Epilogue to a Christmas Murder

Book 11: Beyond the Page Bookstore Mystery

by Lauren Elliott

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Cozy Mystery; Female Sleuths

Synopsis

As bookstore owner Addie Greyborne shares the loving lesson of The Gift of the Magi, the spirit of the season falls prey to a thief and a killer . . .

There’s no place like the seaside Massachusetts town of Greyborne Harbor for the holidays, and there’s no better feeling for Addie than donating to the lighthouse museum’s Twelve Days of Christmas charity fundraiser. Of the dozen books she’ll be offering as prizes from her Beyond the Page Books and Curios shop, the most special volume is a first edition of The Gift of the Magi imported from England—signed by O. Henry! Addie receives an unexpected Christmas bonus when the book is hand delivered by visiting Detective Inspector Noah Parker, whom she met in England, and has been daydreaming about ever since.

But on the night Addie delivers the book to the museum, someone posing as one of Santa’s Little Helpers swipes it—and the rest of the charity gifts. As if the theft wasn’t bad enough, a body is found on the rocks outside the lighthouse, believed to be murdered.  Now, it’s up to Addie to connect the clues, find stolen goods, and catch a killer—in order to usher in a Happy New Year . . .

Release date: September 30, 2025

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 368

Sample

Addison Greyborne stared unseeing as she gazed into the bay window of Beyond the Page Books and Curios. Her mind drifted and swirled like the snow that piled up around her feet, and with the silence of the falling snow, each flake that fell on her cheeks awakened another memory of her last Christmas, the Christmas she’d spent in the sleepy little West Yorkshire village of Moorscrag.

As the snow and wind lapped at her cheeks, alternating images flashed through her mind’s eye of that special place and the dear friends she’d made there. She rubbed at the pained spot in her chest, but the ache in her heart grew at one image in particular, and a sense of loss, along with all the haunting what-ifs that accompanied it.

Other images then rushed through her mind, overwhelming her. Each one pushed her deeper into a state that took her between a sense of loss and the apprehension of the homecoming she’d experienced when she’d returned from England. At the time, she hadn’t been sure she could adjust to life back in Greyborne Harbor. She wasn’t the same person she was when she left.

Now, as she stood in front of the window to the bookshop, she recalled the dread she’d experienced on the flight home, knowing that right down the street from her house was the house where her ex, Simon, and his first wife, Laurel, lived happily with their seventeen-year-old son, Mason. Little did she know on the return flight that Simon’s forever-after—without her—wouldn’t be the change in Greyborne Harbor that would cut her the deepest.

As Addie shuffled and stomped to keep the blood flowing in her freezing feet, the blanket of snow deafened her to everything except her own recollections, which rushed back on her like the erratic, swirling snow itself.

She’d known that when she returned home, she wasn’t quite finished relinquishing her ghosts of the past. Even though, bit by bit, during her year in England, Addie had made great leaps forward in coming to terms with learning that not only Simon, but everyone else in her family she had known and trusted had kept the truth from her. The discovery about her grandmother Hattie not being who Addie had thought she was her entire life left Addie reeling. The sense of being lost and alone in the realization her whole life had been based on a lie. A knowledge that had left her floundering and disconnected from the Addie she’d once been.

She blinked to stem the tears burning behind her eyes as she mentally relived her homecoming this past summer, aware then that to truly become her new self, she still had one more layer of the old her to peel away. One more remnant of her past life needed to be laid to rest. Marc Chandler. A man who had never lied to her, never told her he was something he was not, a man she thought she’d loved at one time, would soon be wed. As much as she’d convinced herself she’d be okay with Marc making vows to another woman, when Marc and his betrothed said “I do” that summer day, Addie hadn’t been prepared.

It had shaken her to her very core.

Not because she had any remnants of romantic feelings left toward him. No, those had been dealt with and played out long ago, and it was definitely not because she didn’t want to see him happy. Her heartache had come with facing the fact that Marc, as her friend, and onetime love, was the one last connection she had to her old self. The person she had been in her old life—before everything changed for her.

The day when Marc took his wedding vows was the day the last little piece of her slipped away. It was final. The old Addie had gone. The part of her she’d clung to in order to feel like … well, to feel like the person she had been her whole life before she became someone else, had evaporated, leaving her feeling a shell of her former self.

A car horn blared in the background, bringing Addie back to reality. She shivered, but didn’t go inside. Instead, she continued to watch the goings-on through the large picture window.

