A Town Called Noelle Read online

  The woman blinked, seemed to mentally rehearse and discard any number of utterances. Eventually, she let out a rather shaky exhalation—not a sigh so much as a huff.

  “You have some nerve coming in here.”

  “I’m sorry?” Brooke glanced around herself reflexively.

  “To stand there and have me make your coffee, today of all days, after…” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You…don’t even know, do you?”

  “Know what? I’m sorry, I have no idea what I’ve supposedly done. Is this about the doorbell?”

  “The…what?” The server looked thoroughly bemused by this but seemed to decide it wasn’t important. Slamming both Brooke’s latte and her croissant on the high counter (the former sprayed a few drops of coffee vertically in the air through the lid), she nodded to the door. “On the house,” she said, voice positively infused with sarcasm. “Get out.”

  Confused and not a little annoyed at this shoddy customer service, Brooke gathered up her order and did as she’d been told. Only as she noticed the street number did she put two and two together and realisation dawned. Well, shit.

  Today of all days…

  So, Greg Ruskell had been to see the tenants of her mother’s properties, then—or at least this one—and delivered the news. Brooke cursed herself for not paying more attention. She had no wish to get personally involved in any of this, but she wasn’t enough of an asshole to go and rub it in the faces of those businesses she would be giving their notice to quit. Except, of course, she apparently was.

  Well. The damage was done. She wasn’t going to fix things by going back in there and trying to explain herself. Better just to lie low and let things play out as they inevitably would…even if that meant shifting local business owners out of their shops.

  It’ll be fine. They’ll find new storefronts and things will be back to normal in no time. This is just how things have to be.

  It had been a stroke of luck, really, that Brooke had happened to know of a potential buyer right when she’d come into property she had no wish to hold onto. Heartspring Spas was a “lifestyle” company whose stated mission was to “reinvigorate” towns, cashing in on what they saw as a growing trend in domestic tourism, and Noelle, given its modest existing tourist trade as a lesser-known “Christmas town”, was a prime candidate for reinvigoration. Karen Hawkins had two properties in the middle of town, and their old family home at the edge of it. Apparently, these would make a great gym, spa, and “wellness centre”. She wasn’t sure of the distinction between any of these things, but she’d been assured there was one.

  At any rate, there were still enough hoops to jump through that it wasn’t a done deal—yet. She was about to revisit the municipal offices to try to chide things along when her cell phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Brooke, it’s Greg Ruskell here, from Ruskell Properties.”

  “Uh huh.”

  She heard Greg clear his throat. “I have a request from a tenant for your contact information to discuss…matters.”

  “Let me guess. Buns ’n’ Roses.”

  “Uh, yes, actually, how did…well, anyway, I’ve checked the legalities and it’s slightly contentious given that…things are in a state of flux. But she has a right to directly contact her landlord. You don’t technically have to give out a phone or email, just your address. But Holly Jackson’s good people. If you were open to talking with her…”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m not really her landlord, I’m just…holding stuff until everything’s sorted out.”

  “Mm. The thing is, the other unit on Main Street, and Highfield, they’re both empty. But I think Jackson feels like the rug’s been yanked from beneath her, a little.” It was clear to Brooke from Greg’s tone he agreed.

  “I’m not interested in negotiating with anyone, Mister Ruskell. I’m sorry this has all been sudden, but I didn’t foresee this coming either,” she said a bit reprovingly. “I’m just trying to deal with things as best I can.”

  “Right. I mean, yes, of course. I said I would relay the request from Mrs Jackson. She said she’d like the opportunity to renegotiate her lease and that she’s open to higher rates. I believe the business is doing quite well.”

  “That’s great, but Heartspring was very clear it wanted the three properties as a package.”

  “Well, if you wanted to discuss that with them—or I’d be happy to—”

  “I’m really not interested in doing that. I’d like these properties off my plate as soon as possible.”

  A pause. Brooke wondered if he was sighing, but on this fuzzy line on her cell phone she couldn’t tell. “All right, that’s fine of course. So, I should just give her your address? No phone or email? Would you prefer your work or home address?”

  “By the time I’m home this will all be over with.”

  “Nevertheless, I’m legally obliged to give her a genuine address for you. She has another two months on her current lease and that’s her legal notice period in any event. You’ll be her landlord during that time, at least in name.”

  Now it was Brooke’s turn to sigh. “I’m staying at Lakeview Guest House. Will that do?”

  “I’ll need something official, but I can give her that too, sure. Lakeview and your work address?”

  “Sure, fine. If it will satisfy all the legal requirements.” She didn’t mean to sound so sour, but this was absurd. Nothing was going to change, and besides, it seemed “Mrs Jackson” didn’t have anything constructive to say to her, if their earlier encounter was anything to go by. “Is that everything?”

  “Yes, sorry. Oh, did you see the weather forecast for the rest of the week?”

  Brooke had. She was trying not to think about it. She couldn’t fly out before Wednesday regardless, so she was just going to need to hope for the best.

  “Mmhmm. Speaking of which—where’s the best place to buy boots in town?”

  “Oh, uh, Joe’s Outdoors, probably.”

