Chapter 8 #2
I leave Memaw’s feeling lighter. I don’t feel like heading back home and I need to pick up some groceries, so I drive to the Kroger on the edge of town.
Maybe keeping busy will keep my heart from spinning romantic fantasies about a man I’m only just getting to know.
I grab a cart and start in the produce section, grabbing a bag of cranberries and tossing them into my cart.
“Someone stole four elf statues from the square!” a woman says a few bins down from where I’m grabbing oranges.
“I heard that. Just this morning,” another woman answers her.
Their eyes meet mine. I haven’t met them yet, but they obviously know who I am.
“Had you heard?” the first woman asks me.
“No. I’m on my day off. But I’ll look into it right away.”
“I think it’s those boys who were messing with the nativity the other day,” the second woman says.
“Could be,” the first agrees.
“We don’t want to make assumptions,” I tell them, thinking back to the boys and their reactions to getting caught that night.
They were pretty compliant and contrite.
Plus, Jesse had them do some community service that definitely would make them think twice before stepping things up to theft.
It’s one thing to throw snowballs at a nativity out of normal teen boredom and restlessness.
It’s an entirely different thing to steal from the town square.
“Well, we’ll keep an ear to the ground,” woman number one says. “And we’ll let you know what we hear.”
They’d probably hear of anything long before Jesse and I do. The rumor mill here runs at full speed and with a force that’s both impressive and intimidating.
I get the rest of my groceries and as soon as I’m in the parking lot with my car loaded, I call the station to check in. Jeanie answers the station phone.
“Hey, Jeanie. It’s Alex.”
“Good morning, Alex,” she answers as if she’s almost expecting my call. “Elizabeth said you might be calling.”
“Elizabeth?”
“You ran into her and Nicole at Kroger’s.”
“Ah, yes. We didn’t exchange names.”
“You want to know about the elves?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Randy’s on duty. He’s got more of the details. You want me to patch you through to him?”
“Would you?” I don’t know if I’m out of line, but Jesse and I have been the ones dealing with the décor wars and the disappearing gingerbread. I’m not sure if the missing elves are related, but in case they are, I want to stay in the loop.
Jeanie patches my call through to Randy.
He tells me the elves went missing before dawn this morning.
Someone took them last night. He has photos of the footprints around the area, but it's the town square, so there’s not a lot we can use for evidence since so many people walk through there. No one he interviewed saw anything.
We hang up and my phone rings. It’s Jesse.
“Good morning, Alex.” His voice is deep and calming.
“Good morning,” I answer. “Did you call to offer to take me on a tour of Bordeaux on our day off?”
I’m not sure if that’s a bread crumb or a whole slice of bread. I’m pretty bad at flirting—out of practice for sure.
“Uh. No. Did you want a tour?”
“Maybe another day.” Let him pursue you.
“How about tomorrow?”
“That sounds good.”
“I actually called about the elves.”
I chuckle. Out of context these calls sound so odd.
“The elf statues,” he amends, obviously seeing the humor.
“I heard about it at the grocery.”
“Yeah. Jeanie told me you spoke with Randy.”
“What are your thoughts?” I ask him.
“Not the teens from the other night,” he says. “Those three learned their lesson. I think they did, anyway. You never know. But they aren’t the number one suspects on my list.”
“Mine either,” I agree. “Who are you thinking?”
“I’m starting to wonder if all these disappearances are connected—the wreath, the lights, the reindeer, the cookies, and now elves.”
“It could make sense. What’s the point though? The motive?”
“The gingerbread note said for a good cause.”
“Who needs decorations like that for a good cause?” I ask. “And why steal cookies? Why not just buy them?”
“All good questions,” Jesse agrees. “I guess we’ll just have to keep following the clues.”
We hang up. I drop by my house, quickly putting away the frozen food and leaving the rest on the counter for later. Then I jump back into my car and drive to the town square.
I find parking in one of the diagonal spots around the square and my eyes land on a familiar figure. He’s talking to a woman, his face serious—studious, intent. It’s our day off, but apparently neither of us can resist the scent of an unsolved mystery.
I sidle up to Jesse and his face breaks into a smile before he has a chance to stop it. My pulse skips in that ridiculous way it does whenever I catch him mid-laugh or mid-frown—proof my body’s already in deeper than my brain wants to admit.
“Officer Keller,” he says, replacing the smile he just gave me with a more professional expression.
“Officer Heinz,” I reply, smiling just a little.
“I was just asking Angela about the elves,” Jesse says, introducing me to the woman standing in front of him.