Paige Stringer, her assistant manager, answered the phone, and while Addie couldn’t hear the conversation, Paige’s smile indicated that she had everything well in hand.

Did Addie even belong here anymore?

She fought to embrace her current self and living situation, but she struggled to push away the enticing sense of the warmth and belonging she’d discovered in the sleepy little English village last year. Those memories sent her spiraling deeper into all the what-ifs she still harbored.

After all, Paige, in Addie’s absence, had successfully run the bookshop and even after her return, Paige ran the bookstore and bookmobile service with expert precision. It seemed Addie’s little protégé had surpassed the teacher.

Just as Nikki, the shop assistant and Addie’s housemate, had run Addie’s household and looked after Addie’s community commitments with equal meticulousness. It all made Addie feel obsolete in her own life.

She sniffled and snuggled Pippi, her little Yorkipoo, tighter under her arm. Even after all these months back in Greyborne Harbor, she still had no idea who Addie Greyborne really was and where the new her belonged.

It was in melancholy times like these that Addie missed Catherine Lewis—or should she say, Catherine Vanguard now, after her marriage to Felix. The dashing globetrotter who had stolen away the only woman Addie had come to know as a mother figure. If her grandmother Hattie hadn’t interfered in Addie’s father’s life all those years ago, when Addie wasn’t much more than a toddler … after Addie’s mother had died, Catherine would have ended up as Addie’s stepmother. Even now, though, they had a special bond. At the moment Addie wasn’t certain which one she was more upset with: Hattie, for not allowing her father’s planned remarriage to go through, or Felix, for sweeping Catherine away. Addie only knew she needed a mother to talk to.

The door slammed open, and a little girl scampered out, holding her arms high above her head while she spun in circles and danced in the falling snow.

“Auntie Addie?”

“Yes?” Addie glanced down into the large, quizzical blue eyes of the little girl dancing like a snow fairy.

“Did you and Mommy make the display last night?” She pointed to the picture window.

Addie refocused her thoughts and glanced at Paige, who was frantically writing something on a pad of paper. “Does your mommy know you’re out here, Emma?” Addie shifted Pippi in her arm, leaned down, and with her free hand finished zipping the little girl’s coat up to her chin, pulling her collar to her ears and rosy-red cheeks. “Did you hear me?” Addie asked as Emma stared wide-eyed into the shop’s window.

“I just came out for a minute.” Emma jerked her chin toward the window.

Addie’s brows shot up.

“I mean,” Emma whispered, her tiny voice quivered, lacking its earlier defiance. “I couldn’t see over the poster you put at the back, and I just wanted to see what was in the window display.” Her big, round eyes looked tentatively up, and her little hand slipped into Addie’s. “Your windows are always so pretty, and we came in the back door, so I just wanted to see it all.”

Addie smiled and squeezed the girl’s cold hand in hers. How could she stay annoyed with that beautiful little face? Addie glanced into the bookshop again at Paige still on the phone. “I guess we can look for a minute or two. But you’re going to have to bundle up and keep these ice-cold hands in your pocket.” She lifted Emma’s hand to her face and blew warm breath on it. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Emma slipped her hands inside her coat pocket but quickly withdrew her right hand and pointed. “Is that the same lighthouse you used a long time ago in the window?”

Addie let out a short laugh. “You have a good memory, my friend. Yes, your mommy and I found a string of mini lights and those tiny wreaths in an old Victorian Christmas village set we found in the storeroom. So, we wrapped them around the lighthouse and added the wreaths so that it looks just like the real one in the harbor.”

“But there’s no Santa sleigh full of presents out front of the real one, is there?” Emma asked, her voice reaching a fevered pitch of concern. “Aren’t they afraid a really bad person would steal them?”

“You’re right. The Santa sleigh will be set up in the lobby of the lighthouse museum, so it’s snuggled in, all safe from any bad people, and the security guard can keep an eye on it.”

“Then why do you have it outside of the building here?”

“It’s not really meant to be a proper portrayal of the actual scene, it’s …” Addie looked at the confusion in Emma’s eyes. “Think of the window scene along with the selection of Christmas books more like an advertisement that’s hopefully going to help the lighthouse museum’s Twelve Days of Christmas charity fundraiser sell more tickets so they can reach their fundraising goal.”

“But isn’t that lying?”