  “Really? Still?”

  A chuckle. “Yep—his son runs it now, but I guess they decided ‘Matthew’s Outdoors’ didn’t trip off the tongue.”

  “Right. Well, okay. Thanks.”

  “Have you, uh…” Greg hesitated, and Brooke could tell he was about to enter “old family friend” mode and outstep his bounds. “Will you be meeting with your uncle soon?”

  “I’ll see him at the funeral.”

  “Right. And that’s Wednesday morning, yes?” Greg knew exactly when the funeral was. Why was he asking?

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Well, I’ll see you then if not before. Best of luck on your boot hunt.”

  Joe’s Outdoors stocked more than boots. It was a one-stop shop for everything from camping equipment to athletics wear to garden furniture, and as such it was quite busy that afternoon, bustling with people stocking up in preparation for the impending severe weather, buying warm clothes, snow shovels, waterproofs, and all the rest.

  Holly knew it would be a madhouse, but she was running low on de-icing salt and she knew she’d regret not stocking up. And, of course, Maya had begged to come along.

  “Can we go look at the chairs? Please?” Holly’s daughter had recently stopped holding her hand for the most part, but she did grab her sleeve now for emphasis—she loved looking at the garden furniture and camping chairs that lived at the back of the store even at this time of year, finding it highly entertaining to sit at the tables with their parasols up inside.

  Holly checked the time on her phone. “Sure,” she said. “But not for long, c’mon.”

  Maya babbled excitedly as they made their way through the store—she had spent the day at her grandparents’ and every picture, puzzle, and snow angel needed to be recounted in elaborate detail. Holly found herself drifting off into thought, adding only perfunctory “mmhmms” to her daughter’s stories as she once again wondered what on earth she was going to d
o about the loss of the storefront.

  It had just been starting to really work, that was what stung. The first couple of years had been tough: juggling bills, fundraising, applying for small business grants, cutting excesses wherever she could. She’d put so much into the shop—all the fixtures and fittings, of course, many of which were bespoke to the space and wouldn’t easily transplant somewhere else—and also the time, the care and attention. The love. I love my shop. How dare she take it away without even giving me a chance to make her an offer!

  She had been trying to talk herself down, since her outburst in the shop. After all, Brooke Hawkins had just lost her mother. But then, it was well known the two were totally estranged, and she couldn’t remember Brooke ever having come back to Noelle, not since college. She hadn’t changed much in the intervening decade. Her hair was different, her clothes more mature. But Holly had still recognised her quickly enough with her tall frame and austere good looks. She found herself wondering whether Brooke had any idea just how much she looked like her mother. What could possibly have kept the two apart all these years? Karen Hawkins was a very prim and proper sort of woman, but Holly had never found her anything other than entirely reasonable in their dealings, and she had been well liked by the town in general.

  Even accounting for grief, it seemed a harsh decision. Still, if she was going to stand any chance of salvaging the situation, she couldn’t let her anger get the best of her. She needed to pull together a plan, an approach that would give her more time, at least, and—

  “Mom, what’s happening over there?”

  Holly glanced up, and her heart sank. Over at the footwear aisle, a rather strained and slightly louder than necessary conversation was taking place between an assistant and precisely the last person she wanted to see right now.

  “Look, I know my feet are larger than average but you’re seriously telling me you don’t have anything in my size?” Brooke Hawkins appeared as if she was about to reach out and shake the hapless store employee standing in front of her.

  “We don’t carry a lot and with the snow we haven’t gotten any new stock in. I’m sorry…”

  “Is there anywhere else in town that will have something?”

  “Uh, for boots? Um…there’s the men’s—”

  “Men’s shoes are too wide.”

  “Oh okay, so uh… I’m not sure if…” The young man glanced nervously from side to side, clearly trying to stall for time and only getting more panicked as he did.

  “Never mind,” Brooke declared, shaking her head. “I’ll just have wet feet. Why not.”

  “Oh for—” Holly remembered there was a child standing right beside her and glanced down to find Maya gazing up at her. She took after Holly far more than her father—dark haired, small and solid—but in that moment, in the trusting look, the expression daring her to live up to expectations, she saw Chris.

  She hadn’t raised Maya to stand by when you could help. Though she wasn’t sure what help she could be here…

  Still, shooting Maya a grin, she girded her loins and strode over. “They have New Balance here, those run narrow,” she said without preamble. “Gel inserts and some thick socks and they’ll be better than wet feet.”

  It didn’t take long for Brooke’s expression to darken even further. She refrained from saying whatever might be on her mind, however, merely giving Holly a tight nod. “Sure. Thanks.”

  “I can show her, Jason,” Holly directed at the assistant, who hesitated, but gave in to his relief and made his escape. She turned her attention back to Brooke. “Over this way,” she said, tipping her head toward the men’s shoes.

  They made their way over in silence, the other shoppers giving them a wide berth. Maya, largely oblivious to the atmosphere, followed along, hopping from side to side as she went.

  “I want to apologise for earlier today,” Holly said in a low tone as they walked. “It was a knee-jerk reaction, and it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

  There was a sound of surprise from Brooke. “You don’t have to apologise. I wasn’t thinking when I came in. I shouldn’t have been there.”

