Christmas Ghosts - Fiction River (12 page)

Customers left the store, the bell jangling. The older woman raised thin eyebrows, bright hazel eyes looking confused.

“Weren’t you married before on Christmas Day?” the woman asked.

Lindsey’s eyes narrowed, a look of almost hatred burning on her heart-shaped face. “Where’d you hear that?” she snapped.

“Your mother and I have been friends since you were in diapers, young lady.”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Until that Christmas when he left me for some whore.” She grinned. “I got the house and half his paycheck in the divorce. He never loved me like Rowan does.”

Mallory wandered out the door.

Lindsey was married once on Christmas. That explained the fixation with Christmas. And the cheating husband explained the crazy.

If
any of that were true.

The alarm on her phone chimed. Fifteen minutes until coffee with Rowan. She hurried up the street toward the bakery.

***

Rowan was waiting when she entered. He seemed more relaxed. They stood in line, ordering separately, and then slid into a wooden booth against the wall. They removed their coats. In the light, he looked tired, his bright blue eyes shadowed.

“I can’t believe I’m actually here with you,” said Rowan, resting his elbows on the table, grey flannel shirt sleeves rolled up.

“Why’s that?” Mallory asked.

He bowed his head a moment, looking a little shy, sandy hair windblown. “I’ve wanted to ask you out since high school.”

Mallory’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

He looked up, nodding. Those laugh lines curved across his cheeks, giving him a boyish look that melted her.

“In school, I waited two years for you to ask me out, but you never did. Why?”

He looked shell-shocked, the smile fading. “You mean you’d have gone out with me?”

She laid her hand on his forearm. “Of course! I was too scared to ask you, you being a year ahead.”

He shook his head, rubbing his face. “We’re a couple of cowards, aren’t we?”

Mallory laughed as he put his hand on hers, stroking her fingers. Attraction burned through her like a bonfire, warmth spreading from her heart to her head and down her ribs into her toes like a thick quilt settling around her shoulders. He squeezed her hand and she entwined her fingers in his.

She could get used to this.

The woman at the counter brought over their food. Mallory grinned. Both cups of coffee had whipped cream and both pastries were blueberry-peach crumbles. They’d ordered the same thing.

“I like a little coffee with my milk and chocolate,” he said, laughing. “Not the manliest of drinks.”

“We ordered the same thing,” said Mallory.

“Wow, that’s never happened before,” he said, staring at her. His eyes lit, enveloping her in warmth.

She felt a vibration at her hip and reached into her fleece’s pocket, but her phone wasn’t vibrating. It was the snowflake clock. Her pocket glowed soft lavender now.

“Okay, favorite band,” Mallory asked, picking up her coffee cup.

“Pearl Jam,” said Rowan.

“Zeppelin,” said Mallory.

“A classics woman,” Rowan replied. “I like that.” He took a sip of coffee. “Favorite movie?”

“Tie.
It’s a Wonderful Life
and
Lord of the Rings
,” Mallory replied.

“Which one?” Rowan asked.

“
Return of the King
,” they both said in unison.

“That’s my third favorite movie,” said Rowan, picking up his fork. “Mine are
It’s a Wonderful Life
and
The Shawshank Redemption
.”

Mallory frowned, crossing her arms. “No fair, Shawshank’s in my top five. Cats or Dogs?”

“Cats,” he said.

“Same.” Mallory laughed and took a bite of her pastry.

A huge grin spilled across his face. He leaned closer. “Favorite holiday?”

“Christmas,” they both replied.

“Art or Science?” Rowan asked, his forehead almost touching hers.

Mallory pointed a finger at him, chuckling. “Trick question. Art
and
science.”

He nodded. “You got me!”

He took another sip of coffee, whipped cream smearing his chin. Mallory reached out and gently wiped it away. He cradled her hand, staring into her eyes and she felt herself tumble into the clear blue depths of his eyes, not wanting to look away. All those pent-up high school feelings rushed back, the attraction so strong.

She couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward and brushed a kiss across his lips. Surprise filled his eyes a moment. He kissed back.

***

They talked about high school, movies, and life approaching thirty until nearly six o’clock. She walked with him back to the store and he told her how he found his cat, Marshall. Halfway there, he slid his hand into hers, fingers entwining. He felt so familiar, so comfortable. She smelled a trace of his aftershave, hints of sandalwood complementing her vanilla body spray. The snowflake clock vibrated in her front pocket, reminding her why she was here.

Just before they reached Second Street, Rowan mumbled a curse and jerked her into the nearby alley. He pressed his back against the bricks, chest heaving, brow beaded in sweat as he motioned her quiet and held his breath.

Mallory understood as a flash of white-blonde hair streaked past the alley entrance.

Lindsey.

Mallory watched her round the corner and disappear. Had she been watching Rowan’s shop? Or them just now?

Rowan grabbed her hand and pulled her across the street into the drug store. By the time they reached the back door, he was shaking.

“What’s wrong?” Mallory asked.

“I’ll explain, I promise,” he said as he glanced outside and across the parking lot.

He pulled her outside, both of them running across the parking lot and around the back of his shop. He unlocked the back door and they bolted inside, locking it behind them.

***

She desperately wanted to tell him that she’d come to save him as he paced the small storeroom. Homemade wooden shelves packed with cardboard boxes and sacks lined all four walls. Two long tables stood in the center of the room, one with spools of ribbons in various colors, another with stacks of colored tissue paper. A coffee mug with pens, markers, box cutters, scissors, and a stapler sat on the other table. The room smelled like wet paper and bayberry from a nearby box of candles.

Still shaking, Rowan paced the room, hands on his hips.

“Tell me what’s happening,” said Mallory.

