Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The rest of my workday was Isabella-less and therefore delightful.
I checked her account, and she’d already posted a story showing families skating on the pond and a picture of her beside an impressive snowman.
I’d bet every dollar I had that someone else had made that snowman, but it didn’t matter.
She was doing her job, showing her followers all the fun activities visitors could do in Christmasville, Maine, and looking gorgeous while doing it. Win-win for everyone.
I’d downloaded a rental app days ago that finally notified me of an apartment listing in town. I made an appointment after work to go see it. It was outside the town center, but it was about time I drove my car anyway. I didn’t want the battery to die from not being used.
I went directly from the town hall to the inn and started my car.
I brushed a dusting of snow off the windshield, then sat and let the engine idle for a minute to warm up.
I’d been hoping to find an apartment in the thick of it all.
Many of downtown’s shops had units on their second and third floors.
But in a town this size, there wasn’t always something available.
This one was a bit further out, but it was still worth seeing.
As the main road thinned out and buildings were replaced by pine trees, it dawned on me that I was living in the middle of nowhere.
It was easy to forget that while surrounded by twinkle lights, Christmas decorations, and jolly travelers.
But now, with the sky darkening and the space between homes widening, I remembered that I was in Stephen King land.
My GPS alerted me to a turn, and I wound onto an even narrower road with no street lights.
Then I reached my destination and pulled into the gravel driveway of a two-story duplex.
As I got out of the car, my eyes took the home in.
There wasn’t a single decoration, which felt blasphemous.
But I could fix that with a wreath and some LED candles for the windows.
The exterior desperately needed a fresh paint job, but I tried to reserve judgment until I could see inside.
A man emerged from the side of the building and put a cigarette out on the ground. He wiped his hands on his dirty jeans and turned his backward trucker hat forward.
There was something familiar about him. I approached, uncertain. “Are you Billy?”
“That’s me,” he said gruffly. “You the lady who texted about the apartment?”
“That’s me!” I echoed with forced enthusiasm.
“Well, then, let’s go on in and see it.” He walked me up to the front steps and unlocked the door. “I live in the unit next door. So, if you ever need anything …”
He looked me up and down while his voice trailed off to a place that I hoped meant, like, repairs or a cup of sugar.
The door opened into the living room. The unit came fully furnished, which was nice, but the smell was not. My hand immediately flew up to cover my mouth.
Noticing my discomfort, Billy said, “The previous renter had problems with, uh, cat pee. But if it bothers you, I could get the couch steam-cleaned.”
It smelled like much more than just the couch stunk. That cat must have peed in every corner of the room.
The kitchen was next. It had all the standard appliances, which was good. I wasn’t a big cook, but it would be nice not to have to get takeout for dinner almost every night. The inside of the fridge was a bit moldy, but I could clean that.
“Your bedroom is upstairs,” he said. The statement was normal, but something in his tone wasn’t.
I turned to look at him, and he gave me a slow, leering grin.
With a jolt, I realized where I knew him from. This was the man who’d been watching me a few nights before, skulking in the shadows between two buildings downtown. He wore the same camo-patterned trucker hat, and I’d recognize that predatory smirk anywhere.
I suddenly, truly, didn’t want to go upstairs with him. Of course, the societal “be a good girl” rules I was raised with made me immediately feel bad. My knee-jerk reaction was to be polite and follow him up there. Except there are times in life when ignoring your inner voice was a mistake.
I straightened my shoulders and used my all-business tone. “Actually, I saw the pictures of the bedroom in your online listing. And I think I’ve seen enough down here to help me make a decision. I’ll email you tomorrow.”
Without waiting for a response, I hightailed it out of there and back to my car, which I immediately locked.
This was the only available rental in town right now.
But I’d wait. Something else would pop up, closer to downtown, and with better vibes.
Without cat pee stench. And without a creep for a landlord.
In the meantime, my reservation at Christmas Creek was open-ended.
I breathed a sigh of relief after I parked and walked up to the main door of the inn.
It was amazing that someplace could feel like home after only a few days.
Not only the inn but also the whole town.
At first, I thought it was only the nostalgia tugging at my heart.
But now that I’d met a lot of townspeople and really gotten to know the place, my affection had only deepened.
The lobby smelled like pine and coffee. Grace waved at me from behind the front desk. Rudy gave me a big smile as he carried a suitcase. Even old Jack tipped his hat to me as he limped by, a hammer and a screwdriver in his hand, off to repair something.
“Hey, guys!” a bubbly voice called out. “I’m here in the most fabulous town.
It’s Christmasville, Maine, and get this—it’s Christmas all the time here!
Even in July! I’ve already shown you some super fun stuff you can do here, but it’s only just beginning.
Over the next couple of days, there’s so much more to see! ”
Isabella was parked in front of the fireplace, her LED selfie light casting just the right glow on her ivory skin as she spoke to her followers.
I rolled my shoulders and tried to relax my neck.
Just hearing her voice made me tense. She seemed to be doing a good job, though, and seeing me might change that so I quickly snuck upstairs to my room.
I sent a text to my brother asking how his job was, though he probably wouldn’t respond for two days.
That was his style. My parents were much quicker to write back, even though their time zone was completely different at the moment.
They were still having a fantastic time on their cruise and seemed happy—maybe even relieved—to hear that things were going so well for me here.
After microwaving a frozen dinner and mindlessly watching TV for a couple hours, it was time to call it a day.
I pulled the comforter up to my chin and sank into the mattress.
But instead of going to sleep, my brain kept replaying recent conversations.
Arguments with Isabella, flirtations with Aaron and Ellison, Holly’s insistence that we had a murderer in town.
