Page 1 of The Holiday Grump
CHAPTER 1
Noelle
The moment I stepped off the bus, I realized my brilliant plan had one fatal flaw. How could I skip Christmas in a town that was obsessed with it?
After a topsy-turvy ride over a mountain range, I’d landed in the middle of a shimmering tinsel dream. Giant wreaths hung from every lamppost, and the cute houses lining Main Street were strung together with a canopy of lights. Playful snowflakes drifted as if in slow motion, completing the storybook scene.
“It’s Christmas already?” I blinked at the twinkling lights.
“It’s late November, dear. At Hideaway Harbor, we start right after Halloween.” Ida, a gray-haired lady I’d met on the bus, beamed with pride as she negotiated the wobbly bus stairs.
I offered her a hand down to the icy sidewalk. Maybe itwasn’t that early, but fresh off a Mediterranean cruise, I felt like I’d slipped through a wormhole.
Ida smiled at my slack-jawed expression. “It’s that way to the harbor restaurants. Off you go. Get yourself some dinner and put some meat on those bones.” She pointed toward a slice of dark ocean peeking between the decorated buildings.
“Thank you! And thank you for the lesson. I promise to practice!”
She’d taught me to crochet on the bus trip, and I couldn’t wait to try my hand at the gorgeous flowers she produced with ease. Finally on dry land, with access to shops and an apartment of my own, I was itching to create. Yarn, fabric, beads. I wanted to try it all.
Ida patted her oversized tote, which I now knew was full of yarn. “The crochet club meets every Tuesday night at the Sip. Come along!”
“Sure thing.” I had no idea what the Sip was, but I’d find out.
I drew in a lungful of crisp winter air and adjusted the heavy backpack on my shoulders as I headed down the road.
Hideaway Harbor. Despite the over-the-top Christmas cheer, it still felt like a good place to lay low. A hard-to-reach coastal town with a name to match, where I didn’t know anyone and nobody knew me.
As I reached the harbor, icy wind pinched my cheeks, and I followed the noise to the nearest bar. White lettering on the window welcomed me to The Shore Thing. Was it some sort of hookup place? I sighed and pulled at the door. I was too hungry to care. If this were the local meat market,I might as well present myself with unwashed hair and a layer of travel sweat under my coat. Consider it a public service announcement that I wasn’t on the market.
A pop version of “White Christmas” met me at the door, along with the scent of pine and beer. I took a deep breath, adjusting to my new reality. Just a week ago, I’d been at the Port of Skala outside Santorini, watching retirees roast in lounge chairs and knock back ouzo. Christmas hadn’t crossed my mind, especially since I’d planned to skip it this year.
It wasn’t an easy choice because I loved Christmas. My whole family did. Mom watched holiday movies year-round and had named me Noelle and my sister Holly. We used to joke about an imaginary brother named Rudolph. My decision to stay on a cruise ship to work through the holidays had been a bitter pill for them to swallow.
Fate had other plans. The ship’s engine failed, leaving us stuck on home turf six weeks early. I needed work, both for money and distraction, so I’d taken the only job offer available: selling Christmas decorations at a pop-up shop. Which begged the question, was it even possible to skip Christmas while peddling fairy lights and plastic Santas?
Either way, I couldn’t go home, so this was it.
I stepped into the bar, ducking under a low-hanging garland. A handful of older men nursed beers, eyes glued to the blond bartender. The tables and booths were filled with younger people enjoying drinks, chowder and lobster rolls. Apart from the seasonal touches, it felt like the ship again, noisy and boozy with vacation energy. The interior had the charm of an English pub decorated with Maine fishing paraphernalia. Lights with stained glass lampshades hungover weathered tables, and framed pictures, anchors and ship wheels crowded the walls. By the window, an impressively tall potted cactus tried in vain to blend into the nautical theme.
I rushed to grab the one empty table by the cactus. The bartender appeared with a smile and a notepad. “What can I get you? We’ve got a two-for-one Black Friday deal on lobster rolls.”
That explained the crowd. I studied the menu and ordered a turkey sandwich. When she left, I checked my phone.
Grace: Everything okay? Call me!
Mom: How’s the Caribbean?
I sucked in a sharp breath, staring at the screen. I typed a quick reply to Grace, my Korean stewardess friend, but it bounced back within seconds.
No network connection.
That was just as well since I had no idea how to reply to Mom. She didn’t know I was back in Maine and only two hours away. If my parents found out, they’d drag me home. And Spencer would hear I was back.
He would find me.
I briefly considered asking Mom to keep my whereabouts a secret, but she’d have to tell Dad, the family blabbermouth. Besides, everyone loved my ex-fiancé. Everyone, including me, thought I’d lost my mind. Who left New England’s number-one bachelor at the altar? He was wealthy, generous, and handsome. I was a college dropout who liked upcycling clothes.
Marrying Spencer Alford had made perfect sense to everyone. Running away to work on a cruise ship barely made sense to me. I’d been trying to come up with an acceptable explanation for a full year, and I still had nothing. Which is why I kept my updates short, sweet, and future-focused.
