The Heart Of Christmas

4

“Honey, we’re so sorry we missed your birthday. I can’t believe we had engine trouble!” Eve’s mother looked genuinely distraught as she pulled Eve in for a hug. “We got back as soon as we could.”

“You shouldn’t have gone to the extra expense of having that engine part flown in,” Eve said. “I can’t believe you did. I assumed we’d just celebrate whenever you could get back.”

Her father embraced her as soon as her mother let go. “Your birthday’s in December, so that means it can get swallowed up by the holidays. We try not to let that happen. You’re too important to us.”

She cringed as she thought of Noelle and the pleasure she was likely taking in ruining Eve’s reputation. “Thanks, Dad.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and jingled his change. “The B and B looks great, by the way. You’ve done an outstanding job, created the very picture of a Victorian Christmas.”

They’d been in Texas for three weeks, having Thanksgiving with her brothers, who now owned a bar together in Austin. “Better than usual?”

“I’d say so,” he replied.

“It’s the new icicle lights,” she told him. “They’re pretty hanging from such a steeply pitched roof.” She’d hired a company to hang those lights, and all the others on the exterior. But she and Cheyenne had done everything else. The tree alone had taken one full day—the Sunday after Thanksgiving, when they traditionally made the switch from harvest decor to evergreen and holly. The day after that, she’d added wreaths with red ribbon at every window, garland above each door, on every mantel and around every banister and mistletoe hanging over the tables in the dining room. This was usually Eve’s favorite time of year. The entire town waited to see what she’d do with the inn, and she took great pride in making it stand out like a beacon of hope for the weary traveler—or even just the weary of heart.

“It’s everything,” he said. “We drove past A Room with A View. It can’t even compare.”

Because the owners didn’t understand how the beauty she created encouraged the whole town to stop and reflect. Her competitor gave the season a passing nod by putting up a bunch of plastic Santas and reindeer and hanging giant ornaments from the tree in the front yard, all of which looked tacky rather than elegant. But as Eve followed her father’s eye to the candles she’d placed so they could be seen from the street, she didn’t feel the wonder and magic she used to feel. She was afraid she might be going through the exact same motions for the rest of her life—only without Cheyenne, because she knew that Cheyenne wouldn’t work at the inn forever.

“You told us you’re planning to go to San Francisco with your friends tonight,” her mother said, “so I was hoping we could have you over for dinner tomorrow after you get off work. I’ll make your favorite cake, the carrot one, and get some ice cream.”

“Of course,” Eve said. “Thank you. That sounds delicious.”

“And...” Her mother rummaged in her huge purse and finally pulled out a small, wrapped gift. “I’d like you to open your present right now, since you couldn’t do it yesterday.”

Guilt for behaving in a manner that would reflect poorly on her parents once again swept over Eve. What had she been thinking last night? She’d acted no better than Noelle....

“Go ahead,” her father urged as her mother handed her a small box.

Eve hoped it wasn’t expensive. Her parents often tried to do too much. But as soon as she tore off the wrapping and opened the gift, she could see that it was pricy. A gold watch, with diamonds around the face. “Wow,” she breathed.

“Do you like it?” The twinkle in her mother’s eye showed how excited she was to give her daughter such a wonderful gift.

“I love it,” Eve said, “but...it’s too generous. You guys have to be careful now that you’re retired, especially with what we’ve been through trying to save the inn. You don’t have the savings you used to—”

“Don’t worry about that,” her father interrupted. “You deserve whatever we can give you. You’ve worked so hard, been the perfect daughter.”

Perfect. That word pricked her conscience, and she went over and closed the door. “I really love the watch. It’s beautiful.”

Her mother and father exchanged a look. “But...”

They’d heard the resignation in her tone.

“I’m definitely not perfect. As a matter of fact, I’ve done something I need to tell you about before you hear it from someone else.”

She felt bad about the fear that entered their faces, and the way they sank slowly onto the sofa. “Good. I was going to suggest you sit down.”

“Is it that bad?” her mother asked.

“It’s nothing to be proud of.”

Her father seemed baffled. “What could it be? We know you. We know who you are.”

“You don’t know this. I went out last night...by myself and...and got a little drunk.”

