Addison Greyborne’s eyes glistened with the reflection of the glimmering snowflakes hanging from the delicate fairy lights she’d retrieved from her aunt’s attic. They were perfect. Both of her shop’s bay windows resembled a winter wonderland of lights. She wrapped her arms around her middle and crossed her fingers. Hopefully, the holiday glow would beckon passersby.
“Morning, Addie,” a stocky woman called as she passed along the sidewalk.
“Good morning, Carol.” Addie smiled and waved.
Had it really only been just over a year since she’d established Beyond the Page, her book and curio shop? It was hard to believe given the bumps and bruises she’d endured along the way, but now she was truly a part of this town that she’d grown to love.
“Good morning, Addie,” another passerby called out.
“Morning,” she said, smiling.
“Your displays are looking good.”
“Thanks.” Addie grinned and took a step back to get a clearer view of both windows. The display of books in the right one caught her attention.
She pressed her face to the cold glass, wiped off the condensation from her warm breath, and peered at the small tree in the center colorfully decorated with antique ornaments. But it was still missing something. Tinsel! That’s what it needed, and the book sets she’d wrapped with holiday ribbon displayed like gifts beneath it on a red tree skirt needed an extra splash of sparkle to make it all just perfect. She made a mental note to buy tinsel and added another package of artificial snow to her shopping list. Outdoor inspection complete, she opened the door to her store and drew in a deep breath.
The crisp smell of the New England sea air combined with the scent of old books and leather tickled at her nose, but this morning she also detected the hint of a new aroma. It appeared that Paige Stringer, her shop assistant, had placed small, festive bowls and baskets of apple-cinnamon potpourri on bookshelves throughout the shop.
The fragrance stirred warm memories of her childhood home and her family. Now, all since passed, including her beloved David. They were to have been married by now and should have been celebrating the season together, but he . . . a tear slid down her cheek. She swatted at it and forced that memory back into its box in her mind and headed for the coffeemaker on the far end of the long, antique Victorian bar she used for a sales counter.
Paige poked her blond, curly head out of the storeroom, grinned, waved, and disappeared back inside. Addie shook her head and tossed her purse and red wool coat on the counter. Dropping a coffee pod into the machine, she sorted through the previous day’s receipts as the aroma of fresh-brewing coffee taunted her. Paige reappeared, wearing an “I ‘heart’ the Cook” apron and carrying two steaming mugs in her hands.
“What are you up to?”
“Well?” Paige waved a mug under Addie’s nose. “What do you think?”
“I think I smell my grandmother’s Christmas apple-spiced punch?” Addie clasped the cup and waved the fragrance toward her. She took a sip. “Yes, perfect.” She beamed over the rim.
“Good.” Paige gave a toothy grin. “After you told me yesterday that your grandmother’s punch was one of your fondest Christmas memories, I worked most of the night perfecting the recipe.”
Addie took another sip. “You’ve done well, thank you.”
“I brought in a small cook plate so I can prepare it in the back room, and a large coffee urn that we can refill as needed. I thought it might be a good idea to have it up here on the counter for customers. You know, as an alternative to coffee for the holidays. What do you think?”
“I think”—Addie set her mug down and crossed her arms, looking hard at Paige—“that you come up with some”—Paige sucked in a sharp breath—“of the most . . . outstanding ideas.”
Paige’s cheeks flushed with a rosy glow. “You always get me.”
“Just keeping you on your toes.” Addie winked, grinning. “I don’t want all your brilliant ideas going to your head.”
“No risk of that happening with you as my boss.” Paige returned an exaggerated wink. “I’ll fill the urn and set it up.” She swung on her heel and headed to the back room, straightening bookshelves as she went.
Addie smiled at her protégé. She really had turned out to be the perfect employee despite her best friend, and the local tea merchant, Serena’s initial misgivings as to where Paige’s loyalties might lie. Would they be with Addie, her employer, or the tyrant baker next door, Martha, her mother, but time proved Paige most adept at finding a balance between the two of them.
