by Cindy Kirk
“It’s show time,” Kenny announced when Kate hurried over. He gestured with his head toward Stella. “Stella tells me the program is nearing the end.”
Kate glanced at the large clock caged in on the wall. “They’re getting through early, but we’re ready for them.”
“I’ll get in the chair.” Kenny squeezed his niece’s shoulder, then crossed the room where a chair, or rather a green-and-red-tufted throne, sat on a large square of red carpet.
A decorated tree sat to the right of the throne with huge painted boxes made to look like presents.
“Did the high school stage crew do those?” Stella asked Kate, snapping a few pics.
“They did, and I think they did an excellent job.”
“I agree.” Stella hesitated just an instant then went for it. “Kenny seems worried about Norma.”
When Kate shot her a questioning glance, Stella explained. “He told me about the cancer diagnosis.”
“I would have told you myself,” Kate assured Stella, “but Kenny asked me to keep it quiet.”
“I understand.” Stella understood the need to come to grips with bad news in your own way and in your own time. “I’m glad he’s reaching out more. I think he needs the support.”
“Kenny is devastated. He loves Norma so much and hates to see her going through all these tests and procedures. Right now, she’s feeling pretty bad because of this infection, and that’s been hard on him.” Kate gave a decisive nod. “But he’s strong, and so is she, and they have a lot of support.”
Kate surprised Stella by taking her hands. “Speaking of friends. Thank you for caring about Kenny. I heard that you helped out at the Busy Bean. You’ll never know how much that means to all of us who love him and Norma.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Guilt rose like bile in her throat. Stella tried to pull back, but Kate held on for a moment longer.
“You stepped in, and you helped out. You were a friend in his hour of need.” Kate released her hands. “I see I’ve embarrassed you. That wasn’t my intention. I’m proud of you, Stella. Proud to call you my friend.”
The night only careened downhill from there. Stella got a shot of Krista, her face flushed with anger, brushing off Dustin’s hand.
Stella wasn’t close enough to see—or hear—what prompted the heated exchange. By the time she drew close, the couple had on their happy faces again.
But she had the money shot. A photo that might sink any hopes they had of closing the deal on a family-friendly network show.
Just as she had the picture of Santa guzzling down nearly two ounces of vodka mere minutes before greeting schoolchildren.
The sick feeling in the pit of Stella’s stomach had nothing to do with the fact that she’d skipped dinner. While she didn’t know Dustin and Krista, the way Krista had showed such concern for Kenny said a lot.
And Kenny . . . well Kate was right. The man had a kind soul.
The month of December may have just started, but any day, Stella knew, she’d receive a text from Jane demanding an update. Not just an update, but one that included any dirt she’d been able to dig up.
What would Stella tell her?
That was the million-dollar question.
Chapter Fourteen
Sam wasn’t sure how he’d lost track of Stella. One second she was taking shots of Santa with the kids, and the next she’d disappeared. Derek had disappeared, too, but Sam had known that would happen.
Tonight, his friend had more in common with the other parents than he did with his single, never-married friend.
If things had gone differently, if he’d been more open to the possibility, Sam knew he could have been married by now. After Kevin’s death, he and Britt had grown even closer.
Sometimes he wondered how he could have gotten through those dark days after Kevin’s death without her. Days when he’d been forced to face the fact that no matter what he did or how hard he pushed, he couldn’t save his brother.
Britt had remained in Holly Pointe even after his parents returned to New York, giving up a chance at trying out for a musical revival where she was said to be a shoo-in for a leading role.
She hadn’t pushed, but when she’d wanted to talk about the future—their future—he wasn’t ready. When Britt finally left, he hadn’t tried to stop her.
Sam had always thought that his father had later written the lead in his play especially for Britt as a way of thanking her for being there for him. Whatever the reason, her stellar performance in that pivotal role had her winning the Tony.
Shoving aside all thoughts of the past, Sam pulled out his phone to text Stella. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t go her way tonight, and he go his, but she had nodded when he’s mouthed “later” in the auditorium.
At least that’s what he thought.
Where are you? he keyed, then hit send.
The reply came immediately. Home. Headache.
Need anything? Sam was ready to leave now. Ready to bring her whatever she needed.
I’m good. Let’s talk tomorrow.
He almost called her. Wanted to call her in the worst way. Wanted to know whether she was simply being stubbornly independent. Perhaps there was something he could do to help.
Then he realized that Stella was strong and more than capable of asking for help if she needed it.
She had a headache.
She was resting at home.
She didn’t want him coming over.
It was that last part that was the most disappointing. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how much he was looking forward to speaking with her again. To simply being with her.
He started toward the exit doors. Instead of spending the rest of the evening with Stella, he’d go home to a dark house alone.
“Have you seen Stella?”
Kate’s question stopped Sam in his tracks. He turned.
“I texted her. She’s went home. She has a headache.”
“She did look a little pale earlier.” Kate’s brows drew together, and her eyes filled with worry. “I wonder if she needs anything.”
