Chapter 7 #2
Sherry nods again. “They were talking on the bench yesterday in Ornament Park. Then I saw them walk off together.”
She’s with Dwight?
No fucking way.
Like I said, not that I noticed, but she is far too attractive to be with a guy like Dwight. He’s a fucking disease. And she . . . well, she’s not—and I’ll leave it at that.
“Were they holding hands?” I ask.
“No, but they were sitting close, talking, almost secretively.”
Gross.
Woof.
Can’t even imagine sitting close to Dwight, let alone talking to him.
Makes me judge this girl.
“So you think they’re up to something?” I ask.
“I think so. Wait, she’s in the new cottage on the property next to yours?”
I nod. “She is. Why?”
Sherry worries her lip. “Hold on.” She pulls up her phone and presses a few buttons before she says, “Hey, where are you? Great. Come to Warm Your Spirits. Now.” She hangs up and then sips her coffee.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“BKJ.”
I feel myself still. “You called BKJ?”
“Yup. I did.”
BKJ, also known as Bob Krampus Junior, the son of Bob Krampus and currently in training to be the next Santa Claus of Kringletown, is a silent man.
One who doesn’t tend to ride the gossip train.
Very aloof, you never know what he’s thinking, and frankly, he terrifies me.
An intimidating fellow with a beard that’s already gray, galoshes that stomp through the streets, and a shovel always in his hand.
“Why, uh, why does he have information?”
“I heard him talking to his father about something this morning. I couldn’t quite put the details together. All I heard was sign, a mention of the property next to yours, and new girl.”
“A sign?” I say, feeling my heart start to pound a little harder.
I knew it.
I knew something was up.
Turning in my seat, I call out, “Cole, get over here.”
Done with his muffin, he throws away his trash and then brings Florence over to the counter, where Tanya takes her and starts bouncing her up and down.
“What?” he asks.
“Remember when I said I thought there was something strange going on?”
“Yes,” he groans.
“Well, I was fucking right. Turns out the girl who nailed me in the head with the two-liter is dating Dwight, my nemesis.”
“Christ.” Cole runs his hand over his jaw.
“And apparently there’s some sort of sign out on her property now. I told you something fishy was going on. I fucking told you.”
Before Cole can respond, the door flies open, and all eyes land on BKJ, standing tall, proud, and stoutly in a brown leather coat with sheep wool lining the collar and a Santa hat on his head.
In his giant black galoshes, he stomps into the coffee shop, shaking off the snow that must have started, and heads in our direction.
Intimidating is all I can say. And I’m four inches taller than him. But there’s something about him being the son of the most powerful man in Kringle that has my nuts turning in on themselves.
“Merry Christmas,” he says in a bellow.
“M-merry Christmas,” I answer. “Uh, snowing out there?”
“Just a little sprinkle.” He pats Cole on the shoulder. “Good to see you.”
“How you doing, man?” Cole asks, dropping the pinch in his brow and smiling like a damn fool.
“Good. Good. Taking a break from the market for a moment to grab some coffee.” He looks around, holding on to the belt of his jacket. God, he really has the mannerisms down, already puffing his chest, ready to shout out a ho-ho-ho that could shake the very timbers of this establishment.
“Let me grab that for you,” Tanya says, passing Florence back to Cole.
While Tanya is pouring him a cup of coffee, adding his signature peppermint stick in the cup, BKJ says, “So I’ve heard you’ve had a rough go of it lately. Seems like you’re on the naughty list, Atlas.”
I feel myself cower, but before I can answer, Sherry says, “I’ll walk you back to the Christmas market and fill you in, because I have something important to ask you.”
Tanya drops off his drink and says it’s on the house. BKJ offers her a wink and then takes a sip without even blowing on the liquid. Wow, incredible. What a metal mouth.
“Is this a private conversation?” BKJ asks.
“No, it’s a conversation that I must have in front of everyone.
” Clearing her throat, she says, “I heard you speaking to your dad this morning about a new girl in town and a sign. Could you possibly inform us of what you were talking about? Because I think it has to do with the girl who Max had an interaction with.”
“Betty?” BKJ asks.
Betty.
Huh, I kind of like that name.
“Yes, the girl living on the property next to Max, dating Dwight.”
“Dating Dwight?” BKJ lets out a wallop of a laugh, so much that he starts coughing. “They’re not dating. She’s his niece.”
“Niece?” I ask, surprised. “No, we can’t be talking about the same person. She is not that much younger than Dwight.”