Addie scanned the store. A large wreath and a few more lighted green garlands to wrap around the pillar posts would complete the holiday ensemble. Now to only find time to shop. When she glanced past the window, she spotted a man dressed in a black trench coat and black hat with the brim pulled down covering his features. He stood across the street seemingly staring at her store. A shiver traveled up her spine. She moved closer to the window for a better look, but a large delivery van pulled up, blocking her view of the man.
The courier driver hopped down from his truck and scurried to her front door, yanking it open. The bells attached to her door protested with a merry jingle. Within thirty seconds, he had delivered a package, asked for a signature, and left with the same force, bells still echoing from the first time. She peered across the street after Mr. Speedy screeched away. The man in black was gone.
Addie shrugged and glanced at the large envelope. From Boston. With a smile, she placed it on a shelf under the front counter. The door chimes rang. She looked up, a welcoming smile forming on her lips. The color drained from her face, and the smile faded. The man in black removed his hat, ran a leather-gloved hand over his silver hair, and stood silently staring at her.
She grasped the counter edge to keep her wobbly knees in check. “Jonathan?”
“Hi, Addie.” A smile tickled the corners of his mouth.
She swallowed hard to release the lump growing in the back of her throat.
He shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe I should have called first?”
“No.” She shook her head and walked around the end of the counter. “You just surprised me. That’s all. Come in, please have a seat.” She motioned to a counter stool. “Would you like some coffee, or hot spiced Christmas punch?”
He shook his head and slid onto a stool. “Coffee’s fine. Just a quick warm-up and I’ll be on my way.” He pulled off his gloves.
“You’re leaving?” From the coffeemaker, she glanced over her shoulder. “But you just got here.”
“Afraid so, there’s a big storm coming tonight or tomorrow, and I’d like to get past it before the highways are closed, but I’d heard you’d moved to Greyborne Harbor, and well . . . just stopped to say hello.”
“Five sugars, right?” She grimaced as she passed him his coffee. “This is hardly on the interstate running to and from anywhere?”
He nodded, lifting the cup to his lips. “Exactly what I needed, thanks.” He set it down. “No, it’s not, but I’m on my way home from a business meeting in Boston and am living north of Albany now. So, before the forecast changed, I’d already decided on a short detour to drop in to wish you a Merry Christmas.” He reached over and clasped her hand, guiding her to the stool beside him. “But now it appears it’s going to have to be a shorter visit than first planned.”
“I’m glad you stopped by anyway.” Her throat tightened. “It’s wonderful to see you again.” She released her hand from his.
Paige coughed and placed the large urn on the end of the counter, glancing at the stranger.
“Paige, this is—”
The bells over the door chimed. “Morning, Addie.” Catherine Lewis swept toward the counter. She pulled off her gloves and slid onto a stool.
“Good morning, Catherine.” Addie rose to her feet. “You’re out and about early today.”
“Yes, lots of shopping to do, and my car’s in the garage. So, I’m on foot today and have a lot of ground to cover. I thought I’d better get an early start and headed right here for one of your delicious, fresh-brewed coffees to get me going.” She nodded at the silver-haired man seated beside her.
“Paige, Catherine, I’d like you both to meet my . . . umm, David’s father. Jonathan Hemingway.”
“Hemingway?” Paige’s brow creased. “I thought David’s last name was Armstrong or something?”
Addie nudged Paige with her elbow.
“Yes ”—Jonathan cleared his throat—“it was Hemingway. His mother and I divorced when he was quite young, and she remarried.”
“You’re a relative of Addie’s?” Catherine turned to him, her hand outstretched. “How wonderful.”
His eyes and hand held fast with hers. “I must say your husband is a very lucky man.”
“I’m . . . I’m not married.” Her porcelain complexion turned a shade of peach.
“Jonathan, this is Catherine Lewis. She’s a good friend of mine and was also a close friend of my father’s.”