“I asked.” Sam lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “She said no.”
Kate removed her phone from her purse. “I’ll text and ask anyway.”
There was no reason for Sam to hang around. He’d given Kate the information she’d asked for, and she could take it from here. But he lingered, curious whether Stella would tell Kate she needed something.
A ping announcing a return text came seconds later.
Kate looked up after scanning the message. “She’s going to bed.”
Sam wondered what it said about him that he was happy to hear that Stella had turned down Kate’s offer of assistance.
“Good job coordinating this event.” Sam put his hand on Kate’s arm. “Do you need any extra muscle?”
“We’re covered.” Kate cocked her head and studied Sam for a long moment. “You and Stella are close, aren’t you?”
“I like her.” Sam started to say more, then stopped himself. Kate was Stella’s friend. In this case, the less said the better.
“Do you think she’ll stay in Holly Pointe?”
“I don’t know.” Sam had mulled over the possibility several times but had come to no conclusion. “She’s mentioned the possibility, but I believe she’s still considering her options.”
“Have you told her you’d like her to stay?”
Sam shook his head.
Kate offered him a knowing smile. “You and I are a lot alike. I’m not really into commitment either.”
Sam wasn’t sure why the comment rankled. Everyone in Holly Pointe was aware that Kate made sure her relationships never got too serious. Of course, if Sam had a mother like hers, he’d probably be a commitment-phobe, too. “Stella and I are still getting acquainted. If she decides to stay, it needs to be because this town feels right to her, not because of me.”
“Makes sense.” Kate lifted a hand, palm out. “And I don’t mean any offense, but the wa
y I see it, Stella shouldn’t even consider settling down to one guy until she has time to see everything Holly Pointe has to offer.”
This conversation, Sam thought, had run its course. “Again, great job coordinating all this. I’ll see you in church tomorrow.”
As he pushed through the doors and breathed in the crisp outside air, Sam wondered what cynical Kate would have said if he’d been honest and told her the truth.
The fact that he could so quickly care for someone he’d only recently met scared him. He liked Stella. He admired her. He found her incredibly sexy and appealing.
All this in a little over a week’s time. Kate was right. If Stella did stay in Holly Pointe, and right now that was still up in the air, she should take the time to see what other guys were out there.
But the thought of her being with another guy was like a knife to his heart. Which told him he was a lot farther down the falling-in-love road than he could ever have believed possible less than two weeks earlier.
Three texts from three different people in less than ten minutes had to be some kind of record. The second text, this one from Sam had been followed minutes later by one from Kate.
Stella tossed her phone down on the table and leaned back against the sofa. She hadn’t lied. She did have a headache. The kind that felt like someone had clamped a vise around the top of her head and was slowly squeezing.
She knew the cause. Tension. Stella had experienced plenty of tension headaches prior to the layoff announcements.
Funny, just like then, it was the newspaper industry at the bottom of this one. Stella had barely stepped over the threshold of her apartment when Jane had texted her.
Need update.
Short and sweet but with an undercurrent of impatience. Or maybe Stella was reading too much into the words. She had yet to respond.
The last thing Stella wanted was for Jane to think she was some docile dog that came running whenever Jane called. Of course, Jane was her boss, and it was to be expected that she’d want to see how the story was progressing.
The trouble was, Stella wasn’t sure how much to tell the managing editor. While it was true that Santa, er, Kenny, had been seen—and photographed—downing a small bottle of liquor wearing his Santa suit before a children’s event, that was only part of the story.
Kenny’s beloved wife of nearly fifty years had been diagnosed with cancer. Kenny hadn’t been drunk around the children. Yes, it looked bad. No, he shouldn’t do it. But to include such information in an article about Holly Pointe, purely for its salacious value, didn’t sit well with Stella.
Perhaps Kenny had a drinking problem, in which case, that issue needed to be addressed. The fact that he drank before a children’s event should also be addressed.
Blasting that information coast-to-coast and portraying him as a raging alcoholic, well, that seemed wrong.
Stella took a few minutes to upload the relevant pictures, including the ones of Kenny as well as Dustin and Krista arguing and smiling at each other. She made her notes. Knowing this file was for her eyes only, she included her impressions as well as the facts.
Then she went to get a cool washcloth to put on her head.
Her phone rang less than ten minutes later.
“Jane.” Stella forced herself to smile, hoping that would make her sound as if she were pleased to hear from the woman. “I just got back from a Christmas event. I received your text and was getting ready to get an update drafted.”
“I realize I didn’t give you much time to respond.” Jane’s voice sounded positively giddy. “I’m so excited about this story. Tell me everything.”
Stella hesitated. Had Jane been drinking? Was that what had brought on this bout of cheeriness?
“I wanted to get my facts down before moving forward.”
“This isn’t a story that’s going to press tonight, Stella.” The cheer meter on Jane’s voice had taken a severe dip. Though still pleasant, a slight chill underscored the words. “I need to know what you’ve discovered.”
