfuls, tossing it all into the garbage can under the sink. “Oh, don’t worry about me—I have Oreos. I won’t starve.”

  “Oreos for dinner?” River makes a face.

  “Absolutely. I’ve got high fructose corn syrup, chocolate,” she reaches for the pack of cookies on the counter and scans the list of ingredients, “palm oil, cornstarch, and a glass of milk to wash it all down. I’m good.” To show him she isn’t kidding, she pulls a cookie from the package and shoves the whole thing into her mouth.

  “Okay, feast on those Oreos tonight, but then start thinking about our trip. Let’s make some plans.”

  “Got it. Cookies for dinner, then make plans for Europe,” Holly says around the mouthful of Oreo. She pulls the carton of milk from her refrigerator and takes a swig. “But first I need to pry Bonnie out of the arms of a pirate and get her back to Christmas Key, and then I need to kick a racist off my island.”

  “Of course you do,” River says indulgently. “All in a day’s work.”

  Chapter 23

  Someone is playing Big Band music on a phone speaker when Holly walks to the podium at the front of the B&B’s dining room the next morning. She searches the crowd to see who’s blaring Glen Miller, but can’t pinpoint exactly where it’s coming from.

  “I’d like to call the village council meeting for March fifteenth to order,” Holly says into the microphone. All around the room, people ease into chairs and get comfortable. The music stops, and phones are switched off and put away. “We’ve got a few things to cover here and then I’ll set you free to get on with your day.” Holly consults the typed agenda in front of her. Heddie Lang-Mueller is sitting in a chair to her right, taking the meeting minutes as always. “First off, I’m excited to tell you that I got confirmation from the network and I know when Wild Tropics is going to air.”

  People shift in their seats, whispering. Wayne Coates, the producer of the reality show that filmed on the island from Halloween to Christmas, had finally emailed Holly the air-date for the premiere. The show had caused mixed feelings amongst neighbors, with some hating the exposure, others thinking it was fun, and a few wishing they’d gotten as much air-time as the reality show’s competitors. But in the end, they’d all pulled together and helped to make the taping a success.

  “Can we make it a big deal, like a Hollywood movie premiere?” Mrs. Agnelli asks loudly from her spot in the front row.

  “I think we should.” Holly says. “How about if we do it here at the B&B? We could set up a screen over there,” she points at an empty wall with no windows, “and then we could do a red carpet entrance and serve something fun for dinner.”

  “Like a dress up event?” Millie asks.

  “Sure, if you want.” Holly nods. “That would be fun.”

  Millie cups her mouth like she’s telling the whole crowd a secret. “I’ve got openings at the salon if anyone wants a wash-and-set or an up-do for the big event.”

  “Got it,” Holly laughs. She’s losing the crowd as they talk animatedly about what to wear and what type of food would befit a Hollywood premiere event.

  The early spring sun is streaming in through the lobby and all the windows of the B&B. As her neighbors laugh and talk around her, Holly stops for a minute, a million thoughts flowing through her mind as goosebumps race up her arms and spine. Here she is, leading a village council meeting. She’s successfully brought a reality show to the island, and they’re planning a premiere at the B&B. She’s been mayor now for a few years, and there’s no place in the world she’d rather be. It’s a good feeling.

  “I think we should talk about the elephant in the room,” Cap says from where he’s sitting. His voice startles Holly out of her thoughts, and the bright sunlight that fills the room dims a few watts, like a cloud is passing over the sun.

  “Right,” Holly says, coming back from her reverie. With a light tap of her pink marble gavel, she gets the crowd’s attention. “Cap has a valid point. I think we need to address a few issues.”

  The room settles again, and Holly glances down at her agenda. What she needs to talk about isn’t officially scheduled for discussion, but they’ve always been able to work things out as a group, and she doesn’t want to shy away from the difficult stuff now.

  “As we grow and change, there are going to be moments of discomfort,” Holly says carefully. Her eyes flick around the room. Hal Pillory is sitting near the door, a fading bruise and a long cut that’s healing still visible on his forehead and temple. Vance and Calista are both at the meeting, as Holly has set up a movie on her laptop in the lobby for Mexi and Mori. Emily Cafferkey has agreed to watch the boys for an hour or so and make sure neither wanders off or gets into mischief. Jake and Bridget are sitting together near a window, and Holly notices the space between them. Jake has his arms folded across his firm chest, and there are several inches between their chairs. It’s almost as if he knows what’s coming and wants to distance himself.

  “I’d like to welcome Vance and Calista Guy to their first Christmas Key village council meeting, and to let them know that we love having them on the island.” Simplicity is best here, Holly reminds herself, thinking of the typed book full of wisdom that her grandfather had left for her. He’d called it his “island prospectus,” and filled it with helpful tidbits about developing Christmas Key. Stick to the facts, and don’t sugarcoat the hard stuff, it had said.

  “My grandparents had a singular vision when they bought this island in the eighties,” Holly says. Maria Agnelli is poised to add something, so Holly quickly shuts her down. “And yes, I know they had a teenage daughter with a baby, but their real dream was to create a paradise where people could escape the fast-paced world.”