They sat blinking at her, saying nothing. No doubt they could tell there was more coming.

“And I met someone,” she continued. “A...a stranger. He was handsome and charming and he’d also had too much to drink.”

“You’ve met someone?” her mother echoed.

The hope in that question didn’t make this any easier. Her parents wanted her to marry and start a family almost as much as she wanted the same thing. Grandchildren had been mentioned on a number of occasions. Since her brothers were fifty and fifty-two, one an avowed bachelor and the other divorced without children, her parents probably wouldn’t have any grandkids unless they came from her—although they viewed Cheyenne as a daughter and were excited to welcome her first child into the world.

“No. Not really,” Eve said. “It’s not what you might think.”

“Then what is it?” her father asked.

Throwing back her shoulders, she blurted out the truth. “I took him home with me.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. Then her father cleared his throat. “Eve, we’ve never gotten involved in your personal life. I mean, in that part of your personal life. This isn’t something you have to report to us, especially at thirty-five. In fact, I’d prefer not to know, and I think I can speak for your mother on that, as well.”

Eve couldn’t help smiling at his response. “I wouldn’t have said anything except...I’m afraid you’ll hear it around town in the next few days, and I didn’t want you to be blindsided. Or disappointed,” she added, “but there’s no way to avoid that now.”

“I see,” he said. “And why would someone tell us? Why is it any of their business?”

“It’s not. But Noelle Arnold works at Sexy Sadie’s and—”

“Ah, I see,” her mother piped up. “Olivia’s sister is spreading the news.”

“Yes.”

Her mother frowned. “I’ve never thought very highly of her.”

That was a scathing rebuke, coming from her sweet mother. “You’re in good company,” Eve responded.

“So...that’s it?” her father asked. “That’s what has you so upset?” He studied her carefully. “It doesn’t get any worse, does it?”

“Isn’t that enough?” she said, surprised that they weren’t more upset themselves.

“Honey, everybody makes a mistake now and then,” he said. “It’s not up to us to judge you or to...to tell you how to run your life. We had our chance to guide you when you were little, and we did our best. Now you’re in charge, and while I can’t say I’m happy about what you did last night, I can understand how it happened and why.”

“It’s not as if your father was a virgin when he met me,” her mother said. “He slept with loads of women.”

“Adele!” her father snapped, obviously appalled. Then Eve had to laugh and, once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop. She recognized how her parents felt about her confession, because she felt the same about what her mother had just revealed. She didn’t want to view either one of them as sexual in any way, not even with each other.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she wiped away the tears streaming down her face. “I don’t mean to laugh, and I don’t want you to think I’m not taking what I did seriously, but—”

Her mother got up to hug her again. “I’m glad you can laugh. Let it go, honey. We know it hasn’t been easy watching all your friends get married. We were as disappointed as you were last year when things didn’t work out between you and Ted. He’s a good man. But there’ll be someone else, someone very special.”

She caught hold of her mother’s arm before Adele could release her. “What do you think about me...going somewhere else and...trying something new?”

“You mean leave Whiskey Creek?” her dad asked.

“I love it here, but...I’m not sure it’s the only life I want to know.”

This seemed to sadden them more than the news of how she’d spent last night. Her brothers had gone to Texas A&M on football scholarships, then joined the air force and never returned to California. Her parents often lamented how little they saw of Darren and Dusty.

“We would certainly miss you,” her father said. “But we don’t want to hold you here if it’s not where you want to be. We don’t want Little Mary’s to hold you here, either.”

She glanced around. She loved the B and B almost as much as she loved them. But there had to be some way to vanquish the dissatisfaction that had crept into her life and seemed to be growing stronger by the day. She didn’t want to wake up one morning when she was sixty-five and wonder why she’d never made a change.

“You’re not saying... Should we put the inn on the market?” her mother asked.

“No, no. Nothing that drastic,” she said. “I’m just thinking of hiring someone to run it for a year so I can try something else before I settle down, you know?”

Her parents wore somber expressions as they nodded. “We understand. And we want whatever will make you happy,” her father said.

