5 Mischief in Christmas River (21 page)

I walked in, dusting off the snow from my coat.

I noticed that the dining room was only about half full. The blond girls who were usually at the cash register were no longer there.

The few people that were in the room hushed when I walked in.

I took in another deep breath.

In the aftermath of the Gingerbread Junction fiasco, the remaining judges had had an emergency session. In light of Pepper’s relation to Julianne Redding, and in light of the fact that the two of them had kept it a secret, the remaining judges had decided to disqualify Pepper from the competition. Meaning that the trophy and the award money had gone to the runner-up.

Which happened to be me.

And while I’d been dreaming of the Gingerbread Junction grand prize for weeks now, getting first place under these circumstances had taken all the joy out of it for me.

Because whether or not one of the judges had been biased, the bottom line was that Pepper’s gingerbread house was the best I’d ever seen, and that it had beaten mine.

And that was okay with me now. Because I was proud of my creation. My
Dr. Zhivago
ice palace was the best gingerbread house I had ever built. I’d put more of my heart and soul into it than any other house before. It represented a new personal best for me. And I had nothing to feel bad about. I’d been beaten, fair and square.   

And I just couldn’t take an award for a first place finish that I hadn’t earned.

I walked up to the cash register and rang the bell. Nobody responded. I rang it again.

A moment later, a flustered Pepper emerged from the kitchen, her face red, flour all over her pink apron and shirt.

A look of embarrassment shined in her eyes when she saw me standing there.

She glanced at what I was holding, and she bit her full bottom lip.

“Look, can we talk, Pepper?”

She stared at me for a long moment, then looked down at her messy apron.

“I don’t see why you want to after what I did,” she said. “But come on in the back if you’d like.”

Chapter 61

“I don’t know what to say, Cinnamon,” she said, hardly able to look at me. “I’m ashamed. It’s as simple as that.”

I sat on one of the barstools in her kitchen, sipping a hazelnut latte that she’d just whipped up for me.

I had always considered myself one of those blue collar, black coffee and pie types. But this hazelnut latte was enough to make me reconsider my stance on the matter.

“I never meant to lie about being Jules’ half-sister,” she said. “But I just thought the competition was all in the spirit of fun. Jules said it would go a long ways toward establishing my business in the community, and she thought it wasn’t fair that I wouldn’t be able to enter because we were related. I did it because I just wanted to participate, you know? Be part of the community. I didn’t think it was a big deal.

“I guess I was pretty stupid thinking that.”

She let out a sigh, and those full lips of hers turned down at the edges, weighed down with guilt and regret.

“I can only imagine what you must think of me,” she said. “What this whole town
thinks
of me now.”  

I started saying something, but she interrupted me.

“I’m not an angel, Cinnamon,” she said between gritted teeth. “And I never meant for people to get that impression about me.”

She ran a hand through her hair, and looked up at the ceiling.

“When I was a teenager, I did some pretty shady things. I was with this older guy for a while. I fell hard for him. So hard that I didn’t know wrong from right. He had this pet theft scam going where he’d steal pets to get the reward money. I thought he loved me as much as I loved him. I didn’t realize he was just using me because I looked innocent and knew how to handle dogs. He didn’t really want me for me, you know? And when the cops busted me, he was nowhere to be found.”

She rubbed her face.

“I’m not proud of that time in my life. But I turned myself around. I went to culinary school and then I studied in France. I worked hard and I—”

“Pepper, you don’t have to explain,” I said.

“No,” she said. “I do. I really do. Because I’m not a bad person, Cinnamon. I’m just somebody who’s trying to make something of her life. I’ve left those days behind me. I was only trying to do the right thing by returning those dogs. But looking back now, I know I should have told somebody. I should have told you or the Sheriff instead of trying to save Jules from herself.”

She reached her hand up to her mouth and started chewing on one of her nails absentmindedly. She suddenly looked very, very young to me.   

