Chapter 4
By the time evening settled over Evergreen Hollow, the Christmas market looked like something out of a dream.
Brice stood in her booth near the edge of the town square, dressed in a cream wool coat and a burgundy scarf and watched the lights flicker to life above the crowd.
They were strung from the lampposts in delicate swoops and crossed over the square and created a canopy effect.
Fresh snow covered the roofs of the vendor stalls and the air smelled like cinnamon, pine, hot cider, and roasted nuts. Somewhere near the center of the square, a group of children sang off key with all of their hearts. In Brice’s opinion, Joy to the World had never sounded better.
The whole town had come out for the event.
The bakery had a stall stacked high with gingerbread men, brownies and more.
The florist table overflowed with wreaths and bundles of white pine boughs tied with red ribbon.
A local artist displayed watercolor paintings of the town in every season.
Evergreen Hollow in the wintertime seemed to be the most popular one he sold.
Everywhere Brice looked, people were smiling, laughing, talking, and just living in the moment. She hugged herself to ward off the chill. She had been smiling and laughing non-stop since she arrived and set up her booth for the market and her cheeks ached in the best way.
The sense of community was strong in this place. She loved how neighbors knew each other by name and the children were trusted to run between stalls while adults pretended they weren’t keeping watch from far.
Evergreen Hollow really was the fresh start she’d been searching for.
Her booth was small compared to some of the others, but Brice had made it as charming as she knew how.
A dark green tablecloth covered the folding table which was topped with stacks of carefully chosen books.
Little battery powered candles, pine garland, and a wooden sign painted in gold letters completed the scene.
Hearth and Story.
Beside the sign sat her favorite part of the display—a wicker basket filled with brown paper covered books tied with twine. Each one had a handwritten tag with a clue to what was inside instead of a title.
Small town romance. Grumpy hero. One bed. A cozy mystery. Lots of secrets. Excellent tension.
The last one had sold three copies within the first hour. Brice was treating those sales as market research.
Nandi had helped her set up everything earlier and she bounced between the booth and the hot cider stand with the kind of energy that only a twenty-eight year old with three gingerbread lattes in her system could sustain. Brice had finally sent her away to enjoy the market.
“But you need help!” Nandi had tried to argue.
“I need you to go enjoy the festivities and have fun,” Brice said.
After minimal grumbling, Nandi had disappeared into the crowd with a paper cup filled with cider and a promise to return before closing.
Brice hadn’t seen her since, which was fine.
The girl worked hard and deserved to play hard, too.
“Excuse me, young lady.”
Brice turned toward the voice and found an older man standing in front of her booth.
He leaned slightly on his curved wooden cane.
He wore a navy peacoat, a plaid scarf and his cap was dusted with snow.
Her cheeks were red from the cold and his eyes held a twinkle of mischief in them that she’d be able to see a mile away.
“Hello there, my friend. Looking for anything in particular?” She greeted him warmly.
“A book,” he said.
“Well you are certainly in the right place,” she grinned.
“Good. Glad to know you aren’t a sock seller.”
That earned him a laugh. He smiled and gave a pleased little nod as if she passed some sort of test.
“You have any detective stories? Something good, not too much gore. I want one that I won’t figure out the killer within the first three chapters,” he said.
“I think I might.” She started thinking of the books she had brought. She scanned the booth and tapped a finger on her chin.
“My wife used to pick my books.” He glanced over at the wrapped books basket. “She said I always cheated because I skipped to the last chapter.”
“What?” She gasped. She placed a hand over her heart dramatically. “You read the last chapter first?”
“No, but if the author is taking too long, then I’m skipping ahead.”
“That itself is a crime, sir,” she tried to stay with a straight face.
“That’s what Martha used to say.” His mouth twitched in the corner and that glint in his eyes appeared to grow brighter. The corners of his eyes softened just a bit.
“She sounds like one hell of a woman,” Brice said.
“That she was. She was always fussing about my way of reading, how I eat my pie crust, my driving, and which of my clothes made me look like I’d given up on life.”