Eve couldn’t imagine she’d be happy leaving Whiskey Creek. Besides her parents, she had so many good friends here—and she’d be the godmother to Chey’s baby, which would bring a great deal of joy into her life. But would that be enough? Suddenly, it felt as if she was living off the crumbs of other people’s lives and trying to tell herself that she would be content with that indefinitely. “We can talk more about it after the holidays.”

Her mother managed a smile. “So there’s no hurry?”

“None whatsoever.” Eve held up the watch. “Thanks for this. I’ve never seen anything quite so lovely.”

“You’re ten times as lovely,” her mother said.

She made a face. “Oh, yeah? Be prepared for the rumors that are swirling around town.”

“No one can change our opinion of you,” her father insisted.

Cheyenne walked into the parlor almost as soon as Eve’s parents left. The Christmas music playing in the dining room grew louder when the door opened, causing Eve to look up. She was sitting on the antique Eastlake chair she’d purchased from an estate sale in Sacramento last year. She’d been gazing down at her new watch, thinking about how lucky she was to have such wonderful parents and wondering if she’d be doing the right thing by leaving them. She had a responsibility to herself but, since her brothers seemed to feel no obligation to their aging parents, she had to make sure they were happy and well cared for, too.

They had their RV, however. They could come and see her....

“How’d it go?” Cheyenne asked.

“I told them I slept with a stranger,” Eve said.

Her friend stopped in her tracks. “Are you kidding?”

“No. I figured it would be better for them to hear it from me.”

“But they might never have heard it at all!”

“I didn’t want to take that chance.”

“I see,” Cheyenne said slowly. “That was probably wise. How did they take the news?”

“Much better than I expected. I guess I underestimated them.”

“Or you set even higher standards for yourself than they do.”

Cheyenne took the seat opposite her. “Is that your present?”

Eve handed over the watch so Chey could take a closer look. “Stunning, isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous!”

“They’re such great parents.”

“You just made a mistake, Eve. We all know what you’re really like,” Cheyenne said, giving back the watch.

Eve smiled at the compliment. Her friends and family all thought they knew her, but she wasn’t sure she knew herself anymore. Who was the woman who’d let go of all inhibition and thrown everything she had into making love with a complete stranger?

* * *

Rex was in his room, packing up his stuff, when he received a call from Marilyn. He thought maybe he’d accidentally skipped a check he was supposed to sign, and hoped it wasn’t because she’d run into trouble with her car. Her engine had started fine when she gave him a ride to Sexy Sadie’s to pick up his Land Rover....

Pausing to sit on the edge of the bed, he hit the answer button. “’Lo?”

“You’re never going to believe this,” she said.

After what he’d been through in his life, he could believe just about anything. But he tensed, wondering if she’d run across proof that The Crew was indeed coming after him. “What is it?”

“I got a call from Scarlet Jones, the photographer from San Francisco.”

He let his breath slowly seep out. “I provided security for her some time ago.”

“You remember.”

“Of course.” After splitting off from Virgil back east, where they’d run the same kind of business, he’d hung out his own shingle here in the west and she’d been one of his first clients. “She was getting some strange mail, felt she was being followed. What’s going on with her now?” He knew everything had been okay after his contract ended because he’d checked in with her periodically, although not in the past year.

“Apparently she’s being harassed again. The first incident happened a few months ago, in September, when she received an email containing a picture of a man’s penis.”

“So this guy’s another Anthony Weiner? That’s not particularly creative.”

“She forwarded it to me. What he sent wasn’t particularly impressive, either.”

Rex had to chuckle. “Sounds like he should have stolen more than Anthony’s idea, maybe something from a porn site. But if this happened in September, why’d Scarlet wait so long to contact us?”

“The threats she got before never amounted to anything. She thought if she ignored it, this would go away, too.”

“Let me guess—it hasn’t.”

“No. It’s getting worse. But what I don’t understand is why whoever it was stopped in the first place.”

“Maybe the guy went to prison.”

“That would explain it. Because he’s taking up where he left off, except the letters she’s receiving are even more personal,” Marilyn said. “One mentioned a mole on her, um...”

“Breast? Ass? What? You’re seldom at a loss for words.”

“It’s somewhere even more intimate.”

“So whoever is doing this has been quite close to her.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Or talked to someone who has.”

