Chapter 2
T wo days later, I was bored out of my skull. I’d put out as many feelers as I could about work and followed up on any lead I had. My technical skills might be limited, but I’d served as operations chief on a forward operating base during deployment and coordinated training for Marines at Pendleton. My leadership skills were outstanding and that could translate to all manner of things in the civilian world. At the moment, there was nothing else I could do, and I was at loose ends.
I was so used to having my days regimentally scheduled that I didn’t do well with downtime.
Since it was early afternoon, and the pub would be opening in a couple of hours, I made my way downstairs and behind the bar. Seeing that the glasses needed to be stocked, I retrieved a rack of pint glasses from the kitchen, grabbed a clean rag from the pile in the drawer where they’d always lived, and set about giving them a quick polish and stacking them underneath the bar.
Arlo appeared a few minutes later. “What are you doing?
I just raised an eyebrow because it was perfectly clear what I was doing. He shook his head and sighed.
“You could relax, you know. Read a book. Binge watch TV. Something other than work.”
“I don’t do idle well.”
He squinted at me, and I kept my gaze on him, without stopping what I was doing. After a moment or two, he threw up his hands and headed back to the office.
It was mindless work, the kind of grunt work I’d done both as a teenager here and in the early days of my time in the Corps, so it was easy to let my brain go blank and just work. I was halfway done when I heard a car pull into the lot out front. Knowing Ike, the cook, would probably be showing up soon, I was alert but not worried. A couple of minutes later, the front door banged open.
“Arlo, baby doll, I have your package…” The man who waltzed in went still when he spotted me and clutched his little box tighter. I took him in, assessing quickly. Black puffy coat, red and green striped hat that, while fitted to his head, was long and trailed down over one shoulder. He was probably a good six inches shorter than me, dark blond hair kicked out around his ears, and he had ice blue eyes. Which were very wide at the moment. He took a step back. “You are not Arlo.”
I set the glass I was holding down on the bar, instinct urging me to have my hands free. “Nope.”
The elf nodded quickly, like a bobble head. Even across the space, I saw him swallow. “Is, uh, is he here?”
For a long second, I didn’t respond, just to see what he would do. He held his ground, though his eyes turned wary. I wasn’t surprised. I knew I could be imposing. I’d used it to my advantage more than once. Not taking my gaze off him, I raised my voice.
“Arlo! You’ve got a visitor.”
“What?” Arlo shouted back, but I heard him moving so I didn’t bother to repeat myself. It only took him a few seconds to appear, and when he did, it took him another few to turn toward the door. When he did, his features lit up and he held his arms wide. “Morgan, honey, come in, come in!”
Honey? What the fuck? Arlo wasn’t one for endearments to begin with, and I’d never seen him light up like that. He was a generally happy man, but never this…effusive. What was going on?
The newcomer visibly relaxed now that Arlo was here, and he politely wiped his boots on the mat before crossing the polished wooden floor. The thunk of his steps clued me into to his heavy-duty footwear. Which seemed overkill as it wasn’t even snowing today.
Morgan set the box he was carrying down on the bar, and then shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over a barstool. He didn’t take off his hat, which I thought was cute. Then he hopped up onto the stool in front of him and pulled the box closer.
“Morgan, meet my nephew. Barrett, this is Morgan Hawley,” Arlo said as he crossed the floor to stand next to Morgan. The man leaned over and kissed Arlo’s cheek before sliding the box in front of him, then turning his attention to me and holding out a hand.
“Gunnery Sergeant McKinnon. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your uncle has told me so much about you.”
I shook the proffered hand and ignored the strange urge to wrap his very cold fingers in my own. He should really be wearing gloves. It might not be snowing, but the high temperature was projected to be thirty-six today. When Morgan gently eased his hand from mine, I realized I’d held on too long.
“I’m retired,” I said, instead of anything more sensible. I cleared my throat. “Can’t say Arlo has mentioned you, though.”
I don’t know what kind of reaction I expected, but it wasn’t a bright peel of laughter that transformed Morgan’s features. There was no denying that he was pretty, but when he laughed like that, with pure joy, he was gorgeous.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Morgan said, still chuckling. “Why would he?”
Arlo shook his head, but his smile was fond. “Morgan here is the savior of Hickory Hollow.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
Morgan batted Arlo’s chest. “You’re exaggerating.”
Arlo, still grinning, put up an affronted tone. “I am not. Without you, the town would be dead by now.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“It is. Because it was. And then you came along and sprinkled everything with your brand of magic and ta da! We’re flourishing.”
Morgan looked rather pleased with that description, but he shook his head and opened his mouth. Probably to refute Arlo’s statement, but I cut in, not wanting to listen to the banter when I really wanted answers.
