Manic in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Christmas River Cozy Book 6) (8 page)

I took a seat next to him, and we watched as the golden meadow started fading into shades of sepia. In the tall grass, Huckleberry and Chadwick were playing with each other, growling happily as they tussled. The two of them were good buddies now, and despite the difference in their temperaments and size, they could hardly be pulled away from each other without throwing a fit.

Daniel and I sat in silence for a little while, admiring the beautiful view that never failed to impress.

I took a sip of my beer. It was a batch Warren and Aileen had brewed up as a test run for their Bart the Trout IPA. It was heavy on Northwest hops and strong in the alcohol department. Each sip had a way of making me smile – it was Warren’s kind of brew through and through. 

Daniel finally rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head.

“Hell, let’s talk about something else,” he said, as if he’d been carrying the baseball conversation on internally throughout the silence. “How was your day, Cin?”

“It was good” I said. “We closed at one because we ran out of pie.”

“You don’t say,” Daniel said.

I nodded.

“It seems like we have to close earlier and earlier lately,” I said. “So many folks are stopping by.”

“Sounds like you could use some more employees.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You know what Kara thought, too?” 

“What?”

“She thought that I needed to expand the store,” I said. “And she has a point. We need more ovens and more dining space if these crowds are going to keep up.”

I was about to mention what Kara said about opening up another location, too, in Portland, but then I stopped myself.

That was a bridge we would have to cross when and if we ever got there.

I glanced over to see his reaction. His face remained unchanged, and he took a sip of beer before looking over at me.

“That’s not such a bad idea to expand the store,” he said. “Word’s gotten out, and it seems all those hipster tourists outta Portland are descending upon the shop in droves.”

I did my best to keep from laughing.

“And what would the cowboy hat-wearing Sheriff of Pohly County know about hipsters?” I said.

“Am I not drinking high-quality, handcrafted beer that’s made right here in the heart of Oregon by artisans?” he responded, holding up his bottle. “I thought that’s what hipsters did. Support local. I mean, you don’t see me drinking Bud Light here.” 

“No, but I don’t see you with a thick beard and tapered jeans neither.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he said, smiling. “Anyway, I think expanding
Cinnamon’s Pies
might take a lot of time and effort, but it’d probably be worth it.”

“It’d be
a lot
of work,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, but we could do it,” he said. “We’d make it happen, Cin.”

I smiled.

I loved how he’d said “we” there, taking on the pie shop as a responsibility equal in importance to keeping the streets of Christmas River safe. 

I drained the rest of the beer before looking off into the distance, my mind already racing with the logistics of an expansion. I wouldn’t be able to do anything on it until the tourist season was through. Money would be an issue, too. But in the meantime, I could hire a few more employees and I could start—

“So you saw Kara today?” Daniel asked, cutting through my meandering thoughts.

“That I did.”

“How’s the Billings clan doing?”

“Oh, they’re doing real good,” I said. “Laila cries a lot. Kara said some babies just cry more than others. And I guess Laila’s finding a lot to wail over lately.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Kara said sometimes putting her in the car and going for a ride is the only way to get her to stop,” I said. “So poor Kara’s up at three in the morning most days, driving around the dark streets of Christmas River half-asleep, trying to get Laila to quit her bawling.”

Daniel laughed.

“I’m surprised we didn’t see her this morning when we were headed over to the campgrounds,” he said.

“Two ships passing in the night, I guess,”

“Does Kara still seem overwhelmed with all of it?”

I shrugged.

“Who wouldn’t be? But all things considered, I think she’s got a pretty good handle on it,” I said. “She seems exhausted. And it’s pretty weird always seeing her in sweat pants. But she seems real happy, you know? I think motherhood suits her.”

Daniel smiled.

“Hmm,” he said, looking down and peeling at the label on his beer.

There was a long, pregnant pause. I knew Daniel wanted to say something. Only, it seemed he couldn’t find the words, or maybe he couldn’t find the right way of phrasing it.

