19. Epilogue
Epilogue
Snoot knew something was up, and it wasn’t just the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen. Never having seen Addy decorate for the holidays, the poor pup was perplexed by all the sparkle and fuss.
Until this year, she’d been content with a tiny, pre-decorated tree from the base florist. But for the past two days, she and Kieran had filled every corner and surface with fresh Christmas greenery and kitschy ornaments they’d bought together in Trappers Cove.
Her favorite was the green, glittery alien waving from his tinsel-trimmed UFO—from Souvenir Galaxy, of course.
Whining softly, Snoot snuffled his way from the kitchen, where Kieran was assembling a huge cheese platter, to the dining room, where Addy was arranging holly and red hypericum berries in her grandmother’s milk glass vase.
Satisfied with her centerpiece for their holiday gathering, she stooped to reassure the anxious Lab.
“Easy, Bud. It’s just a party. You’ll get lots of belly rubs, and probably a belly ache from all the snacks.” She adjusted his red and green bow tie, cupped his furry face, and smooched the top of his head. “Because you’re irresistible! Yes, you are!”
Snoot licked her cheek. You’d think a dog smart enough to undertake the search and rescue training he was currently acing would learn that people don’t like slobbery kisses, but nope. Ah well, they’d have to warn their guests—most of whom had already met Snoot, anyway.
Once Addy’s U-Haul truck was spotted heading toward the lighthouse last month, word spread quickly—the new doctor was shacking up with the keeper. So even though she’d insisted this was just a casual gathering, bookshop owner Daphne warned her to expect a flood of housewarming gifts.
“You know how fast gossip spreads in a small town,” the bespectacled bookseller teased.
At first, Addy was anxious about similarities between her childhood hometown and Trappers Cove, but she needn’t have worried.
TC people might be a bit too deep in each other’s pockets for her taste, but it came from a place of caring and acceptance.
So far, she’d seen no trace of the narrow-minded spite she grew up with.
And the flood of visitors whenever one of their own was hospitalized warmed her heart.
These folks knew the true meaning of family—it had little to do with blood and everything to do with love.
Kieran emerged from the kitchen wearing his new apron, a black canvas number printed with ‘Tis Himself.
“Stew’s ready. Ten more minutes on your tarta long long.” After a few mangled attempts to pronounce tarte à l’oignon, he’d given up. “It’s delicious,” he declared over her practice Alsatian onion pie last week, “and that’s all I need to know.”
“You’re delicious,” she’d parried, and the pastry had gone cold as their tickle-fight quickly turned steamy and drifted into his bedroom.
Their bedroom, now complete with some new touches—a framed photo of her grandmother’s garden, a new wardrobe cabinet for Addy, the dragon tree plant that stubbornly survived despite Addy’s neglect, and Snoot’s cushion, of course.
Kieran encouraged her to put her own touches on the cottage, but after years of traveling light, she’d held onto only a few sentimental items, including her cookbook collection, now housed on a shelf he installed beside the kitchen window.
He’d made space for her in every room, and though the little house was cramped by modern standards, she wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. Together, they were making a home.
And tonight, they were entertaining friends together for the first time: some former colleagues from Joint Base Lewis-McChord, along with almost everyone she’d met in Trappers Cove.
Addy slid her arm around Kieran’s waist and surveyed their party set-up. “Think we have enough dishes?”
“I do.” He smooched the top of her head. “And if we run out, there’s a stash of paper plates under the sink.”
“Do we have enough salad?” She scanned the kitchen counter.
He grasped her shoulders and spun her to face him. “Relax, love. We have enough food to feed an army.” He pecked her lips. “No pun intended.”
He stepped back, but Addy grabbed his apron and towed him in for a longer, more satisfying kiss.
“That’s better.” She grinned against his lips when she felt the hard ridge poking her belly. “Ready for another go already? Didn’t get enough this morning?”
His rumbly laughter lit Addy up like a Christmas tree.
“With you near, I’m always ready. Hence the apron. Don’t want to alarm the neighbors.”
With a sharp bark, Snoot barreled toward the front door.
“Speak of the devil.” Kieran took Addy’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Let’s welcome our guests.”
“Merry Christmas!” Annie Scott, the vintage shop owner, threw her arms around Addy. The funny, snarky redhead had become Addy’s favorite TC friend. Within a week of moving to Trappers Cove, Annie had introduced her to the town’s movers and shakers, including her tech billionaire husband.
“You look amazing, as always.” Addy stroked the faux fur collar of her friend’s beaded mohair sweater.
Annie beamed. “Thanks, doll. Kieran, you’ve met my husband, Michael Garwood?”
