Page 10 of Christmas Cove

“Forgiven,” Leo said and rocked his head side to side. “I’m used to it. My mom was a teacher.”

“Was? Is she retired?” America said as she followed him to the broad front porch, painted white and black with a red front door. Looking out through the fog, she could barely make out the line of the dock at the bottom of the hill.

“Something like that,” he said.

“So, Leo, you’re the manager of this property?”

“That’s correct,” he said, and worked to untangle two sets of keys.

Parked on the driveway, his bright red pickup was quite possibly the most festive thing she had yet seen in town. It was only missing the obligatory Christmas tree tied to the roof and bushels of apples piled in crates in the bed, and it would have matched the Christmas card catalogue in her mind.

“Nice truck,” she said and pointed with her thumb.

He looked around her and shrugged. “Thanks.”

“You know it’s missing some frost in the windows and maybe a tree tied to the roof, and then it would be perfect!”

“Listen, America?”

She nodded and waited for his response.

“If you’re looking for Christmas, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

Confusion washed over her. “The wrong place? It’s literally in the name.”

He pushed the door open and let her inside the cabin. The air smelled of cedar and time. She checked her watch. Even if she somehow got ahold of Poppy or the travel coordinator at the magazine, it was too late in the day to find other accommodations. Once the office opened the next morning, she could get in touch with someone and schedule a car service or train ticket out of there.

“This is Christmas Cove, is it not?” Indignation spilled from her tongue.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Then forgive my ignorance, but where is all the Christmas? The pictures online and the brochure, the stories about this place...”

“It hasn’t been like that for a really long time,” Leo said. Sadness, or regret, pained his face. His eyes fell and his shoulders slumped as though her inquisition had wounded his pride in a way that she didn’t understand.

“If there’s no Christmas, then I don’t see what my boss sent me here for,” she admitted. “Seeing as it’s getting late, I’ll stay the night, but I’ll be checking out tomorrow if I’m able to get someone back up this way to pick me up. I’m sorry for the inconvenience and I’ll see to it you get the full payment for my booking.”

Without acknowledging her, Leo rolled the suitcase into the bedroom and flipped on the light. Soft white linens and ivory drapes bathed the space in a cozy comfort. A fur blanket lay across the end of the bed, and an old touchtone phone sat on the far nightstand.

“Does it work?” she asked.

“It should,” he said and walked around the bed. Picking up the handset, he held it to his ear. “There’s a dial tone. No long-distance calls, though.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course, I’m kidding. This isn’t the stone ages. I only keep this thing in here because the cell towers are so spotty ever since...never mind,” Leo said and walked out of the bedroom. “You can call anyone you like.”

America followed him to the kitchen, where he flipped on more lights. “Ever since what?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said the cell signal is spotty since...what? Something good must have happened for the story to end on that note. I’m an editor, remember?”

“It wasn’t something good, it was something bad,” Leo said and shifted subjects. “The fridge is stocked with some essentials, and the pantry, too.”

“Thanks,” America said and opened the fridge door. He had supplied everything she might need, from bread to eggs, a variety of wine, milk, and produce. A guilty pang hit her stomach that she was planning to depart the next day, and he had gone to such lengths ensuring she would have a pleasant stay at the cabin. She closed the door. “What was so bad?”

“It’s in the past. Really. And there’s nothing we, the city I mean, can do about it,” he said with a sharp point. “The reality is that cell service is hit or miss, and there’s a phone, albeit an antique one, that you can use. So, have at it.”

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