“That’s just...creepy.”

“At least it narrows the list of potentials. She still has no idea who it might be?”

“No. She says that none of her past lovers would do anything like this.” She cleared her throat. “You, uh, weren’t aware of the mole?”

“I don’t get sexually involved with our clients. You know that.”

“I do. But I thought this client might be an exception. She’s extremely attractive. And she’s not married.”

He had a soft spot for Scarlet, but she was more like a younger sister to him. When he’d watched over her before, he’d still been in love with Laurel, Virgil’s sister, but he wasn’t remotely tempted to change his relationship with Scarlet, even now. “You said it was getting worse. What else has happened?”

“Yesterday someone broke into her house and urinated on her bed. That’s why she finally called.”

“Was anything taken?”

“Several pairs of underwear.”

What he’d just learned made Rex itch to get back to work. It had always bothered him that the police hadn’t been able to find the guy who’d tormented Scarlet. “What’d you tell her?”

“I said I’d be happy to arrange for a bodyguard until the police can find out who’s behind it, but when she realized the bodyguard wouldn’t be you, she started to cry.”

This type of security was very up close and personal. He could see why she’d want somebody she already knew and trusted.

He wished he could help her, but he couldn’t ask her to sit tight and wait until he felt safe to return to the Bay Area. He couldn’t drag her around the Sierra Nevada foothills with him while he tried to keep a low profile, either. He was about to say he was sorry but there was nothing he could do when a flyer he’d found pinned to the public message board at the local coffee shop popped into his mind. It had advertised rooms for rent in a private residence....

Why not answer that ad? He could hunker down in this quaint town and have Scarlet join him. That would remove them both from their usual circles—take them out of the flow of motel life, too, which added a degree of security. He might not come up with such a perfect solution, at least not such a perfect and immediate solution, anywhere else, especially during the holidays.

“Text me her number. Given these latest problems, I’m guessing she’s changed it since I spoke to her last.”

“What are you going to do?” Marilyn asked, sounding surprised.

“I’m going to take the job.”

“How?”

“By inviting her to come and spend some time with me here in Whiskey Creek.”

“You think she’ll do that?”

“If she’s truly scared, I don’t see that she has a better choice.”

“But how can you ask her to leave her home with Christmas coming?”

“If the police do their job, she should be able to return by the big day.”

She harrumphed. Then she said, “Whiskey Creek, huh?”

“Why not? Getting her away from her usual routine should give us an advantage. Maybe her stalker will get frustrated when he can’t torment her and then he’ll do something that’ll give him away.”

“But I thought you were moving on, that moving on is what keeps you safe.”

He turned to frown at his packed bags. This latest move wasn’t about that. This move was more about what he’d done last night. He didn’t want to fall back into bed with Eve Whoever She Was—well, actually, he did want to fall back into bed with her. That was the problem. What he didn’t want was to get her hopes up, make her think they might have a future together. Considering his limitations, he knew that wasn’t fair.

But if he moved out of the B and B and into a house or some other situation with his client—a client he enjoyed as a friend—surely he’d be able to avoid Eve, maybe forget about her, too. His work had always been enough for him before.

5

Meeting with Ted was awkward. After their failed attempt at romance, Eve had grown accustomed to coping with the strain in their relationship when she saw him and the rest of their friends on Fridays at Black Gold Coffee. She just directed her comments to the group in general, when she could, and avoided sitting too close to him and Sophia. But there was no getting around a direct confrontation now. He’d asked if he could come over. He wanted to write a book about the mysterious murder of the child who had died in the basement in 1871.

But he was already a successful suspense writer. Eve couldn’t understand why he didn’t stick with fiction and leave her alone.

“I’m not sure a book about Mary will be worth your time,” she said as she sat across from him in the parlor where she’d spoken to her parents earlier.

He’d been fiddling with his phone, trying to find the record app. “Why not?” he asked, glancing up. “I’ve been intrigued by it since I was a kid.”

“Because you’re doing so well with your fiction,” she explained. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to put out another serial-killer book or something in the time it would take you to write this?”

“I’m not doing it for pay. The proceeds will go to the historical society so they can preserve more buildings like this one.”

He was donating the money?

