Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I’m having a little trouble hearing out here with the marching band practicing nearby. It sounded like you said Santa Claus is in jail.”
Alice Jordan, assistant to the Mayor of Rosewood, Alabama, pressed her earpiece into her head to try and improve the sound. Unfortunately, the words she was hearing didn’t change. She clutched her tablet to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut tight.
“Leo’s in jail,” she repeated. Of course he was. Where else would the Santa of the Thirty-Seventh Annual Rosewood Christmas parade be on rehearsal day? Certainly not in his sleigh. She looked over to the finale float of the parade. The red velvet seat was conspicuously bare.
Alice had hoped that he was just running behind. Lionel Robinson had been a relatively reliable Santa for the last ten years of the parade. Well, make that eight out of the last ten. The past two years, Leo had become increasingly erratic in his behavior around town. There’d been the incident with the Rosewood High Panthers mascot costume. And no one could forget the time he’d ‘borrowed’ the visiting Oscar Meyer Weiner-mobile for a joyride and police chase that had ended in Boyd Foley’s soybean field. She’d heard whispers from time to time that the older man’s drinking was getting worse, but even then, he’d always pulled it together for the Christmas parade. He loved dressing up for the kids and he made an excellent Santa.
But this might be the year she’d been dreading—the year Alice had to find a new Santa Claus. This incident was too close to Christmas to ignore. Even if he made bail in time for the parade, the small-town rumor mill would be working overtime. No one would want to pay for a photo of their child sitting on the lap of a drunken criminal, even if he had a real beard and the perfect “ho, ho, ho.”
“Miss Jordan?”
Alice realized she was standing in the middle of the high school parking lot staring at a papier-maché reindeer while the man on the call repeated her name trying to get her attention.
“I’m sorry,” Alice said. “Thank you for the information.” She disconnected the call and slipped her phone into the pocket of her wool pea coat.
Looking at the crowd of people, trucks, and trailers lined up around the parking lot, Alice realized that Santa or no Santa, this rehearsal needed to get started and that was her job.
While the Mayor of Rosewood, Otto Gallagher, took credit for everything that took place in town, it was Alice that made it all happen. She was known for her ability to handle any problem, herd all the cats, and do it on time and under budget. Now was her time to shine.
Alice looked down at her tablet one last time, ran her gaze over her checklist, and pasted a smile on her face. No one needed to know there was a problem because she was going to handle it one way or another. She walked with purpose and authority past the crowds to the front where the Rosewood High School color guard was waiting.
“All right, ladies,” she began. “I need you two up here holding the Rosewood Christmas Parade banner. Behind you, I need the rest of you lined up with your flags.”
She continued down the line, getting the various floats and vehicles in the right order. There was the convertible for the mayor and his wife, the ladder truck from the firehouse, some baton twirlers, the Miss Merry Christmas float, the marching band... about twenty-five in all. Toward the end were the mounted police, for obvious sanitary reasons, and then Santa’s sleigh and reindeer, pulled by a big, red, diesel pick-up truck.
“Remember who is in front of you and who is behind you,” Alice spoke into a microphone with a small, portable amplifier. “And line up exactly where you are now, come next Saturday morning. We’re going to walk the route around the park and the courthouse, and then we’ll come down Rosewood Avenue and back here to the high school.”
She sighed and looked down at her watch. It was time to go. The local police didn’t like closing the downtown streets any longer than they had to. “Any questions? Now is the time to ask.”
A hand went up amongst the crowd of teenagers. She couldn’t see their face, but the voice came from somewhere in the trumpet section. “Where’s Santa at, Miss Jordan?”
Alice’s jaw tightened even as she kept her smile firmly in place. “He wasn’t able to make the rehearsal today, but the driver is here for his float, so we should be fine next week.”
“I heard he got arrested!” another voice came from the crowd.
Bad news traveled fast.
“My dad said he climbed up the water tower and shouted for everyone to ‘look at the full moon over Rosewood’ before he dropped his pants and mooned everyone leaving the Panthers football game last night.”
A rumble of laughter traveled through the crowd. Apparently Leo hadn’t taken the loss last night to their rivals, the Asheville Hawks, very well.
“Okay, okay,” Alice said, trying to regain control of the crowd. “It’s my job to worry about Santa. Next week, there will be a jolly ol’ elf sitting in that sleigh, I guarantee it. It’s your job to maintain your pace along the parade route and keep a smile on your face. Got it?”
“Yes, Miss Jordan,” a choir of voices dutifully responded.
