Chapter 17 Candy-Colored Hell
Claire
Ihope Everett is right, but if falling in love with one another is the answer, then I fear we are most certainly fucked.
Turning a curve in the sidewalk, we make it to the entrance of a small town square.
The street sign reads Main Street, and a large mural painted on the exterior side of the first shop greets us.
Sugarplum Park: The Sweetest Town There Ever Was is written in large, curly letters and is surrounded by pastel colored sweets.
Different lightly-colored buildings line either side of the long street.
Each store front is adorned with a large window, giving each passerby a glimpse of what’s inside.
Garland and wreaths decorate the lamp posts that are perfectly spaced down the cobblestone sidewalk as far as the eye can see.
It looks like we stepped into a holiday card.
It’s the quintessential Christmas town, and despite never being here before, there is something oddly familiar about it.
“Sugarplum Park?” Everett questions pointing at the wall. “I think you may be right. It’s like we stepped into candy-colored Hell.”
“More like Candyland,” I say, gesturing towards a fudge shop called The Chocolate Bar, and then across the street to Gum Drop Sugar Shop. “Maybe she’s trying to help you find your Christmas spirit.”
“If that’s the case, then this is a really dramatic way of doing that,” he says.
“Morning, Everett. Hi, Claire,” a tall stranger says as he walks by us.
He’s wearing a long, khaki trench coat, chocolate-colored pants, and an argyle scarf.
A brown fedora sits on top of his dark hair.
His umber skin is smooth, and round olive glasses rest on his nose, framing his dark brown eyes. A newspaper is tucked under his arm.
We both offer him a wave and watch as he crosses the street toward the candy shop.
“Should we follow him?” Everett asks.
“Why would we do that?”
“Because he seems to know who we are, and he’s holding a paper that could give us more information about where we are.”
“Okay, Sherlock. How do you suggest we ask him any of those things without sounding like we’ve gone insane?”
“I have a way with people.”
“Something tells me your charm isn’t going to get us out of this one.”
“Look, I’m still working out the details on how to get us home, but no matter what, we have to try to trust one another. There is no getting home without each other.”
Inhaling deeply, I then let out the breath slowly.
“You’re right. We’re in this together,” I say through a forced smile.
“Good, now come on.” Before I can react, he grabs my hand and starts pulling me across the street.
If I’m honest with myself, I like the feel of my hand in his, and despite my insistence on not falling in love with him, I could see that maybe it would be possible if our circumstances were different. If instead of waking up in Sugarplum Park, we had woken up in New York and shared a bagel.
He tugs me closer, so that we are walking side by side, and lets go of my hand. Folding my arms across my chest, we follow the man down the sidewalk, and I do my best to take note of the shops as we pass.
Gum Drop Sugar Shop is first. It’s painted light purple, and a long awning in a similar shade covers both windows and the plum colored door. A display of pastel candy canes covered in faux snow is set up in both windows, and a closed sign hangs on the door.
The next shop is painted a light blue. The round wooden sign bolted above the door reads: The Music Box. It’s also closed, and the blinds are pulled shut so that we can’t see inside.
The man is a few yards ahead of us, and he doesn’t seem to notice that we’re following behind him.
“So, what’s your plan?” I whisper, nudging Everett with my shoulder.
“I want to see where he’s going.”
“Brilliant.”
“Do you have a better one?”
“No,” I grumble.
“You’re cute when you’re frustrated.” He smirks, causing me to grumble again. “See? So cute.” He taps the tip of his finger against my nose, and I swat him away.
We pass by an orange storefront that belongs to The Book Rack.
Next door is a green storefront that belongs to a quaint little flower shop called Dewdrops and Daisies.
Vines crawl up the front of the store, and despite the frigid temperatures, the flower boxes are overflowing with different colored blooms. Both stores are closed.
Pausing in between them, I pull out my phone to check the time.
“Why’d you stop?” Everett asks, turning to see what I’m doing.
“It’s just that it’s after nine, and every shop is closed.
” I turn and look across the street. From my vantage point, I can make out the chocolate shop, a toy shop, a coffee and tea shop, and a ballet studio.
Each storefront is painted a different pastel color, but all the lights are off.
The doors I can see have closed signs hanging in the windows.
“Maybe things don’t open until ten?” Everett shrugs.
“Not even the coffee shop?”
“Shit, we lost him,” he says.
I look over to find that the tall man is gone, and Everett and I are all alone.
“Come on.” He tugs on my hand again. Moving past the flower shop, we make it to the final building on this side of the street.
“Well, that was easier than I thought it would be,” Everett says, looking up at the sign above the door that reads Stella’s Diner.
“A bit too easy, don’t you think?” I question, still turning over how quiet the street seems for a mid-morning weekday.
Both windows are painted with a Christmas mural and topped with snow flocked garland. A warm yellow glow spills through the blinds, and muffled conversation and music comes from the other side of the door.
“Shall we?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” My pulse begins to quicken, and my throat goes dry. “We have no idea what is on the other side of this door.”
“Probably a diner that’s owned by Stella.” He nods up toward the sign.