I knew what he was grappling with. But I found that I didn’t have any words either.

After a moment, when he finally gave up, I found myself relieved. He cleared his throat and looked off into the distance.

“We really should have won today,” he said, shaking his head. “That loss was on me and nobody else. I let Lou get the best of me.”

His expression had settled into a downcast, self-defeating look that kind of broke my heart a little.

I put down my empty beer bottle and placed a hand on the one he’d been resting on my thigh.

“You know what though?” I said.

“What?”

“You might have lost,” I said. “But this girl’s crush on that cute pitcher? It’s only gotten worse.”

The edges of his mouth turned up slightly as he shot me a low, sideways glance. He took a sip of his beer.

“I find that hard to believe,” he said. “That defeat wasn’t exactly the stuff dreams are made of, now was it.”

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth.

“On the contrary,” I said. “That pitcher took the loss like a man. You know what it must have taken for him to go over there and shake that trash-talking cheater’s hand?”

“I think I might have some idea,” he said.

He smiled, the kind of smile like he was trying to fight it but just couldn’t. Then he stood up and held out his hand to me.

“If I remember correct, I think I promised that girl with the crush a thing or two earlier,” he said. “And I intend to keep my word.”

I slipped my hand into his and stood up.

“That’s right,” I said. “You were going to show me some more of your old dude moves. But I’m just worried that the old dude might be too tired. He’s had a long day, after all.”

Daniel grinned brightly, kissing the bridge of my nose. Then he picked me up so abruptly that before I knew it, I was off the ground, my legs dangling over his arms.

“I’m never too tired for you, darlin,’” he said. “And you won’t be calling me ‘old dude’ soon enough.”

I laughed as he carried me inside.

Chapter 15

There was something special about being alone in the pie shop kitchen at five in the morning.

Yes – it was a damn sight early. And yes, I was tired. But something about being all by myself there, with the Christmas lights dancing around the walls, the smell of flaky pie crust drifting from the oven, and just the silent crooning of Van Morrison to keep me company… all of it reminded me of why I continued to work so hard and spend the majority of my waking hours in this place.

Today was the Fourth of July, and I knew that I was sitting in the calm before the storm. In just a few hours, a tidal wave of tourists, in town for the parade and fireworks, would come baring down on my humble little pie shop, and all of us would be up to our ears in work. And that was only going to be the first part of my day. I’d also pledged my waitressing skills to help Warren and Aileen with the grand opening of Geronimo Brewing Co. later that evening.

If I was lucky, I wouldn’t be able to feel my feet at all tomorrow. If I wasn’t, it’d take days before the pain subsided.

It was going to be a hell of a long day – no doubt about it. But for the time being, all of that felt like a long ways away from my peaceful and calm little corner of the world. Right now all I had to worry about was peeling a few pounds of peaches for the Blueberry Peach pies and keeping an eye on the Moundful Marionberry pies in the oven.

After a few moments of stripping away the fruit skins, I took a break from peeling, and poured myself another cup of hazelnut coffee.

I smiled to myself as the night before crossed my mind.

Years had passed. Daniel and I had seen our share of ups and downs. We’d come through hardships and tough times. We’d weathered storms that would have torn apart and destroyed the most steadfast of relationships.

But somehow, someway, my love for Daniel Brightman only seemed to grow deeper and more fervent with each passing day.

I hadn’t expected it to be that way. When I was married to Evan, that most certainly was not how our marriage had gone. When I had been with him, I had loved him, but our years together hadn’t done any favors for our relationship. They hadn’t made us stronger – they’d made us weaker. And if I was being honest with myself, even if he hadn’t cheated on me, even if he’d remained faithful throughout our marriage, it probably would have ended the same way anyway: with two signatures on a piece of paper and a division of the assets.