Alice turned off the microphone and started the timer on her watch. She gestured to the color guard, and they started their half-hour-long trip through downtown.
By the time they made it through the route and returned to the high school, Alice had had plenty of time to think about her problem. And every name she came up with to fill in for Leo was crossed off the list just as quickly. Too young, too old, already involved in the parade... She wasn’t sure what she was going to do.
As the teens scattered to their cars and waiting parents, she made her way over to the fire truck. Grant Chamberlain was standing beside the truck chatting with Mack Ryan, the fire chief, as he sat behind the wheel. They wouldn’t be able to pull the ladder truck around until a lot of the cars and trailers had cleared out.
“Hey Alice,” Grant greeted. The Chamberlains were Rosewood’s founding family. Of the six children, Alice had to admit Grant was her favorite. He was the rebellious one of the bunch, the middle son with the Harley Davidson and the devilish smile. Last year he’d gotten engaged to Pepper Anthony, a hairdresser at Curls on the square. She’d seen him wave out the window and honk the horn at her as they’d passed the shop where she worked.
“Hey guys. Do you think you could drop me by the Sheriff’s Department on your way back to the firehouse?”
“Sure thing.” Grant smiled at her request, but was polite enough not to ask why she was going there. His younger brother Simon was a police officer and probably filled him in on the whole tale long before she’d heard the bad news.
The lot cleared out and they were finally able to leave. It was only a few blocks to the Sheriff’s Department, but after walking the whole parade route, Alice was grateful for the lift.
“I’m pretty sure Simon is working today,” he mentioned as they drove down the street. “He should be able to help you out with whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Grant.”
The truck slowed to a stop, letting Alice hop out. They honked goodbye and continued down the street. With a heavy sigh, she straightened her messenger bag over her shoulder and headed across the street.
Alice stopped short at the front door when it opened. Taking a step back, she found none other than a weary Leo Robinson with another man that looked like a younger, more attractive version of him. She’d heard that Leo had a son that lived out of town, and she’d bet this was him.
Leo’s eyes widened in surprise when his gaze landed on Alice. She was certain that despite her best attempts at looking pleasantly neutral, the irritated crease between her eyebrows was giving away her disapproval.
“Miss Jordan...” Leo clutched his old ball cap in his hands and began his apology.
Alice wasn’t really listening. She was too distracted by the pair of dark brown eyes that were watching her from Leo’s side. His son was a little taller than he was, with broader shoulders and a full head of thick, chestnut hair. Like his father, he had a beard, although his was cut close and hadn’t yet turned the snowy white of his dad. He had an intensity about him that his father was lacking, and it made Alice want to squirm under his scrutiny.
Alice finally held up her hand to put an end to Leo’s story. She wasn’t interested in whatever excuses he was about to offer. Indecent exposure, even as a good-natured prank, wasn’t a good look for Santa. “I’m sorry, but you’re out, Leo. I hope you can understand my position. I’m going to need you to bring me the suit so I can get it dry cleaned and ready for your replacement.”
Leo didn’t argue. He nodded sadly and apologized again. “Miss Jordan, this is my son Foster. He came in to town from Nashville to uh... bail me out.”
Foster Robinson reached out a hand to shake the one Alice offered. His expression stayed serious, making her wonder if he never smiled or just avoided it on days he had to spring his pops from the slammer. He probably wasn’t having the best day considering it had started with a pre-dawn call from the Rosewood police and a nearly three-and-a-half-hour drive.
“Will you be staying in Rosewood long?”
His son sighed and let go of her hand. Something flickered across his face that looked like emotion, but he stifled it. “Longer than I intended to.”
Alice stuffed her hand into her pocket to smother the tingling sensation his touch had left behind. She let her gaze travel over him for a moment, sizing him up. “You won’t happen to be around next Saturday, will you?”
“Oh, no, no,” Foster argued with a quick shake of his head. “I am not the guy to fill Dad’s soot-covered boots. Sorry.”
Alice shrugged. “I had to ask.”
“I’ll have him bring the suit by the courthouse on Monday.” Leo looked a touch disappointed that his son had turned down the opportunity so quickly. So was Alice, if she was honest.
“I’ve got to get him home,” Foster said, waving casually at Alice as he ushered his father toward the baby blue Mustang convertible parked on the street.
No longer needing to go into the building, Alice watched the two men get into the car and disappear around the block, and then turned and headed to where she’d left her own car.
