Christmas on Main Street (16 page)

Six months later . . .

“Fifteen minutes to Bayberry Island, Mr. Ravelle.”

Nat looked up from his shooting budget and smiled. “Thank you very much, John.”

“Beautiful June day out here. Water is as smooth as glass.”

“Yes, it is.” Nat began to gather his things, tapping his shirt pocket to make sure he had his sunglasses.

“Staying on for good? I think you told me last time that you hoped to be. Will you be here for the whole summer? Will you be here for the Mermaid Festival?”

“I will, John.”

“Will your family be coming?”

“Yes. They’ll all be here in August for festival week.”

“That’s lovely. Very nice people, your family.”

“Thank you.”

“How’s Annie doing? I got to chat with her the last time she was on her way to Boston to catch a plane to see you. She tells me that Los Angeles is more than six hours away by jet! I’ve never been much of a flyer myself. I prefer to travel by sea, you know.”

Nat smiled again. Yes, he did know. In fact, by now the only thing about John that remained a mystery was his preferred brand of underwear, and the ferry conductor seemed dangerously close to revealing even that before they reached the public dock.

Just then, a little boy and his mother ran for exit, the kid clearly suffering from seasickness.

John puffed out his chest and pulled on his belt. “Tourists,” he whispered to Nat, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, welcome home, Mr. Ravelle. Nice chatting with you, as always. Give Annie my regards.”

“I certainly will. Take care of yourself, John.”

Nat grabbed his carry-on and tugged the strap of his laptop case across his chest. He’d shipped the last of the remaining boxes from LA before he caught his flight. His
Truly Weird
coworkers, neighbors, and friends had thrown him a going-away party two nights before. He wouldn’t lie to himself. He would miss some things about LA, and he’d definitely miss his friends. But he’d already hired a few of them to work with him on the mermaid documentary, and they’d be joining him later in the summer. The rest of them were so charmed by Annie, and by tales from Bayberry Island, that they were all planning to visit.

Nat stepped out onto the passenger deck, the sea spray hitting his face as the sun beat down on his skin. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with salt and wind. He heard the cry of seagulls and the beat of the ferry against the ocean. As the engine slowed, he opened his eyes. He saw her right away, and his heart somersaulted in his chest. Each time he returned, he was happier to see her. Each time, he loved her more. And very soon now, everything would change.

As he waved to Annie, his cell phone rang. He ran back inside so he could hear.

“Everything’s ready,” Rowan said. “We’ve got the champagne. We’ll be hiding in the bushes on the other side of the fountain. Is the ferry on time?”

“Yep. Just pulling in now.”

“Great. See you in about ten minutes. Hey, Nat?”

“Yes?”

“I—” She sniffed. “Never mind.”

“Ah, man, Row. You’re not crying, are you? Nothing’s even happened yet!”

“I know. I know. I’ll pull it together. It’s just that I’m so happy for Annie! For you! It’s just such a happy day! She’s going to be so surprised!”

“I sure hope so. Thank you, Rowan. See you in a few.”

Nat put the phone away and checked his pants pocket for the velvet box. It was there. And this was it.

Moments later, Nat stepped onto the dock, and Annie threw herself into his arms. He lifted her up and held her against him for a long time, so tightly that he was afraid he would hurt her.

“I’ve missed you so much, Annie.” Nat buried his nose in her fragrant hair, kissing her neck again and again. He let her slide to her feet so he could kiss her properly. Her lips were sweet and soft against his. When she moaned into his mouth, he felt himself being pulled into a vortex of love and happiness powerful enough to drown a weaker man.

“Let’s take a walk to the square,” Nat said. “I hear the mermaid is pretty spectacular when the fountain is up and running.”

Annie smiled at him. “She positively glistens.”

Susan Donovan
’s novels have won accolades for being witty, sexy, and entertaining—“brain candy for smart women,” as she puts it. She’s a
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author whose novels have been translated into a dozen languages. Susan is a two-time RITA Award finalist and her novel
Take a Chance on Me
was named “Best Contemporary Romance of 2003” by
RT Book Reviews
. She earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees from Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism and worked as a newspaper reporter in Chicago, Albuquerque, and Indianapolis. These days, she lives in Maryland with her family and dogs.

