Page 52 of Christmas Cove

“I was seeing if the rumors are true,” he said and moved out of her way as she passed through the doorway. “You fell in love with the mayor?”

There was no point in lying to him. He would spread whatever rumor he wanted to after the encounter. “Yep. Hook, line, and sinker. The mayor was marvelous.” She shimmied her shoulders for effect and walked towards the elevator. Mark followed a few steps and must have realized he was being toyed with. His footsteps stopped their pursuit as she got in the lift. Turning, she watched him curiously and waved her fingers as the door shut.

CHAPTER28

The last halfflight of stairs in America’s apartment building always felt like twice as many as the first six floors did. She trudged up the remaining steps as though she was on a climbing expedition. The whole place smelled like stale bread, as though the doors had been shuttered for way longer than a week. As soon as she stepped into her apartment, she planned to make straight for the windows and flood the place with some fresh, albeit city air. She jiggled her keys and listened for the one with the highest pitchting, which was her apartment key.

From under her door, a thin ribbon of light spilled into the hallway. She questioned whether she had left a light on, or the drapes open, in her rush to get to the worst first writing assignment in the history of writing assignments. She turned the knob and nudged the door open with her toe.

Inside, her perfectly decorated Christmas tree and its hundreds of twinkling lights was turned on, though she distinctly recalled feeling sad when she had darkened the lights before leaving. The tree should not have been on.

“Hello?” she called out and noticed light coming from the kitchen too.

America, hot from the climb and the unseasonably warm weather, dropped her coat from her arm and hung her bag on the hook above the bench situated beside the door. Not only were all her lights on, but the air also smelled like lemon cleaner and...Cranberries?she wondered.

A cackle, which could only be her mother’s laugh, echoed from the kitchen.

“Mom? Is that you?”

“In here, dear,” she said, though America couldn’t think of a good reason that her mother was in her apartment and not gallivanting through grapevines in Italy.

Turning the corner, her mother and father stood at the island, canoodling, and making a giant mess of America’s kitchenware. With arms out wide, she embraced her parents together and squeezed them tightly. They smelled different than she remembered, like all the tomatoes and olive oil they had enjoyed whilst overseas had seeped through their pores.

“I don’t understand. What are you doing here?” America looked at her parents in turn, and held her father’s hand on her right and her mother’s hand in the other. “You have another few days left in Italy.”

“I got your message,” her mom said. “And we got on the first flight.”

“Not the first one,” her dad added. “We tried to call you back. And I know you warned us that the reception wasn’t great in Christmas Cove. Your mother called your assistant, Poppy?”

America nodded and threw her palm against her own forehead. “What did she tell you?”

“About the boy, you mean?” her mom nudged.

“And?”

“Is it true? You fell for the mayor?” her dad asked.

Was it true that everyone around her seemed to know she was in love with Leo, and she was the only person in denial? She had only known him for a few days. It was impossible to love someone so fast. Her revelation with Mark back at the office had opened her eyes. Being infatuated with someone fogs the view.Fog, she thought of standing at the top of the bluff with Leo and looking down on the empty plain with fog crowding in from the south that first morning.

“Leo, the mayor, was a very nice man,” she said.

“Hewasnice, but isn’t anymore?” her dad asked.

“Is. Was. It doesn’t matter because I ruined everything,” America said and walked to the living room and directly towards the tree. “I was selfish, and rude, and bossy, and...” She stopped herself from that line of toxic thoughts. “Needless to say, the week was a total waste of time, and I should have just stayed in my lane.” America turned to her mother, who had followed her out of the kitchen. “This is what makes me a good editor, defined parameters.”

Her mom placed her hands on America’s shoulders and straightened them. “You like him that much?”

A nod was all she could muster past the tears that welled in her eyes. “I’m scared,” America admitted.

“Oh, dear.” Her mom pulled her in close. “I’ve not seen you like this before. You’ve got it bad.”

“I’ve never felt like this, and I’m so uncertain as to what I should do about it. I wish I could just forget the whole thing.”

“That, unfortunately, is not how life works. Some things you just can’t come back from. So, how can we help? You mentioned the city was in some legal trouble?” her mom said.

America’s father emerged from the kitchen with a small charcuterie board of cheese, bread, and olive oil, and she realized that she had been smelling the food when she first came home, and not her parents permeated by the scents of Italy. A smile pulled up on one side of her face, and she took a chunk of French bread.

“Let me start at the beginning.” America took a second to straighten out her thoughts while she swirled the bread in the spiced oil. “A few years ago, a nor’easter hit the area and blew out the dam, which was the main reason people lived there around the lake. People began moving away and now there aren’t enough residents to support the city’s basic obligations. The neighboring town, Elizabethtown, will incorporate the Cove if they don’t have a hundred-fifty residents by Christmas Eve.”

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