The Christmas Grouch (Heartsprings Valley Winter Tale #7)

Chapter 1

Penny Quinn eyed the beat-up metal bucket with concern. A new and extremely unwelcome addition to her attic office, the bucket was positioned on the floor beneath the attic’s sloping ceiling for a simple, unhappy reason: Sometime the previous night, her roof had decided to spring a leak.

The amount of water dripping into the bucket was minimal — the drops were falling with a slow, regular beat — but even a small leak meant big trouble. With trepidation, she watched water emerge through the drywall, form itself into a drop, and land with a sharp ping in the bucket below.

Congratulations, the water was telling her. You’ve got a problem — an expensive problem.

Stepping over to the attic’s sole window, she peered anxiously at the roof’s eaves, heavy with snow and ice.

Across the street, the town square glistened under a blanket of fresh snow.

Most of the time, the sight of the happy snow-people and snow-animals populating the square — Heartsprings Valley was famous for its love of snow-everythings at Christmas — would give her a lift. But today was not one of those days.

From behind her came the clomp of boots. She whirled around, relief surging through her as her friend Luke, a local contractor, poked his head into the attic.

“Luke,” she said, “thank goodness you’re here.”

“Hey, Penny,” he said, giving her a smile as he made his way up the winding staircase from the bookstore below.

“I really appreciate you heading over so quickly. Watch your head.”

With a hand raised to avoid the sloped ceiling, he stepped into the attic. A few years younger than her, he was a good-looking guy with an easy smile, dressed in his usual flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots.

His gaze landed on the bucket. “I’m glad you called right away. Leaks wait for no one.”

“Haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?”

“Good. Busy.”

“How’s Clara?” she asked, referring to Luke’s wife, who was six months pregnant with their second child.

“Doing great. Just had a checkup yesterday and all is good.”

“Excellent. And Logan?”

“Starting to run. Kid’s a speed-demon.”

Penny smiled. Luke’s son was twenty months old and got cuter every time she saw him.

Luke stepped closer, his attention firmly fixed on the leaky spot. “So let’s have a look. When did you put the bucket here?”

“About an hour ago, as soon as I noticed the leak.”

“Not a lot of water in the bucket, which is good.” He ran a hand over the surrounding drywall. “The leak wasn’t here yesterday?”

“Pretty sure not. I was up here a bunch yesterday and didn’t notice anything.”

“That’s good. A new leak’s easier to deal with than an old one.” He pulled a flashlight from his back pocket and aimed it where the drywall met the hardwood floor. “When was the attic renovated?”

“Four years ago, when my mom and dad first started talking about retiring.”

“What was up here before you renovated?”

“Unfinished attic space that we used for storage. We added the metal staircase and electrical when we turned the attic into an office.”

“You bring a water line up here?”

“No, nothing like that.”

He dropped to his knees, ran the flashlight beam over the edge of the floor where it met the drywall, and sniffed cautiously. “I’m not smelling mold.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Really good. Mold is the last thing we want.”

He pushed away from the sloped ceiling and stood back up. “Okay, it’s likely that a shingle on the roof cracked and is letting in melting ice and snow. To find the exact spot, I’ll need to take down the drywall covering this part of the ceiling.”

She’d been expecting that. “Understood.”

“Also, we’ll bring over a ladder this afternoon and take a look from the outside. How old is the roof?”

Her stomach tightened. She’d been expecting this question as well — and dreaded what the answer might lead to. “I called Dad. He told me the roof went in thirty-two years ago.”

The answer didn’t appear to surprise him. “We can replace the cracked shingle and cover the roof with a tarp, and that should get you through the winter.”

“Sounds great.”

“The thing is,” he continued, “the leak’s on the south side of the roof, which means more exposure to the sun, which means more material expansion and contraction when the shingles warm up and cool down.

The roof is old, which means the shingles are brittle.

On days like today, when the sun gets bright enough to melt snow and ice, the shingles will warm up enough to expand and possibly crack, which means… .”

“More leaks are likely.”

His manner was that of a doctor delivering a painful diagnosis. “Thirty-two years is old for a roof. It’s done a good job for you. But its time is over.”

Penny sighed. “You’re saying I need a new roof.”

He nodded. “I’m saying you need a new roof.”

She gazed into his earnest face. What she needed even more than a new roof was a way to pay for a new roof. The expense most definitely wasn’t part of the bookstore’s budget for the coming year.

