One

Jill

Grinch Ain’t Got Nothing On Me

I hated Jack Ziglar. My mother would say “hate is such a strong word, and we shouldn’t hate people.” She could say that, but he wasn’t her ex-business partner and, worse, the ex-boyfriend who cheated on her, was he? No, he was not. I held that dubious honor. And as I stared out the window at his latest stunt, one thing was clear: Cherish Cove wasn’t big enough for the both of us. It was either him or me, and the way my financials looked, I was beginning to think the one on the outs was me.

With a growl, I slammed shut the ledger book I’d been using to review the bookstore’s finances and stomped toward the front door. Yes, I used computer bookkeeping, too. No, I didn’t really trust it.

That was the least of things right now because that two-timing coal-licker had placed a sign outside my door directing people down the street for “Real” books. As if Happily Ever Afters didn’t sell “real” books.

I wasn’t sure exactly when he’d placed it there this morning, but it was long enough ago that he was out of sight and recently enough that I hadn’t seen it when I’d been working on the front window display fifteen minutes ago.

Scowling, I stopped three feet from it and glared at the chalked words and the arrow indicating for shoppers to continue down three storefronts to Zigzie’s Books .

“He’s at it again,” my assistant, Beya Perkins, said, coming up beside me, steam curling up from the paper cups she carried. She handed over one, and I smelled my daily peppermint mocha from her fiancé’s coffeeshop a block from here, her first—and last—stop before coming into work each morning.

“Yeah.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well, first…” Swinging sideways, I gave the A-frame, sandwich board sign a hard kick that knocked it over and sent it skittering a few feet. “Then, it’s going into the dumpster.”

“That board looks expensive.” Beya pointed her chin at the collapsed dark wood frame.

“Don’t care. He left it on my part of the strip. He knew it was forfeit.” Jack also knew it would get right under my skin. When he’d made the purchase, he’d probably been gleeful about my likely reaction.

“We could take it inside and write our sales for today on it,” she suggested.

“We have a sale?”

She lifted a brown, smirking conspiratorially. “Don’t we? We still have some chalk markers under the counter from this summer’s craft event, and I can whip up something cute.”

And this was why she was my assistant and best friend. She knew we needed the Christmas season to sustain us for the rest of the year. Promotions and marketing had brought in an uptick of people. Sales were up a little, but the outlook remained dismal. Revenue wasn’t up enough. More and more, the reality of my situation was hitting home.

I needed to branch outside of Cherish Cove. Or leave it. Or just close up shop completely and work as a barista as I had in college. Okay, that was being dramatic. I had a business degree. I could land an office job, but abandoning my bookstore would break my heart.

“Go for it. Buy two, get one fifty percent off. Today only ,” I suggested, thinking on my feet.

“On it, boss.” Crouching with her own coffee held out to her side, she scooped up the wooden sign. I held open the door while she walked inside sideways. She leaned the sandwich board against the counter, then after setting down her cup, she reached into her cross-body messenger bag. “Got something for you.”

“Coffee is enough, Bey.”

“Nah, nothing like that. Here. This. I know you’ve been looking for it.” She handed me a flier with a graphic of Christmas lights forming a border around the page. “I snagged it from Willow Woods this morning. I’m sure she’ll be ‘round to drop more off for each of the local stores to hand out, but I also figured you’d want to see the rules and prizes right away.”

“Oh my gosh. Finally! She waited ‘til the last minute this year, didn’t she?” Taking the sheet, I scanned the top.

Annual Christmas Display Contest!

Open to all Cherish Cove residents.

Top Prize: $2000 plus waived property taxes for the year.

I scanned the rules and found they were the same as every other year with no surprises. I found what I looked for in the fine print, however. Willow had let the new benefit slip when she’d been in here last month, but here was the confirmation:

The winner will be featured in the Cherish Cove brochure available at the visitor’s welcome center and in all hotel rooms in our little tourist beach town.

If I won, I could advertise my bookstore on my feature page. Free advertising for the win—but I just had to do that. Win.

As Beya disappeared into the back room, I closed my eyes and took a cleansing breath—a breath that didn’t really help. After the morning of reviewing finances, dread still taunted me. In resignation, I shook my head. Maybe, the sale today would help—no thanks to Jack Freaking Ziglar.

I told myself not to worry about it until tomorrow. The numbers wouldn’t change much between now and then. Still, I grabbed a notepad and pen to make a list of things that might help the store and in turn, me.

Website.

Online store.

Social media advertising.

New Products?

Win contest.

I underlined win three times.

The first three items required marketing skills I didn’t have. Yet. My own fault. I kept promising myself I’d get a website and web store up and running, but I hadn’t yet. It wasn’t procrastination, but more that I lacked the hours in the day. Maybe, if I got books on the subject, I could figure out those tasks. Not from here, though. All I carried were romance novels. I’d either have to order from online, go into one of the bigger cities around us and visit one of the national bookstores, or—kill me now—go to Jack’s bookstore. And that was not happening. I’d sooner run naked through town on Christmas day than step foot into Zigzie’s Books .

Or I could send Beya…

No!

Not happening. I wasn’t giving him business, since it was basically his fault I was in this predicament. We used to run a single bookstore before he’d cheated. Now, my expenses were doubled since we had split resources. His fault.

So no. I wasn’t going to Zigzie’s —the stupidest bookstore name ever. I’d figure out the tech stuff, and the final item on my short list… Totally doable. I’d kick ass with my Christmas display. I might feel like the Grinch inside, but I could look like Rockefeller Plaza on the outside—well, my house and yard could, anyway. I’d been planning it out since last Christmas after Jack and I broke up. He always rocked the contest with all his electronics know-how, but this year, I was ready to Tonya Harding his Nancy Kerrigan light show.