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Seems pretty clear that it is. You want to get home, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you think Stella is responsible for us being here?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I think we need to try to talk to her—unless you’ve changed your mind about falling in love with me?”
I shake my head, and his chest moves as he laughs.
He grabs my hand again, but this time he doesn’t let go. Lacing his fingers with mine, he squeezes it, reassuring me it’s all going to be okay. “Plus, I’m sure there’s coffee.” He shrugs his shoulders and lifts one of his eyebrows. A nervous giggle bubbles out of me, and I nod.
“Together,” he says.
“Together,” I repeat, feigning confidence.
He swings the door open. The sound of a woman’s voice drifts by us and then abruptly stops as we step inside to meet no less than fifty people staring back at us with wide eyes.
The walls are painted a soft pink. Large white and black tile covers the floor in a checkered pattern. A matching border of smaller tiles forms a chair rail around the entire restaurant.
It’s completely decked out for the upcoming holiday.
Garland and lights cover every inch of the ceiling.
Ornaments in different sizes and shapes hang down, catching the light and refracting it in every direction.
Pink Christmas trees are centered in front of both windows and decorated to match the rest of the space.
Christmas music plays low over a speaker.
It reminds me of one of those Christmas pop-up bars in the city.
Every chair and booth is full of people I’ve never seen before, except for the tall man we followed here. He removes his hat and tilts his head in our direction before placing it back on his head.
Two women I don’t recognize offer me a wave and a big smile, and I return the gesture, confused as to why anyone here would act like they know me.
“The man and woman of the hour,” a pink-haired woman at the front of the diner sing-songs.
Her hair is cut into a short, choppy bob and curled.
A black knotted headband sits on top of her head.
She’s wearing dark-wash bell-bottom jeans and a black top that shows a bit of the golden skin of her abdomen.
A long, flowy, lightweight cardigan covered in silver stars grazes the floor when she moves.
Chunky mixed metal jewelry hangs from her neck and wrists, clanging together as she gestures for us to walk forward.
A star tattoo peeks out from under one of her sleeves.
“Come in; come in. We just started talking about the Christmas Extravaganza.”
Everett steps in front of me as if he’s readying himself for some sort of attack, but despite how I felt before we walked in, I don’t feel in danger. It feels like we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.
He leads me, hesitantly, toward where she stands. And I suppress a laugh because it’s clear this place is giving much more North Pole than Shutter Island vibes, so I seriously doubt anything bad is about to happen. But, nonetheless, him protecting me makes my heart skip a beat.
“Let’s hear it for this year’s king and queen of Sugarplum Park’s Annual Christmas Extravaganza,” the woman chimes.
The what?
Everyone stands and begins to clap and cheer. The two girls who waved at me are the loudest in the crowd.
Reaching forward, I grab ahold of Everett’s bicep and squeeze gently, causing his gaze to shift to mine. I offer an encouraging smile, and the tension he’s holding between his shoulder blades seems to dissipate a little.
“Okay, okay,” she says, quieting the crowd. “You two can sit right here.” She points to two empty high-back chairs situated to her left. In each chair sits a silk sash and a crown.
The applause fades, and I let go of Everett’s hand to move the items so I can sit.
“Put on the sash and crowns,” one of the women yells.
“Yeah, let’s see them,” the other calls.
Looking towards Everett, he shrugs.
“Let’s see it, you two,” the pink-haired woman says.
Pulling the sash over my head, my eyes scan the room once more.
What the hell did we walk into?
A hand brushes mine, causing me to jump. Looking downward, it’s just Everett. I turn to face him as I fidget with my sash.
“You okay?” he mouths.
I nod, and he forces a smile.
“Can I help you with the crown?” he asks.
“Oh…yeah…sure.”
He places it on my head, and then I help him to do the same.
“Wonderful!” She claps her hands together. “Okay, so where were we? Oh, yes. The rules.”
She pauses for a split second, walking over and retrieving a clipboard and a pen from a different pink-haired woman.
“If I contacted you, then your business was selected to participate in the competition this year as one of our seven finalists. If you weren’t contacted, there’s always next year, and I encourage you to try again.
” She pauses, fanning out her long cardigan as if it was the train of a dress.
“Whatever you choose to enter must be presented to the town today and cannot be changed. Our king and queen will be judging your creations on appearance, taste, and overall Christmas cheer on Christmas Eve, so choose wisely.”
Everett glances towards me and swallows hard, and I wish being here came with some sort of ability to communicate telepathically with him, but alas, it doesn’t, and I have no idea what he’s thinking.
He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, and his crown begins to slide off the top of his head.
“Oh, shit,” he says, a little too loud, earning a chuckle from a few townspeople as he attempts to catch it. He succeeds in stopping it from falling, but it’s no longer centered atop his head.
“You good?” I whisper, reaching up to help him straighten it.
“Yeah.”
“Aren’t you two just the most precious couple,” the pink-haired woman trills. “Aren’t they precious?”
More applause comes from the crowd, and she looks over at us with a proud smile. Her purple eyes find mine, creasing at the corners, and my pulse begins to quicken as I realize who she is. With absolutely no doubt in my mind, I smile back.
“Thank you, Stella. You’re too kind.”