“All right,” she said with a sigh. “I get it. A new roof it is.”

“I’ll put together an estimate and we can talk about it.”

“Thank you.”

“About the leak. Do I have your okay to patch it right away?”

“Yes, please.” She looked around the office, which wasn’t exactly messy, but not exactly free of clutter either. “I’ll move stuff out of the way to give you room to work. How much space will you need?”

“Ideally, about six feet on either side of the leak.”

“So no need to touch the desk?”

He glanced at the desk, which was about eight feet away and loaded with stacks of papers. “The desk should be fine.”

“Thank goodness. I know it looks messy, but believe it or not, there’s a method to that madness.”

He smiled. “We’ll come back this afternoon, take down the drywall, identify the leaky spot, replace the shingles that need replacing, and cover the roof with a tarp.”

Penny nodded. “Thank you, Luke.”

“Leaks are never fun, but it looks like you caught this one quick, and that’s good.”

They clomped their way down the winding metal staircase, landing behind the sales counter.

“Anything you need before I head out?” he asked.

“Nope. Thanks for jumping on this so fast.”

“See you this afternoon.”

As she watched him step into the bright morning light, she let out a sigh.

A new roof was not going to be cheap. Figuring out how to pay for it would require more than her usual financial juggling.

She glanced at her watch. She’d have to worry about that later.

It was almost ten, which meant it was almost time to open The Tattered Page for another day of holiday shopping insanity.

The wonderful folks of Heartsprings Valley enjoyed buying books throughout the year, but scooping up armfuls of them at Christmas was something they loved even more.

She cast her gaze over the store, making sure everything was good to go.

The vacuuming was done — she’d tackled that as soon as she’d arrived at eight-thirty.

At the sales counter, she’d already logged into the point-of-sale and book-ordering computers.

Bending down, she checked the old cigar box under the counter to make sure she had enough bookmarks — all good there, too.

The Christmas decorations that she and her team had put up weeks earlier — the tinsel, the lights, the cheerful elf ornaments and happy stuffed reindeer poking their heads from behind books on the shelves — were ready for a new day.

A stray hair brushed her lips. Reaching into her jeans pocket, she pulled out a hair tie and deftly gathered her thick black hair into a ponytail.

On days like today, keeping her hair out of her way was essential.

On impulse, she turned and examined her face in the tiny mirror that her mom had hung behind the sales counter years ago.

A big believer in the power of looking one’s best, her mom had often stood where Penny was standing right now, murmuring as she touched herself up, “Audrey Hepburn was right, mija: ‘On a bad day, there’s always lipstick.’”

Penny smiled. Mom was a bigger believer in makeup than she was, but the two of them agreed that one’s appearance mattered.

The mascara she’d applied this morning was holding up fine, but her lips were dry — they were always dry this time of year — so she pulled out her lip balm and applied another protective layer.

A quick perusal of the rest of her face — her vivid brown eyes, her perfectly acceptable nose and eyebrows and cheeks — confirmed that all was fine.

One of her long-time employees, a friendly woman named Nancy, emerged from the back pushing a cart of book toward the table near the front where the best-sellers were prominently displayed.

“I’ll flip the sign to ‘Open’ as soon as I finish putting these out,” Nancy said. “How’d it go with Luke?”

“He’ll be back this afternoon to fix the leak.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.”

“He says we caught it early, which is good,” Penny added, deciding that now was not the time to mention the new roof. “I might need help later clearing away space upstairs for him to work.”

“Got it.” Nancy gestured toward the back of the store. “You remember what this morning is, right?”

Penny smiled. “How could I not?”

Nancy laughed. “Need help getting ready?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Who do you think will arrive first?”

“I’ll go with … Donald?”

“My money’s on Hettie Mae. Care to make it interesting?”

Penny laughed. Donald and Hettie Mae were avid participants in the bookstore’s monthly reading group and had a habit of arriving early to help with setup.

Penny had been tempted to cancel this morning’s meeting, given how busy the store was, but rescheduling would have created headaches of a different sort, so the gathering was going ahead as planned.

Nancy finished adding the books to the front table and stepped to the front door. “Ready for another day of holiday madness, boss?”

“Ready.”

“Then without further ado,” Nancy said, flipping the sign, “The Tattered Page is open for business!”