Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

SCREAMING IN THE CAR

Holly

T hanks to Delphina’s sugar bomb assault, I’m forced to drive to the diner in Stonebridge for my coffee on my way to the office. The public defender’s office where I work is in the valley, not in Mistletoe Mountain proper, so at least the Christmas contagion is diluted here. The only concessions to the holiday in the diner are a ceramic tabletop Christmas tree with multicolored old-fashioned mini-lightbulbs aglow next to the cash register and the container of my sister Merry’s peppermint candies beside it.

I’m patiently waiting for my to-go cup of blessedly bitter, dark coffee when my phone chimes. I glance at the notification bar. It’s a text from Delphina. I swipe it open, expecting to see either an apology for the abomination she tried to pass off as my coffee order or more nagging about attending the Christmas tree lighting. To my surprise, it’s neither. Instead, she’s written:

OMG! You missed the excitement right after you left. Call me when you get a chance.

Call her? She’s usually way too busy to talk on the phone when she’s at her shop. Especially in the mornings. Not to mention, who talks on the phone anymore? So whatever she has to tell me must be juicy. I’m just about to hit the icon to call her when I hear my name.

I lift my head to see Roslyn Porter waving and grinning broadly at me. She clatters across the linoleum floor on her high-heeled shoes. “Am I glad to see you, Holly.”

“Morning, Roz,” I say cautiously.

Roz is always working, even when she isn’t working. So her unbridled joy at seeing me isn’t as flattering as it might seem. She takes exactly one breath before revealing why she’s so happy to run into me.

“The judge was assigned a criminal case this morning. It just came in.”

I steel myself to tell her I can’t help her, but she plows ahead.

“The defendant is an out-of-towner. The district attorney’s office wants to hold him without bail because they think he’s a flight risk.”

We both roll our eyes. There aren’t many crimes committed in Mistletoe Mountain and the surrounding towns, and almost none that require holding the defendant without bail.

“Roz—,” I begin.

“You know he’s going to end up being assigned to your office anyway. Let’s chalk one up for efficiency.”

Roz is a force of nature, and, while, sure I can argue with her, she’s right—I’ll just be delaying the inevitable. So I save my breath and sigh instead. “What time’s the hearing?”

“Well, since you’re already here, we can push it up. As a courtesy.” She grins.

Stonebridge is the county seat, and the courthouse is located right on the town square, less than a mile from where we stand.

“I haven’t even been into the office yet, Roz.”

“Perfect, don’t go in. That way you won’t get waylaid with other cases and people needing things from you. Just grab your coffee and come straight to the courthouse.”

As she says this, Betty appears at the counter with two takeout coffees. I take one while Roz snags the other.

“I’ll see you in a few,” I say.

“I just need Betty to box up my donuts,” she says loud enough for Betty to hear and put a little hustle in her step. “I take them in every Friday for the courthouse staff. You know, everybody likes to end the work week on a sweet note.”

I’m beginning to suspect that this entire county is controlled by a cartel of dentists. I just nod, eager to get outside and call Delphina to find out what’s so important before I plunge into my new case.

“By the way—,” Roz begins just as I reach the door. Her overly casual tone makes my chest tighten. I turn around and eye her. “I might not have mentioned that Anderson Carson is the assistant district attorney handling this case. See you at the courthouse!”

I gape at her as my face heats. I can’t face Anderson. Not now. The primary reason I plan to hibernate during the month-long holiday celebration that takes over the entire town is to avoid Anderson. It’s literally written on my goal list for the month under self-care: A. A., Avoid Anderson.

Having a case against him will ensure I don’t meet this crucial goal. I open my mouth and she tilts her head. It’s not a head tilt that says, ‘I understand if you need to reconsider.’ It’s more of a ‘Are you really going to tell a judge you can’t take a representation because your love life fell apart?’ head tilt.

She’s right. I nod, clamp my mouth closed to swallow the string of swear words rising in my throat, then wheel back around and push the door open with more force than necessary. I speed-walk to my car, launch myself into the driver’s seat, and rest my head against the steering wheel, letting out a strangled scream as I do so.

That feels good, so I scream louder. Then I lift my head, throw it back, and shriek. It’s a raw, wordless expression of rage and frustration. But it feels powerful and freeing, unlike all the sobbing I indulged in over the summer.

I pull down the visor mirror and address my reflection aloud in a voice made raspy by all the screaming, “I am a warrior. I can do this. I will do this.”

Pep talk completed, I start the car and call Delphina through my Bluetooth connection. Not surprisingly, my call rolls to voicemail. I leave a brief message:

“Hey, I got your text but couldn’t call you until now. I’ve been corralled into doing a bail hearing, so I’ll be in court for the rest of the morning. Oh, and Anderson is representing the county.” I pause for the shriek of indignation I know this news will elicit from my best friend. “Of course, this is all your fault because I ran into the judge’s secretary at the diner—where I was getting a cup of real coffee. Talk to you later.”

I don’t really blame Delph. If Roz hadn’t collared me at the diner, she’d have called the public defender’s office. And as the newest lawyer, odds are I’d have been asked to take the case even if I weren’t the only person in the office today. But, still, I can’t believe I’m about to go toe-to-toe in court with the one person I desperately want to avoid during the month-long Christmas extravaganza that takes over Mistletoe Mountain. Anderson Wilson Carson, Esquire, hotshot assistant district attorney on the rise, permanent entry on the Naughty List, and my adulterous ex-fiancé.