LuAnn McLane

Sa
nta Claus Is Coming to Town

“Oh no!” Ava Whimsy gripped the handle of her big wicker basket tightly as she dodged past dancing elves and then cut through a Girl Scout troop decked out in cookie costumes. The line for the Cricket Creek Christmas parade was organized chaos at best, and this was no time to be running late.

“Santa, where are you . . . ?” Ava stopped and twirled around so fast that the red velvet skirt of her Mrs. Claus dress billowed out like an umbrella before settling down around her calves. The basket tilted, sending a few candy canes sliding to the concrete, but she didn’t have time to pick them up. Ava knew the Santa’s sleigh float brought up the rear, but seriously, the end of the line was nowhere in sight.

“Where in the world is Santa’s sleigh?” Ava shouted to Noah Falcon, owner of the Cricket Creek professional baseball team and grand marshal of the parade. Even though the weather had a threat of snow flurries, the top of the flashy red convertible was down, allowing Noah and his wife, Olivia, to wave and toss Cougar baseball caps to the eager crowd.

“Back . . .” Noah began, but the high school marching band started playing “Jingle Bells,” which drowned out his answer. Ava looked in the direction of Noah’s thumb jammed over his head.
Finally
she spotted the flying reindeer jutting up in the air all the way over at the other end of the parking lot.

The jolly old man might have to ride in the sleigh solo this year. But after taking a deep breath to ready herself, Ava lifted her red velvet skirt with one hand, put one dainty laced-up boot in front of the other, and then hurried as fast as she could past floats and other Christmas-themed participants. It didn’t help that this was one of the only times of the year that she wore a dress. Ava preferred her jeans and favorite cowboy boots. Her basket, laden with tiny toys and candy canes, swung back and forth, making her gait resemble that of a penguin.

A last-minute customer at Ava’s toy store, just a few blocks away on Main Street, had her running behind, and then to make matters worse, her dog had decided to shred her white wig to pieces. Apparently, Rosie, her usually sweet little rescue mutt, didn’t take kindly to Ava’s recent long hours stocking A Touch of Whimsy in preparation for the holiday rush. In a panic, Ava had pulled her chestnut brown hair into a bun and sprayed it with the fake snow she’d been using for the front window display. Judging by the white crusty flakes falling from her head, it wasn’t her best idea. Although she considered herself a creative person, she kept her makeup to a minimum and wasn’t really equipped for situations like this. The label at least
said
the contents were nontoxic, so she hoped that meant her hair wouldn’t fall out.

For the past ten years, she and Pete Sully had played Santa and Mrs. Claus during the three-day celebration filled with food and festivities along Main Street in Cricket Creek. Pete also made Santa appearances at her store throughout the holiday season. With his real beard, round belly, and booming voice, Pete played the part well. Although perhaps more suited to play a cute elf, Ava dressed up and portrayed Mrs. Claus at Sully’s Tavern when he hosted Toys for Tots and Teens, a charity event to benefit local children in need. Ava just couldn’t fathom any child not having a toy on Christmas morning.

“Finally!” Ava muttered when she reached the row of plastic reindeer. Sure, they had seen better days, but the worn, rosy cheeks and chipped paint somehow added a nostalgic appeal that Ava found endearing. Rudolph’s red nose blinked as if in welcome, and Ava sighed in relief. She’d made it.

“Hey there!” Ava waved to Braden Greenfield sitting on the big green tractor that was going to pull the float. A huge red bow adorned the front grille. When Braden tipped his cowboy hat at Ava, she grinned and tossed him a candy cane, which he deftly caught.

“You took your sweet time getting here, Ava,” Braden called over to her.

“Long story,” she shouted back. The Greenfield farm butted up to her family’s farm, and Braden was like a little brother to her. “Catch ya later!” Ava turned and accepted Santa’s white-gloved hand as she took the big step up and slid onto the black leather seat.

“Sorry I’m late,” Ava apologized a little breathlessly and set her basket down on the floor. She leaned over to pick up a few candy canes that had tumbled around her feet. “I had a customer who couldn’t decide whether to purchase trains or airplanes.” Sitting back up, she arranged her velvet skirt just so and brushed away a mist of white flakes that continued to flutter from her head when she moved. “And then a wardrobe situation complicated matters.” She pointed to her head. “So, how’s it going, Pete?”