Damn, she couldn’t even feel justified in remaining mad at him. That was always the problem. He was too nice.

He gave her a look that told her he was suspicious of her resistance. “Don’t tell me you’re still holding a grudge.”

“You say that as if I’d have no right to.”

“You’re not the kind of person who hangs on to resentment.”

That was true. And he’d already apologized several times. He’d also tried very hard to maintain their friendship. But she couldn’t help feeling like an old shoe that had been cast aside. Maybe if she’d been able to move on like he had, or if the guy she’d been with last night hadn’t treated her the same way, it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Of course. I’m happy for you and Sophia.” Part of her really was. She’d known Ted since childhood. And she had to take partial responsibility for getting romantically involved with him. On some level, she’d realized he still had a thing for Sophia. She’d just chosen to ignore her instincts hoping that she would indeed find a good husband.

“When I walked in and hugged you, you were stiff as a board,” he pointed out.

“So I’m having a bad day.”

Some of the suspicion disappeared, replaced by concern. “Is there something serious going on?”

“Not really.” She tried to wave his question away. “I’m always under a lot of pressure around the holidays.”

“You love the holidays.”

She said nothing. She wasn’t enjoying them this year.

“Do you want me to come back in January?” he asked.

Why? Why not get this out of the way? He’d already explained that he’d turned in his latest book and didn’t need to start the next one until January. It was the fact that he had time during the Christmas period that made him want to get moving with this—and it was all for charity. His gift to the town they both loved. “No. I’m sorry. I’ll give you what you need.”

“Suffer through it, huh?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that even Unsolved Mysteries, and all the crime analysts they brought to town, couldn’t figure out who murdered Little Mary, so I’m not sure what more you’ll be able to do.”

“This isn’t so much about solving the crime as chronicling the mystery and suggesting possible scenarios.” He tilted his head as he studied her. “It should be good publicity for the B and B,” he said by way of enticement.

But he’d been talking about doing a book on Little Mary for several years. Did he really have to come and talk to her right now? The day after she’d slept with a total stranger? Make her worry that he might have heard the news? Make her wonder if he found what she’d done as pathetic as she did?

Mr. Taylor had returned earlier. Eve had watched him come in. But he didn’t look at her or acknowledge her. He’d walked right past her and marched up the stairs. Then he’d gone out again shortly after—without his bags. Since checkout was at noon and it was after two, she could only assume that he planned on staying another night.

She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that, whether she should do anything to enforce her request that he leave or just pretend, like he seemed to be doing, that last night had never happened. Their encounter was probably so meaningless to him that he didn’t care whether he ran into her every time he passed through the lobby.

“The B and B is doing better these days,” she told Ted. “The tea I’m offering is generating some interest. We’re getting groups of Red Hat Society ladies, and we’ve had an increase in couples ever since we started advertising in bridal magazines.”

“I’m glad to hear it, but advertising is expensive, and this will be free. If this book takes off, you could get a steady stream of visitors, curious to see whether this place really is haunted. That’s how it worked after Unsolved Mysteries aired, didn’t it?”

“For a while.” She supposed she should be grateful to him for taking an interest—on behalf of her and the town. She would have been if she didn’t already have so much on her mind.

“So...shall we get started?” he asked.

She sat back. “Of course. Ask away.”

“Why don’t we go over the basics, just to make sure I’ve got them straight?”

“You should know the basics. The whole town does.”

“I’m aware that Mary Hatfield was six when she was found strangled in the basement in December of 1871. Her birth and death are engraved on her headstone in the cemetery next door. But you lived here when you were little, too. I’m actually hoping you’ll tell me what that was like.”

“We were only here for a few years, until the first round of renovations were completed. Then my parents bought the property where we live today, and we moved out there.”

“I remember when that happened. We were still in grade school. But you didn’t move because of Mary’s ghost....”

“No, my parents wanted a regular family life, where they could be off work sometimes—and we could have some privacy as a family.”

“Are you glad they did that?”

She nodded. “I am. I love this place, and I did even then. But...it would’ve been difficult facing guests constantly with no break. And making sure three little kids were behaving perfectly at all times was too tall an order for any mother.”

“Can you tell me about some of your earliest memories of this place?”

