Digging Up Daisy, page 24
Kinsley Clark looked away from the festive group of volunteer elves and smiled when she noticed her best friend, Becca, entering the room, plucking snowflakes from her long dark hair. Becca then brushed the hint of snow from her shoulders, causing it to melt off her wool coat.
“You made it!” Kinsley said. Becca’s grin grew wide as Kinsley moved to welcome her. “And just in time, too. We could use you at the ribbon station.”
“Ribbon station? I hope you have someone to teach me how to tie bows, otherwise you might be in trouble.” Becca’s golden eyes, which mimicked the center of a sunflower, twinkled. She slipped out of her coat and hung it on the back of a nearby chair before greeting Kinsley with a half hug.
“I’m just glad you’re here and safe with us now. It looks like the snow started already, huh?” Kinsley leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder for a moment before the two took a step closer to the table.
“Yeah, I’m here, despite the unplowed roads. The snow is starting to really stick out there—and faster than the weather forecaster predicted.” Becca’s salon-groomed brows furrowed. “Not sure I’m ready for winter to rear its ugly head just yet. We haven’t even finished our leftover turkey from Thanksgiving!”
“Hey, now, ’tis the season.” Kinsley elbowed her friend playfully. “Life in Harborside, Maine, can’t be all warm, sunny beach days,” she added. “Besides, I just love the first snow. It puts everyone in the holiday spirit. Which is just what we need right about now to prepare for the upcoming boat parade. Next weekend will be here before you know it. I promised the town council to have Harborside fully decorated by then as it’s the town’s official holiday-kickoff party and I will deliver on that promise!” Kinsley pumped an excited fist into the air.
Becca gestured to the group gathered around the table. “Yeah, looks like you rounded up a good group of volunteers to help this year. I’m sure you’ll get it all done.”
“Fa-la-la-la-la, ’tis the season for help and cheer! I just love this time of year,” Kinsley crooned.
“I wish I could share in your enthusiasm and holiday spirit. I just had my third client cancel for this week; I’m feeling a little bummed,” Becca admitted. “Unfortunately, things tend to hit a lull for the real estate biz during the holidays, as snowy winter days don’t exactly make clients all that excited to pack up and move.” Becca lowered her voice again and leaned into Kinsley. “Which isn’t exactly helping my purse strings and my upcoming Christmas shopping list, if you know what I mean. I might just need to get a second job to get me through this winter.” She sighed.
“Look no further if it’s work you’re looking for because I could use some extra hands at SeaScapes. That is, if you’re up for it? Besides Harborside needing Christmas decorations, I have several clients lined up who’ve requested that I prep for their holiday gatherings, too. Seems people are just too busy this year. They’re asking for their trees to be put up and their homes to look festive. Honestly, I was wondering how I would get it all done. You might even find a few new real estate clients out of the deal. The job’s yours if you want it.” Kinsley shrugged.
“Really? You’d hire me? I mean, you’re already paying Adam, aren’t you?” Becca said, nodding in his direction. “You can’t afford to add me to the payroll, too, can you?”
Kinsley lowered her voice to match Becca’s. “Well, technically, yeah, Adam’s getting paid for today, but that’s mainly to help his mom, Alice. I can’t bear to think of her as a single mom handling everything on her own this time of year. Harborside’s an expensive place to live, and it can’t be easy for her. I know Adam gives his mom a portion of his salary, but don’t tell him I told you how endearing he is.”
“Oh? He does? Aw, what a sweetheart.” Becca nodded. “I knew you had a keeper with him.”
Kinsley ushered them farther out of earshot. “Anyway, most everyone is a volunteer today. Don’t worry, between the profits that the town puts aside to pay SeaScapes and the extra clients . . . there’s more than enough work to go around. So not to worry, my friend. I’ve got ya covered.” She nudged her friend playfully again with her elbow.
Becca still didn’t look overly convinced, so Kinsley continued, “None of that frowny face. I don’t want you to stress—especially over the holidays. It’s the best time of the year!”
“Kins, you’re sweeter than your aunt’s Christmas cookies, there’s no doubt about it.” Becca threw her arm around Kinsley’s shoulder and gave a light squeeze. “I’ll gladly take the job at SeaScapes. Decorating sure does put me in the spirit, and it’ll be fun. Plus, the best part? I get to hang out with you!”
Kinsley was glad that her good business fortune could help out her friend and put a growing smile on her face. Kinsley’s landscape design business—based out of the caretaker’s cottage behind her aunt Tilly’s Salty Breeze Inn—kicked into high gear during the winter months, even though that was when her gardening work came to a halt. She was solely responsible for all of the town’s seasonal decor and used mostly natural elements found locally in Maine, and it was quite a production. Therefore, Kinsley had convinced her aunt Tilly to let her use the inn the weekend after Thanksgiving to coordinate all her decorating efforts. In return, she would transform the Salty Breeze Inn into a magical holiday destination that would make guests want to linger. It was a win-win for both of them and the only weekend of the entire year the inn was closed to the public.
