Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Elle stormed into the kitchen of the inn. “Where is he?”

The three women working at various stations in the big room turned to stare at her.

“Elle! You made it home after all.” Lori, her sister-in-law, wiped her flour-stained hands on a dish towel as she waddled over to hug Elle. “Pardon my baby bump,” she said with a laugh. “Miles says I’m growing a humpback whale.”

“It’s better than the kickboxer this little girl was.” Her other sister-in-law, Ginger, bent down to kiss the head of the adorable baby girl fast asleep in a bouncy seat on top of the table.

Elle did the same, inhaling her niece’s perfect baby scent and feeling it calm her nerves a bit before she embraced Ginger.

“Where is who?” her mother asked coyly because there was no way she didn’t know the “he” Elle was referring to.

“West,” Elle bit out. “He’s not in the study.”

“Oh,” both her sisters-in-law cooed in unison.

“He’s kind of dreamy,” Lori remarked, “in a rugged, tortured-soul kind of way.”

“Mm-hmm,” Ginger agreed. “And that voice. So smooth. I can’t believe he’ll be around for the holidays.”

Elle coughed to cover the disgusted sound that threatened to escape. “He sent me on a wild goose chase for a specific brand of pencils.” She waved her hand, holding the neatly sharpened lead. “All so he could pull a Houdini on me.”

Her mother had the nerve to laugh. “I doubt it’s anything that nefarious. He mentioned something about the smells from the kitchen torturing him while he worked. He decided to walk into town to find a place to write that was—how did he put it?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh yeah, less dangerous to his senses .”

“Not to brag, but my apple pie has won several awards,” Lori said.

“And the turkey gravy your mother is making even has Hazel drooling and she doesn’t eat real food yet,” Ginger added.

Her mother shrugged. Elle closed her eyes and counted to ten.

“Relax. He’s not going to get lost in town. Besides, we never get to see you. Why don’t you hang out with us and help Ginger with the cornbread for the dressing,” Lori suggested.

Ginger made a face. “I don’t need help baking the cornbread. My cooking skills have improved drastically.”

Lori shot Elle a pleading look because it was no secret to anyone in Chances Inlet that Ginger’s cooking skills had not improved anywhere near drastically. As much as she’d wanted to succumb to the temptation of the delicious smells and spend time with the people she loved, her future depended on West finishing his book. She needed to keep that first and foremost in her mind.

“Ginger has got this,” she said, making a mental note to forgo the cornbread dressing at Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow and have the mushroom and sausage stuffing instead. “I have to track down a wayward author.”

Ignoring Ginger’s smug smile, Elle snatched a slice of apple from the pile Lori was tossing together for her pies and left through the kitchen door. Her brother’s goofy golden retriever, Midas, and Lori’s Australian shepherd, Tessa were sunning themselves on the veranda. Both dogs insisted on being scratched behind the ears before they would allow her to pass.

“Some watchdogs you two turned out to be,” she muttered. “West probably tossed you treats to get you to allow him to slip by.”

The walk into town should have been pleasant. It was a sunny fall day with a warm sea breeze. It seemed like most of the residents of Chances Inlet were out and about, many offering a wave and shouting “hello” when she passed. All Elle could think about, however, was finding West. She hated that her first inclination was to check Pier Pressure, Chances Inlet’s only bar.

“Elinor!”

She cringed at the familiar voice. Good manners dictated that she stop and say hello, despite wanting to locate West as soon as possible.

“Good morning, Bernice.” Elle bent down to give the petite woman a hug. Bernice Thompson had been the office manager for her father’s construction company all of Elle’s life. She was also the nosiest person in town. If anyone knew West’s whereabouts, it would be the spry busybody in front of her.

“You are a sight for sore eyes, sweet girl,” Bernice said. “I’m glad you’re home. And you brought a bonafide celebrity with you, too.” Bernice leaned in closer. “I’ve had a crush on Everett West for years. And this morning, I took a selfie with him.” She pulled out her phone and swiped at the screen. “See?”

Sure enough, it was West with his arm around Bernice’s shoulders. And they were standing inside the Queen of Hearts Bakery.

Gotcha.

“Ahh. What a great picture. You should print it out, and I’ll get him to sign it.” Elle moved in the direction of the town square. “I’m going to see what he’s up to now.”

“Oh, he’s not at the bakery any longer.”

Elle’s heart sank.

“I believe he went to the bookstore,” Bernice continued.

“Fantastic.” Elle breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll head that way.”

Bernice stopped her with a hand on Elle’s forearm. “I was wondering if I could pick your brain while you’re in town.”

“About?”