But with Daniel, it was a completely different story. We still had arguments and our share of issues. But the passage of time only made us stronger. More together. More passionate about each other.

I could honestly say that on this quiet, calm, and beautiful July morning, I was more in love with Daniel Brightman than ever before.

And everybody, including myself, knew what the next logical step for our relationship would be.

It was the next logical step for any couple in their thirties.

But it was one that I was having a tough time coming to terms with.  

Daniel and I hadn’t ever had a real conversation about it. Not exactly, anyway. There had been that lovely night walking home last winter when he’d hinted that it was a discussion he was ready to have. And at the time, I thought it would be one I was ready to have too.

But since then, I’d been doing some thinking on the topic. In fact, I couldn’t
stop
thinking about the topic after seeing Kara go through all that she’d gone through in the last year with doctor visits and sweat pants and baby diapers.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want children – because I did. I did, with my whole heart. And in that same spirit, there was nothing I wanted more than to start a family with the love of my life.

But there was something… something inside of me. A feeling, an urge. A little voice whispering the words
wait
and
not yet
.

A little voice that had become ever noisier with the growing crowds gathering at my pie shop door every morning. A little voice that was telling me to keep my head down, work harder, develop, expand, and put everything I had into my business.

A little voice that was telling me I was on the verge of something big.

And that whatever was waiting for me on the other side of all of this hard work would vanish like smoke if I didn’t give it my all.

That little voice had been speaking loud and clear lately, yet I felt bad in some ways for listening to it so intently. For thinking only of myself and my career. For not thinking about Daniel and what he wanted, which I knew was a couple of little Cinnamons and Daniels running around our backyard.

And I couldn’t be sure that that little voice wasn’t just a voice of fear. Starting a family was a big deal, and something not to be taken lightly. Maybe I was afraid. Maybe it was as simple as that. Like the fears I’d had over getting married a second time.

Maybe if I just kept thinking about it, one day soon, I’d be able to wrap my mind around the idea of becoming a mother.

I knew I was facing the dilemma that so many women these days faced, including my best friend. Forced to juggle career and family, it seemed so easy to me for one or the other to get compromised.

But I guessed I wouldn’t know how it really was until I actually made the decision to—

I gasped loudly as a figure appeared at the kitchen window, seemingly from out of nowhere. A rush of air flooded my lungs, causing me to cough and sputter out my coffee.  

A moment later, I slammed my mug down on the counter, and walked on over to the door, my heart thundering in my ears.

“Jeez, you scared the
hell
out of me,” I said, opening it. “What are you doing here?”

My heart was still beating like an oil barrel rolling downhill.

He looked like a deer in the headlights, clearly jarred by my reaction, though I didn’t know how else he expected me to react. Seeing a guy appear outside the window at this hour of the morning would have that effect on most people.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his accent so thick I could hardly make out what he was saying. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I held the door open farther and stepped out.

“I thought you weren’t coming in until eight,” I rasped. “It’s still dark.”

“I know,” he said. “But I don’t sleep all that much anyway, Mrs. Brightman. And I know that you were only trying to be nice earlier when you said for me to come at 8. Work at a bakery starts much earlier than that.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

A teenager getting up this early had to be a damn sight rare on either side of the pond.

It seemed to me that maybe I heard him wrong or maybe it was some sort of cultural misunderstanding.

“So… you’re saying you want to get to work?”

Ian nodded.

“Well I’ll be,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “If that’s what you want to do, then I won’t argue. I’ll accept your offer gladly.”

I held the door open for him and he stepped inside, nearly having to duck to get past the low overhang of the doorjamb.

My quiet moment before the storm had come to an end.

But that was okay, I reckoned.

Because when it came to the Fourth of July this year, I was going to need all the help I could get and more.

Chapter 16

It wasn’t even 10 a.m. yet and the line was already clear out the door and beyond my view, meaning its end could have been anywhere between here and Rip Lawrence’s Back Alley Brewing on the far edge of town.