“It truly is a pleasure to meet you, Catherine.” He brought her delicate hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Any friend of Addie’s, and the late Michael Greyborne’s, is a friend of mine, too.”
“Hemingway, like the author?” She all but purred when his thumb began stroking the back of her hand.
Paige looked at Addie, who was in the midst of an involuntary eye roll.
“Yes, he’s a distant relative and may be the reason my son had such a fascination with books and women who love books.” He glanced at Addie, but then caressed Catherine with another gaze. “Do you love books, too, Catherine?”
Catherine let out a breathy sigh and pulled her hand away. Her already flushed cheeks brightened with an intense fiery hue. She straightened stray strands of her brown shoulder-cropped hair, slid off her stool, and backed toward the door. A shy smile graced her lips. “It . . . ah . . . was wonderful to meet you. I hope . . .” She swallowed. “I hope I run into you again, Jonathan, before you leave.” She studied the tips of her toes before bolting out the door.
Addie looked at Jonathan from under a creased brow. “I see you haven’t changed at all.” She clucked her tongue.
He tossed his head back and released a barrel-chested laugh. Addie gave Paige a dismissive head tilt, and after the girl retreated with the book trolley into the back room, Addie glowered at him.
He smirked. “What?”
“I see you’re still up to your same old tricks. I thought you promised David that was all in the past.”
He looked up at her and set his cup down. “And I see you have carried on the same grudge my son held against me for years. He forgave me in the end, Addie. Why can’t you?”
She threw her hands in the air. “I did, and I tried for David’s sake, but what do you expect after that seduction I just witnessed?”
“Really? Just exactly what did you see? Me being kind to an attractive woman? I didn’t see her complaining. Did you?”
“I saw the same thing I saw for the five years David and I were together. Something he’d lived with his entire life.”
His eyes narrowed. “And just what was that?”
“Every time you dropped in out of the blue, there was a different woman on your arm. You’d deposit her on our doorstep and disappear, leaving us to entertain your flavor of the month and then not return for hours, acting all nonchalant like you’d just popped down to get something from your car.” Her knuckles whitened when she gripped the edge of the counter. “You never showed any regard for the emotional havoc those visits created, leaving me to try to put him back together after you’d disappear again for months without another word.”
“I didn’t realize that my family visits were such an imposition on you?” His lip twitched.
“They wouldn’t have been except for the fact that you never spent any time with your son, and left us to make small talk with your . . . your . . .” Her whole body vibrated.
He shrugged. “They were all in a similar line of work as you were in and even a few who were in David’s line. So, you had something in common with them.” His hand clasped hers. “Look, I was busy. Working.”
“Working?” Her eyes widened. “The visit was just a cover for having us babysit your latest piece of arm candy.”
“Addie.” He squeezed her hand. “David eventually came to understand the hours my work demanded, and he didn’t let it stand in the way of our relationship the last few years.” She yanked her hand out of his. “Why can’t you let the past go, too?”
Her chin jutted out. “Because you kept lying to him, and it broke my heart.”
Jonathan’s shoulders stiffened. “I never lied to my son.”
“But you did, every time you’d tell him this wasn’t like the old days. This woman was serious, but it never was because he saw the same old revolving door of your women friends as he had his whole life. Then you’d promise him that the next visit would be longer, and you’d spend more time with him.” Her eyes flashed. “Did you know that after one of your later visits, he started to become withdrawn? He seemed worried and wouldn’t even talk about you to me anymore.”
“I see.” He stood up and collected his hat and gloves from the counter. “Just remember that everything is not always as it appears. David came to know that.” He placed his hat on his head and nodded, pulling one glove on.
“Look, Jonathan, we’re like family, and I want to believe in you, but Catherine is a good woman, a nice woman, but she’s emotionally fragile because she’s been hurt more than she ever should have during her life. Stay away from her, please. She doesn’t need you and your old philandering ways only to have her heart broken again.”
He tilted his head. One corner of his mouth twitched. “Give me more credit than that, will you?”
“I know you, Jonathan.”