“I remember the musty smell of it more than anything else. And I remember playing with the old stuff in the attic. Dressing up in the clothes I found in various trunks, taking my Barbie dolls up there, that sort of thing. Being in that space made me a bit uneasy, even back then, but it was the perfect size for a child and the only place I wouldn’t be bothered by my brothers. I could play for hours.”

“What about the basement?”

She shivered. “I never played here. But I remember my brothers locking me in once, just to frighten me.”

“That was where Mary’s body was found.”

“Yes. So you can imagine how terrified I was. They called through the door, telling me that her ghost was going to get me, and I was absolutely convinced they were right.”

“How’d you get out?”

“My mother heard me screaming and came to the rescue.”

A faint smile curved his lips. “I bet she was angry.”

“She was.”

“What happened to your brothers?”

“They were put on restriction.” She shook her head at the memory. They’d found her terror so funny.

Ted made a few quick notes. “Okay, so Mary’s parents built this place—and it wasn’t ever renovated until your parents took over. Is that correct?”

“It is.”

“How old was Mary when John and Harriett moved in?”

“She wasn’t born yet. But even after she was, she didn’t have any older brothers to torment her. She was an only child.”

“After her death, rumors circulated—and persisted—that her father might have killed her. Since he also discovered the body, and it was nearly Christmas, I always think of it as the nineteenth-century JonBenét Ramsey case.”

“Was there any evidence to suggest he did the deed?”

“Not really. He was known to have a violent temper and knocked her mother around a bit. He also didn’t seem to grieve much. But not all men show their pain.”

She’d left the doors to the parlor open. She almost always did that, so her staff would feel free to approach her, if necessary. But today it meant that when Brent Taylor came through the front door, returning for the second time, she happened to see him. He saw her, too, and paused as if he had something to say, so she stood up and hurried over.

“You’re late for checkout, but I can take care of that now, if you’re ready.”

His gaze shifted to Ted before coming back to her. “Would you mind if I stayed one more night?”

Couldn’t anything go her way? “A Room with a View has no openings?”

He frowned as if recognizing the disappointment in her voice. “I was just over there. They’re booked.”

Of course they would be—despite their cheesy decorations. Full occupancy seemed to come so easy for them. But they also spent a great deal more on advertising. They always had more to spend.

She wanted to refuse but Ted was looking on, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to come up with a good excuse for turning away business. Ted and the rest of her friends had been privy to her financial difficulties in the past few years. “That’s fine, I guess.”

“Thanks. Do you know a good place for dinner?”

“Just Like Mom’s has delicious home-style food, if you like that sort of thing. It’s down the street.”

He hesitated briefly. Then he took her elbow and pulled her close so he could whisper in her ear. “I could’ve handled this morning at your place a lot better. I’m sorry,” he said, then headed up the stairs to his room.

“What was that all about?” Ted asked.

Eve shut the doors in spite of her usual policy and resumed her seat. “Nothing. He’s just a...a patron.”

“Do all patrons whisper in your ear like that? It looked sort of intimate.”

“It wasn’t.” She considered admitting what she’d done, as she had with her parents, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. These days, Ted was happily married and the proud stepfather of a beautiful teenage girl. She didn’t want to be perceived as still struggling. Of course, he’d likely hear the rumor, so there was probably no way to prevent him from finding out. But she’d deal with that if and when it happened. She just hoped no one would bring it up or tease her tonight at her party or at their weekly coffee date. Her friends were wonderful, but they’d been so close for so long that nothing was off-limits.

“I only have a few more minutes,” she told him, “so we should get on with this.”

They talked about what Unsolved Mysteries had discovered when they came to town, which was virtually nothing as far as forensic evidence was concerned. Then they discussed the bits and pieces of information that had been recorded in the journals of various people who’d known the Hatfields at the time. These mostly contained venomous recriminations against John Hatfield, who was wealthy and austere and not particularly well liked. Although Eve couldn’t say there were any solid leads in those journals, she’d kept copies of everything she’d come across relating to the history of the B and B. She even had a laminated photocopy of a newspaper from the late 1800s that regurgitated the story, and a box of research material Unsolved Mysteries had given her when they were done with the shoot.