Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

It was only December first, but Alice always put up a Christmas tree early. In part because she enjoyed seeing it sparkling in the corner of her living room, and part because the holidays were such a busy time for her. If she didn’t do it now, she’d look over and realize it was three days to Christmas and she hadn’t decorated a thing.

Rosewood, of course, would be decorated with sparkling snowflake lights and red bows on each street light. A few pine garlands would be hung over the downtown streets with large ornaments and banners wishing everyone a happy holiday season. The huge tree in the park would be decorated and lit at a big ceremony the evening after the parade, and a smaller tree in City Hall would be up and decorated by Alice personally on Monday. Besides all that, there would be the Winter Wonderland ball, and charity fundraisers to collect toys and food for needy families. Every bit of which was planned, coordinated, and executed by Alice.

Anything she wanted to do for herself had to happen now. The new pre-lit artificial tree she bought on sale after the holiday last year went up quickly. After it was properly fluffed and glistening with the soft glow of white twinkle lights, she opened a dusty box from the garage and started unpacking her collection of ornaments to hang on its branches.

When she was finished, she took a step back and remembered the new ornament she had bought yesterday afternoon. It had been such a stressful day that she’d put the shopping bag on the kitchen counter with her purse and completely forgotten about it.

Alice retrieved the bag now and pulled out the tissue-wrapped bell. She gave it a little shake and it made the expected jingle. Then she took the red velvet ribbon that was tied to it and looped it over a branch near the front of the tree.

What was it the woman had said? To hang the ornament on the tree and make a wish? Alice stared at the tree and its new decoration for a moment. There were a million things she could wish for. No one would be dropping a fortune on her front porch or making the last twenty-five pounds disappear, magic or no, so she decided to focus on what she really needed.

She needed a Santa Claus.

She felt a little silly, but she took a step back from the tree and spoke aloud to the empty room. “My Christmas wish is for me to find a new Santa Claus for the Christmas parade.”

There. Wish made.

There was no magical swirl of stars. No chime of bells. No man appearing in a puff of smoke on her doorstep. Just her in the living room with the same Perry Como Christmas song playing in the background. Alice sighed and stuffed the wrappings back into the bag. She hadn’t given a timetable for the magic, but she was in a hurry. So much for the magic of Christmas and the mysterious Tinsel Trailer.

She smothered her disappointment with more holiday chores around the house. She hung garland down her staircase railing and draped more outside along her porch. Electric candles went in each window. She hung the wreath on the door and a set of bells she got from her grandmother on the doorknob. An antique Santa was placed on the fireplace mantle beside the hook for her lone Christmas stocking. She glanced at the sad knitted sock for a moment, and then turned her attention on gathering up all the packing materials to carry back into the garage.

Work—be it at the office or at home—was Alice’s distraction from anything that was remotely unpleasant, including her own thoughts. At least that was what her last therapist had said. Unfortunately, she’d been too busy to keep attending sessions, so that was all she knew about it. But work was good as far as she was concerned. It silenced her brain and gave her the dopamine hit of accomplishment she craved.

When the house was decorated and all tidied up, she finally held still long enough to realize she was hungry. She didn’t need to glance into her refrigerator to know her options were limited. Grocery shopping seemed to go out the window this time of year with the rest of her self-care. Instead, she opted to put on her coat and walk a few blocks over to Ellen’s Diner.

The sun was shining despite how cold it was today. It had the perfect nip in the air for a walk instead of driving the short distance. It was the kind of weather she hoped for on parade day. No rain, no wind, just clear skies and enough chill to bring a festive sting to your nose and cheeks.

Living in the downtown area of Rosewood had been a necessity for Alice. There were cheaper options with more space once she got a little further out, but it was more important that she be close to work. Since they didn’t offer an apartment in City Hall—a suggestion she’d made more than once—a little cottage nearby did the trick. It was also very quiet for downtown. Across the street, her nearest neighbor was the Baptist cemetery. Just beyond that was the church, so aside from some bells Sunday morning, it was just about perfect.

On a Sunday evening, the diner was usually pretty quiet and tonight was no exception. Two men were eating dinner at the counter, and an older couple were sitting in the back sharing a slice of pie and coffee. Alice took an empty booth and settled in with her tablet and the laminated menu left on each table.

In Rosewood, Sundays were dedicated to time well spent with God, family and grandma’s fried chicken, if you could get it. Alice didn’t have any of those things in her life to occupy her time, so Sundays were usually a day spent planning her upcoming work week, doing laundry, and eating Fred’s famous meatloaf at Ellen’s Diner.