  Heads nod around the room as the people who’d known Frank and Jeanie Baxter agree with Holly.

  “They had a beautiful dream,” Hal Pillory says in a scratchy, wavering voice. “And this place has always been paradise for me.”

  “Me, too,” Maggie Sutter adds. “Everyone gets along here like peanut butter and jelly, and there’s more love on this tiny island than you find in most families.”

  “Here, here!” Jimmy Cafferkey holds a finger in the air. Next to him, his wife Iris nods.

  “I’m glad you all feel that way,” Holly says. “I think one of the things I prize most about this little community is the way we all accept one another with open arms.”

  “I can vouch for that,” Cap Duncan offers. His own hidden past had been pulled to center stage during the taping of the reality show, and he’d been surprised to find that the secret he’d been keeping for years had done nothing to change his neighbors’ unwavering affection for him.

  “We can’t go on like this. It’s unacceptable.” Millie Bradford stands up in the center of the room, her eyes wi
de. She’s impassioned and ready to let her thoughts fly, but her husband reaches out a hand and touches her arm gently.

  “Honey,” Ray Bradford whispers. “Let Holly say what she needs to say.”

  “I’m sorry, Holly,” Millie says soberly, sinking back into her chair.

  There’s a part of Holly that wishes Millie would have just said the words for her, but she knows that—as mayor—settling uncomfortable situations and disputes falls squarely in her lap.

  “Well,” she says, clearing her throat. “It’s come to my attention recently—and I hadn’t really noticed it before—but we have a bit of a…uhh…well, we’re not very…I mean, we don’t—”

  “We’re as white as a polar bear’s ass,” Maria Agnelli offers at full volume.

  “We don’t have much diversity here, is what I was going to say.” Holly can feel the heat crawling up her chest and neck towards her face. “But essentially, yes. We’re white and we’re pretty long in the tooth when it comes right down to it.” She clears her throat again. “Man, this is awkward. This conversation is so hard to start.” With apology in her eyes, she looks at Calista and Vance. They’re sitting together on the left side of the room, heads held high, jaws set to hold back whatever they might be thinking or wanting to say.

  “Anyway,” Holly goes on. “We’ll never make progress if we don’t do the hard work, and I’m willing to be the one to say this: Christmas Key is a loving, welcoming place. We don’t discriminate against any particular religion.” Her eyes sweep the room. “We don’t decide who we accept based on their nationality,” Holly says, looking directly at Cap Duncan and remembering his nervous admission at this very podium, “and we desperately need some young people here, which we now have.”

  Calista gives Holly a tight smile; Vance’s face remains impassive. A cell phone chirps somewhere in the crowd and is quickly silenced.

  “Most importantly, determining someone’s value or worth based on the color of their skin is something that’s unacceptable on this island. My paradise will never be a place where that happens.” It takes all of Holly’s willpower not to look directly at Bridget or Jake. Instead, she looks down at her hands, which are laced together on the podium. “And if anyone takes issue with that, there’s a boat leaving the dock around four o’clock today after it delivers the groceries and mail. Feel free to be on it.”

  There are a few small items on the agenda that Holly knows she should cover, but they’ll hold for the next meeting. As she picks up her gavel, the crowd breaks into applause, some standing and beaming at her as they show their support for the hard stance she’s taking. Holly finally lets her eyes sweep the left side of the room and she meets Bridget’s gaze.

  The gavel hits the sound block with a loud tap. “Meeting adjourned.”

  Chapter 24

  The sun is on Holly’s bare shoulders as she walks down Main Street and stops in front of Mistletoe Morning Brew. She looks out at the dock and the vast expanse of blue water before her. They’re just days from the official start of spring, and the island is responding to nature’s prompts exactly as it should, giving forth trees full of pink hibiscus, and bounties of dwarf pineapple plants, passion fruits, and sea grapes. The air is filled with salt and citrus; Holly is sure this must be what heaven smells like.

  The gossip about Bridget’s outburst at Jack Frosty’s had instantly lit up the wires connecting everyone on Christmas Key, and because Millie Bradford had overheard the whole exchange with her own ears, it hadn’t taken long for Calista to hear that not everyone was excited to have her family on the island. Holly had left the village council meeting on Wednesday feeling strong and content, certain that her grandparents were looking down on her with pride for upholding their vision of paradise. After the meeting, Calista and Vance had called Holly to thank her for not pretending that everything was fine when it really wasn’t.

  It feels good to deal with an issue—particularly one as sensitive as this—up front and without delay, and Holly is in high spirits as she admires the new pane of glass on the front of the coffee shop. Inside, Carrie-Anne and Ellen are bustling around wearing white lace aprons and woven crowns of fake flowers. They’ve decorated the tables with vases full of real orange and key lime flowers from their own garden, and long garlands of yellow, white, and purple silk love-in-idleness flowers hang from the white trellis that the women have set up from floor to ceiling. A sliver of moon made of papier mâché hangs from the ceiling, and white fairy lights twinkle in the tall Norfolk Island Pine trees that Carrie-Anne has potted and placed in the corners of the shop.

