Just South of Christmas Read online

  “Don’t I know it,” Stella sighed. “I was here last year for the Walkabout but I must have missed the whole Winter Queen part of it.”

  Glad for the change of subject, Georgia cleared her throat and set down her piping bag. “The Winter Queen is the chairwoman in charge of Winter Fest. We voted for her back in October. It came down to Caroline Piedmont and Evelyn Barber. It was quite the fight, as a matter of fact.” She shook her head as she recalled the hectic and contentious debate over who was best suited to be in charge.

  “Caroline is a sweetheart,” Pam said. “She runs that daycare, The Little Hopper, down on Clementis Street.”

  Liza’s face lit up. “Oh, yes, I catered a parenting conference there a few months ago. Lovely woman. What’s the Barber woman’s issue? Sore loser?”

  Georgia shook her head. “Evelyn thinks she’s the better person for the job. She’s an administrator down at the Quartermain Bank. Anyhow, the committee, of which I’m a part, voted against her. I think she took it a bit personal that I voted for Caroline over her, given that she once helped me get a loan.” She shrugged. “But I can’t vote for someone I think is not suited for the job just because I once had a professional interaction with her. She can be a little… grating, to put it nicely.”

  Alma grinned. “That is why I love you so much, darlin’. You’re nothing if not honorable.”

  “That I can confirm,” Sam’s deep voice boomed as he entered the room, accompanied by Ben.

  Stella’s face lit up as she saw her husband. Their love warmed Georgia’s heart. She’d feared Sam would never meet anyone to settle down with until Stella. The two made such a lovely couple, as did Ben and Liza, who were in the midst of exchanging a quick peck of their own.

  “Hello, boys,” Alma greeted them. “Care for some fresh chicken wings? Just out of the oven.”

  Sam grinned. “Don’t mind if I do. How about you, love? Chicken wing?”

  Stella shook her head. “You go ahead, Sammy. My talents are needed here.” She nodded to the cookies.

  “More for me,” Sam chuckled and made his way toward Alma and the wings.

  “Be sure to leave enough for the after party,” Georgia called in jest.

  “I will try my very best. Can’t make any promises.” Sam didn’t take his eyes of the plate Alma was assembling.

  “How about you, Ben? Can I tempt you into some wings?” She called over to Ben, who had joined Liza and Pam at the sandwich making station.

  Ben looked up, mid-chew. “Sorry, Ms. Anderson,” he said with his mouth still half full. “I’m afraid I can’t resist my sweetheart’s sandwiches.” He wrapped an arm around Liza and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed at the gesture, though the tiny scrap of lettuce his smooch left behind was a little bit of a squelchy end to the sweetness. She wiped it away, shaking her head and laughing at the same time.

  “Well, would you look at that?” Stella said in a serious tone but with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Liza gets cuddled on the moment her man walks through the door and all I get is a wink and a hello before I’m set aside for a plate full of steaming wings.”

  At that, Sam immediately spun around, set down the plate with a bang, and rushed across the room like a man on fire. He squeezed himself onto the bench beside Stella, cupped her face and planted a juicy kiss on her lips.

  “There you go, my queen. There’s more where that came from, should you desire. I’ll choose you over wings any day.”

  “Ought to have put that in your wedding vows! And I won’t even take it as an insult to my cooking.” Alma laughed heartily.

  Georgia sat and looked at the faces of her friends and felt her heart full of joy and love. The only people missing were her children. And Joel. Her beloved Joel, the guardian angel who’d entered her life when she least expected it. The man who’d vowed to never leave her side again. He would be there tonight, walking beside her at the Walkabout and then again playing gracious host at the after party.

  Georgia smiled to herself. Yes, tonight would be glorious indeed.

  2

  Tasha

  Tasha pulled out one of the costumes from the rack and examined it. The stitching was so fine and the hem sewn so straight it was hard to believe they were made by volunteers. She stepped back and smiled as she surveyed the many beautiful costumes they’d been able to assemble.