“She sounds wonderful,” Brice smiled softly.
“She was bossy, that's what she was,” he snorted.
“That doesn’t mean she wasn’t wonderful.”
“No,” he said. His eyes began to shine a little. “It doesn’t.”
Brice reached over to the table where she remembered one of the books she almost didn’t bring. She grabbed it and turned back to her new customer. She knew there was a reason she grabbed this one last minute.
“Okay. I think I’ve got one Martha would approve of. Small town detective, a clever mystery, winter setting, no graphic violence and the ending is worth waiting for.”
“You’re telling me not to cheat?” He tilted his head to the side as he stared at her.
“I’m strongly suggesting you allow the author to do her job.” She tried to hold back a grin, but she failed miserably.
“You drive a hard bargain, Miss—”
“Andrews,” she finished for him. He took the book from her. “But you can call me Brice. I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t skip to the end, come by the Heart and Story next week and tell me if Martha would have liked it. I might have a muffin with your name on it.”
His expression softened again. This time enough to make her throat tighten.
“I just might do that,” he said. “By the way, I’m John Krause.”
“It’s so nice to meet you Mr. Krause.”
He paid for the book and tucked it carefully into the inside of his coat as if it were something precious. He tapped his cane once against the ground and nodded to her.
“Merry Christmas, Brice.”
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Krause.” She watched him walk away and blend into the crowd.
It was times like this that made the terrifying decision of emptying out her savings account and moving to a small town completely worth it.
There had been plenty of nights when she’d lain awake in her apartment above the bookstore wondering if she had been brave or foolish. But right now, her heart was full.
A sigh escaped her. She glanced around the square and her eyes landed on Keena Bolden.
All of the air was snatched from her lungs.
The enforcer stood near one of the lampposts at the far end of the market. She was dressed in a dark coat, black gloves and the same guarded expression she’d had at the bookstore. She was speaking with another enforcer Brice recognized from the pack office, but her attention wasn’t on him.
It was on her.
Their eyes met across the square.
Everything around Brice faded away. The music, the laughter, the throng of people moving between them. For one second, there was only Keena standing beneath the Christmas lights watching her.
Then Keena looked away.
A group of people crossed between them laughing and drinking their hot cider. When they passed, Keena was gone.
“Where’d she go?” Brice frowned. The woman was definitely avoiding her.
Alanis had insisted that Brice hadn’t done anything wrong and Nandi had backed that up with a certain confidence that made Brice want to believe her, but there had to be a reason why Keena had fled the bookstore like she’d been chased out of there.
Brice replayed everything from the bookstore over again in her head. The one thing she had forgotten was how Keena had sniffed the air around her when they stood close to one another.
Maybe Keena had scented something unpleasant. Maybe Brice’s lotion didn’t agree with the wolf’s nose. Maybe it was the sugar cookies, or the coffee…
Brice glanced around to make sure no one was watching.
Then she discreetly lifted one arm and sniffed beneath it.
Nothing. She smelled fine. Just like she always does.
A little vanilla and her deodorant. She sniffed her scarf and it smelled of peppermint.
She just couldn’t help but to check herself again.
A familiar scent floated through the air near her.
Cedar. A cold night and something deeper underneath it that made her entire body go still.
It made Brice think of Keena. Her eyes landed on the enforcer.
Keena had moved behind the row of stalls and was speaking with the market volunteers near the lantern table.
Their eyes met again.
Brice froze. She was mortified that she had been caught ogling the woman. Did she know that Brice had been sniffing the wind to get the scent of her perfume or soaps?
The universe couldn’t be that cruel.
Keena’s expression didn’t change much, but something did flicker in her gaze. Brice did the only thing she could think to do.
She smiled and gave a little wave.
Keena stared at her, then someone called her name from beyond the lantern table. She turned away and disappeared into the crowd again.
“Smooth,” she muttered. “Really smooth. She probably thinks you’re crazy.”
A burst of cheers rose from the center of the square. The distraction would save her from any further self-reflection. The Lantern Lighting was about to begin. She had looked forward to this all day.