Christmas In Cranberry Harbor
Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
Anyone who has spent any significant amount of time on Cape Cod can’t help but have a moment as they cross the Sagamore Bridge. Lizzie hadn’t lived on the Cape since she’d graduated from college, but as soon as she was on that bridge, looking down at the canal it grabbed her. That feeling of being home. Damn it. She didn’t want to have that flip in her stomach, that same flip you get when you think you’re over someone but clearly you’re not. She was no longer a Cape Codder, she was a Bostonite, or rather a Bostonian now. But she had to admit, as she made her way down Cape, as the locals say, it even smelled like home, a mix of salt and trees that always stayed with her. Despite her efforts to not miss her hometown, she did.
Lizzie Martin had worked hard to land her dream job as a features writer at the Boston Sentinel , but the newsroom was more vacant than ever with most of her colleagues having been laid off, and it was not the cheery and fun-filled place it once was. The rows of empty desks were so depressing and sad. Her dad, owner of the last independent newspaper on Cape Cod, was a rare holdout, refusing to sell to the corporate folks, and never made a secret of how much he wanted his daughter to take the reins when he was ready to step down. She promised herself she would not be seduced by the charms of Cranberry Harbor over these next two weeks being home for the holidays. She loved her apartment, she got to work next to her best friend Sarah every day, and she loved being in Boston. Mostly she loved all these things. She did not, however, love her chilly editor, Margaret, or not getting to work on the kinds of stories she’d become a journalist to write. But life was full of compromises, right? No one gets everything they want. She knew this all too well. It was why she hadn’t come home for Christmas in three years.
She’d made excellent time, rolling into Cranberry Harbor in under two hours, and before heading to her parent’s house she decided to take a drive through town. She’d been home in the summer every year, but this was the real Cape, the one she still held dear, despite trying hard not to. This was the Cape Cod of the locals, and the people who’d loved it enough to make it their year-round home by choice.
Main Street in Cranberry Harbor was quiet. It was only four o’clock, but there weren’t many cars around. She slows down as she rolls past Tall Tale Books, one of her teen employers, and a favorite since childhood. It was a shop that had spoiled her, and forever rendered it impossible to order books online without extreme guilt. A total sacrilege in her mind. She makes a mental note to stop in and meet the new owners while she’s home. Well, not home, while she’s here in Cranberry Harbor. Boston is home. Boston is home, she declares again. Don’t go getting all sentimental remembering discovering Jane Austen for the first time in that shop she reminds herself.
Right next to the bookstore is Sea Coast Coffee. This was and is the perfect combination of locations: a great bookstore and a great coffee shop. The only thing that would have made it better would have been finding a way of connecting the two, something Lizzie had often fantasized about on slow days when she had worked at both the bookstore and the coffee shop all through high school and during breaks from college. Coffee and books were what kept her going then, and now. Before she even thinks about it she finds herself pulling into a parking space and grabbing her purse.
The scent of the sea catches her nose as she walks across the parking lot to get herself a chai latte. The bell on the door jangles, just like always–thank goodness some things never change–and it makes her smile. As she looks around she feels a little sad to not see one face she knows. She isn’t the only local kid who’s grown up and moved away. Cape Cod had gotten so expensive it was hard for anyone who’d grown up here to stay. She knows she is just like so many others from her graduating class who’ve left to start businesses, buy homes and have families elsewhere, it was a sad reality that the Cape was losing its young adults in droves.
She orders her tea and, unable to resist the case of cookies, asks for an oatmeal and dried cranberry one that is easily the size of three normal cookies. She finds a table, sets her treats down and slips off her coat.
“Is that who I think it is?” rings a cheery voice from behind her. Lizzie turns to see it’s her former boss, the queen of teaching foam making, Hope. Hope Alden to be exact. As in her family goes all the way back to the Mayflower, Aldens.
“Yes, it is you! Oh, Lizzie, it's so good to see you!” Lizzie jumps out of her seat and gives Hope a big hug.
Hope was now in her late seventies but hadn't changed a bit. There might be something about eating a little bit of something sweet every day staving off the aging process. “Hope! It’s so good to see you!”
“You sit down and enjoy that cookie! I just put those out, I must have known you were coming!” She sits down next to Lizzie and can’t stop gushing. “Your Mom and Dad are so darn proud of you,” she says. “They are always bringing in clippings and telling me all about all the exciting stories you’re writing. This whole town is so proud of you, dear.”