“No, it’s called a promotion. When people can visualize …” She glanced at Emma, who was waiting eagerly for the explanation. Addie shook her head humbly. This little eight-year-old girl certainly knew more than Addie had known when she was eight. “Then they are more likely to want to buy tickets, and then the raffle committee will make all the money they need for programming next year. I even heard,” she said, grinning, and tapped Emma on the nose, “that one of those programs is an all-inclusive children’s learning center in the museum. Wouldn’t you like that?”

At Emma’s head nod, Addie continued, explaining how it took her and Emma’s mommy one full afternoon to wrap all the tiny boxes of presents in the Santa sleigh. They were meant to look like the contest gifts people would be trying to win in the twelve nightly raffle drawings leading up to Christmas Eve.

“So, you see,” added Addie, “the window display is meant as a type of poster to make people want to buy raffle tickets—and all those Christmas books too.” Addie gestured to the books in the window.

“Is that’s what wrapped up in the sleigh?” Emma asked, her fingers pointing to the books in the window exhibit.

“No, the huge sleigh in the lobby of the lighthouse museum is filled with all sorts of donated items from businesses in town.” She leaned down and whispered, “I also hear there are lots of yummy, homemade goodies too.”

“I hope I win! I love Christmas goodies.” Emma smiled a toothy smile that Addie couldn’t help but mirror.

“You’ll probably have a pretty good chance if your mommy buys tickets. Every night for the twelve days leading up to Christmas Eve, one name will be drawn from a barrel containing all the names of people who bought tickets, and each day the person whose name was drawn will win that day’s contents of Santa’s sack. Each bag is marked Day One, Two, Three, etc., and the closer we get to Christmas Eve, the bigger and more valuable the items will get, leading up to the grand prize drawing, which has lots and lots of prizes and a free trip to Hawaii.”

“What if I win that one?”

“Then you and your mommy will have an amazing time in Hawaii. Maybe you can pack me in your suitcase so I can come along?”

Emma giggled, but her face grew serious as she looked back into the window. “But if you’re selling the books, how can you be putting them in the Santa sack too? Won’t Santa be mad that you are selling the ones he’s giving away?”

Addie looked about, hoping for rescue. She wasn’t sure how to explain the whole situation to a child, and she hoped she wasn’t going to slip up and say something that Emma wasn’t ready to hear yet about Santa. “Your mommy and I picked out some other very special books that we knew Santa would love to have in the sleigh to give away with all the other gifts he’s got for the winners.”

Emma seemingly took that explanation in stride and pointed to the one left of the lighthouse. “What’s so special about that one that it’s on a bookstand?”

“That book is a newer edition, and it’s just in the window for display, but the real one that we’re going to donate for the Christmas Eve gala is coming all the way from England, sent here by my friend Mr. Reginald Pressman.”

“Does that mean books from England are more special?” Emma asked.

“Oh, no, not necessarily. The book was written by an American author, but the one being sent from England is special because that author signed it many years ago. See where the wooden page marker is holding the book open to the title page, which says The Four Million? It contains a famous short story titled ‘The Gift of the Magi.’ ”

Emma nodded.

“It’s an extra-special story about two people who sell their most important personal possessions so they could get money to buy Christmas gifts for each other, and that makes them as wise and selfless as the Magi, the wise men who visited baby Jesus.”

“Did the Magi write it?”

“No, it was written by an American author named O. Henry, and it was first published in a magazine called New York World in 1905.”

“But that’s a magazine, not a book.”

“You’re right, but the next year, the story was added into a book collection of stories by the same author titled The Four Million, and the copy I ordered to give away is far more valuable than the one in the window, because it’s a 1906 first edition signed by O. Henry himself.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Wait, does that mean you and my mommy are like the Magi—giving away your most cherished possessions so other people will be happy?”

“No,” Addie said with a short laugh. “Come on, little one, we’re both freezing. Let’s go get some hot chocolate, okay?”

She ushered Emma back into the shop to warm up and drew in a breath, savoring the usual scent of old books and leather. But this time of year brought with it the delicious aromas of cinnamon sticks, spiced apples, and gingerbread from the potpourri dishes set out on the bookshelves throughout the shop. If she could only bottle the scent and sell it, she could retire a millionaire.

Paige was still on the phone, and by her stance and the stiffness in her shoulders, Addie sensed that the call she’d initially thought was going smoothly, was not going well.

“Let’s go sit in the reading alcove in the back corner. I’ll get our hot cocoa while you pick out a short story book. There are some classic Golden Books that just came in that would be good, so take a look at those.”

