Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Noelle

A fter a thorough search of all three floors, I haven't come across a man wearing a hat and sunglasses, and none of the patrons remembers seeing anyone who matches the description. I lean against the railing at the top of the stairs to thumb out a quick email to Sunny's parents to let them know what happened. Then I forward a copy to the entire library staff, asking everyone to keep an eye out for the misanthropic menace.

Stymied for now and unsettled by the rotten behavior, I head back to the desk and I pick up my mug for a much-needed swig of what's probably lukewarm coffee. It's halfway to my lips when I realize the envelope it was holding down is gone .

"No, no, no, no, no."

Maybe I unthinkingly put it back in my pocket? I shove my hand in to check, but it's empty. As a rule, I pride myself on not cursing in the library, but I am very, very close to letting loose a stream of profanity that would make even Griselda blush. I drop to my knees and search under my desk.

When I hear my name being called, I pop up and promptly bang my head on the underside of the desk. I yelp, then back out, rubbing my head, and turn around to see Sage and Thyme.

"Check out the prototype!" Sage triumphantly holds up a small plastic mistletoe sprig with two berries on top. The ornament dangles from a red- and white-striped length of fabric ribbon.

"Cute." I manage a vague smile, my mind still on the missing envelope.

"Right? We're going to use them as personalized wine tags at the happy hour tomorrow, and then the guests can take them home and hang them up!" Thyme beams.

Sage narrows her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"What?"

"Your face is so white it's almost see-through. And you're sweating," she informs me.

I swipe my hand across my forehead and my palm comes away wet. Eww.

I groan, " I lost the new clue."

They both gasp.

"But you've already read it. Right?" Thyme asks in a hopeful voice .

I stick out my lip and shake my head. "I told Nick we'd open it together after he gets his suit sorted out. So I put it right here under my coffee mug for safekeeping."

"And it's not there now?"

"Right. I left it there when I went to deal with that ear-splitting noise earlier."

"What was that, anyway?" Sage wants to know.

"Several hundred magnetic tiles crashing to the ground. Some jerk knocked it down deliberately and then pushed a little girl. After I got poor Sunny settled down and we cleaned up the mess, I scoured the entire library looking for the buttwipe who did it. But I couldn't find him."

"May his pillowcase always be warm and his coffee room temperature," Thyme mutters darkly.

I raise a questioning eyebrow.

Sage explains, "It's one of our mom's favorite curses."

"Brutal."

"MJ doesn't play."

Thyme butts in. "How long were you away from the desk?"

"As long as you were, I guess." I check my watch. "Almost half an hour. I just got back here. When I picked up my coffee mug, the envelope was gone."

"And you're sure you didn't move it?" Sage asks.

"I did not move it," I say firmly.

"Huh. Well, it must be here somewhere. We'll help you look for it."

They join me behind the circulation desk. We methodically search every inch of the space, each nook and individual cranny. In the end, Thyme finds it tucked into the tray of monthly calendars on display for visitors to grab after checking out their books. My relief is dampened by my conviction that I did not put it there. I. Did. Not. Put. It. There.

Judging by the looks I'm getting from the sisters, I said that part aloud.

"Well, I didn't."

"Maybe it fluttered off your desk, someone picked it up. and stuck it in the tray thinking they were being helpful," Thyme theorizes.

I look around the circulation desk for this mysterious, helpful person, then I shrug.

"Maybe. I guess it doesn't matter because it's here now."

"Right," she agrees.

They're both staring at me expectantly.

"What?"

"Open it," they urge in unison.

"I told you, I promised your uncle we'd open it together."

"Pfft." Sage's dismissal of my commitment is both short and eloquent.

Thyme takes a slightly softer approach. "He'll understand. Besides, you owe us. We helped you find it. I mean, technically, I found it."

They're giving me an excuse to do what I want to do.

"Oh, what the heck. Let's do it." I grab my letter opener from the pen holder on my desk and slit the envelope open.

They crowd in close and lean over my shoulders to read it along with me: Go to the place where you'll find ladies dancing and lords a-leaping. I frown down at the words.

Sage nudges me. "What's wrong? You look irritated. "

"It's from ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas,'" Thyme says helpfully. "Days Nine and Ten."

"Yeah. I know. It's just not very original. Another clue from the same song? Plus it's very on the nose."

"Who knew you were so fussy and particular about your completely surprise, gifted scavenger hunts?" Thyme snarks.

"Well, when you put it like that, I do sound a smidge ungrateful."

"You said it's on the nose. Does that mean you know where it is?"

"Sure do."

They stare at me with expectant expressions. I draw out the moment until Thyme starts tapping her toe.

"Noelle," she warns.

"It's Dancing Ladies."

"Which is?"

"Which is exactly what it sounds like—an establishment where ladies dance."

"A night club?" Sage asks.

"No. A strip club."

"I believe those are called gentlemen's clubs," she corrects me.

"Well, the guys who frequent this club may be lords, but I have no idea if they're gentlemen."

I'm met by two blank stares.

"The Lords of the Mountain is a motorcycle club. My understanding is Dancing Ladies is their hangout or headquarters or what have you."

"Mistletoe Mountain has its own biker gang?"

I flash to the Christmas in July parade, led each year by the Lords, one of whom pulls a sidecar filled with toys they collect for the charity. "I don't know that they're a gang , exactly."

