Chapter 4
Chapter Four
As Carol and I walked back to the town hall, Holly’s words bounced around in my head. They made sense. The water wasn’t running when I’d found the body. If the traveling salesman had really slipped in the shower and broken his neck, why was the water off?
“What do you think of Holly’s theory?” I asked casually.
Carol made a dismissive snort. “Holly is a true-crime addict. Books, TV shows, podcasts. She loves it all. I don’t blame her. You have to get your excitement somewhere. There’s certainly no crime in Christmasville. But it’s clear she’s reaching for something that’s not there.”
I stepped off the curb as we passed a slow-moving family, then stepped back up on the sidewalk. “But it is odd that the water wasn’t running when I found him.”
“There are a million explanations for that,” Carol said.
“Like what?” I asked.
Carol stopped walking and studied me for a moment.
Then she counted off on her fingers. “One, when the man fell, the weight of his body forced the faucet handle down. Two, he slipped while he was leaning over to shut the water off. Three, he slipped after he’d shut the water off and was getting out of the tub. ”
She had a point. Those were all possible.
“And I really think,” Carol added, her normally cheery voice suddenly serious, “that you need to focus on the positivity of the town and not on anything negative that happens. We need to project a merry image, don’t we?”
I straightened my shoulders. “Of course. I was just curious. But I’m totally refocused on the positive now.” Not that I would have posted crime scene photos.
Carol smiled like I was a child who’d passed a test. “How could you not be?” She raised her arms. “When there’s magic all around?”
The rest of the workday passed uneventfully.
I posted a like-worthy photo of Holly’s Bakery and finished my proposal for increasing followers.
I emailed it to Carol, then went to poke my head in her office and see if she had any questions.
But the lights were off, door closed, at 5:05.
I was really, really liking this job. I could count on one hand the times I’d gotten off from work at five o’clock in my last job.
With one finger on one hand actually, and it was because my appendix burst.
My ad agency job had been exciting at first. I started as a junior strategist in digital marketing.
I met a cute account manager, a couple years older than me, named Trent.
That first year was a whirlwind of dates and fun.
He introduced me to all of his friends. I earned a promotion to account manager with clients of my own.
When Trent told me about Isabella, his old college friend who was trying to make it big as an influencer, I offered to recommend her to my client.
I figured I was doing a good thing for a friend of my boyfriend.
But when Isabella got the content creator agreement and we had to meet a few times, things were awkward.
She acted unprofessional with me, making snide remarks.
Plus she talked about Trent way too much for my liking.
She didn’t treat me like a colleague or her friend’s girlfriend.
It was like I was the competition. Trent blew off my concerns, saying Isabella was always like that with his girlfriends.
He thought she was just being protective of her good friend.
When I suggested that perhaps it was because she wanted to be more than friends, he laughed at me and proclaimed their relationship “not that deep.”
But then came the day when I opened the folder Isabella had uploaded her most recent content to, and it wasn’t just photos of her holding the organic soda she’d been contracted to promote. There were photos of her … in bed … with Trent.
After confronting Trent in my office, probably a bit too loudly for the workplace, even with my door closed, I finally got the truth.
He and Isabella had been sneaking around behind my back.
Trent hadn’t wanted to break up with me.
So, she’d apparently uploaded those photos where she knew I’d see them, so I would make the break myself.
My heart shattered. Not only had he cheated and lied, but also my instincts had been correct and he’d gaslit me.
I severed ties with him immediately but felt like that wasn’t enough.
I wanted out of my company, out of my city.
I wanted to be in another world. I couldn’t spend one more day at that job, where I’d have to see his face.
I quit on the spot. Thankfully, my manager was sympathetic.
She even insinuated that there could be repercussions for Trent and Isabella.
Lots of people go through a breakup and do something drastic—like get bangs or go blonde. I admittedly took things a bit further by quitting my job and uprooting myself to a Christmas-themed tourist town. I hoped I wouldn’t live to regret it.
I buttoned up my coat and went out into the chilly night air.
The winter sun had already set, but twinkle lights draped between lampposts lit up the sidewalk.
