Chapter 2
Chapter Two
I huddled in the crowded hallway, surrounded by my bags and inn employees while the police and EMTs attended to the man in the tub.
Though, from the bluish-gray color of his skin, I knew there wasn’t much to attend to.
I still couldn’t believe I’d seen a dead person.
I stood in shock while employees around me chatted.
“Should we show the guest to her suite?” someone whispered.
“No. The sheriff wanted us all to stay here for a bit,” Grace said, then added. “Plus, she’s not a guest. She’s one of us. Just waiting to settle into her new job and find a place of her own.”
One of us. It was sweet of her to say. But I’d barely been in town an hour, and it certainly didn’t feel like home yet. I offered a polite smile.
“Oh, well then, welcome to town,” the woman said. “I’m Angelica. Like a Christmas angel.”
Ah, the housekeeper Grace had spoken to on the walkie. Angelica was about my age. Her sharp features were softened by the most beautiful head of long, flowing brown curls. She reminded me of a mermaid.
The teen boy with sandy blond hair and ruddy cheeks that I’d quickly figured out was Grace’s son said, “I’m Rudy. Short for Rudolph. But I’ll be legally changing my name when I turn eighteen.”
“You will not,” Grace snapped.
“Watch me, Ma!”
Grace pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Now’s not the time for this.”
My last hallway buddy piped up. “And I’m Jack.”
The handyman from the lobby. And, finally, a regular name.
He added, “Like Jack Frost.”
Of course.
A silence fell over the group, and I realized they were waiting for me.
“Oh, I’m Kelsey,” I said. “Just … Kelsey.”
The door to the suite opened, and the EMTs filed out with their equipment. As predicted, there was no one to save. The door closed again behind them, only the police left behind.
“I wonder what happened to him,” Jack said.
“Given his age, probably a heart attack,” Grace said solemnly. “Or a stroke.”
“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” Rudy said under his breath.
Grace pointed at her son. “Don’t start.”
He held his hands up. “What? He was super rude to everyone. And he said something inappropriate to Angelica.”
“He did,” Angelica said, color rising to her cheeks.
“Well, that’s true,” Grace conceded. “But we still don’t speak ill of the dead. That’s also rude.”
The door opened and two police officers joined us in the hallway.
A quite handsome younger black man in uniform stood beside an older white man who actually looked like Santa.
He had the belly, the beard, and the red nose.
But instead of a Santa suit, he wore jeans, a brown barn jacket, and a badge.
He looked directly at me. “I’m Sheriff Kris Whitman. And yes, before you ask, it is Kris for Kringle.” He pointed at the younger officer. “This is Officer Nick Coleman. Nick as in Saint.”
This was truly going to take some getting used to, I thought.
“Kelsey Hendricks,” I said with a nod.
“Nice to meet you,” Nick replied. His uniform was taut enough to show he was built but not beefy—the Goldilocks of male bods. Unfortunately, he also wore a silver wedding band. Damn.
Sheriff Kris clasped his hands on top of his protruding belly. “The hotel guest seems to have had a fall in the shower and broken his neck.”
Grace covered her mouth and shook her head. “Terrible.”
“Was he staying here with anyone?” Kris asked.
Grace said, “No, he was alone. He checked in two days ago and was due to leave today.”
The sheriff raised his wiry eyebrows. “A tourist alone?”
“He was here on business,” Rudy said. “A traveling salesman.”
“What was he selling?” Nick asked.
“Bad attitudes, apparently,” Rudy quipped.
Grace groaned. “Rudy, please.”
The sheriff turned his attention to the housekeeper. “What time did you last enter the room?”
Angelica twirled a strand of hair around her finger as she thought. “I cleaned it yesterday and there was certainly no body in the tub. Then I returned today around one PM for a turnover.”
“Turnover?” Kris repeated.
“A deeper clean after a guest checks out and a new guest is about to check in,” she explained.