  “Coffee, milady?” Ellen asks Holly, setting down the mugs in her hands and wiping her palms on the front of her apron.

  “Yes, please.” Holly looks at the hand-drawn sign that’s propped up on an easel next to the front counter. In chalk, Ellen has artfully written out her quote of the day from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream: “The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid/will make man or woman madly dote/upon the next live creature that it sees,” Holly reads. “Better not put any of that love-in-idleness juice in my coffee—or on my eyelids,” she says, digging in her purse for her wallet. “I’d hate to fall madly in love with the next person who walks in here.”

  The bells on the door jingle behind her. Holly turns to see Jake.

  “Could be tragic,” Ellen agrees with a smile. She busies herself with pouring Holly’s coffee.

  Jake sighs loudly and pulls off his sunglasses. “Good. I wanted to talk to you.”

  “To me?” Holly asks, pointing at the center of her chest.

  “Yeah, you.” Jake doesn’t come in any further than the door.

  “Get you a coffee, Officer Zavaroni?” Carrie-Anne asks as she bustles by in her crown of flowers.

  “I’ll swing back through for one later,” he says to Carrie-Anne. “And, Ellen—you’d better make hers to go.” He nods at Holly and she does a double-take.

  “Excuse me? You’re changing my drink order?” She’s completely taken aback by Jake’s assertiveness, and even more put off by the look in his eyes. “Fine, to go, please,” she says to Ellen, who has paused mid-pour and is openly staring at Holly and Jake.

  “You got it,” Ellen says quietly, pouring the hot coffee from the mug into a paper cup and slipping it into a sleeve. She snaps a lid into place and passes Holly the coffee. “Two bucks.”

  Without another word, Holly leaves two crumpled bills on the counter, takes her coffee, and follows Jake back out into the sun.

  “What’s going on?” she asks, sipping her coffee through the opening in the lid. “You look…I don’t know. Peeved?” Holly follows him to the end of the sidewalk and down to where the dock starts.

  “Peeved isn’t even the half of it,” Jake says, stopping abruptly. He shoots her a hard look before sliding his sunglasses back on. “That stunt you pulled at the meeting the other day was a lot, even for you.”

  “What stunt?” Holly is about to take another drink of her coffee, but instead she pauses, holding the cup near her chin. It hasn’t even occurred to her that someone might have been displeased with the way she’d handled things. “I didn’t pull any stunts, Jake. And what does that mean, ‘even for you’?” She narrows her eyes at him.

  Jake makes a disbelieving face. “Trying to turn people against Bridget because of one dumb thing she said when she was grieving and not in her right mind.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Holly protests. “It wasn’t the first time she said it, and I brought it up at the meeting because we’re talking about something serious that needs to be addressed.”

  “Right,” Jake says, obviously getting ramped up. “So there’s no way that you’d use it against her to, oh, I don’t know, get her to leave Christmas Key?” He shoots a glare of ice at Holly from behind his sunglasses. “There’s no part of you that thinks we might be able to patch things up and get back together if Bridget is gone?”

  Holly pulls her head back and lowers her chin. Of course
she has thought this—many times—but not recently.

  “Should we keep tiptoeing around this, Hol? Maybe we can drive out to Hal Pillory’s and argue on his front lawn again? Or get into it on December Drive while we haggle over who has to fill the holes in the road?”

  Holly wants to defend herself and toss something back at Jake that will shut him down, but she can’t. She knows he’s right.

  “You’ve been on my ass since your boyfriend took off at Christmas, and I see that look in your eyes.” His tone is accusing, and his face is hard and unyielding. “I know that look, because it’s the same one I saw every time I looked in the mirror last summer and wondered whether there was anything I could do to get you back.” Holly picks at the tab on the coffee’s lid, not meeting Jake’s gaze. “I would have done anything to patch things up last summer, but you made it clear that that wasn’t happening.”

  “You’re right,” she whispers, still not looking at him. The palm trees near the dock move in the breeze and their fronds send up a shimmer of noise.

  “And now I’ve got someone else, and we’re dealing with some heavy stuff. I need a little space to figure things out, and you think it’s a great idea to basically call Bridget out in front of the entire island. You even told her to get on the next boat and leave!” he almost shouts, unfolding his arms and pointing at the water. “Would you have handled things the same way if it had been your baseball player boyfriend voicing an opinion that you don’t share?”

  Holly shrugs, but she knows he’s got her over a barrel here. Of course she wouldn’t have dragged River to a village council meeting and shamed him—she would have simply had the conversation with him in private and made a decision about whether they could go on seeing one another. But rather than give Jake the chance to do the same thing, she’d taken matters into her own hands.

  “Listen,” Jake says, putting both hands on the sides of his head and squeezing like he’s got a headache he can’t shake. “You and I are always on different pages. We can’t agree, we argue, we want different things.” He runs his palms over his hair and lets go of his head, holding his arms wide. “I’m not even sure this island is big enough for both of us anymore.”