  Every last piece looked as though it could have been worn by one of the founders of Willow Beach, back in 1789. The quality was just that good and convincing. They transported you straight to the early days of Maine.

  Leaving the costumes behind, she walked into the storage room in the back of the community theater. All of the assorted props were kept there for their upcoming play, The Founding of Willow Beach. There were two weeks left until curtains up—the play would premiere on the last day of Winter Fest—and Tasha could feel the nervous excitement bubbling in her stomach already.

  She wasn’t the only one though, nor the most anxious. That honor belonged to the man who was currently standing in the prop room, holding up a fake rifle to the overhead light to check it for authenticity for the billionth time.

  A grin spread across her face. “Eddie Green!” she exclaimed with a laugh. “You cannot keep your hands off these props, can you?”

  Caught in the act, he turned in alarm, but his face softened when he saw her.

  He looked the way he always did in the run-up to a new show: like a total, lovable mess. His messy, dark hair hung onto his pale face and he couldn’t stop moving—a foot tapping here, thumbs twiddling there, a constant hurricane of motion. He flashed her a bright smile and her heart jumped. Tasha loved how his eyes lit up every time he looked at her, even after being together for going on two years now.

  “Hey there, my beautiful leading lady. Come here, look at this.” He set the rifle aside and pointed at a box that had been delivered earlier in the day. She stepped closer, inhaling the scent of the room. Most people would have rumpled their noses at the slightly musty undertones of the prop storage, but she loved it. It meant their carefully gathered pieces were actually as vintage as their sellers claimed.

  Ever since they decided to do The Founding of Willow Beach as the Winter Fest play, Eddie and Tasha had been hunting down whatever original pieces they could from the era. They usually rented most props and costumes from specialty makers down in Boston, but given that this was the first time they were putting on a play about the foundation of their town, they’d decided to go above and beyond. Luckily, Caroline Piedmont had a soft spot for Tasha and Eddie, and she’d coaxed the Winter Fest budget in their favor.

  “Now, this is something really special. I didn’t want to mention it before I was sure I could get it—and intact. But now that it’s here…” Eddie pulled out an empty bottle of wine and held it with both hands as though it were a fragile newborn.

  Tasha frowned, but the moment she laid eyes on the bottle, a gasp escaped her.

  “No way! Is this real? Or a replica?” She squatted down beside him, taking the bottle gingerly. It was an odd olive-green color and round with a blowpipe-style postil scar at the base. The words ‘Willow Creek Winery’ were embossed on the label in a fine calligraphy.

  “It’s real alright. Bona fide.”

  They beamed at one another. To anyone else’s eyes, this would have just been an old bottle, but to her and Eddie, it was the piece de resistance, the holy grail of their quest for authentic historical props.

  “I’ve been looking for a real one for so long, and finally found one. It was on Antiquesquad.com, if you can believe such a thing exists.” He chuckled and shook his head.

  Tasha grinned from ear to ear. “This is it. The bottle for the final scene. The one Martha and Gerald Covington used to toast the foundation of our town.”

  “And the bottle that inspired the town’s name,” he added. They had been daydreaming about finding a real Willow Creek Winery bottle for a long time, but without hopes of actually obtaining one. The winery, as
well as the glass house that made the bottles, had long since closed its door. And yet, here it was—the beginnings of their town, right in Tasha’s hands.

  She looked up to see Eddie staring at her with a curious half-smile on his face.

  “What?” she asked. She pushed him in the shoulder. “Stop looking at me like that. You’re freaking me out.”

  He didn’t laugh, but neither did the smile leave his face. “You know what I love about us?” Eddie asked as he returned the bottle to its crate. He turned and took her hands in his.

  “Everything?” She winked at him and squeezed his hands.

  “Yes, but especially how we just get each other. I mean, how many people do you know who would get such excitement out of getting an old bottle?”

  She nodded. “I know what you mean.” They sat for a moment, looking each other in the eyes when a boom from the stage caught their attention.