“But as soon as I opened the door, I saw that his luggage was still in the room. So, I just went right back out. I figured maybe he had asked for a late check out or something. I was going to check with Grace on it, but I hadn’t had the chance yet. ”
“So even though it’s after dinner now, you still hadn’t returned to the room?” Kris asked.
Angelica’s cheeks flushed. “I have twenty rooms to do all by myself today. It’s a lot of work.”
“That’s my fault,” Grace interrupted. “We’re short-staffed right now.”
Kris nodded, then lowered his voice. “We’re going to need all of you to keep this to yourselves until we can reach his next of kin. Grace, I assume you can provide me with his home address and contact details from the reservation?”
“Of course,” Grace said quickly. “Whatever you need.”
The sheriff dismissed everyone, reminding us again to keep this to ourselves for now.
After I’d already started dragging my luggage down the hall, following Grace to my new corpse-less suite, a thought occurred to me.
Should I have told the sheriff about the flyer I’d found outside on the sidewalk?
Murder Santa was creepy and threatening.
But the old man had fallen in the shower. Even if he was on the naughty list, you couldn’t really blame Santa for that.
And it was only a drawing.
And I’d burned it.
Oh well.
After Grace confirmed that my new suite was indeed unoccupied, I took some time to settle in and unpack.
After that gruesome encounter, I needed to relax.
I’d lost my desire for a bath, so instead I eased under the covers and reached for my phone.
The inn’s Wi-Fi password was “jolly,” so I typed that in and started scrolling.
My heart cinched in my chest. My ex-boyfriend, Trent, had put up his first post since our explosive breakup.
My mouth turned down as I took in every detail.
He was at a bar with his friends, beer glasses held high.
He looked happy. I knew more than anyone how fake social media could be, but that was his true smile. He seemed delighted to be single again.
I unfollowed him. Petty, maybe. But I had to guard my heart. I had to heal, and seeing him move on with his life like nothing had happened only hurt me all over again.
A text from my mother popped up, dragging my attention away.
My parents were in the middle of a four-month cruise.
Retirement sure seemed nice! I hadn’t yet told them about my life changes, but I’d told my brother, Shawn.
He’d reached out and invited me to come visit him in New York next week for Thanksgiving, so I had to tell him the truth.
That I was moving to Maine and starting a new job, so it wasn’t a great time to travel.
It was only a matter of time before he tattled to my folks. I opened my texts.
Mom: Shawn said you’re moving to Christmasville!!!
And there it was. The little narc.
Me: Yes, I moved today.
Mom: Are you on the drugs?
Me: No, Mom. I am not on “the drugs.”
Mom: Why would you want to leave that great job in Boston? And you said Trent would probably be proposing soon!
Oof, that one hurt.
Me: That is a long story that will have to wait until you get home for Christmas. In fact, we could spend Christmas here, if you’d like. Just like the old days.
I waited for her next message, hoping my attempt to appeal to her sense of nostalgia had eased her worries.
Mom: Are you okay?
Apparently, it hadn’t.
Me: I’m good, Mom. I promise. You know I’ve always been happy here.
Mom: Yeah, when you were ten and not on the drugs.
I chuckled.
Me: Love you, Mom.
Mom: Love you too, sweetheart. Daddy says hi.
I thought about what to do next. I could channel surf and maybe find a Christmas romance movie.
Or I could read the mystery novel I’d brought with me.
My brother always teased me about my two main hobbies.
Back when we’d lived under the same roof, if I was going to watch or read something, he’d ask, “Is it about Christmas or murder because it’s always one or the other with you. ” I smiled at the memory.
But I only got a few pages into the book before my eyes started to close, the exhaustion of the day taking hold.
Part of me still couldn’t believe I’d done it.
I’d moved to Christmasville. The first night certainly wasn’t all sugar cookies and glitter.
Finding a dead body and meeting the local police had not been on my day-one agenda.
But that should be the end of the drama.
From now on, no darkness. Only Christmas magic and light. I hoped.
I barely slept, tossing and turning all night as the image of the dead man in the tub resurfaced unbidden again and again.