“Hey Miss Alice,” Ruth, the waitress at the diner said as she came up to the table. “Are we changing things up this week? There’s a nice pot roast special today.”

Alice looked at the menu, and shook her head. “You can’t beat Fred’s meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”

“Peas and carrots, with extra gravy on the side. Diet Coke.” Ruth didn’t need to write it down, it never changed despite her attempts to get Alice to branch out.

“That’s it.” Alice put the menu away, unsure why she really looked at it. Ruth reappeared a few minutes later with her drink, and then left her to open her tablet and do some work.

She couldn’t wait for a magic ornament to bring a new Santa into her life. She needed to hunt one down. And she started by brainstorming a list of every man in town she could think of. Any and every name went on her list as long as they were over eighteen. By the time the meatloaf arrived, she’d come up with over a hundred potential candidates.

“Is that some kind of shopping list?” Ruth asked as she put the plate down.

“Not unless I’m shopping for a man,” Alice quipped.

Ruth looked over the list and shook her head. “I’d cross most of those candidates off, honey. Trust me, I’ve lived in this town my whole life.”

Alice chuckled. “Well, thankfully I’m not looking to date them. I’m just looking for a new Santa for the parade.”

“Oh, yeah, I’d heard about Leo’s brush with the law. There’s a man that needs a good woman to keep an eye on him. He hasn’t known what to do with himself since his wife left him.”

“How long ago was that?” Alice asked.

“Oh, gosh. I’d say Foster was eight or nine years old when she left. On Christmas Day, if you can believe it. She told them she had to run out and pick up something she forgot for Christmas dinner, and she never came back.”

Alice stopped, mid-lift of the pepper shaker. “That’s terrible.”

“I know. Leo held it together for Foster’s sake. He did a fine job raising his son alone, I’d say. He focused on that instead of dealing with his marriage ending. But once Foster went off to college and ended up in Nashville, his thoughts got the best of him. Being alone wasn’t good for Leo. He used the bottle to keep him company.”

Now Alice felt guilty for being so hard on him. It didn’t change what he’d done, or that he had to be replaced, but she understood him a little better now. Everyone filled the emptiness with something.

“I’d say you can cross his son off the list of candidates for Santa Claus, first and foremost,” Ruth added, gesturing toward the tablet screen.

“Why is that?” she asked. He had declined yesterday, but Alice never took someone’s initial “no” as their final answer when it came to soliciting volunteers for town events. People always said no at first. If she listened, nothing would ever happen around here.

“Leo took to drinking when Sue left,” Ruth explained, “but Foster associated her abandonment with the holidays. As far as I know, he hasn’t celebrated or even acknowledged Christmas in any way, shape or form, for twenty-some years.”

As Foster stepped into the offices of Mayor Otto Gallagher, he was greeted by a half-decorated Christmas tree and the wool-clad rump of the mayor’s unsuspecting assistant as she bent over a box of ornaments.

He didn’t give a fig about the tree, but he had to admit that was one fine ass. His dad had been correct. “Nice,” he said before he could stop himself.

Alice shot up to attention and spun on her heels to turn and face whomever had come in without her notice. She looked stunned for a moment when her gaze met Foster’s, and then she smiled and pulled herself together. He noticed that she always seemed to have a practiced friendliness that only displayed its cracks for a brief moment before being restored. It made him want to keep her off balance to see what was behind the plastic facade.

“Mr. Robinson,” she greeted, then turned behind her to look at the tree she was working on. “It’s a work in progress,” she said, mistaking his praise for the incomplete tree instead of her rear end.

He didn’t bother to correct her presumption. Instead he held up the garment bag. “I brought in the Santa suit, as requested.”

“Great,” she said, scooping the bag from his arms and hanging it on a nearby coatrack. “I’ll run it to the dry cleaners later today. Thanks so much for bringing it in.”

“Do you want me to drop it off? I have a little time before I have to get back to the house and check on my father, the inmate. He’s having a chat with his attorney at the moment.”

“Oh, no,” she insisted, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. “It’s my job.”

“Well then, how about I walk with you to the dry cleaners and buy you a cup of coffee for the inconvenience of dealing with my father. There’s a new place on the corner, isn’t there? Across from Pizza Palace?”

“Yes. Cool Beans,” Alice said. “I feel like I’m in junior high again every time I say that.”

Foster smiled and nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to repeat the name. “So, is that a yes, you’ll let me buy you some coffee, or just a yes, there is a new coffee shop?”

“Oh,” she said, turning back a moment to look at her half-finished tree, and glancing down at her watch. “Um, both?”