“I’m so glad you’re here to help this year,” Kinsley said, leading Becca by the arm back to the rest of the group. “We need you here, right, guys?” Kinsley looked around the long dining room table and added, “You all remember my friend Becca?”
A bunch of greetings ensued as folks stopped what they were doing to welcome Becca with a wave, nod, or hello. The volunteers were busy creating the Christmas kissing balls that would be used all over Harborside. The kissing balls, which were made up of round clusters of greenery, were making a comeback. They originated from the Middle Ages and hung from entryways and doorways within a home so that everyone who passed beneath them would be gifted with blessings and good tidings. Over the centuries, though, they eventually transformed into a replacement for mistletoe. They were crafted from rosemary, thyme, and mistletoe, symbolizing love and devotion. Kinsley liked to use more traditional branches from the state of Maine, though, such as cedar, fir, white pine, and boxwood. This made it a more symbolic tradition for the town. These beautiful orbs would soon be hung from the light posts on Main Street and sprinkled around the town of Harborside, including at the wharf and marina.
“Oh, Becca, did I overhear you say Kinsley is sweeter than my holiday cookies? She is pretty special.” Aunt Tilly beamed as she crossed the room with a plate of freshly baked Christmas cookies. “So I can’t say I disagree with you, but you’ll have to taste one and see for yourself. These just happen to be topped with a kiss.”
“You heard that?” Becca said, astonished, as a French-manicured hand flew to her chest.
“Her ears are like a bat’s; don’t let her age fool you,” Kinsley said with a giggle. “The woman is amazing! Someone’s got a birthday coming up real soon, too. Aunt Tilly’s turning sixty-three in a few weeks. We’ll have to plan a party!”
Tilly clicked her tongue. “We’ll have none of that. When you turn my age, you don’t need a party to remind you that the clock is tickin’.” She set the cookies on the table in front of the group of volunteers. “Here, Becca, have one,” she encouraged further, gesturing with her outstretched hand. “Hopefully this should make your effort of driving in the snow worth it,” she added, shining as brightly as a Christmas star atop a tree. Kinsley’s aunt clearly loved the holiday season, too.
“Ooh, those do look amazing,” Becca said, leaning in to examine the plate. “Oh, yes, they’re the peanut butter kiss cookies. Just one of the many holiday favorites that you make every year!” Becca exclaimed. “Now it’s really starting to feel like Christmas around here.” She looked to Kinsley with a grin.
“I know, right? Lucky for us, she’ll be baking all season long; this is only the beginning. Right, Aunt Tilly?” Kinsley directed to her aunt.
“You know I can’t help myself, darlin’. I’ve been told holiday treats are my inn’s specialty, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint any of my guests,” she answered with a devilish grin. Kinsley wondered by the look on her aunt’s face if she had a new recipe up her sleeve. Either way, mouthwatering desserts wouldn’t be lacking at the inn the entire month of December. Which made all the visitors who crossed the threshold and Kinsley and her friends quite happy.
“I’ll take one of those!” Adam, Kinsley’s summer employee, piped up, stealing one from the plate and immediately stuffing the entire cookie into his mouth. He groaned with pleasure as melted chocolate leaked out from the sides of his mouth and he attempted to catch it with his tongue.
“Adam!” his mother scolded. “I raised you with better manners than that. You’re going to choke to death. Take smaller bites! Plus, the way you’re huffing it, that cookie is going to get all stuck in your braces,” she added with a tsk. Alice, too, had been swindled into helping as a volunteer. Adam’s mom had been recently hired as a housekeeper at Edna’s home next door, which was a full-time job, as Edna Williamsburg owned an oceanside mansion. Alice was also known for making the best bows in town, and she was currently hard at work, twisting and pulling on loops. Meanwhile Adam’s young sister, Melody, played with the rolls of wired ribbon at her mother’s feet.
Each of the volunteers bustled around the table, managing their specific tasks. Cari Day, who worked at the humane society, was responsible for attaching chicken wire to pieces of floral foam. She then handed those pieces over to Jackie Horn, a busy stay-at-home mom of three, who soaked the foam in a bucket of water to prepare it for branches.
Adam was responsible for cutting all branches to an even six inches long and then stripping the ends off. Kinsley arranged the different evergreens that he’d cut into piles so that each kissing ball would have a well-rounded selection of branches.
Mallory Chesterfield, the owner of the local flower shop Precious Petals, had donated the winterberry, holly, and dogwood, and was cutting them to size to add a pop of festive color.
Pete O’Rourke—the owner of the local tavern the Blue Lobstah, which was located alongside the marina—had stopped by to lend a hand, too. The New England name of the eatery had everyone in town using his Boston slang. Which was why he’d chosen to name his restaurant after his roots. Pete was busy sticking the limbs into the soaked pieces of floral foam and poking his fingers with prickly branches along the way. Occasionally, the group would hear an “Ouch!” uttered from the bar owner’s lips and a wounded finger would pop into his mouth.