I think I even had a Murder Santa nightmare somewhere in there too.
But I couldn’t sleep in. It was my first day of work.
I dragged my tired butt into the shower, making the water cooler than I would have liked to help wake me up.
Then I put on a touch of makeup, just enough to make my hazel eyes pop, and blow-dried my hair.
My favorite black work pants were a little loose.
In all of my life upheaval, I’d lost a few pounds and gotten a tad too skinny.
But I was sure Christmasville’s bakery and sweets shop would fix that right quick.
A deep-red blouse rounded out my first-day look.
With one last nod in the mirror, I headed downstairs for a cup of life-saving coffee.
For a Monday morning, the lobby was surprisingly bustling.
I beelined it for the breakfast table and filled a mug.
The aroma of coffee alone was helping to wake me up already.
A long buffet table with a red plaid tablecloth offered muffins, bagels, Danishes, and single-serve boxes of cereal.
I selected a cranberry muffin and headed to the dining area.
The small room was nearly full, but I found an empty table for two in the corner and sat down.
A moment later, someone came to my side. His tightly cropped blond hair offset his dark eyes. And, unlike all the other jeans and sweater–wearing tourists, he wore an expertly tailored suit.
“Do you mind?” he asked. “It’s the only seat available, and I have to eat quickly before a business meeting.”
“Of course,” I said, motioning to the empty chair and hoping there weren’t any cranberries stuck in my teeth.
“Aaron Chambers,” he said, but he didn’t offer his hand. It was too busy quickly buttering a bagel.
“Kelsey Hendricks.”
He stared at me for a moment with those dark eyes, like he was trying to figure something out. “Are you a guest at the hotel?”
“Yes,” I said, dabbing my mouth with a napkin. “I start a job today here in town, but it all happened kind of fast. So I’m staying here until I settle in and find a place of my own.”
“Where are you working?” he asked with what sounded like true interest.
“At the town hall. I’m the town’s new social media manager.”
He nodded. “They definitely need one of those. Their Instagram account looks like it’s been managed by someone’s great-grandma.”
I covered my mouth to hold back a laugh. I’d noticed that myself but didn’t want to bad-mouth my predecessor.
Aaron chewed through a bite, then pointed at me. “I knew you weren’t from here.”
“Why? Because my name isn’t Merry McHollycakes?”
He chuckled lightly. “No. It’s because you don’t quite fit in. You’re too … urbane.”
Which meant he thought the rest of the people in Christmasville were unrefined hicks. I felt strangely defensive of them. “Isn’t that a bit snobby? I’ve found the people in Christmasville to be delightful and kind.”
“Of course. They are. I just think you … stand out.”
Though I had mixed feelings, I wasn’t about to argue with someone trying to compliment me. Especially not someone who looked like Aaron.
“Do you know why the police were here last night?” he asked. “I was in the lobby and watched them go upstairs.”
I swallowed a chunk of muffin that suddenly felt like lead. “A guest passed away, unfortunately. He slipped in the tub.”
His dark eyes widened in surprise. “Ouch.”
I thought about telling him that I was the one who’d found the man. But I’d been trying hard all morning to get that visual out of my head and focus on my first day at the new job. Besides it wasn’t great breakfast conversation. I’d much rather find out what Aaron was doing in town.
But before I could ask, he glanced at his steel watch and groaned. “I’m going to be late. I have to go.”
“Well, it was nice meeting you,” I said.
He gave me a smile so slow and warm, it could melt butter. “Likewise. Maybe we can share another meal together sometime.”
Then, before I could even consider answering, he turned on his heel and left.
I sat, stunned and bewildered. Had he just asked me out on a date? A vague date? Was there a suggestion of a date? Maybe this would end up being my real-life Christmas romance movie after all.
The man in the bathtub resurfaced in my mind. I didn’t know why it was bothering me so much. He hadn’t been gruesomely killed like in one of the novels I read. He’d had an accident. Accidents happen every day. But still, as I stared down at the last bite of my muffin, my stomach turned.