“I shouldn’t have lied about being Jules’ sister, either,” she said.

She dropped her hand from her mouth. Those big blue eyes of hers became glassy, like a placid mountain lake on a calm morning. She swallowed hard.

“
I’m sorry
,” she said.

It was so simple. Those two, short little words.

But when she said them, a great weight lifted off my shoulders.

All that jealousy and anger that had burrowed its way into my heart just dissolved, melting away like the snow in the spring.

Pepper wasn’t a bad person. Maybe she’d done some bad things in the past, but nobody was perfect. She hadn’t come into town with the intent of ruining my business and stealing all my customers. She had come here looking for a fresh start, a place to make a name for herself.

And how could I hold that against her?

It wasn’t her fault that her sister had snapped. Pepper had just been trying to help her. And if I had been in her position, who’s to say I would have acted any different?  

I didn’t know if Pepper Posey and I were ever going to be friends.

But we could be neighbors. Friendly neighbors at that.

I grabbed the trophy that was tucked under my arm and the $500 that one of the judges had dropped off at my shop earlier that morning, and I handed both of them to her.

“Here,” I said. “I didn’t win this—you did.”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

“But Cinnamon, they gave this to you,” she said. “You deserve this more than I d—”

“No,” I said, interrupting her. “I don’t. You beat me, fair and square. The judges were four to one on the count. Even if you take your sister’s vote out of the equation, you still won. Your gingerbread house deserved to place first. And I can say without a doubt that you beat me on my best day.”

She smiled, her eyes growing full with water. She bit her lower lip.

“Cinnamon, that’s generous of you.”

“It’s the right thing,” I said.  

“Well, I tell you what. I’ll accept the trophy,” she said. “But the money… well, I have an idea for that.”

She took the trophy from me and admired it for a long moment.

I smiled.

I’d lost, but the feeling I got from doing the right thing was worth a hundred Gingerbread Junction wins.

The trophy was now with its rightful owner.

Chapter 62

Reindeer grazed on front lawns. Santa jumped up from chimneys. Angels flapped their wings and blew their trumpets from porch railings. Wreaths sparkled in windows. And everywhere you looked, lights in purples, blues, greens and reds danced joyously through the night, evoking nostalgic memories of childhood. 

I took in a deep breath of the frosty night air and then hooked my arm through Daniel’s as we walked through the festive neighborhood.

It was Christmas Eve – our official one year wedding anniversary. Two beautiful events in one.

After closing up the shop for the night, I had asked if Daniel wouldn’t mind walking me down to the Christmas River Humane Society so I could drop off the $500 from the Gingerbread Junction.

Pepper had had the idea to donate the money to the shelter instead of keeping it. I thought it was an admiral gesture and had offered to drop it off for her. Plus, stopping by the Humane Society gave me a chance to see if there was any news about Chadwick. Though deep down, I already knew the answer. It just somehow made me feel better to keep going through the motions, as if he could turn up any day. 

Daniel and I strolled along the quiet streets on our way to the shelter, admiring the bright and cheerful Christmas lights of the neighborhoods we passed through. Huckleberry trotted out in front of us. Daniel let the leash slack whenever the pooch wanted to sniff around the bushes.

We weren’t in any hurry to get there, enjoying the Christmas lights and the cold fresh air of the night.

“So, I have a question for you, Cin,” Daniel said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, it’s
very
serious, so prepare yourself.”

“All right. Go ahead and ask if you’re gonna,” I said.

He paused dramatically.

“When did you find out that there was no Santa Claus?”

I gasped, feigning shock.  

“How
dare
you say such a thing!” I said, slapping his arm playfully. “No Santa? What kind of Christmas
Riverite
are you?”

He chuckled.

“No, really. When did you discover that the big man didn’t really exist?”

I shrugged, thinking back to Christmases of my childhood.

We never had a lot of money, but my mom and Warren always made a point of making the holiday special for me.

I grinned.   

