Chapter 2
Two
Holly Josephine “Jo” Hadley
A pet photographer and ambassador of good cheer
who loves snow, her hometown, and all things Christmas.
(Especially peppermint fudge and
the limited-edition
collectible reindeer socks
at Kathy’s Kountry Store…)
Wow. Luke Ratcliffe.
This is certainly a blast from the past…
I heard the Ratcliffe siblings were back in town for the holidays, but I didn’t expect to run into Luke. He hasn’t been back to Silver Bell Falls in years. Not since we were kids.
Who would have thought he’d get so tall?
Or broad-shouldered or…scowly?
His furrowed brow doesn’t smooth a bit as he mutters, “I’ve been better.” He flinches, then tosses the peg leg behind him. It hits the hardwood floor with a dull thud before rolling to a stop by the case containing Percy Wheeler’s antique safety pin collection—the largest in the state.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I thought I felt something…move.”
I blink, nodding seriously as I reply, “You probably did. The captain’s leg is haunted, after all.”
He frowns harder. “Excuse me?”
“Haunted,” I deadpan. “By the ghost of the pirate he stole it from on his way up the coast from the West Indies. Everyone knows that.”
He grunts. “You’re joking.”
“Of course, I am,” I say with a wink.
But Luke doesn’t look amused.
He looks crankier than ever.
And a little glassy-eyed.
Is he drunk?
It’s then that I begin to wonder if there’s a less-than-innocent explanation for what he’s doing here after hours, fondling Captain Herbert’s wood…
“So, what were you planning to do with that?” I ask, nodding toward the peg leg.
I thought maybe he’d been chosen to place it atop the tree at the ceremony tomorrow night. His family owns half of the town—and the city council is eager to kiss up to the new stewards of the Ratcliffe holdings, now that sweet old Gerald Ratcliffe is gone—so I wouldn’t be surprised.
I also wouldn’t be sad if the town voted to put something a little less phallic at the top of the tree now and then, but I respect tradition.
I also respect the sanctity of our historical artifacts. Even the silly ones.
But perhaps Luke does not…
“What am I doing?” He props his hands on his hips with a huff.
“I was taking a stroll down memory lane. That’s what I was doing.
An angry stroll. But it’s an unpaved dead end full of potholes.
” He waves an unsteady arm, gesticulating toward the various display cases.
“None of this is my business. None of it! Let them stick a giant dildo on their town tree for another hundred years. Who cares? I won’t be here to see it. ”
I cross my arms. “Have you been drinking?”
“Haven’t we all been drinking?” he shoots back. “Really? When you come right down to it?”
I arch a brow, fighting a smile. “Um, no. Not all of us. Some of us were sipping tea and painting in the tower room until we were rudely interrupted by the sound of someone breaking in downstairs.”
His expression softens. “Oh. Right. Sorry if I… If I frightened you.”
“You didn’t,” I assure him. “I figured it was one of the town teens, up to some mostly harmless holiday mischief. I know you haven’t been here in a while, Luke, but things haven’t changed. Silver Bell Falls is still one of the safest towns in the entire country.”
He cocks his head, his frown snapping back into place. “You clearly know my name, but I confess I can’t recall yours, Miss…”
My stomach sinks. I’m disappointed that he doesn’t recognize me, but it makes sense, I suppose.
The last time our paths crossed, I was missing my two front teeth and wore my hair in pigtails.
I was seven years old to his ten and trailed after him like an adoring puppy every time he and his brother Elliot came down the mountain to play.
He was always so kind, one of the rare “big boys” who protected the little kids instead of using us as cannon fodder.
Not to mention creative and always up for a game of pretend in the bowels of the historic theater, when it got too cold to play outside.
I still carry fond memories of our heroic quests to find the ring of power hidden in the massive costume storage room to this very day.
And I only know what he looks like because everyone knows what the billionaire Ratcliffe brothers look like.
Their faces are all over the news and social media, and I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve checked Luke out a few times over the years.
When a girl happens to have shared a sled with one of the world’s most eligible billionaires, she likes to keep track of what that billionaire is up to—for storytelling purposes if nothing else.
It doesn’t hurt that the billionaire in question has penetrating blue eyes, perfectly wavy dark hair, and wears the hell out of a suit.
But it’s clear Luke has never done a social media deep dive on me.
Or a shallow one.
He looks thoroughly stumped.
“It’s Holly,” I say, forcing a smile. “Holly Hadley.”