“Can one of you explain?”
They both turned to me, wide eyed, as though they’d forgotten I was there. Morgan recovered first. “I’m the town events coordinator.”
He said it like it should explain everything. And while I understood the words, the meaning behind it didn’t make sense. I waited for him to elaborate but after a few seconds, it was clear he wasn’t going to.
“Explain.”
Morgan gave me a look, like the order hadn’t been appreciated, and I cleared my throat again. I was used to giving orders and having them being obeyed. I’d been the highest-ranking NCO in my platoon. I gave a single nod and added, “Please.”
Morgan’s smile was soft and, dare I say it, sweet. “The town board hired me to bring in more tourism. So that’s what I do.”
Arlo was quick to add, “Ten years ago, people were leaving in droves. If we wanted to keep Hickory Hollow from becoming a ghost town, we had to do something.” He turned to Morgan, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Morgan came in and revitalized everything.”
Morgan waved that away. “I wouldn’t say that. That’s giving me too much credit.”
Arlo narrowed his gaze. “You convinced the Wayfair Ranch to open to the public, offer trail rides, and build the guest cabins.”
Morgan shook his head. “They decided to build the cabins on their own.”
Arlo ignored that. “You got the funding secured for the Wentz’s to build the hotel just outside of town. The Marquis is the only luxury hotel in the area.”
“They were looking for a place to expand that was off the beaten path and I just—”
“You brought in businesses, like the plant and pet shop, and the fancy yarn shop, and the glass blower, and you helped Sophie Lowry get her property rezoned so she could open a B and B.”
Morgan scratched his head, shifting his hat askew. He righted it before he said, “Well, yes, but I mean, that was just helping folks who already wanted to—”
“And! Last summer, there was a Hart Valentine concert at the amphitheater!”
I didn’t listen to much current music, I was a classic rock kind of guy, and certainly not country, but even I knew who Hart Valentine was. But then the rest of the Arlo’s statement penetrated my brain, and I had to interject. “When did Hickory Hollow get an amphitheater?”
“Five years ago or so. Yeah, because it was just after I came back from your promotion ceremony. Morgan here convinced old man Johnson to sell five acres to the town for the construction.”
Morgan was blushing now. “Mr. Johnson was looking to downsize. I just helped him see what the amphitheater would bring to the town, is all. Plus he gets free lifetime tickets to any show he wants.”
“The man’s eighty if he’s a day, it wasn’t that much of a sacrifice.” Arlo me a look. “It seats ten-thousand. Plus lawn seating.”
“Impressive,” I said, because it was. While not a huge arena, it could pull in some bigger names. And it would definitely draw folks in.
Morgan shrugged. “I’m just doing my job.”
Arlo bumped him with a shoulder. “And let’s not forget all the events you plan throughout the year that brings in all sorts of folk.”
“Which brings me to why I’m here today!” Morgan exclaimed, face bright. I got the distinct impression he was glad for the change of subject. He motioned to the box. “For the scavenger hunt.”
Arlo immediately popped the box open. “Ridge is finally done?”
“What scavenger hunt?” I had to ask.
“It’s part of the Hickory Hollow Holiday Festival,” Morgan said, gaze glued to Arlo as he pulled out a bubble wrapped something.
It took all my training and considerable will to keep the frustration out of my voice. “How about you explain things like I haven’t lived in town for, I don’t know, say twenty years?”
Okay, so I hadn’t managed to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. But could anyone blame me? They were both acting like I had some sort of idea of what was going on, and while I couldn’t blame Morgan, Arlo knew better. He hadn’t told me any of this. I was man enough to admit that might be my fault, since I hadn’t wanted to hear about the town. But if they were going to talk about it, the least they could do was elaborate. In fact, it might be better if I just saw myself out of the conversation.
Morgan placed a hand on my arm, and when I looked at him, his expression was stricken. “I’m so sorry, Barrett. I didn’t mean to exclude you.”
“That’s my fault. I’m sorry too, Bear.” Arlo gave an apologetic grin. “I should have explained during one of our conversations. You just never seemed to want…It’s not important. Morgan, care to explain?”
“Of course.” Morgan sat up straighter and adjusted his hat. The little tinny tinkle clued me in that the end of the hat had a bell. “The festival runs from December fifteenth through Christmas eve. There’s a winter market on the green. We’ve got tents and space heaters and everything.”
“The old soccer fields where they used to have field days,” Arlo interjected, to give me context.
Morgan nodded. “We still do, of course, in the summer. It just more like a fair instead of field days now.” He waved that away, focused on the current mission. “The senior center hosts several festival dinners where there are raffles. Half of those proceeds go to the senior center itself. The gingerbread house decorating contest is there too.”