  “Now what?” Eddie frowned as he extended his hand to Tasha and the two of them got back to their feet.

  “So much for a romantic moment,” Tasha grumbled. But she got up with him, and together, they rushed toward the stage where they found Eddie’s brother, Damien, standing beside a large set piece that had collapsed and was now flat on the ground.

  “Damien! What did you do?” Eddie rushed forward. Side by side, the two men hoisted the piece back up into place.

  When it was up, Tasha gasped. There was a huge scratch all across the carefully painted landscape of eighteenth-century Willow Beach.

  Damien buried his face in his hands. “I was trying to move it a bit. Cheri kept bumping into it. So, I just went ahead and pushed it over a bit. I didn’t know it was this heavy.”

  Eddie sighed and shook his head. “Tasha, do you think you….”

  “Already on it.” She waved her cell and quickly typed an SOS message to their set designer, Stella Warren, neé Pierce.

  Within thirty seconds, an incoming message pinged back. Tasha sighed with relief. “Stella isn’t pleased,” she announced, “but she’ll come by tomorrow to see if it can be fixed.”

  Tasha thanked her lucky stars that Stella had stumbled into their town. The woman was a blessing if ever there was one. Not only had she married Tasha’s honorary uncle and made him a very happy man indeed, she also volunteered hours upon hours at the theater, painting the most amazing backgrounds for their plays. All that, even though her own freelance graphic design business was buzzing and she could hardly keep up with the demand for her skills.

  “Well, my work here is done.” Damien announced miserably once the set piece was back in place. “I’ll be back to wreck some more sets tomorrow.” Without giving them a chance to reply, he slinked away miserably toward the exit. “See ya both at the Walkabout?”

  Eddie grunted in his brother’s direction and then stood with his hands on his hips, still surveying the damage. “Between Cheri’s inability to walk in a straight line, the damage to the scenery, and Vivienne’s trouble with her lines, I’m starting to think your idea of escaping to Barbados was right on the money.”

  Tasha slapped him on the back of the head playfully. “Stop it. That was a joke and you know it. Cheri just needs to wear her glasses, and Viv has all of three lines in the entire play. Besides, it’s Christmas! Who wants to be on a sandy beach basking in the sunshine when there are snowmen to be built, roasted chestnuts to be eaten, and caroling to be done?”

  Eddie shook his head. “Sometimes I cannot tell if you’re serious or not.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, no, I am deadly serious. I had enough Christmases in the sunshine when I lived in California. That hardly counts as Christmas. There’s nothing better than waking up Christmas morning to a snow-covered town, pumpkin spice nog, fire in the fireplace, and gifts under the tree. I’m getting giddy just thinking about it.”

  Tasha smiled to herself, drawn into the past when the world had been perfect—at least to her.

  Eighteen Years Ago

  “Tasha!” Melanie yelled, her voice high-pitched. “This is mine. It has my name right on it!” Her sister yanked the colorfully-wrapped gift out of her hand with force, clutching it to herself.

  Tasha ought to have known. It was wrapped with gift paper printed with horses on them, one of her sister’s favorite animals.

  “Yeah, Tash, open your own gifts. Here.” Drew tossed a small, soft package at her. “Feels like socks, that’ll do you. Keep those ugly feet hidden away.” Tasha stuck her tongue out at her brother, who returned the gesture before ripping open another of his gifts. This one revealed itself to be a baseball glove, much to Drew’s delight.

  “Yeah! Exactly the one I wanted!” He turned to their parents, who were seated on the couch, side by side. Each held a glass of eggnog in one hand while their free hands were intertwined as they watched their children.

  “Thanks, Mom! Thanks, Dad!”

  “A future superstar ball player needs the best glove, right? Check out the other package in the back. You might find that of interest too,” Tasha’s father said with a wink.

  Drew rose at once and rushed around the tree where another package waited for him. Tasha knew from the shape that it was a baseball bat. No great surprise. All her brother cared about was sports.