“Of course.” Kieran shook the man’s hand. “Fine thing you’re doing for our hospital. We’re grateful.”
“Don’t mention it.” Michael gave his flame-haired wife a fond smile. “It’s good to know that, when the worst happens, help will be available, thanks to Doctor Addy.”
“Thanks to our new surgical suite,” Addy corrected him. Construction had already begun on the new facility, and plans were underway to expand staffing for the increased patient load from the surrounding area.
“We brought you a little something.” Annie handed Kieran a cellophane-wrapped antique teapot. “For your morning cuppa.”
“Why, that’s…” Kieran blushed to the roots of his hair. “Thank you, Annie.”
“Quit blocking the doorway, you two,” a gruff voice grumbled.
“Can it, Mo,” his companion snapped. “We’re not in a hurry.”
“Speak for yourself, woman. I’m freezing my butt off out here.”
Mo and Nabila Abadi, owners of Ali Baba Kebabs, smothered first Addy, then Kieran, in a tandem hug. Mo thrust a package into Addy’s hands. “From our kitchen to yours.”
“Moroccan spices,” Nabila added and sniffed the air. “What smells so good?”
Kieran’s grin held a note of pride—as well it should. He’d been working all day on today’s feast. “Lamb stew, Irish soda bread, apple and berry pies, and Addy’s delicious onion thing I can’t pronounce.”
“That’ll warm you up.” Nabilla smacked Mo’s chilly butt and made way for the next arrivals: Daphne Lee from the bookshop, who brought a cookbook; her brother Ryan and his girlfriend Lilo, who brought non-alcoholic ginger beer from their Salty Dog Brewery; baker Garrett Becker, who brought sourdough loaves and butter cookies; plus Xander Anagnos, owner of Souvenir Galaxy, and his girlfriend Hannah Leoni, editor of the Trappers Cove Beacon , who brought a jar of organic dog treats and a kerchief printed with UFOs for Snoot.
And this time, not one of them called Kieran “Fred.”
Bringing up the rear, organic farmer Jesse del Toro and his fiancée, Gemma Moore, brought potted herbs.
“For your windowsill garden,” Gemma said, rubbing Jesse’s muscular shoulder. “It’s good for the spirit to see green growing things in wintertime. Aunt Zora sends her apologies. She had a last-minute Tarot emergency, but she and Marquetta will be along soon.”
After introducing her new neighbors and Kieran to friends from the base, Addy urged everyone to dig in. As more guests arrived, the party spilled into the parking lot, where Kieran had installed a party tent and propane heaters borrowed from the Salty Dog Saloon.
Seated beside her at a picnic table, Kieran beamed. “Isn’t this grand, Doc?”
“It really is.” She scooted closer and kissed his cheek. “Your friends are so welcoming.”
He nudged her arm. “Our friends.”
“Think the ghost will put in an appearance tonight?”
“The moon is full, so she might.”
Just then, Zora and Marquetta pulled up and hopped out of the librarian’s VW Bus. Her woolen cape flapping, Zora hustled toward them, brandishing a small package.
“Sorry we’re late, darlings.” She gave Addy, then Kieran, a two-cheek kiss. “Psychic crisis. You know how it is, Addy.”
“I suppose I do. Come inside. I’ll get you something to eat.”
Zora dismissed the offer with a wave of her be-ringed hand. “Pish tosh, we can serve ourselves. But first, here’s a talisman for your new home.”
Addy unwrapped a palm-sized black crystal with delicate striations that glistened beneath the party lights.
“It’s beautiful,” Kieran remarked.
“Black Tourmaline,” Zora told them. “A powerful stone for deflecting paranormal activity and negative energy.”
“Since you guys live in a haunted house,” Marquetta added.
Kieran held the stone to the light, turning it over and over in his fingers. Addy recognized his furrowed expression—he was pondering a weighty question.
“You know,” he said at last, “I’m not sure I want to chase the White Widow away. After all, this was her home before it was ours, and she brought Addy and me together.”
Beneath the table, Addy gave Kieran’s leg a squeeze. She’d had similar thoughts about their resident ghost since moving in. Though shivers always chased over her skin when the pale specter appeared, the widow’s presence held no threat, only the echo of heartache.
“That’s a lovely way to look at it.” Zora folded Kieran’s fingers over the stone. “But it’s not a ghost repellant. Put this stone anywhere you want to transform negative energies into positive.”
“I’ve got just the place.” Kieran chuckled. “Beside Addy’s phone charger. Those knucklehead cousins of hers haven’t given up yet.”
“Amen.” Giggling, Addy placed her phone on the table and set the crystal on top of it. “Begone, evil spirits!”