Just across from the courthouse, a flash of silver caught Alice’s eye. In front of Phyllis’ Antiques, a big red pick-up truck had parked with a vintage Airstream trailer hooked up behind it. Since most of the shops were closed on the weekends, vendors occasionally popped up to sell goods, although she didn’t remember seeing it there when the parade had passed by before.
She walked over, noting the name “The Tinsel Trailer” airbrushed on the side. There was a table set up in front of it with a collection of shiny trinkets and holiday goodies. There was a display of jewelry, some ornaments, and figurines. Alice was a bit of a magpie, and after the morning she’d had, she could use a little retail therapy, so she let herself be pulled in.
The door of the Airstream swung open as she approached and an older woman stepped out to greet her. “Welcome,” she proclaimed. She had long, white hair that hung down her back and a flowing white dress and sandals. It looked far too flimsy for the winter weather, but if she was cold, she didn’t show it. “I’m so glad you were able to come by!”
Alice was a little surprised by the welcome, as though she’d been expecting her arrival. “I saw you as I was walking over to my car,” she said pointing to her little SUV across the street. “How long have you been set up here today?”
“Long enough,” the woman smiled with twinkling blue eyes. “What can I help you find today? I have more than you see here,” she gestured at the table.
“You don’t happen to have Santa Claus hidden away in that trailer, do you?”
The woman tilted her head curiously at Alice and then smiled and nodded. “One moment.” She disappeared back inside the Tinsel Trailer, returning a moment later. “Hold out your hand,” she said.
Alice complied, allowing the woman to place an object onto her open palm. It was a shiny brass jingle bell, like the kind you’d find on the harnesses of Santa’s reindeer.
“Give it a little shake,” the old woman encouraged.
With a shake, the bell made the expected sound. It was nice enough, with holly engraved around the top and a red velvet bow, but it wasn’t exactly what she needed. “This is very nice,” she began, but the woman held up her hand.
“It’s not just a bell,” she argued. “This bell is one of my special wishing ornaments. Take it home, hang it on your Christmas tree, and make your wish.”
“I’m not sure this little bell is going to find me a Santa Claus for the parade.” Alice looked at the bell, dubiously. The wish angle was cute and all, but it was a sparkly bauble, not some magical solution to her problems.
“I happen to know that Santa can’t resist the sound of jingling bells. Make your wish and you’ll be surprised who shows up on your doorstep.”
What the hell, Alice shrugged. What could it hurt? “Wrap me up,” she said, handing the woman over some cash.
The woman slipped the money into the pocket of her dress without counting it and moved to wrap the ornament in tissue paper. She slipped it into a box, then put the box into a plain white gift bag.
“Do you have a card or something? We do some festivals from time to time where we have vendors come into town. I organize those events for the mayor’s office and could call you the next time we schedule something.”
“I don’t,” she said, handing over the bag. “I kind of go where the Christmas spirit leads me.”
Alice didn’t quite know what to say, but she probably had a social media account or something she could look up. Instead of pressing, she thanked her and took her ornament. “Can you at least tell me your name?”
“Sure. It’s Ms. Tinsel, like the Trailer. The only one around, I assure you. Now you hurry home and enjoy your wish, Alice.” She gave her a wink, then turned and went back inside the Airstream.
Alice stood there for a moment, confused by the whole interaction, before finally heading over to her car. As she drove toward her house, it occurred to her that she was absolutely certain she hadn’t told Ms. Tinsel her name was Alice. And she’d paid in cash. About a block from her house, she turned the car around and headed back to the square to ask her how she knew her name.
But when she pulled up outside of Phyllis’s Antiques, Ms. Tinsel and The Tinsel Trailer were gone.
Thirty days in Rosewood.
His father had done the crime, but somehow Foster Robinson was serving the sentence. Really, he was glad his father’s attorney Logan Anthony had intervened on his behalf and convinced Sheriff Todd to give Dad a break. He could’ve hit him with a more serious charge that could lead to jail time. Instead, they’d negotiated a deal with the Robinsons. Either Foster stayed in town and kept his dad sober and out of trouble for thirty days, or he checked him into rehab for a month-long program. If he successfully completed either, the charges would get dropped.
Foster was not a fan of Christmas. Hadn’t been since he was a child. But his dad loved it, and the thought of him spending it in a hospital with a bunch of doctors and strangers broke his heart. Like it or not, Foster had the flexibility to stay in Rosewood for as long as he needed to, so the decision was easy to make.