Lizzie can feel herself blushing. She’d forgotten what it was like to not be just one more writer, one more faceless person in a big sea, it felt nice for a moment to be the medium-sized fish in a small pond.
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry they keep foisting stories on you! Dad’s been doing that forever.”
“They have every reason to be proud of you, honey. I love keeping up with how you’re doing. We miss you around here. But I know, there’s not enough to keep young folks like you here.”
Lizzie suddenly feels bad about how resistant she’s been to coming back here to visit. It was kind of nice to be looked at as special, and she feels a smidgeon of guilt at being just one more young person to abandon ship.
“It is really hard to make a go of it here for sure, Hope, but boy, you certainly discovered the golden ticket early on - ply people with coffee, cocoa, tea and your amazing cookies, and you will always have a steady stream of customers. Do you ever think of slowing down?”
Hope laughs, “Oh, I’ve certainly slowed down, honey. I can’t keep the pace I used to. My granddaughter, Leah graduated from college last spring and she’s taking over more and more of the business.”
“Wow, if you’d asked me I would have said Leah was about twelve years old. How did she ever…”
Hope jumps in, “Oh, you and me both, Lizzie! But she’s been a godsend, she’s got us all online - I’m on Instagram! And she’s really helping build our brand, I didn’t even know I was a brand until six months ago!” she laughs. “We’re even going to be starting to do our own coffee roasting off-site, Leah says it will make a big difference in the quality of what we’re doing. And we’re partnering with some other local businesses too, trying to help each other grow and create synergy.”
“Listen to you, talking synergy! I never would have thought I’d see the day when you’d be all about branding and social media!” Lizzie is so delighted to see Hope still has such a spark and passion for Sea Coast.
“You gotta keep up!” She stands up and pushes her chair back in, “Speaking of which, I have to get another batch of cookies in the oven before I leave for the day. Leah insists I leave by five every day.”
Lizzie stands too and gives her another hug. “I am so glad I saw you, I was hoping when I came in you’d be here. I’m so excited about everything you’re doing, and how happy you seem.”
“And I’m so glad you came in! This better not be the only time while you’re home. We’re closed on Christmas day, something I never used to do, but...”
“Leah? Good for her, you should close on Christmas!”
“Yes, she’s young, but she’s keeping me in line,” Hope says, clearly proud of her granddaughter.
“Good! Somebody needs to,” Lizzie says smiling at her. “I promise I’ll come back, I’m here for a couple of weeks.”
She gives her a hug goodbye, and Hope rushes back to the kitchen. Still standing, Lizzie pops the rest of her cookie in her mouth, puts her jacket on, and as she turns to leave, knocks over the remainder of her tea on the floor, sending it pooling everywhere. “Shit!” she says under her breath, grabbing a bunch of napkins from the dispenser on the table. A teen with a mop shows up and starts cleaning the small lake of tea on the floor, “I’ve got it, ma’am, don’t worry about it.”
‘Ma’am’? I’m a ma’am now? Oh dear lord. “Thank you, I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz.” Jeez, I’m home for ten minutes and I’m already making a spectacle of myself, she thinks.
“Are you causing trouble here, Ms. Martin?” she hears as she’s picking up the wads of soaking wet napkins from the floor.
She knows that voice. The person behind it is why she hasn't come home for Christmas in three years. She stands up and is face to face with Jack Cahoon. It’s hard to feel cool while holding a soaking wet pile of paper napkins, but Lizzie is giving it her best effort. “Hello,” she says, cooly, hand on her hip, quickly aware that the soaked napkins are dripping down her pant leg.
“Here, let me take those,” Jack says, taking the napkins from her and throwing them in the trash. “It’s good to see you, Lizzie, how are you?”
Lizzie’s left leg is soaked, but she is doing a heroic job of not showing how awful it feels. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“Okay...” he says, shifting his posture a little in response to her lack of cordialness.
“Well, my parents are expecting me, so, I, uh, I have to go!” She rushes out of there before she gets stuck in more uncomfortable small talk. “Nice seeing you,” she says, lying, as she pushes the door open and escapes. “Ugh! Nice to see you!” She mimics herself as she walks across the parking lot in her wet, and now very cold pants. She hurries to her car and tries her very best to ignore the flip she just felt in her stomach.