Tilly provided the group with endless mugs of hot cocoa topped with homemade marshmallows and a dollop of cream. And by the recent look of things, a large supply of cookies. Candy canes were set in mason jars all down the center of the table in case anyone wanted to stir their cocoa or enjoy the peppermint treat as they labored. These numerous delights enticed the volunteers to happily make a reappearance year after year.
“Peter, would you mind adding a few logs to the fire while I run back to the kitchen to check my oven? I don’t want to take a chance on burning my next batch of cookies,” Tilly asked.
Kinsley looked over to Pete and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. Her aunt was the only one in town who called him Peter, and she seemed to refuse to call him Pete, despite multiple corrections on Kinsley’s part. He smiled back at her with his winning smile. A smile that lit his face and made you think he’d just won the lottery. He rose from the dining chair and went straight to the task.
“Becca, would you mind joining Alice at the bow-making station? I’ll head over to help Pete load the fire,” Kinsley said. “I’m pretty up to task at my station.”
“Uh-huh,” Becca teased with a playful swat to Kinsley’s backside. “Like he needs the help. But you go on ahead, my friend.” Becca waggled her eyebrows. “It sounds to me like you’re just looking for a moment alone with our Boston friend over there.”
No doubt, Kinsley and Becca hung out at Pete’s establishment quite a bit. And to Becca’s credit, Kinsley was the one encouraging it, more and more. Something about that Pete O’Rourke had Kinsley coming back. But it was complicated. They were both remarkably busy with their respective businesses, and time off was hard to come by, so any time spent together meant her hanging on the end of his bar. Something she didn’t really want to make a habit of.
“He’s my friend. Can’t women and men just be friends?” Kinsley protested.
Becca batted her eyelashes and made a kissy face.
Kinsley responded with an eye roll before nudging Becca back in the direction of the bows and turning on her heel toward the fireplace. Thankfully, Pete had his back turned, oblivious to the goings-on. He was down on one knee and loading logs into the fire but turned when she laid a soft hand on his shoulder.
“Thanks for keeping this going.” Kinsley extended her arms out to feel the heat of the roaring fire.
“Hey, no problem.”
“And thanks for helping today; I really appreciate it.” She looked at the clock above the mantel and added, “What time do you have to be back at the Blue Lobstah?”
Pete’s eye’s, the color of blue asters, followed hers, and he, too, snuck a peek at the time. “I hate to leave you hanging, but it’s two fifteen so I probably should head out soon. I haven’t hired anyone to plow yet this winter, so I guess it’ll be me cleaning the parking lot before the night crowd.” He grimaced. “I guess I bettah get busy on that!” he added as he turned to load another log into the fire. He stood and jabbed at the new log with the fire poker, setting it aflame.
Kinsley loved when hints of Pete’s Boston accent came out. It usually happened when he was excited or under stress. Right now it sounded like stress, though, so she said, “No worries. I’m finished with separating the branches so I can take over your job and put them in. Again, thanks for sticking with it as long as you have,” she teased as she pointed out his wounded fingers. “I do appreciate it.”
Pete laughed. “No problem, part of the job.” He winked before he set the fire poker back in its holder. “You mind if I take off now then?”
“Not at all! But you’re still planning on helping me with the lobster-trap tree tomorrow out by the cliff walk, right? I could really use you for that.” She gave his hand a quick squeeze before releasing it and then followed him toward the exit.
“Yeah, I’d be happy to. Just let me know when you need the lift delivered, and I’ll make a few calls. I think we’ll need a lift to stack ’em, since you were talking about making it thirty-eight feet. I’m tall, but not that tall.” He chuckled.
“Will do!” Kinsley said.
The background music suddenly shifted to Mariah Carey singing “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” and when Kinsley turned to ask everyone to say good-bye to Pete, she couldn’t help but notice the silly grin splashed across Becca’s face. Maybe Kinsley’s only wish for Christmas was for Pete to take special notice of her. But she’d tuck that away for now, like an unwrapped present.
After everyone shared their good-byes with the bar owner and the volunteers got back to business, Kinsley glanced around the table for a moment to watch them work their Christmas magic. The kissing balls were now hanging from wide red bows and filling up drying racks scattered around the room. She couldn’t help but wonder if a chance meeting with Pete beneath a kissing ball might happen this season. Little did she know that less than a week later, kissing would be the last thing on her mind, and several of those gathered around the table this very night would be questioned about a murder.
About the Author
Sherry Lynn spent countless summers on the coast of Maine knowing she’d one day return to write about the magical location from her youth. Curious by nature, sleuthing became the perfect fit for her, and she has written multiple cozy mystery series under several pseudonyms. Currently, Sherry lives in the Midwest with her husband, but she dreams about one day retiring oceanside with a good book in her hand.
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Sherry Lynn, Digging Up Daisy