“I must have been about nine,” I said. “I caught Warren putting some bars of chocolate into my stocking. You see, I’d been asleep, but then I heard this crinkling sound coming from the living room. I thought it was Santa. So I slipped out of bed and snuck out of my room. That’s when I saw Warren there by the fireplace, snacking on one of the chocolate bars and putting the rest into my stocking.”

Daniel smiled and shook his head.

“That sounds like your grandfather, all right.”

I laughed.

“It does at that.”

I felt a sharp pang deep in my heart.

I couldn’t help think about the old man’s age. He was getting up there, and no matter how much I didn’t want to think about it, I knew he didn’t have as many Christmases left in him as he used to. And that he was spending this one on the other side of the world.  

Still, it had been his decision to stay in Scotland for the holidays. He was following his heart, spending the holiday with Aileen and her kids. And no matter how much I missed him, I couldn’t hold that decision against him.

But I just didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“So when did you find out there was no Santa Claus, Sheriff Brightman?” I asked.

“You want to know the truth?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“I never believed in Santa,” he said.

“You never believed in Santa Claus?”

He shook his head.

“My folks weren’t really into the whole idea,” he said. “My brother and I didn’t even have stockings.”

I gasped, almost stopping dead in my tracks.

“That’s terrible!” I said. “So you’ve never known what it’s like to write the big man in the suit a letter? Or to leave him cookies? Or the excitement of Christmas Eve, waiting for him to come down the chimney, hoping he won’t miss your house. You never had
any
of that?”  

“Nope.”

“That’s so sad, Daniel,” I said.

He shrugged.

“Never bothered me much,” he said. “I never had the letdown of finding out that he wasn’t real.”

He stopped walking as we came up to a house that was particularly beautiful. Red and white bulbs danced around the edge of the roof. Lighted reindeer frolicked in the front yard. And up on the chimney, an inflatable Santa Claus was landing an inflatable helicopter.

We both admired it for a spell in silence.

Then Daniel turned toward me.

“But you know what, Cin?” he said. “It all worked out just fine, growing up without all that. Because these days, I do believe in Santa Claus.”  

“What?” I said.

The lights from the house sparkled in his eyes, and he smiled warmly.

“Ever since I met you, Cinnamon Peters, I believe in Santa Claus,” he said, rubbing my cheek. “I believe in all sorts of things that I never thought possible before you came into my life.”

Even though it sounded cheesy, the way he said it, all serious and sweet, really got to me.

I grabbed his hand.

“Aw, you’re just a big ham tonight,” I said.

“If you can’t have ham on Christmas, then when are you gonna have it?”

I laughed. Then I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips.

We started walking again, Huckleberry leading out in front.

A couple of blocks later we had arrived at the Humane Society.

Chapter 63

“I’ll be right back,” I said, walking up the steps and through the glass doors.

Deirdre, the ever hardworking shelter manager, was sitting at the desk, shuffling through papers.

“Hi, Cinnamon,” she said, looking up and smiling. “What are you doing here? We’re about to close up for the night.”

“I just thought I’d stop by and see if you’ve heard anything about Chadwick,” I said, digging my hands into my pockets.

A sad expression came over her face. The answer was self-evident.

“I’m sorry, but his microchip hasn’t registered anywhere, and I haven’t heard a thing about any Cocker Spaniel,” she said. “But you know, you shouldn’t lose hope, Cinnamon. I’ve been in this business a long time, and things never work out the way you expect them to. For all we know, Chadwick got picked up by somebody and is having himself a nice Alpo Christmas Eve feast.”

She said the words, but I knew that she didn’t even really believe them.

“Yeah,” I said, playing along. “Maybe you’re right.”  

I tried to picture Chadwick inside a nice cozy home, eating happily. But as hard as I tried, I just couldn’t conjure up the image in my head.

It just felt too farfetched.

“Will you let me know if you hear anything?”

“Of course I will,” she said.

I pulled the envelope of money from my pocket, and handed it to her.