They played on a loop over and over. Then my lovely brain decided the middle of the night was a great time to fixate on the two bodies I’d seen.
First the old man. Then Mary. Over and over.
“Enough!” I snapped, ripping the covers off. If I could punish my own brain, I’d ground it for a week.
I’d had nights like this in the past, and stubbornly staying in bed in a futile attempt to force sleep to happen never worked.
I was better off going for a little walk.
Maybe Grace kept a stash of midnight snacks in the dining room.
I zipped up a sweatshirt over my pajama top and pushed my feet into slippers.
My flannel pants made a whoosh-whoosh sound as I padded down the stairs.
The lights from the Christmas tree cast a warm glow over the lobby. A single lamp in the corner helped to keep the room dimly lit. The front desk had a little sign with a number to call for off-hour emergencies. Probably Grace’s cell, I guessed.
A floorboard creaked.
I spun around. “Hello?”
Was someone else down here? I squinted at the shadows in every corner. The sound had probably been the old building settling. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t alone. Not only that, but I was being watched. Creepy landlord guy wouldn’t have followed me here, would he?
Goosebumps rose on my skin, and I rubbed my arms. My heart pounded wildly. I was definitely wide awake now. Sleep had no chance. I stood still, holding my breath for another long moment. No other sounds came.
Maybe I’d see if warm milk worked or was a myth.
I ambled into the dining room. Only the under-cabinet lighting was on, but it was enough to see what I needed to.
All of the tables were cleared and cleaned, waiting for breakfast. Unfortunately, a basket of midnight snacks for guests who couldn’t sleep existed only in my imagination.
But the fridge in the corner might have some milk that I could microwave.
I pulled open the door, squinting against the bright refrigerator light. There, in the back, was a half gallon of milk. Perfect. I grabbed it and spun around, letting the fridge door close behind me. Just in time to see a shadow of a person enter the room.
I let out a shriek and dropped the container.
The other person screamed, clearly just as startled.
The lights came on, and I held a hand up, confused as to how some recessed lighting could be as bright as the sun.
“Kelsey?”
Squinting and adjusting, I brought my hand down. “Grace?”
Grace stood wearing blue flannel pajamas with a pattern of little penguins. She put a hand over her heart. “I had no idea anyone was in here. Your scream scared the daylights out of me.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my heart rate slowly returning to normal. “I was already on edge because I’d heard footsteps when I was in the lobby, so when I turned away from the fridge and saw a person standing there, I guess I freaked out.”
Grace tilted her head. “Not my footsteps. I just came in now.”
“Oh.” It had probably been the building creaking. Or another guest. Or a crazed murderer. “Anyway, sorry for screaming.” I reached down and picked up the milk. Thankfully the plastic container hadn’t cracked.
“Let me guess,” Grace said with a smirk. “Trouble sleeping?”
I smiled sheepishly. “I was going to see if that warm milk thing really worked.”
She held a finger up. “I have something even better. Want to have a cup of chamomile tea with me?”
Something about Grace’s entire presence was calming. And, strangely, it made me miss my mom. “That sounds lovely, actually. Thanks.”
Several minutes later, Grace placed our teacups down and dropped into the chair opposite me. She took a sip and winced. “Too hot.”
I cradled the teacup in my hand and breathed in the scent. Even the smell of the chamomile was calming.
“So, why can’t you sleep?” Grace asked, her eyes full of empathy.
I blew gently on the tea before taking a tiny sip. “It’s not any one thing. It’s just one of those nights.”
Grace nodded knowingly. “You are going through a lot of change. A new town, a new job.”
“Change can be rough,” I agreed. Then I added, “Rudy told me you lost your husband last year. I’m sorry to hear that.”
She fiddled with the handle of her cup. “We were having ice dam problems, and we’d gotten another storm. Water was leaking into the inn. My husband and Rudy went up on the roof … he slipped …” Her voice trailed off as a vacant look came into her eyes. “My whole world turned upside down.”
“How did you carry on?” I asked.
“I’m a mother. I had to.” She gave a little shrug. “But keeping the inn was tough. Everyone expected me to pack it in. Give up. Sell and move on somewhere else. Even Rudy expected that.”
“But you didn’t. You kept it going.” I motioned to everything around us. “Amazingly, I might add.”
She gave me a tired smile. “At first I didn’t know how I was going to do it. I got overwhelmed thinking about the future. So I focused on getting through one day. And the next day, I focused on getting through that one. And before I knew it, I’d gotten through a year.”
“No small feat.”
“Rudy helped a lot, of course. But I did it for Robert. In his memory. He wouldn’t want our inn sold to strangers. It belonged to his parents, then us, and it is meant to stay in the family forever, passed down from generation to generation.”
I took another sip. The tea was only warm now but still comforting. “And you’ve done it. You showed everyone.”
“So far,” she said with a tinge of unease. “I may look like I have it all together here, but it’s a carefully crafted house of cards. One gust of wind and it could all come crashing down.”
My heart went out to her. She worked so hard. “So, is that why you couldn’t sleep?”
Worry lines took over her forehead, and she stayed silent for a long moment.
“Like you, it was a lot of reasons. The inn’s financials aren’t great at the moment.
We’re short-staffed. And raising a teenaged boy always has its struggles.
” She chuckled, then turned serious again.
“Have you ever gotten a feeling of dread and you had no idea why? You just felt like something bad was coming. Really, really bad.”
My mind immediately shifted to the moment in the apartment rental when my gut feeling told me to leave. But from Grace’s expression, she didn’t want a story time from me. Just acknowledgement.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “I have.”
Grace nodded, looking off into the distance, and took another sip of tea.