“Those are for babies.”

“My mistake. You’re just growing up so fast I completely forgot you are eight years old now.”

“That means I can pick anything I want, right?”

“Yes, but only from the children’s section, and make sure it’s a short book because the store opens in fifteen minutes.” Addie laughed as Emma’s little legs took her off in a run to the children’s section by the back wall.

As soon as Addie set Pippi on the floor, she immediately went around the back of the counter to her bed. Addie poured both her and Emma a take-out cup of hot chocolate from the large urn on the counter. She glanced at Paige, who had now stepped to the far side of the bookshop and was engaged in a very animated discussion. As much as she was dying to know why her shop manager was in such a state, she knew that as soon as her friend was done, she’d verbally unload whatever it was she appeared to be so stressed about.

Addie took a seat in a leather chair, set the two cups on the side table, and waited for Emma to bring over a book. She hoped that Paige’s mother, Martha Stringer, wasn’t interfering again in Paige and Logan Ashmore’s Christmas Day wedding.

“Oomph!” Addie gasped as a rambunctious eight-year-old raced around the end of the bookshelf and dropped into her lap in one whirling movement. “I see you found a book?”

“Yes.” Emma’s small voice squeaked with delight. “And look—” She shoved the book in Addie’s face. “It’s The Four Million just like the one in the window!”

“Yes, I see,” said Addie with a laugh as she clasped the book and pushed it out from under her nose. “But I think this story could be a little too old for an eight-year-old. Perhaps I should help you find something different.”

“But Auntie …” Emma’s little chin quivered. “I want this one. I’m eight now, remember?”

“I suppose it would be okay, but if you can’t understand it, then please let me know and we’ll find something else.” Addie knew she shouldn’t give in so easily, but when Emma turned her big, round eyes on her, Addie’s heart did everything a sucker of an auntie’s would do. It melted, and she was putty in the little girl’s hand. Oh well, it was an auntie’s job to spoil a child, wasn’t it?

Addie settled back in the large, cozy leather chair, and as Emma perched on her lap, she began reading.

“Emma,” said Paige from above them, “what did I say about reading that much over your grade level? You know the rules. No middle-school books until you’re at least in fifth grade.”

“But Mommy—”

“No buts. Now, go put that book back, and let Addie and Mommy talk for a minute, okay, pumpkin?”

“O … k … a. … y, Mommy.” She turned her blue, tear-filled eyes on Addie, gave her a shaky smile, hopped down, and then disappeared around the bookshelf corner.

“I’m so sorry, Paige, I—”

“No, it’s me who should be apologizing.” She flipped her recently cut short, bobbed blond hair from her eyes and blew at a stray strand. “I should have kept a better eye on her. I haven’t even got the register set up or done a tour around the shop to pick up any stacks of books from the book club meeting last night. I still have to—”

“It’s all right. At least you got the hot cocoa made, and I’m here early. Because I was worried about the roads getting bad if the storm hits earlier than they thought it would. I can help with the rest of the opening.” Addie glanced toward the window and gestured. “Besides, I don’t see a line waiting to get in anyway, so relax. It’s not urgent that we open precisely at nine.” Addie placed her hands on Paige’s shaking shoulders. “What in the world has you in such a state, though?”

“It’s just that I’m a horrible person, and it seems I’m a horrible mother too. I saw Emma go outside, but I was too wrapped up—”

“You stop right there. You are definitely not a bad mother. She was fine. I was there—and you are not a bad person either. Who told you that you were? I’ll set them straight.” Addie huffed and brought her clenched fist up to her face, grinning.

“It’s just that when our wedding planner called, I assumed Carol-Ann was calling to confirm more details. But instead, she was crying and told me that if my mother was going to go behind her back and continue to change all the arrangements we’ve made, she was going to quit. Then she said, ‘No, Paige. I like you and Logan, but your mother has pushed it too far. I do quit.’ ”

Addie gasped.

“Then it took me over half an hour for me to try to talk her out of walking away from my wedding, that’s supposed to happen in less than three weeks.” Paige sniffled. “She still said no. Not as long as my mother was involved.” Paige’s sniffles turned to sobs bordering on hysterical.