“Well,” Stella tried to figure out how to stall, but the pain in her head had turned her brain to mush, “I’m still checking out Santa—”
“Drunk Santa. A marvelous addition to the article.” Jane trilled the last word.
“We don’t know for certain he has a drinking problem.”
“We don’t know for sure he doesn’t.” Jane laughed when she made the comment, but Stella had the feeling she was serious.
“In terms of Dustin and Krista, sometimes they seem happy, and other times, well, stressed. But they do have two very active little boys, and the holidays—”
“The public loves marital discord.” Jane expelled a happy breath. “Especially when two people are trying to pretend otherwise.”
“It’s the same situation we have with Kenny, I mean with Santa. I don’t have enough information yet to either confirm or deny that they’re experiencing problems in their marriage.”
“Again, I say if you think they might be having problems, that’s good enough for me.” Jane spoke in a lilting tone that scraped against Stella’s last nerve.
“It’s not good enough for me,” Stella blurted out. “These people have children. They are on the verge of starting new careers in television.”
“That’s their problem, not ours.”
“I don’t want,” Stella held on to her temper with both hands, “I mean, I won’t write the article until I have all the facts. I won’t slant the article a certain way to appeal to a certain type of readership.”
There was an interminable span of silence, so long that Stella held the phone away from her ear to make sure they were still connected. She’d learned that cell service in this area could be unreliable.
“Jane?” she asked. “Are you still there?”
“I am.” Jane cleared her throat. “Of course I want you to be certain of your facts before you write anything. I hope I didn’t say anything to imply otherwise.”
What did she say to that? “I know you want to put out the best paper possible.”
“I do.” Jane’s tone turned conciliatory. “Which is why I’m going to ask you to simply continue to gather information. All data available to you. That way, when it comes time to write the article, you can wade through everything you’ve collected, and we’ll proceed from there.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
“Just continue to do what you’ve been doing,” Jane told her. “That’s all I ask.”
Stella had skipped church the first week she’d been in Holly Pointe but decided that if Jane wanted her to continue to assess the situation, there was no better place to watch people than in church.
Since Holly Pointe Fellowship was only half a mile from the Busy Bean, Stella decided to walk. She’d already learned that scraping the windshield of a car that had sat out all night was a good way to ruin a morning.
It felt strange climbing the short flight of steps to the front door of the church. The building could have come out of a Norman Rockwell painting with its white siding and tall, narrow windows, each with a pointed arch, as well as a single bell tower.
Even as Stella stepped into the building, the bells began to chime. The walk had taken longer than she anticipated, and the congregation was already standing for the opening hymn.
With everyone on their feet, it was nearly impossible to tell where there was a place to sit. Stella backed up, seriously considering replacing this morning’s service with a scone and latte, when she met an immovable object.
She turned and looked up into Sam’s warm brown eyes.
“Leaving so soon?” He kept his voice low, as if for her ears only.
Though, as loudly as everyone was singing, he could have shouted and likely not been heard.
“I’m late.”
“Me too.”
She gestured with one hand to the congregation. “It’s difficult to see where to sit. I’ll come back another time.”
“I know where there’s an e
mpty pew.” Before she realized what Sam planned to do, he’d taken her hand and was guiding—okay, pulling—her down the center aisle.
Resisting would only make it look as if he’d brought her kicking and screaming to church, so she increased her pace and smiled at those casting curious glances their way.
When Sam stopped and motioned for her to enter the polished wooden pew ahead of him, she understood how he’d known there would be space here.
After all, she didn’t know too many people who liked sitting in the front row.
Chapter Fifteen
Sam hadn’t attended church regularly after Kevin died and Britt and his parents returned to New York City. Oh, he still attended Sunday services, but it was different going alone.
It wasn’t that he was angry with God for his brother getting sick and dying. He’d worked through that anger years ago. Sitting alone in a pew just reminded him of everything he’d lost.
Besides, the horses needed tending in the morning, and there were always other chores to do.
For some reason, this morning had been different. The moment he’d woken, he’d found himself wondering whether Stella’s headache was better and when he would get to see her again.
The thought of stopping over at Dough See Dough after the service and picking up one of the cinnamon rolls she’d liked at the soup supper had propelled him out of bed.
Now, here she was, sitting beside him, her thigh pressed against his. He’d helped her take off her coat once they were seated. She wore a wool dress in a brown-and-green plaid that made her eyes look more green than hazel.
“Quit staring,” she said under her breath, keeping her gaze focused on the minister in the pulpit right in front of them.
He couldn’t help it, Sam had to smile.
This had been one of the most enjoyable church services he could remember. Light streamed in through the stained-glass windows. Pastor Mann’s sermon on Jesus’s Christmas wish list was entertaining.
Stella must have thought so, too. When the minister had quoted 1 Corinthians 10:24, saying, “None of you should be looking out for your own interests, but for the interests of others,” she’d straightened beside Sam as if hanging on the pastor’s every word.