“The PR firm we’ve been using to handle the social media for the town dropped us. They said we are too small of an account. Can you imagine?”

She had trouble imagining what any of this had to do with her.

“It’s bad enough Garth had to close down the newspaper,” Bernice continued.

Wait. What?

“The newspaper shut down? When did that happen?”

Bernice made a tsking sound. “Four years ago. While you were galivanting around the globe in the Peace Corps.”

Elle rolled her eyes. “I would hardly call it galivanting, but whatever.” I almost died in a flipping earthquake, for crying out loud! “Look, I’m sorry about the PR firm and the newspaper closing and whatever else is bringing you down today. I’m just not sure what that has to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you,” Bernice insisted. “You are an expert at those little bait-click posts on social media.”

She fought back a groan. “It’s called clickbait.”

“Clickbait,” Bernice repeated. “You’re good at writing things in such a way that it will grab people’s attention. We need to get tourists to notice Chances Inlet. Christmas is four weeks away, and we must make money while the shop bells jingle, if you know what I’m saying. Can you help us out by creating some of those clickbait posts for the town’s website?”

Not only was she stuck babysitting a grump, but now it seemed she was also in demand to write catchy social media copy about her hometown. Not that Bernice’s opinion of Elle’s talent wasn’t flattering.

“I don’t know Bernice. I’m swamped helping Mr. West finish his memoir.”

Provided he’d stay in one place.

“That’s odd. Because when I mentioned it to Mr. West, he said you’d be available for whatever I needed.”

She was going to kill the man.

Bernice donned a cat-ate-the-canary grin. “Stop by city hall when you get a chance, and we’ll get started. Yoo-hoo!” She flagged down the mail truck as she marched off.

Elle felt sorry for the poor postal worker. When she stepped over the Whale of a Tale bookstore threshold a few minutes later, three elementary school hooligans nearly took her out at the knees.

“Auntie Elle,” her niece, Emily, cried. “You’re here!”

“Don’t tell me you three are playing hooky again.” Elle tweaked the little girl’s cheek. The breath always caught in her lungs whenever she saw the laughing blue eyes her niece shared with her late grandfather. She missed her dad. This town was filled with so many memories of the larger-than-life man with the booming laugh and the helping hand. It hurt to be home sometimes.

“There’s no school today, silly. It’s the day before turkey day,” said Henry, the little towheaded boy who—if her brother Ryan stepped up to the plate—would be Elle’s nephew soon.

Elle brushed her hand over the head of the littlest one, Whitney, who belonged to her new stepsister, Paige, and her fiancé, Tanner. Realizing the joy she felt seeing the eager smiles on these kids’ faces, she couldn’t believe she’d ever wanted to skip this holiday with her family. “Well, aren’t you lucky to have an entire bookstore as your playground?”

Paige emerged from the back of the store with her hands full of garland. “They’ve been helping me decorate.”

Elle laughed. “I can only imagine how much help they’ve been.”

“The man who does magic tricks is going to read at the holiday read-a-long on Friday,” Emily announced.

“The man who does magic tricks?” Elle shot Paige a questioning look.

Her stepsister nodded enthusiastically. “Everett West. He pulled a quarter out of Henry’s ear.”

“See!” Henry held it up proudly.

Seriously? He could be a curmudgeon to her but was charming to small children? What was up with that?

Emily held up a copy of O. Henry’s The Gift of the Maji . “He’s going to read this to us on Friday.”

“I can’t believe the Everett West is doing a reading in my store. It’ll be great publicity.” Paige sighed. “If only the town social media wasn’t such a dud. I really need to start doing some of that on my own.”

“Bernice mentioned something about that,” Elle said. “Hey, is West still here by any chance?”

Paige grinned and nodded. She gestured over her shoulder. “I have a little reading nook back there. He’s made himself at home. Not that I mind. I mean, it’s Everett West!”

The kids giggled as they each took one end of the garland and stretched it out around the front of the store. Meanwhile, Elle stalked toward her charge. West was leaning back in one of the leather armchairs, noise-canceling headphones over his ears and his eyes closed. Much to her chagrin, so was his laptop.

Elle kicked his booted foot. The annoying man opened one eye, spied her, and closed it again. She swore under her breath.

“Mr. West,” she shouted.

That got his attention. He snapped open his eyes and whipped off the headphones. Music from the Foo Fighters streamed from his Beats.

“I thought we had dispensed with the mister?”

Elle drew in a deep, cleansing breath. She’d vowed last night not to push the man’s buttons. Instead, she would be cheerful and helpful.

Even if it kills me.