“Pretty good, but um . . . I’m not Pete.”

Ava chuckled as she tugged at her tight gloves. “Right. Sorry. . . . You’re Santa. I forgot that you like to stay in character.” After flicking another powdery flake from her skirt, she reached down for a handful of candy canes and finally glanced his way. “Would you like one?”

“Thanks,” Santa said, reaching for the treat. But when their fingers brushed, for some odd reason, Ava felt a little tingle.

“You’re welcome.” Ava smiled.
Whoa, wait a minute.

She peered at Santa over the top of her granny glasses, and her heart started to thud. “W-why do you have a fake beard?”

“Shhh. I’m not the real Santa,” he replied in a stage whisper. “Only a helper. I’m a very big elf.”

Ava looked into light blue eyes accentuated by tan cheeks visible above the beard and felt another tingle of awareness. She swallowed hard.

No, it couldn’t be.

The candy canes slid from her hand and into her lap.
Clint?
The name slammed into her brain but got caught in her throat and stayed there.

“Dad couldn’t make it, so I’m filling in,” he explained, confirming her suspicions.

“Clint?” The single word that was a tangle of so many emotions tumbled out of her mouth. Of course it was Clint. Pete had only one son.

And she hadn’t spoken to him since he’d broken her teenage heart fifteen years ago.

“Yeah, it’s Clint.” His full lips curved slightly between the white mustache and beard. “Good to see you, Ava. Or should I say, Mrs. Claus?”

Ava blinked at him, not knowing how to respond. She finally managed a rather choked, “Yeah . . . um, you too.” In the years since Clint left Cricket Creek, Ava often wondered if she’d run into him when he came home from California to visit his father. Early on after their breakup, she’d fantasized about having Clint coming home and throwing pebbles up to her bedroom window and then serenading her like a scene from a movie. Perhaps they’d kiss in a rainstorm like in
Sweet Home Alabama
or see each other from across the street and end up in each other’s arms. Sometimes, though, she imagined she’d remain aloof and distant and give Clint a mere lift of an eyebrow only to have him run after her, spin her around, and kiss her senseless.

Never for a moment did she think that she’d be dressed as Mrs. Claus with crusty fake snow falling from her head. But then again, how would Clint react to her
without
the disguise? The last time he’d seen her, she had blond hair instead of her natural brown, had been ten—okay more like
fifteen
—pounds lighter . . . and oh dear Lord, fifteen years younger.

Fifteen years! Perhaps she was better off disguised as Mrs. Claus after all.

“When did you get into town?” Ava asked lightly, hoping that her breathless voice didn’t give away her sudden fit of nerves. She was actually surprised she hadn’t known. Gossip spread like wildfire in their small Southern town—and the return of a favorite son always had tongues wagging—but then again, she’d been busy working extended holiday hours in her shop.

“A few days ago. I’ve been keeping to myself, hanging out with Dad.”

“Oh, that’s . . . um, nice.” When she nodded a bit too hard, a few flakes fell from her head and fluttered in the breeze. Embarrassed, she quickly brushed them away and then patted at her hair. She busied herself scooping her candy into a neat little pile in her lap. Awkward silence followed.

“The baseball stadium is something else. No wonder Noah Falcon is the grand marshal of the parade. I think it’s pretty cool that he moved back here.”

Ava nodded, but then, unable to help herself, she looked up into his intense blue eyes. “Noah and Olivia will light the tree in town square too. The honor is well deserved.” She smiled, but then her lips had to go all rogue on her and quiver. Mortified, she quickly glanced away, wishing that the bench seat had more room between them. Dear Lord. When she’d woken up this morning, everything had seemed so normal.

“Do you go to any of the baseball games?”

“Whenever I get the chance. Summer at my shop isn’t as busy as this time of year.” Ava looked away, suddenly overcome with emotion. Clint was one of the reasons she’d always loved baseball. They’d bonded first over their love of the game—something a high school jock from town and a feisty little farm girl could share. The memory brought a lump into her throat.

“Still ride the umpires, Ava?” Clint’s grin was partially hidden by the beard, but there was a sudden twinkle in his eyes.

