Page 25 of The Holiday Grump
How had she managed to lose her cardin here?
CHAPTER 10
Noelle
Iwoke up to a loud bang and a sudden, searing pain. It took me a moment to realize I’d hit my head on the concrete wall. I sat up, holding my throbbing temple, cursing the tiny bed that squeaked with every shift of my restless body.
I tried to lie down again, looking for a comfortable position. There was none. I was wide awake now, staring at the ceiling. This was my third night in Hideaway Harbor and so far, I hadn’t managed to sleep through the night even once. I’d spent all Sunday setting up my shop, relieved that the bookstore was closed, and I could use the facilities without bumping into Fredrik. But apparently even the vigorous unboxing and hill-climbing activities didn’t help when your bed was a torture device.
“Never compromise your sleep hygiene,”my mom’s voicescolded from memory. She needed darkness, silence, and the new moon to get any shut-eye. I used to take pride in being an easy sleeper, but even I had my limits.
It's a good thing her lessons were ingrained in me: get up and move. Do something until you’re sleepy again. Your brain should associate your bed with sleep, not tossing and turning. At this point, my brain associated my current bed with pain and suffering.
I bundled into layers and stepped outside. The cold air hit my lungs, but the sky was clear, and stars twinkled above the halo of streetlamps and Christmas lights. A giant tree in the middle of the town square glowed like a beacon, wrapped in multicolored lights. I’d watched its lighting ceremony from behind my shop window earlier that day, gawking at the costumes, humming along to the brass band playing carols. I’d recognized Amanda Willis, the Hollywood actress plugging in the lights, and even popped outside to buy honey-roasted almonds from one of the stalls. The town fascinated me, but I felt awkward and lonely, with no one to talk to, and soon returned to organizing my shop.
Under the starry sky, with no one around, I felt more at home. Free to roam about and explore without curious eyes on me. My boots crunched against fresh snow as I wandered through the quiet streets. When I reached Love at First Sip, I stopped to peer through the windows. I loved the café and its ultra-romantic vibe. Just stepping over the threshold made you believe in something better. Something that was almost within reach, like the mistletoe hanging inside its window.
The steps leading to the café looked like a slip-and-slide,packed full of ice and snow.Eileen would need help with the steps, I thought. They were a hazard to her and all the customers.
A scraper leaned by the doorway, waiting for an opportunity to be useful. I picked it up, heavy in my hands, and started hacking at the ice. It fought me, but I kept going, swinging harder, each hit sending a shock through my arms. I channeled my fear and frustration into the stubborn ice until sweat slid down my back despite the cold.
When the last shard broke loose, I replaced the scraper exactly where I’d found it, smudging my footprints as I went. No one needed to know. I’d already drawn too much attention.
After the literal ice-breaking activity, blissed exhaustion flooded my body, so I dragged myself back to the store and fell asleep again, waking a couple of hours later to my usual alarm.
Every muscle in my body cried out as I stretched, throwing on a jacket to sneak into the bookstore to use the facilities. If I were quick, maybe I could shower before Fredrik showed up.
After the way I’d walked off yesterday, I felt uncomfortable using Fredrik’s key. I hated relying on him and felt a little guilty over how I’d behaved. Maybe it was easiest to avoid him for a while. If he decided he no longer wanted to let me use the bathroom, he could come out and tell me. Meanwhile, I made sure to leave the bathroom better than I found it, wiping every surface after use. I even polished his partially rusted tap until it partially shone.
Feeling somewhat refreshed, I hurried back to my shop, dropped off my towel and toiletries, and strolled to the café.It was eight o’clock and the sky was beginning to glow pink over the harbor. The bell above the door rang nonstop as the early-bird customers trickled in.
I adored the smell of freshly ground beans in the morning. Nothing was more humanizing after a night of poor sleep. I’d counted my funds again, making sure I could afford this luxury. I desperately wanted to be a regular at this café, even if it meant I had to cut back on other things, like food.
I smiled as I ascended the cleared stone steps and took my place at the end of the line, listening to the happy chatter of townspeople ordering their coffees.
I ordered The Byron, with extra cinnamon, and sat at a small table by the window—the same one Eileen had offered me last time. After a moment, Eileen appeared with a drink. It wasn’t for me, though. She set it in front of Wayne, the curmudgeon I remembered from yesterday. “Here’s your Romeo with extra sugar, Wayne.”
“For crying out loud, Eileen. It’s a black coffee.”
He reminded me of a slightly younger Sean Connery, dressed as a lumberjack.
“Not in my café.” Eileen raised her chin, channeling pride and defiance.
Her gaze met mine, and I smiled back.
“Next time, leave that attitude by the door before you enter,” she added, setting sugar packets next to his coffee.
“You want me to leave it by that murder weapon you keep out there?” Wayne jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
“What murder weapon?” Eileen shuffled past him to peer through the window.
I realized they were talking about the sidewalk scraper.
“Nothing invites a burglary like leaving the perfect tool right by the door. You wouldn’t even need to swing that hard to break the glass. A child could do it.” I heard the concern under his harsh words.
Eileen cocked her head, unfazed. “Well, it worked out in my favor last night. Someone used it to clear the steps.”
My heart stuttered.