“Mrs. Poirier is still making her chicken and biscuits. And it’s still smart to avoid Betty Harbinger’s treacle tart. It’ll break your teeth.” Arlo waggled his bushy eyebrows.
Morgan laughed and swatted Arlo’s arm but continued on. “Wayfair Ranch hosts a winter ball on the twenty-first. As well as sleigh rides throughout the whole festival. Santa Claus makes an appearance at the Market the twentieth through the twenty fourth. Which reminds me. Did you get the suit?”
The last was directed at Arlo, and he nodded. “Jamie dropped it off after she had it cleaned. It’s hanging in the office.” To me he added, while patting his stomach, “I volunteered to play the big man himself this year.”
“And you’ll do it so well.” Morgan gave him a side hug, then turned a bright smile on me. “And St. Mary’s choir is caroling every night. Mostly through the center of town, but also the neighborhood. Did I miss anything?”
I quirked a brow. “The scavenger hunt.”
“Oh!” He laughed at himself as he covered both hands with his face. He sighed as he rubbed hard. “Sorry about that. So the scavenger hunt is for anyone who wants to participate, locals and tourists alike. Only I know where each item is hidden. The point is to find all fifteen and submit pics of it through the town website. There’s a form and everything. All the completed entries go into a random generator for prizes. First place is a five-night stay at Wayfair and tickets to Hart’s next concert here. Second place is a four-night stay at The Marquis in the Presidential Suite. And third place gets four tickets to next year’s Autumn Festival. Oh yeah, and anyone who submits a completed set gets a set of food and drink vouchers they can use at local restaurants and pubs during the Spring Fling.”
He looked so proud of himself once he finished. But hell, I could hardly wrap my mind around the whole thing. From the sound of it, Hickory Hollow was hopping all year round. Which was a far cry from how it had been during my childhood. Sleepy would have been a kind descriptor back then. No one ventured here just for fun.
“And people come to all of this?”
“Oh yes! Some travel hours, on multiple days, just to be part of it. The Marquis, Wayfair, and Soph’s B and B have been booked solid for the duration for months.”
I let out a low whistle. I couldn’t imagine that many people flooding Hickory Hollow. But it seemed that Morgan Hawley certainly knew how to do his job. If the town could sustain that kind of tourism then he’d been busy in the past ten years.
“Ridge has outdone himself this year.”
Morgan and I both turned our attention to Arlo, who had unwrapped the bubble wrap. In his hand was a delicate looking star, speckled with white and blue. It wasn’t much bigger than his hand, so maybe six or so inches. It was stunning.
“They’re really nice, eh?” Morgan said, pride filling his tone.
“It’s beautiful,” I agreed.
“Ridge took over the Town Garage. Bought it from Dick’s estate,” Arlo said, perhaps keeping in mind my earlier outburst and wanting to give me a frame of reference. The mechanic shop was just at the edge of town. “He and his siter renovated it and now it’s Holloway Glassworks. They sell a lot online as well as in store, and of course, they always have a booth whenever we have a market.”
“Sounds like you have plenty of those.” I tempered my tone with a smile, not wanting either of them to think I was being disparaging. Morgan nodded, smiling all the while.
“I try to keep things going every season at least. If not more. It’s been easier to book the amphitheater after Hart played here, so that helps. We’re a bit of a destination these days.”
It sounded like more than “a bit.”
“Here, Bear. Tuck this up on the top shelf behind the Glenfiddich. Make sure it’s not too obvious.” Arlo handed the glass star to me and I did as instructed. When I turned around, Morgan had his phone out.
“Perfect.” He snapped a pic, then shoved his phone back in his pocket as he hopped off the stool. “I better get going. I have ten more of these to deliver. And there’s so much to do before the festival. There’s only a week left.”
“Eight days,” I corrected absently, used to precision. Then I winced. That wasn’t necessary. But Morgan just laughed.
“Close enough. I’ll be a busy, busy bee. But if you need anything, Arlo, just let me know, okay?” He pulled on his coat and fumbled with the zipper before he got it going. He grinned. “Barrett, it was lovely to meet you. And I know Arlo is happy to have you back for the holidays. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”
He waved and headed for the door but stopped when Arlo called his name.
“Do you still need volunteers to help?”
Morgan pursed his lips. “We can always use volunteers. And as much as I appreciate that, you’ve got enough going on with the pub that I—”
“Oh no. Not me.” Arlo interrupted, and I didn’t trust the grin that bloomed on his face. I really didn’t trust it when he turned that grin on me. “Barrett. He doesn’t do idle well. If he needs something to do, he can help you.”