“When they don’t know the strike zone,” Ava swiftly replied, drawing a chuckle from Clint. She gave him a small smile. Her emotions were tipping back and forth between the pure joy of seeing him and the pain of his departure, making her feel a bit off balance. Looking away again, she played with a plastic candy cane wrapper and really wished the parade would get under way so she could wave and throw treats instead of having to make small talk with the boy who broke her young heart.

“It really is great to be back in Cricket Creek.” His voice sounded like the Clint she knew but with a deeper timbre . . . a husky quality that stirred her blood. The boy she knew was now a man.

“You could have warned me.” Ava didn’t really mean to say those words out loud but was suddenly glad that they’d tumbled out of her mouth. It was unfair to be put in this awkward position.

“Would you have backed out?”

“Of course not,” Ava sputtered. Clint looked at her as if he wasn’t buying what she was selling, and in truth, Ava wasn’t sure what she would have done. “But a heads-up would have been, well, fair warning.” A candy cane crunched in her clenched fist, and she looked down at it in surprise.

“I’m really sorry,” Clint offered quietly.

Ava looked at him, and his eyes suddenly appeared serious, making her wonder if he meant much more than showing up unannounced. Something fluttered in her stomach.

“Look, Ava—”

“Don’t,” Ava interrupted softly but firmly. She wasn’t quite sure where Clint was going with this, but she knew sitting on a Christmas float dressed as Santa and Mrs. Claus wasn’t the time or place to discuss their past. In fact, annoyance that Clint would dare to show up out of nowhere and apologize tipped the scales against her enjoyment of the parade. She decided she’d rather just leave and let Santa and his reindeer fly solo. But as soon as she stood up, the float lurched forward. To Ava’s horror, she tilted sideways and landed with a
plop
on Santa’s lap.

“Whoa there.” Clint’s hands grabbed her around the waist, and she heard him chuckle. Ava wanted to remain aloof, but a delicious warmth spread through her at his touch. “Well, now, what would you like for Christmas, Mrs. Claus?”

“Let me up,” Ava’s brain demanded sternly, but her voice refused to cooperate. As if on cue, the band started playing “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.”

Clint chuckled again, and the deep, rich sound of his laughter rumbled in her ear, sending a hot shiver of awareness sliding down her spine. For a split second, Ava was brought back to a place and time when they shared playful moments like this. “Have you been a good girl?”

“Clint!”

“Santa,” he corrected. “Or Kriss Kringle, if you prefer. Father Christmas is too formal.”

Ava nearly giggled, but his big hands spanning her waist and the warmth of his peppermint-scented breath on her cheek made thoughts go through her head that would certainly put her at the top of the naughty list, and it brought her back to reality. “Really, people are
looking
,” she pleaded, even though they were bringing up the rear so it wasn’t really true.

“Sorry,” Clint said, although the remaining laughter in his voice indicated otherwise. Thankfully, he released her, and she scrambled back to her side of the sleigh, putting a much-needed couple of feet between them.

Ava stole a look in his direction and then leaned down to scoop up the scattered candy canes. After they pulled out of the parking lot, she started tossing the treats to people lined along the road watching the parade. The route took them past the banks of the Ohio River. Even though the trees were bare, Ava appreciated the stark beauty that winter brought to the countryside. The addition of park benches and streetlamps along a paved sidewalk lured people outdoors for morning jogs and evening strolls even during the colder weather, an activity Ava enjoyed but hadn’t had time for lately.

“Wow. I haven’t been back since most of the new development. Dad was telling the truth. Things have changed,” Clint commented as they passed a relatively new row of shops built to resemble the quaint buildings on Main Street in Cricket Creek. Bright red bows and pine wreaths added a festive touch.

“For the better,” Ava answered with a touch of pride. “Cricket Creek has been through some tough times, but when Noah Falcon built the baseball complex, we all banded together and brought this town back to life. It took some doing, but hard work goes a long way. I wasn’t about to lose my store without putting up a fight. I’m happy to say that I made it through the recession. Next summer, I’ll celebrate my tenth year of being in business.”

Clint shot her a grin. “Ah, so you’re still a little spitfire, huh?”

“When it comes to things I care about.” She gave him a slight shrug but then grinned back at him. “You know me. I’m pretty quiet until you get me riled up about something I believe in.”

“I’m glad to know you haven’t changed.” Clint’s grin remained, and Ava had the urge to yank the beard down so she could get a good look at his face.