She pulled the pencils from the pocket of her hoodie. “I just wanted to make sure you got the pencils you asked for.”

He flinched ever so slightly, as if he could sense her powerful urge to stab him with them. She placed them gently on the side table at his elbow.

“Is there anything else you need to make your writing process go smoothly?” She was proud of how chipper her voice sounded. “I can run over to the deli and grab you some lunch if you’d like. Or more coffee, maybe?”

Emily chose that moment to let out one of her signature ear-piercing squeals.

West jumped from his chair and hurriedly stuffed his laptop and headphones into his backpack. “That won’t be necessary. I’m still full after enjoying your mother’s delicious breakfast. I think I’ll wander back to the inn and work out on the veranda.”

“That’s a great idea.” She moved to follow him.

“Alone,” West said. “As I explained yesterday, I don’t need you shadowing me all day. I’m a big boy who’s been writing stories solo for most of my life.” He pulled his wallet out of his backpack and took out several bills. “Here. It seems I’ll need an ugly Christmas sweater for Saturday night. See what you can find for me, eh?” He handed her the cash.

You don’t need an ugly sweater , she wanted to shout. You need to be writing!

Instead, she pasted a smile on her face. “Sure,” she said as she took the money. “I’ll get right on that.” Little did he know, she was an efficient shopper. She could grab the sweater and be back at the inn in an hour.

With a single nod, he walked in the direction of the door. “Oh, and Gidget, I forgot one other thing. We’ll need some supplies for the gingerbread house-making contest. I’ve entered us as a team. You should know upfront that I don’t like to embarrass myself. This contest may be to raise funds for charity, but we’ll be giving it our best effort. I have a reputation to maintain.”

A chorus of children’s goodbyes followed him out the door. Elle slumped down into the chair he’d just vacated.

“Well guess what, Mr. West,” she mumbled to herself. “I have a reputation to maintain, also. I’m a McAlister. And no way are you going to best me with your ridiculous requests.”

Everett whistled to himself as he left the bookstore. He stopped to admire the magnolia wreath hanging on the entrance to the knit shop next door.

“This town makes those fake towns in the Christmas movies look lame, Keeley,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen a place with so much authentic holiday cheer.”

The big window of the knit shop was taken up by skeins of green yarn stacked in the shape of a Christmas tree. Small balls of bright-colored yarn decorated its “boughs.” A woman teetered on a ladder as she attempted to place a knit gold star on top. Everett raced into the store to help her.

“Here.” He grabbed the sides of the ladder. “I’ve got you.”

The woman looked down at him, her brown eyes filled with relief. They grew wide once they registered who he was. Everett grinned up at her.

“Um, thank you,” she said.

The bashful way she uttered the words stirred up something inside him. Everett was immediately transfixed by the fullness of her lips and the blush on her cheeks.

She smiled shyly at him. “If you’ll step back, I can get down now.”

“Oh, yes.” He released the ladder and moved out of the way, extending his hand so he could help guide her back to terra firm.

After a brief hesitation, she placed her palm against his. The shock waves that coursed through his body caught him off guard. He sucked in a breath as he studied the woman’s face. The lines bracketing her eyes told him she was a woman of a certain age. But one who enjoyed life. And one who the years had been kind to.

Her long silver hair was caught up in a side braid with strands of fairy string woven through it. She was tall—nearly eye level with him—and slender. Her outfit consisted of well-worn jeans and a sweatshirt that featured a handprint turkey with the phrase “Gobble ‘till you wobble.” He also noticed her hands were free of any rings.

“Hello,” she said, not bothering to pull her hand away.

“Hi.”

Hi?! You’re a man of words, Everett, and that’s all you can come up with?

She suddenly seemed to realize her hand was still in his, quickly clasping his fingers and shaking them up and down. “You’re Everett West.”

He smiled. “That I am. But you have me at a disadvantage.” He hiked an eyebrow in question.

Her lashes fluttered shyly as she chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m Kitty. Kitty Johansen.

Everett covered their clasped hands with his free one. “Nice to meet you, Kitty, Kitty Johansen.”

Kitty dipped her chin, presumably to hide her blush.

“You have a lovely shop here, Kitty,” he continued.

She jerked her eyes up. “Oh, it’s not mine. It’s my sister’s place. Everyone assumes it’s mine because Claire wouldn’t know a bubble stitch from a moss stitch. Fortunately, she makes up for it with her mad business skills. I’m happy simply being the artist in residence for once.”

The sound of heels tapping on the hardwood floor came from the back of the store. Everett instantly loathed the sound because it had Kitty yanking her hand out from between his.