“Her dad is Dwight’s brother. Her grandfather had two marriages. One of those situations.”
“Oh,” I say. Well, that makes more sense, because there is no way Dwight could pull a girl like her. Not with how he eats his food, like a fucking chipmunk hovering over a nut.
“But, yes, that’s Betty. New to town. Just moved onto the vacant lot that Dwight has owned for a long time.”
I sit taller, dread starting to fill me. “He owns that land?”
BKJ nods. “Yup. I drove by this morning on my way out of town for some supplies, and I saw a sign out on the property, a Coming Soon sign.”
I dramatically grip Cole’s arm. “What did it say?”
BKJ pauses for effect and then says, “Coming Soon. With Joyful Ring Farm.”
Sherry gasps.
Tanya clutches her chest.
And I slowly mutter, “That motherfucker.”
I knew it.
I knew something was happening. I knew someone was trying to put me out of business. I just didn’t know the extent of it. Well, I hope everyone who didn’t believe me eats their words, because who is the fool now?
Not me, that’s for damn sure.
After we all let the news settle in, Cole asks, “But how is that possible? There’s a rule in Kringle. Businesses can’t overlap.”
“Correct,” BKJ says. “But that piece of property is just outside the town ordinance. Technically, it’s not a part of Kringletown but rather part of the county instead.”
And just like that, my stomach drops, everything becoming clear. The voices I heard. The plotting. The questions she was asking. The snooping. The ability to nail someone square in the head with a soda with zero emotion at all.
She’s here to take over.
She’s here to destroy me.
Slowly, I turn to Cole, and I don’t have to say anything, because I can see it written all over his face. He nods. “You were right, dear. You were right.”
“Can we just go over this one more time?” Cole asks as he hands me a tin of chocolate-covered pretzels and popcorn in a white paper gift bag.
“You’re going over there, knocking on her door, not peering in, and you’ll offer her the pretzels as a peace offering.
You won’t accuse her. You won’t start a fight.
And you most certainly will not go on a tirade about how she can’t start a farm next to yours. ”
I take a deep breath and fix my winter hat on my head. “I’m aware.”
“There will be no mention of the farm. There will be no mention of her trying to destroy you. You are calm, cool, and collected.”
“I know.” I grip the straps of the bag tighter. “Trust me, I’m good at this shit.”
“I don’t trust you one bit,” he says. “Not even a little. I fear that you’ll get there and kick her door down, demanding answers.”
I scoff. “Unlike you, I know how to control my temper. I’m a smooth talker, okay? I can do this.” I flash my teeth at him. “Anything in my teeth?”
“You’re good.”
“What about my breath?” I blow at him.
He winces. “Eh, minty.”
“Good, I just downed ten Junior Mints. Forgot how good those little fuckers are. I still have some on the kitchen counter if you want a snack.”
“I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Your loss.” I tug on my mittens hanging from my jacket and slip them on.
“Dude, mittens?”
I pause. “My mom made them for me. I have to use them at least once a year.”
“They’re attached to your coat. What are you, eight?”
“No, I’m a smart asshole who doesn’t want to lose the precious mittens his mother made for him and talks about constantly because by the time she was done knitting, her hands were bleeding. Jesus, insensitive much?”
“Sorry,” Cole says, looking slightly guilty.
“Apology accepted. Now, will you be here when I get back?”
“No, I have a life, and it doesn’t consist of holding your hand through whatever bullshit this is. I’m grabbing pizza and heading home.”
“How many pizzas? Maybe I could come over for some dinner?”
“One,” he deadpans.
“Maybe grab ten?” I ask. “Then I could come over, and we could have a little strategy session. Invite Guy and Taran, because she’s conniving and could help. Aunt Cindy would be a good one. Oh, and my brothers if we’re desperate.”
“No.”
“Okay, then maybe just me. I have no problem grabbing a salad for all of us to share.”
“No.”
I blow out a heavy breath. “When a man is in crisis, you’d really drop him like that?”
“Can we just reconvene tomorrow? Text me to let me know how it goes, and then we can plan from there, okay? I want to spend a night with my wife.”
“Fine.” We head out the door, and I set the bag down so I can lock up.
“Don’t set it down on the wet mat,” Cole says, pulling the bag up. “You don’t want the paper to break.”
“Please, these gift bags are all weatherproof.” I take the bag from him and then go in for a hug, but he palms my face instead.
“No,” he says. “Just no.”
“Fuck, you’re no fun.”