Keeping Lionel Robinson out of trouble for thirty days would be another matter.
Foster brought a cup of black coffee to his father while he sat in his favorite old recliner. “Dad, that woman we ran into outside the jail?”
“Alice Jordan?”
Foster nodded and sat down onto the couch nearby. “Who is she?”
“She works for the Mayor’s Office. She practically runs the town, if you ask anyone who really knows.” Leo took a sip of coffee and sat back in the chair. “She took the assistant job over about four years ago and I’ve worked with her on the Christmas parade ever since then. She’s a nice lady. Very organized. She knows how to keep a guy in line. You could use a woman like that.”
Foster had been having similar thoughts, but with very different reasoning. “I’m not the one that needs someone to keep me in line.”
“Well then, to get you off the damned computer and out into the real world.”
“I’m a writer, Dad. It’s my job to be on the computer.”
“Maybe so. But so was Ernest Hemingway and he was out hunting in Africa, fighting wars, and living life.”
“He was an alcoholic and committed suicide.”
“That’s not my point,” Leo scoffed. “My point is how can you write what you know when you don’t go out and experience anything the world has to offer? Who was the last woman you really dated? That, uh, that Jessica?”
Foster rolled his eyes. He did not want to talk about this with his Dad. At least not today. They had plenty of time to cover the shortcomings of his life over the next four weeks together. “I have dated since Jessica.”
“You haven’t mentioned anyone.”
“There hasn’t been anyone worth mentioning. And I’m not wanting to date Miss Jordan. I was just curious about her.”
“She’s a redhead,” Leo said with a smile that told Foster he didn’t believe his protests. “I don’t know if you could tell under that knit cap she was wearing, but she has lovely dark auburn hair.”
It was just like a father to point out his son’s weaknesses. His type had been firmly established in the sixth grade when he developed his first crush on Melanie Walsh with her red braids and freckles. “I noticed.” A dark auburn strand of hair had escaped her hat and he’d watched her tuck it behind her ear. It was shoulder-length, a no-nonsense style that flattered the shape of her face. She didn’t have freckles, but she did have dimples when she smiled. That was even better.
“She’s got a nice figure, too. Not too skinny,” Leo added. “I’ve always liked my women curvy.”
She’d been wearing a long pea coat, so Foster couldn’t comment much there, but he could make out enough of a solid hourglass figure hiding beneath it to pique his interest. Perhaps when he saw her again on Monday, she wouldn’t be so bundled up.
Speaking of which... “Dad, where’s the Santa suit? I’ll have to take it over there on Monday.”
Leo gestured toward the hall. “In the closet with the winter coats.” Then he sighed and frowned. “I hate that I let her down. And all the kids. I always look forward to the parade and taking photos with the children in the park afterwards. It’s the highlight of my year. And I ruined it. What’s wrong with me, Son?”
Foster noted the defeated expression on his father’s face and he didn’t like it. Things had gotten out of hand while he was away. “Nothing is wrong with you, Dad. You’ve just let things go a bit too far. A drink or two got you through things when Mom left and now you’ve forgotten how to get by without it.”
“I suppose so. There’s not much else to do in this town,” Leo lamented. “The boys get together at Woody’s Bar for a few beers. We have a few at the ball game. We have a few while we’re fishing. It didn’t seem to hurt anyone.”
“The boys aren’t climbing water towers and mooning people, Dad. Do you not realize how serious that was? You could’ve slipped and fallen. You could’ve gotten yourself killed with that silly stunt of yours.”
Leo made a dismissive noise and sat his coffee on the end table. “I was a lineman for the telephone company for forty years. I’m not falling off of anything.”
“You weren’t drunk up on the phone poles.”
“I got down just fine. And I won’t be climbing up there ever again, so you can stop worrying. I just got riled up after losing our big rivalry game. I wanted those Hawks to see what I thought of them and their coach. They played dirty. Coach Chamberlain didn’t stand a chance with his boys.”
Foster stared at his father with a blank expression on his face. What was he supposed to say to that, anyway?
“Alright, it was a bad idea. After a couple of beers I’m full of bad ideas.”
Clapping his hands on his knees, Foster stood up. “And that’s why we’re cleaning out the fridge and the cabinets today.”
Leo followed him into the kitchen as a few cans of beer and half a bottle of whiskey went down the kitchen sink. “A damn waste,” he muttered.
“Yeah, well, I made a promise to Sheriff Todd. It’s my job to see to it that the next full moon over Rosewood isn’t going to be yours.”