“Well, hello,” the interloper—presumably Kitty’s sister, Claire—drawled.

The two women could not have been more different. Where Kitty was more earth mother, her sister looked like she’d just stepped out of a Southern Living magazine spread on proper Southern hostesses. The other woman was plumper than Kitty, with brassy blond hair cut in a chic bob that curled around her chin. It was hard to decipher her exact age through the expertly applied makeup she wore. The smile she gave him was as genuine as her sister’s, though.

“My stars.” Kitty’s sister put her hand to her chest. “I heard a rumor you were in town.”

“Mr. West—” Kitty began.

“Everett,” he interrupted.

“Everett,” she said softly.

He relished the blush that was back on her cheeks.

“This is my sister, Claire Lovell. Knotical is her brainchild. Claire, this is Everett West.”

Claire looked back and forth between the two of them. “I see.” Her tone indicated she saw a lot more than he wanted her to.

Everett glanced around the colorful shop, his eyes landing on a stunning captain’s desk in the center of the floor with skeins of yarn careening over its sides.

“You’ve done a wonderful job here, Claire. It almost makes me want to take up knitting. And you have a fantastic eye for furnishings.” He wandered over to the desk. “I’ve always wanted one of these.”

The sound of hurried footsteps had him looking up.

“Oh no you don’t, Mr. West!” The blonde from the inn—Livi something or other—came charging out from the back of the store. “I saw it first, and it’s already bought and paid for.” She gestured at Claire. “Mrs. Lovell, put that sold sign on there so everyone knows it’s spoken for.”

“Oh.” Claire pulled a red tag out of her dress pocket. “Of course.” She taped it carefully to the side of the desk. “If you’re genuinely interested, Mr. West, I’m sure my son, Hayden, could build another one.”

As if her words had conjured him up, the bell above the shop’s door rang as Deputy Lovell strode in. He stopped abruptly, his gaze taking in each of the room’s occupants.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Everett is admiring your desk,” Kitty explained.

The deputy startled slightly at his aunt’s use of his given name.

“ My desk,” Livi countered. “I bought it.”

Kitty chuckled softly. Claire sidled up to Livi. “Yes, dear. And I’m so happy you did. Your clients will be thrilled with it.” She looked over at her son. “Isn’t it wonderful, Hayden?”

If the deputy thought it was wonderful, he didn’t bother saying so. His mother gushed on.

“You’re a paid artist now,” she said. “Hayden’s grandfather was a brilliant craftsman. He taught my son everything. Kitty’s brother-in-law is a furniture maker, too. He keeps hinting he’d like Hayden to apprentice for him so he could take over the business someday. But his work isn’t the same quality as Hayden’s.” She beamed at the decorator. “Why, I have some other fabulous pieces at our home you should see, Livi. What are you doing for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow?”

“Mom, I’m sure she’ll be spending it with her family,” Hayden said.

“Not this year,” Livi replied. “My parents are on a five-month cruise that doesn’t end until next month. My siblings are all with their spouses’ families.” She shrugged. “We’ve never been into Thanksgiving normally. We usually go to a restaurant if we are together. It’s not much of a holiday to me, to be honest.”

Claire gasped. “Heavens, we can’t have that. You must come to our house and see how Thanksgiving should be done. It will become your favorite holiday, I promise.”

Livi shot the deputy a demur look. His stoic expression melted into a resigned smile. He nodded to her.

“I would like that very much.” Livi let out a squeal only a few decibels lower than the little girl from the bookstore. She raced over to the deputy and patted him on the chest. “Pick me up at the inn?”

Lovell nodded again. With a wave to everyone, she disappeared through the door.

A customer came in looking for alpaca yarn, and Claire led her over to the other side of the store. Kitty went to the counter to answer the ringing phone. The deputy seemed to be frozen in place.

“You do nice work,” Everett told him. “If I didn’t live out of a suitcase, I’d be inclined to hire you to make me one.”

“I guess you’d have to settle down first.”

Everett looked over at where Kitty was still on the phone, taking an order.

“I lost my reason for settling down,” he said quietly.

The deputy followed Everett’s gaze, his mouth hardening. “I doubt you’ll find one in Chances Inlet.”

The uniform certainly fit the man. The guy was a protector. Everett had to admire that.

Deputy Lovell was also correct. Everett had no business chasing Kitty. Except that for a few minutes there, the loneliness constantly gnawing at his gut had eased. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be free of it.

“You might want to load up on those carbs, deputy,” he challenged. “I plan on giving you a run for your money tomorrow.” With a nod to Kitty—who blushed again, he was pleased to note—Everett left the store.