He leaned over the counter, fixing his steel-gray eyes on hers. “Do you?”
She crossed her arms and nodded. “I just saw it with my own eyes.”
He straightened and pulled on his other glove. “Don’t worry about Catherine. I’m pretty sure she’s a big girl and capable of making her own decisions.” His brow rose, and he smirked. “I have a lunch date, so if you’ll excuse me.”
“I’m warning you. Stay away from her, please. For me. I don’t want to have to clean up another mess in the wake of your visit.”
To her surprise, he smiled just a little, revealing a suggestion of dimples in both his cheeks. Addie wavered. Everything about his features reminded her of David, from the set of his jaw to his magnetic gray eyes and the way he held his head. David had looked exactly like a younger version of him.
“Don’t worry,” his throaty voice softening, “I’m not about to go chasing down the street after Catherine. My luncheon is with an old friend who lives in Greyborne Harbor now.”
“Who’s that? Another friend of mine I’ll have to warn about becoming involved with you?” She searched his face for a moment. “Although, if she knew you before, I’m pretty sure she knows what you’re all about.”
His eyes twinkled with a hint of mischievousness. “She does, don’t worry. Teresa Lang is very familiar with my ways.”
“Teresa Lang.” Her eyes flashed.
His lips turned up at the corners.
“You don’t mean the same Teresa who’s the Charity Fund-raising Coordinator for the Hospital Foundation, do you?”
“Yes, why, do you know her?”
“I have an appointment with her today after lunch about the Christmas Charity Auction.”
“Then you’d better not plan on her being there until at least mid-afternoon. You know, in case our lunch date goes as per usual.” He gave her a sly wink and then added, “Merry Christmas.” The door closed behind him, the bells seemingly singing with joy at his departure.
Addie settled onto a chair behind the desk in the back room, slid an antique letter opener along the edge of the manila envelope, and envisioned it was Jonathan’s black heart. A low growl escaped her throat. Hoping for happy news to distract her, she blew a wayward strand of honey-brown hair from her eyes, slid the enclosed papers out, and grinned. At last, it was the final report from her old coworker Kate at the Boston Library. The appraisal for Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol and the last thing Addie needed for the auction. Apparently, a certificate of authentication trumped her skilled knowledge of antique books.
The book itself had since been returned, but for the auction, Addie needed this current market report and Kate’s certificate so the foundation could make as much money as possible from its sale. The report contained one surprise, but otherwise it was exactly as she thought it would be. Addie was pleased to see that she really hadn’t lost her touch. It was only too bad that she’d allowed her appraisers’ association membership to lapse. It wasn’t a requirement for appraisers to belong, but a member’s number on the documents added considerable credibility to an appraisal. Nonetheless, it was done now, and Teresa Lang would be more than pleased with the results.
When Addie discovered the 1843 first edition book tucked in a box of Christmas decorations in her aunt’s attic, she knew then it was special. She was a little confused at the time as to why her aunt stored it in there, but knowing she was eccentric and did love hiding things, Addie shrugged it off. When she heard about the desperate need for donations this year to the annual Christmas Charity Auction fund-raiser, she decided, why not? It was perfect for the season and might bring in more money for the auction just because of that. Well, if truth were known, it took a little bit of persuading by her good friend the coroner, Dr. Simon Emerson, but once she’d offered it up as a donation, she had no regrets. As Simon had pointed out, Dickens himself was actively involved in social issues his entire life, so it seemed like the right thing to do.
She glanced at her phone clock and entered Serena’s number, tapping her pen on the desk, waiting for her friend to answer. “Hey, where are you, we have to get moving. We have to meet Teresa at one.”
“I’m on my way.” Serena’s voice echoed through the speaker.
Addie held the phone away from her ear and looked at it. “Are you in a tunnel?”
“No.” Serena’s whispered voice reverberated around her. “I’m right behind you.”