“You don’t sound very sure. I understand if you’re too busy. I’m happy to?—”

“No, I want to have coffee with you!” she nearly shouted, a red flush spreading across her pale cheeks, neck, and what was visible of her chest with her plum-colored V-neck sweater. “I, uh, just need to forward my phone to the receptionist, lock up, and be back here in time for my next meeting.”

Foster watched her move efficiently around her desk, locking screens, dialing a dozen numbers on the phone, and slipping her ever-present tablet into her messenger bag. Every few seconds, he’d catch of glimpse of her watching him through her thick eyelashes before quickly looking away and returning to her task.

When she was finally ready to go, he retrieved the Santa suit and opened the office door for her. She smiled at him as she went past into the hallway and there was the ever-so-slight bit of authenticity in it. That was progress.

After locking up the office, they headed downstairs and crossed the lawn to the sidewalk that ran along First Avenue. For mid-morning on a Monday, the downtown area seemed to be bustling. Cars were coming and going. A couple of women came out of the nearby boutique with a few large shopping bags. Another woman went into the hair salon next door, Curls. The mail carrier was walking his downtown route, passing them in the other direction. He was pushing his mail cart with one hand and eating a delectable looking cinnamon roll with the other.

Judging by the pink napkin wrapped around it, he’d just picked it up from the fancy corner bakery they were approaching. Things were livelier around here than he remembered, which was nice considering how many small towns were dying instead of flourishing these days. Mostly because of people like him growing up and moving away to bigger cities.

“How long has it been since you’ve been back to Rosewood?” she asked as they walked.

“It’s funny you should ask that. I was just thinking about when I left. I’d say ten or eleven years, at least. I made a few trips back during the summers when I was still in college, but after graduation, I stayed in Tennessee. A lot has changed.” He pointed to the sign for Madeline’s Bakery as they crossed the street toward it. “That wasn’t here.”

“That opened last year,” Alice explained. “The previous owner passed away and Maddie Chamberlain bought it.”

Foster couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “There’s a name I haven’t thought about in a long time, but I’ve heard it repeatedly since I arrived. The Chamberlain family. They still run this town, don’t they?”

“They like to think so, although the younger generation is more interested in trying to live their lives than maintain any kind of legacy. Did you go to school with any of them?”

Foster shook his head. “Not really. I think the oldest son might’ve been a freshman when I was a senior, but that’s about it. The father handled my parent’s divorce. I remember that much about them.”

“Of course. Until recently, Norman was the only lawyer in Rosewood. Blake is the high school football coach now. His younger sister Maddie has the bakery.” Alice gestured across First Avenue. “And Woody’s Bar is all new inside, if you haven’t been there in a while. The new owner redid the whole place. He’s actually engaged to Maddie Chamberlain, funnily enough.”

“Small towns,” Foster said, although he wasn’t quite sure if he meant the words to be a criticism or not. Things like that didn’t happen in Nashville. Or if they did, no one knew about it because everything was changing so fast. Considering how little he got out of the house, it was a wonder he knew anyone there at all.

“They are special, aren’t they?” Alice seemed to beam with appreciation. “Our office has done a lot of work trying to revitalize the square and plan activities to bring the community together even as it grows. It keeps me busy.” She punctuated her words by pulling her phone from her bag and typing feverishly with her thumbs as they walked.

She put the phone away just as they passed Nelson’s Jewelry store. Foster held open the door of the dry cleaners for them both to step inside. It only took a few minutes for them to drop off the suit, and then they doubled back toward the new café on the corner.

As they reached the counter to order, Foster turned to her. “Do you have enough time to drink it here, or should I order yours to go?”

She glanced at her watch for the tenth time since they were together. “I have a little time, but please order it to go anyway so I can take it back to the office with me. I’ll sip on it for an hour.”

Foster ordered a black coffee for himself and a peppermint mocha for Alice, and then they took their drinks to a small table near the window. The glass was painted with seasonal images of holly and snowmen, one of which held a hot cup of coffee that would invariably melt him in the real world. The holidays were weird. It just took someone from the outside looking in to admit it.

“Thank you for the drink,” Alice said.

“You’re welcome. From what I’ve heard around town, you’re the hardest working woman in Rosewood. I thought you might need a break.”

Alice’s petite nose wrinkled for a minute as though she couldn’t decide if she was flattered or overwhelmed by the title. “It’s a lot. Otto keeps promising to hire help, but when I press him, there never seems to be enough money in the budget. I think he likes me handling everything because he knows it will get done just the way he wants it.”