More blankness, followed by a grunt.
“We used to play together when we were kids? Sledding and snowball fights? Pretending to be treasure hunters on a quest in the theater?” I pluck the red reindeer nose off my face. “Does that help?”
He grunts again. “I’m sorry. You must have me confused with someone else.”
My throat tightens with embarrassment, but I keep my smile fixed in place as I add, “No, I don’t think so, but that’s okay.
” I shrug. “We all remember different things. I, for example, remember that you always made a few extra snowballs for me, so I had a fighting chance against the big kids. And I remember that time you and Elliot won the snowman decorating competition.” I laugh.
“I’ll never forget how mad your maid was when she realized you’d taken your mother’s Rockette costume out of storage without permission. ”
“My mother wasn’t a Rockette,” he says flatly. “She was a Vegas showgirl.”
“Oh, wow,” I say, intrigued. “Does she still live in Vegas? I’ve never been, but I’ve always wanted to go. Just to see the shows, though, I’m not much of a gambler.”
He sniffs. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen her since I was a boy.”
I cringe and hurry to apologize. “Oh. I’m so sorry, Luke. I didn’t know. That must be hard, especially at the holidays.”
He clears his throat. “Yes, well, thank you, Miss…” He sighs again. Wearily. “Sorry, what was your last name, again?”
“Hadley,” I repeat. “You really don’t remember me?” I motion toward the front of the building. “We used to go sledding down that hill right outside. You let me ride in front of you. One time, when I was maybe five or six, the steering broke and we ended up shooting straight through the—”
“As enjoyable as this has been, I have to go,” he says, cutting me off as he turns, collecting the peg leg from the floor. “My driver will be waiting.”
I blink in stunned silence as he lifts the display case’s glass top and returns the artifact to its stand. So, Luke’s become rude as an adult, as well. Rude and arrogant, with an extra helping of grumpy sauce.
Fine, let him dismiss me, but he’s not weaseling out of taking accountability for breaking and entering that easily.
Actions have consequences, and clearly Luke needs a reminder of what Silver Bell Falls is all about nearly as much as he needs to remember his manners.
“Is that right? Your getaway driver, I presume?” I challenge, a plan forming in my always fertile imagination.
“I’m sure he’ll be upset when he learns the heist has failed, and you’ve left empty-handed.
” I hum beneath my breath. “Never took you for a thief, but time changes people.” I sigh.
“Still, it’s a shame you’ll be making an appearance in the police report in the local paper so soon after returning to town.
Doubt the rest of your family will be pleased.
I’ve heard they’re all very nice people and big fans of Kathy’s peppermint drizzled pretzels.
She’s had to increase production by twenty percent to meet demand. ”
He turns slowly to face me, his scowl frostier than ever. “The leg is back in the case. I’m leaving. You can’t prove anything.”
“No, but Greg can.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “Greg?”
“Gregory Hamish Blackwater the Third.” I nod toward the parrot in the case.
“There’s a camera in his beak. The town voted to install one after Gina Jorgensen found out her son was breaking in to cook pot brownies in the basement and make out with his girlfriend.
” I motion in the general direction of the stairs.
“They also caught some kids drinking beer in the tower room, where I come to draw. I, however, have a key and permission from the mayor to come sketch anytime, with the caveat that I donate a few watercolors to the fundraising auction for the library. But you…” I tap my finger to my chin as I amble closer to my prey, flashlight beam still trained on his feet like a searchlight.
“Well, you, on the other hand, broke in to steal a priceless antique and beloved piece of Silver Bell Falls history. And God only knows what you planned to do with it. That’s a serious offense, Mr. Ratcliffe. One I’m afraid you’ll have to pay for.”
“How much do you want?” His voice is a low, ominous rumble. “I’ll send the money via your preferred cash app as soon as I get back to the house. I don’t have my cell phone with me, but—”
“It wouldn’t work if you did,” I say pleasantly. “Half the town is still a dead zone, especially on this side of the valley. Always has been, probably always will be, if people keep voting against installing new towers.”
He sniffs and glares some more. “All right. Well, as I said, I don’t have my phone, but if you don’t mind sharing your account information, I’ll send you the money as soon as I get home.”
I cluck my tongue. “Oh, please, I don’t want your money.”
“You don’t?”
“No, I want something far more valuable,” I say, bobbing my brows up and down. “Something that will help correct your deficiency of holiday spirit and make the punishment fit the crime.”