Page 29 of The Holiday Grump
“You’re welcome, Noelle E. Clarke.”
Pink blotches rose to her cheeks. “Please don’t google my name. Or do. Maybe it’s better that you know. If I’mstaying here and all.” She twisted a strand of hair around her fingers as her gaze wandered around the room.
Was she talking about the article?
“Felicity showed me the article,” I said. “I read it.”
“Oh.” Her gaze snapped onto mine, and she took deep breaths for a moment. “Good. You should know. Although I’ve been super careful. Only my sister knows I’m here. No one else in Bangor. And that article didn’t have any pictures of me. So don’t worry. Spencer won’t turn up at your door!” She smiled, her voice forcefully bright.
“It’s okay.”
“And it probably helps that I don’t get a signal anywhere. Only on top of that hill. So I have like no digital footprint or fingerprint or anything!”
“Maybe you need to switch carriers?” I suggested. “Mine works on most days, if conditions are favorable.”
“When’s that?”
“There are weather patterns that are better for it. You can check the town paper for the internet forecast.” There were moments I felt proud of my hometown, and other moments, like this one, when I found myself uttering sentences so fucking weird that I wanted to bury my head in the snow. No wonder Elora hadn’t wanted to live here. Always driving to Bangor for work and for pleasure. I winced.
Noelle fanned herself with a pamphlet she’d picked up from my desk. Something about Santa Speed Dating. “I get anxiety from a lot of stuff, but the patchy signal is not one of them. It helps. You stop checking your phone, and the day becomes more focused.”
“I suppose.”
“I loved it on the ship. Sometimes heavy clouds disrupted the satellite signal, and we lost internet access. Everyone was playing board games, talking, and drinking. Life was so contained. I had so little anxiety on the sea I honestly thought I was… healed.” She blushed and hid behind the pamphlet.
A shirtless Santa with a six-pack smirked at me from the cover. Eileen had dropped off a pile of them two days ago, urging me to come along. I shuddered at the thought.
“I don’t think it’s something you can heal from, per se,” I said. “As long as you’re alive, your body will produce stress hormones. If it didn’t, you’d be killed.”
“Killed?” Her eyes widened. “I thought I’d be chilled.”
I chuckled despite myself, feeling oddly warm. Something about her unfiltered babble put me at ease, even in her anxious state. My arms twitched with a sudden urge to hug her. I hadn’t felt like that in ages, with anyone. Since Elora’s death, I’d been hugged against my will so many times, forced to inhale all those old-lady perfumes.
“If you’re too chill, you get killed, because your body won’t alert you to danger. Stress hormones keep you safe.”
“From saber-toothed tigers, maybe.” She gave me a dirty look and lowered the pamphlet, now looking at it for the first time. “There’s a Santa Speed Dating event at the café?”
“Welcome to Hideaway Harbor.”
“Are you signing up?” she asked. “You’d look great in a white beard.”
“Shirtless?” I raised my eyebrow.
“It says beards and hats are provided, nothing about shirts being confiscated. But I bet you’d look great with no shirt on!” She grinned at me, her gaze dipping to my grandpa’s brown wool cardigan, which was probably the least sexy piece of clothing available on the face of the earth. Was she flirting with me? At least she seemed less agitated now, leaning back on the armchair.
The door buzzer cut my thoughts. Kailee. I’d completely forgotten about my niece.
“Hey!” she called from the door, heaving her backpack behind the register. “Do you have any snacks? I’m starving.” She began peeling off her winter clothes—a black puffer coat, a gray scarf, and a black beanie. Underneath, she wore an oversized black hoodie over baggy jeans. I suppose it was a teenage thing, hiding under a pile of oversized clothes in funeral colors.
“What took you so long?” I asked and dug up a packet of stale cookies I’d stashed under the counter.
“It’s Monday. I was at the library.” She glanced at me like I was stupid, adjusting her fogged-up glasses.
Noelle jumped out from behind me, giving Kailee a start. “Hi! You must be Fredrik’s niece. I’m Noelle.”
Kailee took off her glasses and wiped them on the sleeve of her hoodie. “I’m Kailee. You’re the Christmas shop girl? Mom told me.”
“In the flesh!” Noelle gave her a wavering smile she didn’t return. “I came to use the bathroom. My facilities are a bit… um, lacking, so…”