“Ah!” Addie jumped in her seat when Serena placed her hand on her shoulder. “You nearly scared me to death.” Wide-eyed, she shut her phone off and tugged playfully on a handful of her friend’s red hair.
“My, my, aren’t we jumpy today. Have you been reading ghost stories again?” Serena smirked, pulling away, and leaned on the edge of the desk.
“No, but a ghost of my past has come to pay a visit.” Addie slid the documents into the envelope and waved off Serena’s look of concern. “It’s not that serious, really. David’s father blew into town this morning for one of his quickie visits.” She pulled on her coat, grabbed her purse and the envelope from the desk.
“I didn’t know you and Philip Armstrong were still in touch, after the rocky relationship he had with David when he didn’t take the teaching position at the university that Philip arranged for him,” Serena said, following Addie out the door into the shop.
“No, it wasn’t Philip who dropped in. It was Jonathan Hemingway, David’s natural father.”
“But I thought you liked him?”
Addie stopped and smiled at a customer over the top of Serena’s head. “I do.” Her voice dropped. “I do, basically. I don’t like his lifestyle, but deep down, he’s a good guy. I think. He has to be. After all, he’s David’s father, and David was a great guy.”
“So, what’s the problem? He dropped in before the holidays. You should be happy. He’s probably missing David as much as you are, especially at this time of year. I can’t wait to meet him.” Serena swept past her toward the front door.
“You’re not going to meet him.”
Serena skidded to a halt. “Why not? Are you ashamed of your best friend?”
“Of course not.” Addie grabbed Serena’s coat sleeve. “He dropped in for one of his usual flyby visits and is off again, and—”
“And what?”
“And it kind of hurts, especially since I was on my own for Thanksgiving.” Her eyes cast downward. “When I saw Jonathan, I was hoping just a teeny-tiny bit”—she squeezed her pointer finger and thumb together—“that he was here for Christmas.”
Serena placed her arm around Addie’s shoulders. “You weren’t exactly alone on Thanksgiving. You were with your new family here.”
“You’re right. It was a wonderful day and nice to be surrounded by such great people. Between you and Zach, Simon and his sister Carolyn’s crew, it really was a special dinner.” She took a deep breath and pressed her lips tight.
“If it was so great, why such a glum look, then?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s just the time of the year, and I’m missing my real family and David and, well, having Jonathan here would have helped. After all, he is the last connection I have to David, and I guess I don’t want to lose that. But on the other hand he never was much of a family man, anyway, and after this morning, when he made me so mad . . . I think I really blew it. I doubt we’ll ever be close now.”
“No matter what happened this morning, he’s still part of your family, and any issues can be worked out, just like in other families. You’ll see. Remember that you both have to learn now how to have a relationship without David around. Just give it time.”
Addie’s eyes scanned the store on the lookout for listening ears. “Yes, but I don’t know if I can because he hasn’t changed in all the years I’ve known him. In the few minutes he was here, he managed to turn poor, innocent Catherine into a swooning teenage girl. Yeah”—she let out a deep breath—“it’s for the best that he’s gone. If he stayed, he’d only end up hurting her and ruining my Christmas, too.”
Serena shrugged. “If he’s gone, there’s no harm done, and maybe Catherine enjoyed the attention, even though fleeting.”
“By her reaction, I’m pretty sure she did enjoy it, although I think his overt displays of affection toward her scared the heck out of her. But the whole thing, his visit, his interest in her, was all too contrived on Jonathan’s part for my liking. I get the feeling he’s up to something.”
“Like what? No one’s died lately. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped treating everyone as a suspect in some sinister plot.”
“You’re right,” Addie said. “I guess I can take off my certified amateur sleuth hat. It’s just that, well . . . after my father died, and I found out that he had broken Catherine’s heart years ago, I somehow feel I have to watch out for her. That means keeping her out of the grips of the renowned silver-haired fox, and I threw her right in his path.”
“You did no such thing. You didn’t ring her up and invite her over to meet him, did you?”
Addie shook her head.
“There you go. As usual, you’re ov. . .
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