“Oh no, my friend,” Addie said, pulling a tissue out from inside her sleeve, gulped back her chest pangs, and cradled Paige in her arms. Addie had been through this stage of wedding planning, first with the volatile lead-up to her best friend Serena Ludlow’s wedding and keeping her from throwing in the towel at the eleventh-hour, and then her own—nearly—wedding, so she knew how unforeseen calamities could easily crop up. One thing she had learned through it all was that tissues were a must-have, especially three weeks before the big day, and it was her job as the maid of honor to keep them well stocked and handy.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” Addie asked, patting Paige’s back as her friend sobbed on her shoulder. “Why don’t you let me talk to Carol-Ann. I’m sure we can fix this with her and get everything back on track.”

“We can’t. It’s … it’s wor-worse than that.” Paige sniffled between sobs. “My mother has gone and changed the venues, the menu, the flowers, the—”

Addie gasped and held Paige at arm’s length. “What do you mean, she changed everything? Can she do that? You’ve already paid deposits, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” Paige broke out in renewed sobs. “She took the refunded money and used it for her choice of venues.”

“Without asking you?”

Paige nodded, wiped her nose with the tissue, and took a breath. “That’s why Carol-Ann quit. She said first thing this morning she got emails from all the wedding vendors we’d booked telling her how sad they were to hear the event was cancelled, and they had transferred the majority of the deposits, less cancelation fees, back to the account they had on record.”

Renewed tears flowed down Paige’s scarlet cheeks. “That’s my mother’s credit card … she was paying for most of it …” She broke into another bout of sobbing. “Of course, Carol-Ann was confused and called me to find out if we had cancelled the whole wedding,” Paige managed to sputter out between sobs.

“But you didn’t, did you?”

“No, definitely not, and I called Mom right away and asked her what Carol-Ann was talking about, because we were going to lose all our vendors.”

“And?” Addie waited until Paige got her bearings again.

“She said she had used the refunded money already to pay the deposits on a ‘proper’ wedding venue and reception area that would cost less than the church and the Grey Gull Inn.”

The pressure in Addie’s head grew with each word Paige spoke. It didn’t matter if Martha was paying for it or not. How dare she derail Paige’s big day without even discussing it with her—and with only three weeks until the wedding?

Addie opened her mouth to have her say about Martha Stringer’s actions and to tell Paige not to worry—that Addie would march next door to the bakery and give Paige’s mother a piece of her mind—but two big blue eyes filled with tears and fear, stared up at her from around the corner of the bookshelf.

Addie snapped her mouth closed and looked at Paige, gesturing her head toward Emma, standing behind her.

Paige swiped at her own tear-covered cheeks and swung around. “Are you ready to put up the Open sign?”

“Are you and Logan not getting married?” Emma asked, her voice as small as she had become as she shrank against the bookshelf.

“Oh no, honey, that’s not what happened at all.” Paige sank to her knees, took the little girl’s hands in hers, and started to explain what had happened as best she could to an eight-year-old.

Addie marveled how Paige didn’t make her mother out to be the bad guy in the story but indicated that it was all just a misunderstanding with Emma’s grandmother.

Addie jumped at a rap on the front door. She turned and saw four ladies waiting not so patiently for the shop to open and glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past nine. She gave Paige a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and smiled at Emma as she passed them and hurried to open the door.

The morning flew by, with the constant flow of people getting a start on their Christmas shopping as they tried to beat the impending storm, and between the customers and making sure Pippi got out occasionally to relieve herself, Addie forgot all about the trials Paige was experiencing until she looked up from the cash register and stared into a pair of faded-blue eyes.

“Martha!” Addie closed the till and noted the woman had no books to pay for in her hands. “How can I help you?”

“Since Emma’s off school until after the holidays, I told Paige I’d pick her up at noon and take Emma to lunch to give her a break, but I can’t find either of them anywhere.” She waved her hand wildly in a circle. “Tell me that I didn’t misunderstand, and Paige took the day off too.” Her eyes widened. “You’re not working alone today, are you? Where is that Nikki person?” Her gloved hand went to her lips. “My goodness, I do hope she hasn’t gone off the road somewhere. The roads are horrible today.”

“Nikki is fine. She’ll be in at one, but …” Addie swallowed hard as she took a second to scan for listening ears. Judging by the empty shop, she realized it must be the usual noon hour lull. “I would like to talk to you for a—”

“Maybe Paige is busy in the storeroom, then.”

“Yeah, that must be where—but—”

“Never mind.” Martha waved. “Just tell her I was in and to meet me at Mario’s Ristorante on Main Street at three o’clock sharp for a menu sampling.” She clutched her handbag to her chest and walked away from the counter. “And tell her to drive car. . .