And that was the other thing…

My particularly obnoxious ex lived across the street from me. We weren’t neighborly, though. He waved. I ignored. I didn’t even give the cheating jerk a one-finger salute even though he existed to annoy me.

Aside from our past history, he mowed his lawn at an ungodly early hour—the same for his snow blowing his driveway and sidewalk now that winter had arrived. I should be thankful he did mine too, but I knew he just did it to annoy me. At six-freaking-AM when he knew I wasn’t a morning person.

He also let me know when my car made a strange noise. He turned up at my favorite places. When I carved a pumpkin for Halloween, he did two—and bigger, fancier. And now, in an act of the ultimate bad neighboring… He’d try to outdo my holiday display that I’d started putting out last week in anticipation of the contest announcement. He hadn’t started his, but that meant nothing. I knew he would.

Just thinking about him made me annoyed.

I pushed away my pad of paper.

“What’s that scowl for? Need another coffee?” Beya asked as she lugged the newly decorated sign from the back where she’d redone it.

“I’ve barely touched this one. Hey, does Brewly Yours have a website?”

“Uh… yeah ,” she said as if it were the dumbest question ever. “I think Zain had it up and going before he even opened the shop.”

“Did he set it up or did he hire someone?”

“Are you finally going to get us a site?” she asked, rubbing her hands together. “My gosh, we won’t have to make like we live in the Pride and Prejudice era, anymore.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “It’s not that bad.”

Yeah, we didn’t have a website, but the store wasn’t outdated. I had the latest point of sale and tracking systems, and everything inside was modern—modern romantic and not modern sterile. Sterile and boring was Jack’s department, and he could keep it over at Zigzie’s .

“If you say so,” she said, her tone coming across as a verbal eye roll. “But yes, Zain did it himself. I’m sure he’ll help you get one set up, if you want. Let me set up this sign, then I’ll call him.”

I watched her go, hoping the sign would draw in a few people. It seemed so, though I couldn’t say for sure that we didn’t just get some of our regulars. In between customers, Beya and I—and Zain when she facetimed him in—talked about a website. Before I knew it, we were closing up. Beya left, and I puttered around the store, cleaning and restocking.

It was after eight, and all the shops around me were closed for the night, by the time I was ready to go. The sun had set hours ago when I locked the door and headed down the sidewalk toward my house on the east side of town.

Cherish Cove was thriving, but in many ways, it was small with only about two thousand, six hundred permanent residents. Of course, that number exploded during the height of the summer tourism season. Being a small place, it was walkable for those who lived here. My business was only a short ten-minute walk from my home when I took my time. Much less when I hurried.

The bite of winter was in the air that evening, and the crisp air promised new snowfall on the way as I strolled down the sidewalk toward the development where I lived. The nippy temperature engendered the anticipation of a nostalgic holiday season, amplifying my Christmas spirit. Multi-colored lights twinkled from storefronts and light poles, and evergreen wreaths adorned the old-fashioned streetlights.

As much as I loved the quiet small town peace surrounding me while my footsteps crunched on the crisp snow, it also saddened me. If I didn’t find a way to stay afloat, Happily Ever Afters —both the store and my own—could be over. This could be my last Christmas in Cherish Cove unless something drastic happened.

In a way, the feeling was a continuation of one that had dogged me since last Christmas when I’d broken up with Jack. Low-key sadness and apprehension. It took me back to that dreadful afternoon. I’d been humming carols and thinking of the baking I’d do that weekend, when I’d seen the scantily clad woman coming out of Jack’s house with him following behind her, grinning then grabbing her to him and kissing her.

I’d just stared in aghast shock. I’d thought we were headed for our engagement, and he’d been cheating on me. Lying to me. Of course, I’d confronted him when he showed up at my front door that night. He’d tried to claim he’d been out of town, that I knew he wasn’t in Cherish Cove, but I saw what I saw. Perhaps, after that, I should have moved away and not tortured myself for the past year, but this was my home dang it!

Shaking my head. I pushed away the same old memories and turned the corner toward my house. I would have a good night. Nothing could mess with me. I’d settle in with a good book and—

What in the reindeer poop was that?

Skidding to a stop on the slightly icy sidewalk as I rounded the corner, I stared at the house across the street from mine, my mouth dropped open. Since this morning, it appeared Christmas had thrown up in Jack’s front yard. When on earth had he had time? There had been nothing set up when I’d left for work. Yet…now, it appeared he was using half the power available from Cherish Cove Electric.

Judging by this over-the-top garishness, he was out to win this year.

Or try to.

Of course, he was. It was what he did. To annoy me.

Closing my mouth, I slowly shook my head. That catastrophe of synchronized lights and music couldn’t win. In fact, it would likely short out power for the entire block. Even as the bitter thoughts crossed my mind, I saw a few people stop to look at his show, watching the music and lights cycle through some programmed sequence he’d installed.

Fine. He might be one step ahead, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t one-up him—and with a classier display. Resolute, I stomped toward my house.

Jack stood in his driveway as I approached our homes. Was he smirking at me? Seriously, was that a dang smirk? Did he think he’d bested me. Frankly, at the moment, it looked like it—but he still didn’t have to smirk at me that way.

Thing was, he didn’t know Jill Burke if he thought he’d won. I had plans, too.

The game was on.