“I wish I’d found you a year ago, Mall,” he said, exasperation in his voice, a haunted look in his eyes. “That’s when I had two dates with a crazy woman. Now, she thinks we’re getting married and I’m going to father her kids. She follows me day and night, leaves tons of messages on my phone—even sits outside my apartment.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ve moved twice already.”

“Have you called the police?” Mallory asked.

He nodded, his frantic pacing slowing. “I already filed a restraining order.” Desperation crept into his eyes. “I’m afraid she’s going to do something, Mall.”

Mallory couldn’t stand the vulnerable look on his face, the hint of fear hovering there. She put her arms around him and he held onto her.

“Who is it?” she asked, knowing already.

“Lindsey Tull.”

“The blonde you hid from?” she asked, knowing it was.

“Yeah. Sorry for scaring you to death back there. Didn’t want her to see you and come after you, too. She’s already scared away two women.”

Mallory let him go. “Well, she won’t scare me away.”

“You don’t understand. She’s dangerous. She’s been arrested twice. Once for attacking her ex-husband. Once for attacking his new wife. But both times, they dropped the charges.”

Rowan’s grandma, Stella Kittering, stepped into the back room wearing black pants and a fuchsia blouse, thick silver hair in a ponytail. “I thought I heard you back here, Rowan. I just locked up.” She smiled at Mallory. “Mallory, isn’t it? Your high school crush, right?”

Rowan’s face turned bright red and he nodded, staring at his boots.

“Good to see you, Mrs. Kittering,” Mallory replied.

Stella glanced from Rowan to Mallory. “How was your date?”

“It was terrific,” said Mallory, smiling at Rowan. “Can’t wait to go out again.”

He reached out and took her hand, squeezing. “I’d love to take you to supper, Mall. This weekend, next week—you pick the day and I’ll be there, no matter what.”

Her heart ached. On Wednesday, he’d be dead. Unless she could stop it.

“As soon as we take care of this problem,” said Mallory.

Stella’s face darkened. “That Tull woman?”

Mallory felt something brush against her leg. She looked down, seeing Marshall against her calf. He trilled a meow and put his paws on her knee, begging her to pick him up.

“Hi there, big guy,” she said, hefting the huge, purring cat into her arms. “He’s beautiful, Rowan.” She hugged him and set him down. “I have an idea on how to stop this.”

Rowan shook his head. “Nobody can stop this.”

“The police won’t arrest her unless she breaks the law. So what if we turn the tables on her? Push her into acting—violating the restraining order.”

Stella looked frightened. She put her arms around Rowan’s waist. “How?” Stella asked.

“Let’s put a sign in the store window,” said Mallory, “announcing that the store will close early on Christmas Eve due to a private celebration of your engagement to ... to me. She shows up, violates the restraining order, and they arrest her.”

“No,” Rowan snapped. “I’m not involving you in this mess, Mall. And I don’t want her coming after you.”

“Hildy’s husband’s a cop. He’ll help.”

Rowan relaxed a little.

“Strother knows the Sheriff well,” said Stella. “I’ll call home and have Strother invite him and Rick Geller over for supper tonight to discuss this.”

Mallory winked at Rowan. “Think you could pretend to be engaged to me for five days?”

He pulled her into his arms. “It’ll be a struggle, but I’ll manage.”

“All right,” said Mallory, leaning against Rowan. “Let’s move. We only have five days.”

***

Mallory went to the gingerbread house on Spring Street for supper. It seemed so strange. She already lived here. She hoped that, by the time this ended, so would Rowan.

Shortly, Sheriff Clark and Deputy Rick Geller, both in street clothes, arrived for pot roast and cabernet.

Rowan met Mallory at the door, looking handsome in his blue dress shirt and khaki pants. He took her hand, smelling like cedar and sandalwood, and led her into a formal dining room with built-in sideboards, white wainscoting, burgundy striped wallpaper, and an antique mahogany dining table.

Stella wore the same outfit, her husband, Strother in a yellow sweater and tan pants. The mood over dinner was light, Sheriff Clark and Strother telling stories. Rick, tall and lanky with short black hair, joked about high school with Mallory and Rowan.

After peach pie and ice cream, they settled onto mint green couches in the parlor, listening to Mallory’s plan.

“This is very dangerous, young lady,” said Sheriff Clark, his belly straining against his white dress shirt and dark pants. He wore glasses, his thin brown hair combed over. “Restraining orders don’t stop bullets. This woman has a history of violence. Someone could die.”

Mallory winced, the memory of Rowan’s obituary still vivid.

“If we wait for her to snap,
Rowan
could die. Why not force an overload where we can control it? With officers as backup?”

Rick nodded. “Why Christmas Eve, Mall?”

Mallory felt time twist around her. Everything went back to Christmas Day. By changing the date and location of Lindsey’s attack, Mallory hoped to alter the event. And stop Rowan from dying.

“According to public record,” said Sheriff Clark, “Lindsey Tull was married before, on Christmas Day. And divorced five years ago.”

The room fell quiet.

Mallory reached into her pocket for the snowflake clock. It was gone! She searched both pockets and her purse, but it wasn’t there.

What happened now?

“Now, officially, I can’t sanction this and I can’t assign officers,” said Sheriff Clark. “But as a friend of the family, I’d be happy to attend your engagement party, Rowan.”

“With his deputy,” said Rick.

“Thank you,” said Rowan. “I’ll put up a sign tomorrow.”

Stella entered the room, carrying the snowflake clock. Mallory relaxed.

“Rowan? Mallory? Come here, please.”

Rowan rose from the couch, Mallory beside him, following Stella into a sunny yellow kitchen with painted blue cabinets. It smelled warm with onions and garlic as Stella pressed the clock into Rowan’s hands.