My first day was finished. I decided to reward myself with a fancy meal.
I’d seen a beautiful restaurant on Main Street earlier that had caught my fancy.
I began the short walk, pulling my coat tighter around my ribs. The shops lining the street had decorated window displays, and I gazed at each one while I strolled. But soon, my footsteps faltered as a strange feeling crawled up my neck.
The feeling of being watched.
I glanced behind me and found a happy couple walking together, lost in their own conversation. Across the street, the sidewalk was dotted with people, but no one was conspicuously looking my way. I shook off the feeling and kept walking.
Then, as I passed the alley beside the candle shop, I saw him.
He was half hidden in the narrow gap between two buildings, arms crossed, his silhouette barely illuminated by the lights behind me.
His posture wasn’t overtly threatening, but there was something too still about him.
Too deliberate. He didn’t pretend to be checking his phone or lighting a cigarette.
He was just … watching. The brim of a faded camo-print trucker hat cast a shadow over his eyes, but I knew his gaze was aimed right at me.
I offered him a small, polite smile—the kind strangers exchange when paths cross and there’s no reason for alarm. But he didn’t smile back.
Instead, his mouth curled into a slow, greasy leer.
A chill skated up my spine. I turned my gaze forward and kept walking, faster now, not stopping to look at any more window displays. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was waiting for someone. Maybe I’d read too many mystery novels and watched too many murder shows.
But as I neared the restaurant’s front door, I couldn’t shake the feeling the man had given me. That maybe Christmasville wasn’t perfect after all.
Maybe not everyone here was nice.
Safely inside the Golden Spoon, I took off my coat and let the anxious feeling go. Nothing had happened. A random guy gave me a creepy look. No big deal. That happened every day back in the city. I exhaled and let the vibe of the restaurant calm me.
An elegantly decorated tree, at least nine feet tall, stood in the corner. White LED lights strung along the crown molding cast a warm glow over the dimly lit room. A large stone fireplace served as the focal point while soft piano holiday standards drifted down from hidden speakers.
The hostess greeted me with a smile and didn’t even blink when I asked for a table for one. This restaurant was a bit romantic for that, but I didn’t mind. Hey, sometimes you have to take yourself out on a nice date.
The cocktail menu was extensive with creative holiday concoctions, but it was a work night, so I stuck with a soda water. My eyes were trailing down the dinner menu when I heard a now familiar voice.
“Actually, can I get back to you on that in one moment?”
I looked up to find Aaron Chambers, still in his suit, headed this way. I straightened in my chair, wanting so badly to fluff my hair out and reapply my lipstick.
“Hello, Kelsey,” he said as he reached my table. His smile was dazzlingly white.
“Are you stalking me?” I asked in a flirty tone. “This is three meals in a row.”
“It’s a small town.” He gazed around the room. “It feels like the smallest, actually.”
I remembered how he was treated at the bakery and wondered if he’d even had lunch. “I’m by myself if you’d like to join.”
His face lit up. He pulled off his black leather gloves and waved over his shoulder at the hostess who quickly brought an extra menu.
After a brief look at the entrees and small talk about the weather, he ordered the lobster, and I ordered the roasted chicken.
It felt blasphemous to be a Maine resident and not like lobster, but I had a rule about wrestling with my food.
“I was hoping you’d ask me to join,” he admitted.
“Really? Why’s that?” I asked with a tiny smirk.
He loosened his tie. “The townies don’t seem to like me much. I figured another outsider might not mind some company.”
“Oh, but I’m a townie now. Gainfully employed.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Well, I may become one too if we decide to purchase land here.”
“You’d stay in Christmasville?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes, if we go forward with the deal, I’d stay here to supervise construction of the hotel and then maybe even manage it.”
Well, there went my thoughts of having a quick rebound fling with someone I’d never see again.
His dark eyes locked onto mine. “I’m not just in Christmasville to see if it makes financial sense for my family to build a hotel here. I’m also looking to see if I want to build a life here.”
“And what have you come up with so far?” I asked, keeping my voice even.
The flickering votive candle between us cast a dancing shadow over his face. “A lot of mixed feelings.”