  Melanie, meanwhile sat beside her and carefully opened the gift she’d taken out of Tasha’s hands.

  “Operation!” she exclaimed when she was done revealing the board game she’d received. “Thank you!” She beamed, but Tasha hardly noticed—she was too busy tearing apart the wrapping around her own gift at long last.

  She gasped when she saw it. It was a Barbie Movie Star doll, wrapped in a large ball gown fit for any award show. Tasha was over the moon. Even though she was only seven years old, she already knew this was what she wanted to be in the future: a star of the silver screen. Hollywood was right around the corner for her.

  Her mom got off the couch and took a knee beside Tasha, resting one hand lightly on her back. “One more for you, too, Tash. Take a look at the big box over there. You might find something of interest.” She pointed toward a box by the kitchen door. It was wrapped in colorful red and gold paper with a big matching bow on top.

  Tasha sprinted over, tore the paper to shreds—she wasn’t a careful unwrapper like Melanie was—and lo and behold…

  “Mommy! Dad!” She got up and rushed the couch, covering both her parents in kisses.

  “A karaoke machine? Really?” Drew lamented from beside the Christmas tree, his new bat and glove in his lap. “We’re going to have to listen to her wailing at all hours now!” He buried his face in his hands, already distraught.

  Melanie was groaning, too. “Seriously, Mom, how could you do that to us?”

  Dad was chuckling, but Mom frowned. “Oh, hush, the both of you. Your sister has a beautiful singing voice. In fact, I’d love to hear a rendition of Silent Night, if she’d do us the honor.”

  Tasha’s mom winked at her, and she found herself glowing with pride at her mother’s request.

  She set to work unboxing the machine, plugging it in, and getting everything cued up. This day was amazing. There was no way Christmas could ever get any better. No way.

  “Tasha?” Eddie’s voice pulled her out of her memory.

  “Yes?”

  “What were you thinking about? Lost you there for a sec. You looked so happy I almost left you to it, though.”

  She blushed. “Just thinking about Christmas when I was a kid. How happy I was. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were the best days of the year.”

  Eddie shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I dreaded Christmas. Nothing like splitting your Christmas morning between your divorced parents because they each insist on seeing you that day. While all our friends played with their gifts and stuffed their stomachs, Damien and I were being driven sixty miles from Mom’s house to Dad’s every year.”

  Tasha rubbed his back. “I’m sorry, honey. I can relate, though; you know my last few Christmases in L.A. were awful as well.”

/>   “Well, at least we have Christmas together now. Much better that way, if you ask me.”

  She smiled and kissed his temple. It was true—everything was better these days, especially when compared to her time in Los Angeles. She must be in a nostalgic state of mind, because she found herself starting to slip back into a different memory, one of the bad ones from that terribly bleak stretch of years.

  Sitting sullenly on the couch next to Chuck—a Grinch if ever there was one—watching pretentious arthouse films and eating Chinese food…

  But before she could lose herself in the unpleasant memory, Eddie cleared his throat. And when she turned around and saw him, her jaw nearly dropped.

  Because he was kneeling on the floor in front of her, looking up with stars in his eyes. She gasped and clapped her hands to her cheeks.

  Was this…? Could this be…?

  Eddie took one of her hands in both of his. “Tasha, my love, there’s something I have to tell you. I just didn’t know how.”

  She forced herself to keep a straight face as a giggle tried to force its way out of her mouth.

  “Do you now?” she teased.

  “Yes. There is. It’s very serious. I just wanted you to know that….”

  He looked down for a second like he was so choked up she couldn’t speak. Tasha felt tears studding the corners of her eyes.

  This was it—the moment she’d been thinking of for two years, practically since the day she first met Eddie outside the rec center. He was finally going to ask her…

  Wait a second.

  Eddie looked back up, and that’s when she saw that he wasn’t choked up at all. In fact, he was laughing so much that tears were rolling down his face as he said, “…that my shoe’s been untied for like half an hour.”