“Does your job leave you enough time to be with your boyfriend? Or to spend time with family?” He hoped he wasn’t too obvious in his query.

“No, but thankfully I don’t have a boyfriend to neglect. I think Otto likes that too—no personal distractions. I haven’t had a relationship since I moved to Rosewood, to be honest, and that’s a couple of years now. And all my family live in North Carolina. It’s just me and my job here.”

“I understand that,” Foster said. “I write spy thrillers for a living. Writing is a pretty solitary activity. I just sit there at my desk for hours, looking up to realize it’s dark and I haven’t eaten. Or stood. Or spoken all day. I have a few friends in Nashville that try to lure me out of the house, but usually it’s just me and my laptop racing against another deadline.”

“That sounds pretty lonely. At least I get to interact a lot with people at events and meetings. It’s just superficial, though. I’m not sure I really know anyone here. Thankfully I’m usually too busy to think too much about it. Especially around the holidays.”

“Why did you move here? I always thought Rosewood seemed like the kind of place people are born in, but no one ever moved to.”

“The job lured me here. The real estate prices tempted me to buy a house and it keeps me here. I’m no flight risk and Otto knows it. I like my job. I need the money. I just could use a few more hours away from the job than I get.” Her cell phone rang in her bag again and she rolled her eyes. “Like this. Excuse me, it’s Otto.” She pulled out the phone and took the brief call. “Sorry about that,” she said, setting the phone aside when she was finished.

“Life seemed simpler when we could leave the house and no one could find us until we came home. I have a cell phone, but most of the time the ringer is turned off. It’s mainly for emergencies.”

“Like late night calls about your father being arrested?”

Foster sighed. “Yes, like those.”

“I am really sorry about everything that happened with your dad. He is an excellent Santa. Under the circumstances, though, I just couldn’t...”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupted. “He brought that on himself. It’s probably time he retired the suit anyway and let someone else take on the job.”

He watched as Alice nervously fingered the rim of her coffee lid for a moment before she spoke. “Is there any chance I could get you to reconsider being our Santa Claus? It’s just for a day, and then I’d find a permanent replacement for next year when I have more than a few days to do it.”

Foster chuckled and shook his head. He had been expecting that topic to come back up eventually and there it was. “There are a lot of things I would do for a beautiful woman in distress, but dressing up like the fat man isn’t one of them. I’m sorry, I just don’t do Christmas.” Foster pushed back his chair and stood, hoping to end that line of discussion.

Alice nodded, trying to hide her disappointment and failing. “I understand.” And then, halfway between sitting and standing, she hesitated and looked up at him. “Did you mean that?”

“I always mean what I say. No Santa for me.”

“No, I mean...” she stopped, gathering her things along with her thoughts. “When you called me a beautiful woman in distress... You really think that I’m beautiful?”

Foster didn’t know whether to smile because he’d flattered her, or hunt down and punch the men that made her feel otherwise in the past. She was an absolutely stunning woman, in his opinion. Flawless, creamy skin, dark auburn hair, a curvy figure, and large, dark eyes. The men of Rosewood had been fools to let her sit on a shelf all this time, doubting herself.

He chose a serious expression, looking into those same dark eyes so she couldn’t doubt what he was about to say. “Like I said before, I always mean what I say.”

Alice’s mouth fell open, the words not seeming to form the way she intended them to. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a mix of confusion and surprise. This was most definitely not one of her official Mayor’s Office expressions.

A bit of sparkle overhead caught Foster’s attention and he realized they were standing under a glitter dipped cluster of plastic mistletoe. It wasn’t exactly the way Charles Dickens would’ve pictured it, but he decided to take the opportunity as it came.

Stepping close to her, he took the cell phone from her hand and sat it down on the table. Looking into her eyes, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her until the shock of his words seemed to wear off. He kissed her until she really, truly believed him.

Her lips were soft and tasted of peppermint coffee. Normally, he shied away from those types of seasonal flavors, but in the moment, he was a convert. He wanted more of it, more of her. But he pulled away before they were the talk of Rosewood for causing a scene.

She looked at him, her eyes glassy and dazed for a moment before she noticed the same mistletoe dangling overhead. “I thought you didn’t do Christmas stuff?”

“It was a convenient excuse to prove to you the sincerity of my words in the most pleasurable way possible. Was I successful?”

“Yes,” she mouthed the words without speaking, just nodding her head.

“Good.”

Her phone rang again and he took a step back out of her space. She glanced at the phone and sighed. “Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Robinson.”

Foster smiled. “I think at this point you can go ahead and call me Foster.”