Chapter One
“I knew not the like that calf twice,” Millie Kay Rhinehammer, my mama, spat.
“What now?” I asked and used my hands to push off my office desk just hard enough for the wheels on my chair to roll back enough for me to look out my office door across the hall into her office.
She had phrased her sentence in a way that we southern folks said when we knew not to do something a second time. The salty tang of the ocean breeze passed by me through the open window of the Junction Journal cottage office. It was a warm fall day, the kind where you could open your windows and let the refreshing air come in. Today I was going to be spending most of it in the office, so I needed to make it as inviting as ever because, as a journalist, we rarely love to be in an office. Even if the office had a cozy interior was a mix of old and new, with antique wooden desks and modern computers, reflecting the village’s charm and my efficiency as the editor-in-chief.
I was busy finalizing this week’s paper, my fingers dancing over the keyboard, while Mama sorted through a stack of pumpkin doughnuts, her expression one of mild disapproval. Mama held up a pumpkin doughnut with white icing drizzled all over the top, eyeballing it like it had personally offended her.
“These doughnuts from Sugarbrush Bakery ain’t what they used to be,” Mama huffed, taking a reluctant bite. “These taste like they’ve been sittin’ out all night.”
The office phone rang, breaking our conversation. I picked up, my professional tone kicking in. “Junction Journal, this is Violet,” I answered.
“Hey Violet. I was wondering if you could come take some photos of the wedding cake for the wedding announcement.” Amelia of all people was on the other end of the line.
“We were just talking about you,” I told her, which got Mama’s attention. Her head perked up like one of those buttons on a cooked turkey that popped up when it was done.
“About the pumpkin doughnuts?” Amelia seemed pleased.
“That’s right. Mama brought in all those pumpkin doughnuts,” my tone was upbeat but I looked across the hall at Mama who had put her hands up to her neck like she was dying a slow doughnut death. “Mama is dying for more.”
“Good,” Amelia said. “I’ll send some more with you when you leave. Can you come now?”
I glanced up at the clock. It was nearing noon, and with the Columbus Day festival preparations in full swing, I figured a little break wouldn’t hurt. Plus, capturing the perfect shot of Amelia’s wedding cake could make a lovely feature for the paper.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I replied, making a mental note to grab my camera.
As I hung up, I turned to Mama. “I’m heading over to Amelia’s bakery to take some photos of a wedding cake. Want to come along?”
Mama shook her head, her expression softening. “No, you go on ahead. I’ll hold down the fort here and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give those doughnuts another chance.”
I laughed and grabbed my camera bag, ready to dive into the bustling activity of Holiday Junction. With the Columbus Day festival just around the corner, there was no shortage of stories to cover and moments to capture. As I stepped outside, the warm fall air embraced me, filled with the promise of adventure and the cozy charm of our small village.
Plus it gave me a moment to call Darren Strickland, my boyfriend, about our little secret Merry Maker and our co-Merry Maker activity.
The big end of the festival party!
And it was a very big secret. Not the Merry Maker but the identity of the Merry Maker.
Let’s just say Darren had found out that I had been dubbed the Merry Maker, though I didn’t want the privileged title, and that’s when I had enlisted him as my co-Merry Maker. All of this before he became my boyfriend and the newest lawyer in Holiday Junction now that he had taken a full-time job with Diffy Delk, who was the only lawyer in the village.
“I’ll be back soon,” I popped my head into mama’s office. “I’ll be sure to bring back some more donuts.”
“Not if you are aimin’ to kill me,” Mama jerked up, her eyes wide as she dropped the one in the trash.
The trolley was rumbling away from the seaside. I picked up the pace and hurried down the wooden bridge over the dunes so I could reach the trolley stop. Squealing wheels and the clang of the trolley came to a halting stop when Goldie Bennett, the driver, noticed me waving an arm in the air.
“Ah oh,” Goldie said with a cheerful grin as she pulled the lever to fully open the bi-fold doors. “Looks like you’ve got a scoop. Camera bag and all. I’m used to seeing Radley with equipment now that he’s here.”
Goldie Bennett, the town’s unofficial ambassador of good cheer, was decked out in her usual sparkling attire. The visor she wore on her head had blinking lights in the colors of the Columbus Day festival—red, white, and blue. Of course it did. Everything in Holiday Junction was lit up, glittered, sparkled, or shined. And if it didn’t, the residents of the small town made sure it did somehow. Goldie’s earrings, shaped like tiny ships, glittered with every movement, and her festive scarf was woven with metallic threads that caught the light. She embodied the very essence of Holiday Junction, ensuring that even the dullest of days sparkled with a bit of holiday magic.
“Thanks, Goldie,” I said, stepping up into the trolley. “Where are you headed?” she asked as she closed the doors behind me.
“Sugarbrush Bakery first, then I’m off to Diffy’s office to see Darren,” I replied, settling into a seat.
Goldie nodded knowingly.
As the trolley left the seaside, I looked over my shoulder and saw the village council setting up for the first day of the festival.
Everyone was excited because they had old Columbus Day boats reenactment coming to shore, complete with sailors in period costumes and replica ships. The spirit of celebration was in the air and I couldn’t wait to capture it all for the Junction Journal.
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