“Do you have information?” I ask Angela. “Did you see anything?”
“Not exactly. But I heard Kate Shaller has been stockpiling decorations in her garage. She even rearranged a few things in yards around her neighborhood to make everything more aesthetic for the holiday home tour.”
“Are you saying you think Kate took the elves?” Jesse asks directly.
“I’m saying I wouldn’t put anything past her when it comes to holiday decorating.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Jesse says, shooting me a look that says he’s not buying Kate Shaller as a suspect.
“Kate’s on the town council,” Jesse informs me as he walks me back to my car. “She takes holidays seriously. She’s in charge of Bordeaux Days and the selection of Miss Corn Husk for our parade. And she manages the Red, White, Blue and Corn Too street festival over the Fourth of July.”
“The …” I start laughing before I can repeat everything Jesse just said.
He stops dead in his tracks, serious-officer face in place. “Are you mocking our provincial life?” he asks.
“No, Gaston, I’m not,” I say with a playful smile.
“Why Belle …” he starts, his voice intentionally deeper, but then he can’t keep his expression serious and we both end up laughing.
I want to ask him to use that deep voice again. It does things to me. Bread crumbs. Not the whole loaf.
“I’ve got to run,” Jesse says. “I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow for your tour. Sound good?”
“Ten works,” I say, sliding into my car and watching him walk away.
Lexi calls me later that afternoon. I’m curled up on my couch reading a cozy mystery. “Want to come with me and the kids to take photos with Santa?”
A part of me wants to say no and stay tucked in the warmth and solitude of my home. I’m not an introvert, but I love my quiet pockets of time when there’s nothing else on the agenda. But another part of me feels honored that she’d include me.
“I’d love to,” I say.
“Great. We’ll pick you up in a half hour.”
When Lexi’s van pulls into my driveway, I’m already out the door. I hop into the passenger seat, turning to say hi to Poppy and Oliver.
“We seeing Santa,” Oliver tells me.
“That’s exciting,” I tell him.
“I have a list,” Poppy says, holding up a piece of paper. Numbers run down the side, neatly printed in marker. Next to each one is an item she’s hoping to get for Christmas.
I read some of the items out loud. “Unicorn pillow. Unicorn bean bag chair. Unicorn slime. Unicorn pixie crush …”
“That’s a stuffed unicorn,” Poppy informs me.
“I’m sensing a theme here,” I tell Lexi.
She smiles softly. “We’re into unicorns this week. Last week it was Disney princesses. Also, if you get my child slime of any sort, I’ll disown you.”
“Got it. What about if we use it at Auntie Alex’s house only?”
“You’ll bump yourself up to favorite aunt status indefinitely.”
“Well, that’s the plan,” I say, smiling.
“Unicorns have glitter in their slime,” Poppy informs me.
“You’ve been forewarned,” Lexi teases.
“I yuv Santa,” Oliver interjects. “He’s fluffy and he has dis many raindeew and he say, ho ho ho!” He holds up both hands and sticks them forward for emphasis.
“No, Oliver,” Poppy says gently, but with the tone of a seasoned elementary teacher. “It’s this many.” She bends down one of his fingers. His brow draws in with concentration as if she’s teaching calculus.
Apparently, reindeer head counting is serious business at age three.
We stop at a park where there’s a community center building close to the lot.
“I want my hat,” Oliver says as I unbuckle him. Lexi reaches into the back of her chair and pulls out a Santa hat. I nestle it on Oliver’s head and lift him out onto the sidewalk. He puts his chubby hand in mine and we walk with Poppy and Lexi into the building.
The line of kids waiting to see Santa is impressive for this size of a town. People greet Lexi and some greet me as we take our place at the end. We inch forward and I watch Santa grabbing children, setting them on his lap and listening intently to their requests.
Santa catches my eyes between children, and the edges of his beard turn up. I’d know those eyes anywhere.
“Jesse is Santa?” I whisper to Lexi.
“Every year,” she supplies as if it’s no big deal that this single man takes his day off to play such an iconic role in the community.
“He’s surprisingly good at it,” she adds.
“Why so surprising?” I ask, obviously defensive.
“I don’t mean it like that, Mrs. Claus. It’s just not the way he is with everyone without the costume. He really gets into character. The kids love it.”
Of course they do. And I don’t miss the way she calls me Mrs. Claus. I don’t correct her either. Not that I’m anywhere near considering Jesse in that way. We’re just getting to know one another. And he keeps surprising me with things like this—showing up to play Santa.
It makes me wonder. What else does Jesse Heinz have up his sleeve?