It must be my imagination, but I could swear they look disappointed.

"Still, I wish we could come with you. But we have a lot of mistletoe favors to make, and Clem says they're going to take at least fifteen minutes each to print." Sage frowns. "Are you going to wait for Uncle Nick to go to this club?"

"Of course. I told him I would."

They exchange a look. "What?"

"Merry told us you two used to date."

Heat creeps up my neck to my cheeks. "I didn't realize Nick told his daughters."

"He didn't," she informs me. "Aunt Carol did."

"Oh. Well, yes, I guess you could say we dated. Briefly. A very long time ago. In college. We met when we were both doing internships in London." Am I overexplaining? I feel as if I might be overexplaining, so I clamp my mouth shut.

"Right. Mom and Dad wanted him to get some real-world experience because he was supposed to come help them run the resort."

Sage says, "I wish he had gone to work for them at Tranquility by the Sea. Then maybe it wouldn't have ended up the way it did."

I don't know the details, but over the years, I've heard the broad strokes. Nick's sister and her husband ended up in some financial trouble with both the IRS and a loan shark, and the three sisters have been digging out from under it.

I nod sympathetically. Then I point out, "Of course, if he'd have done that, he never would have met your Aunt Carol. And you wouldn't have your cousins." And he wouldn't be back in my life.

Thyme agrees, "True. And if our parents hadn't mishandled the resort, I wouldn't have met Victor, Sage wouldn't have met Roman, and Rosemary wouldn't be Mrs. Detective Dave. I can't even imagine that alternate reality."

"So you guys were a couple," Sage says, bringing us back to the topic at hand—a topic I have exactly zero desire to explore with Nick's nieces.

"We had a summer romance, and then it was over. It was time- and location-limited."

They both cock their heads, confused.

I try again. "Imagine a world without email, video chat, social media, and texting. No cell phones." As they continue to look at me blankly, I explain, "I know it probably defies understanding, but in the last millennium things were different. When the summer ended, we were an ocean apart. And airmail isn't the straightest path to a sustainable relationship."

"So it … fizzled out?" Sage asks.

"Exactly. And, after it fizzled out, your uncle came back to the States for his senior year, but I stayed. I transferred to Oxford to finish up. Then, after I graduated I did a year-long traineeship. Then I moved to Italy to do a master's program. Meanwhile, your Uncle Nick graduated and got a job at the inn in my old hometown, which he'd heard me talk about so fondly. And that's how he met Carol."

They digest this.

Then Thyme draws her eyebrows together. "So you didn't know they were together, Aunt Carol didn't know you and Uncle Nick had been together, and he didn't know you and Aunt Carol had been childhood besties? That's wild."

"Remember, it's not as if we were all posting selfies and updates on Picagram and FacePlace back then. The most surprising thing, really, is that Carol tracked me down and asked me to be her maid of honor. My parents had retired to Arizona by then, so she had to do some digging to get an address for me in Ravenna."

"She wrote you a letter to tell you she was getting married?"

"Yep. I still have it somewhere. She went on and on about this amazing guy but never said his name." A slow smile spreads across my face at the memory. "So I didn't know who she was marrying until I walked into their engagement party and saw your uncle."

Thyme shakes her head in disbelief.

Sage asks, "Was it so awkward?"

I answer honestly. "It was a surprise. But, it had been two, almost three, years since I'd seen Nick. And your aunt was my best friend on the planet. I was happy for her. I was happy for him, too."

"And you were living the life in Italy."

"Right." I hope my tone doesn't convey the utter lie of this statement.

"Still, it's such a great story. Why did the three of you keep it a secret from Holly, Ivy, and Merry for so long?"

"I don't think anyone meant to keep it a secret. Honestly, your aunt and uncle probably both thought it wasn't worth mentioning to your cousins because, it was just a summer fling. "

They exchange a look.

"What?"

"Toward the end, I guess Aunt Carol had a different perspective," Thyme answers slowly and then falls silent.

I turn to Sage, who says, "She told the cousins about you and Uncle Nick because she thought you might end up together after she was gone. She wanted them to understand your history."

My stomach drops and I open my mouth, but no words come out.

Sage babbles, "We shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry. You know, she was on a lot of pain medication. She was probably just, confused, or maybe they misunderstood."

"No, it's fine. It's really nothing," I lie lamely.

"Right." They give each other another worried look.

"Really," I insist.

After an awkward moment, Sage says, "Well, I guess we should get back to the workshop and help the Stillwaters print the rest of these ornaments."

"Is it okay if we monopolize your printer for the next few hours?" Thyme asks.

I drop into my chair, give a vague wave toward the stairs, and mumble, "Yeah, go ahead."

They leave, and I lower my head into my hands, mortified.What was Carol thinking? Did she really believe I've spent the past twenty-five years pining for her husband? Then an even worse, more humiliating thought rises up. What if she said as much to Nick? What if he thinks I showed up at the cabin because I have feelings for him?

I let out a strangled groan and lift my head. My gaze falls on the clue. Finding the next clue will take my mind off this embarrassing mess, and there's no way I'm sticking around to face Nick now. I grab the note card from the desk and call over to Farah, who's helping a patron check out a wood chisel from the tool library, that I have to run an errand. Then I race out the back door to the parking lot.