  Holly shook her head. “There’s no excuse for rudeness to a customer. Anyway, um. Here’re the shoes. Honey,” she added to Maya, “d’you want to see if you can find us some big thick walking socks? Size…” she looked to Brooke, standing beside her. “Nine?” she ventured.

  “’Kay!” Maya was already running off before Holly had finished speaking; it was uncertain whether she had even gotten the shoe size.

  Brooke regarded Holly awkwardly. They were now stuck there until Maya returned. “Um. How old…?”

  “Hm? Oh, she’s ten. It’s a good age. Old enough to be interesting to talk to, young enough she doesn’t hate me yet.” Holly grinned—it was hard not to, talking about Maya. “You got kids?”

  “Oh God, no.” Brooke realised how she sounded a moment too late. “I just mean… I’m terrible with kids. It wouldn’t be good. Not that they’re…you know what I mean.”

  Holly’s mouth twisted into a half-smirk. “They’re just little people,” she said. Then, “How about these?”

  “Huh? Oh.” Brooke surveyed the hiking shoes Holly was indicating. “Yeah, they look okay. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

  “I dunno what size you are but they have these in a men’s nine through eleven…”

  Brooke nodded. The price tag was enough to make Holly flinch, but Brooke didn’t seem to bat an eye. Holly felt a flash of annoyance; she probably didn’t even need the money selling her mother’s properties would make her. “Mmhmm…”

  “Well, I guess—”

  “I got them, Mom! I have three pairs so the lady can try whatever’s best.”

  Maya had reappeared cradling several slightly different pairs of hiking socks.

  “Oh, thanks,” Brooke said awkwardly. “Here, I’ll take them, and you can…you don’t have to stay.”

  Maya clasped her hands behind her back. She clearly had no intention of leaving. “You should try them on with the socks,” she said. “Mom says you should always try shoes on before buying them.”

  “Right.” Under Maya’s scrutiny Brooke found the right box of shoes and then carried it and the socks over to the nearest bench. She slipped her sneakers off—they did look rather sodden and Holly wondered why she hadn’t come better prepared—and got to work pulling on the socks and shoes from the store.

  Holly tried to strike the balance between being visibly in charge of her daughter and giving Brooke some modicum of personal space. She certainly wouldn’t want a near-stranger staring over her shoulder while she tried shoes on. As soon as Brooke had finished tying one of the shoes she glanced up at Maya and Holly.

  “The fit’s okay. I’ll probably get them—thanks.” Now please leave or put me out of my misery, her expression implored.

  “You’ve got to walk in them,” Maya said, clearly enjoying being the voice of authority. “You need to try them both on at once and walk them up and down.”

  “C’mon, honey, Brooke knows how to try on shoes. We need to go get some salt.”

  “You can go get it and I’ll stay here. I can help get more socks if she needs them,” Maya reasoned. “You always say Christmas is about helping people who need it. Please?”

  “You’re absolutely right, honey, but I don’t think Brooke needs our help.” Holly shot Brooke an apologetic look over Maya’s head.

  “I’ll take your advice about the walking,” Brooke said, “but I don’t want to hold you up. But, um, before you go let me give you my cell. If you want to talk, or whatever.”

  Holly couldn’t prevent her eyebrows from winging up at this. “Uh…all right, yes, sure, thanks, great,” she said eventually, exploding with platitudes in a sudden rush. She fumbled in her pocket for her phone and dropped it once before managing to navigate to the relevant screen and take Brooke’s dictation. “Um. Have a good rest
of your stay. I’ll…be there. On Wednesday. So, I’ll see you then maybe.”

  A cloud passed over Brooke’s face. “Yeah, okay. See you there.”

  With the distinct feeling she’d just undone all the goodwill she’d built with the reminder about Karen Hawkins’s funeral, Holly—and Maya—took their leave.

  Six Days till Christmas

  The funeral was…a funeral. There were plenty of solemn-faced people in black, a potluck of casseroles, and interminable small talk that Brooke managed to suffer through for several hours, including a deeply uncomfortable logistics discussion with her uncle, until she had to take a break.

  She was outside, huddled with a Danish under the shelter of the long front veranda, when she became aware she was not alone.

  “How’re you doing?”

  Holly had emerged from the building, wrapped up to take her leave by the looks of things. She could have simply gone on her way and Brooke might not even have noticed her leaving, but there she was, standing just along from her, hands buried deep in the pockets of her quilted jacket. Brooke was going to need one of those if she was stuck here much longer—her tailored cashmere coat was not cutting it.

  “Fine.” Brooke realised a moment too late this probably wasn’t the right answer and grimaced. “I mean, it’s weird. But at least it’ll be over soon.”

  Holly’s brow twitched at this, as if she was fighting off a frown. “Yeah, um. Must be tough. Your mom was well-liked and respected.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Which made this all so much harder to bear. “I’m glad.” Glad she didn’t put anyone else through what she put me through.

  Holly chewed her lower lip for a moment, clearly drawn into some thought she didn’t see fit to share. Then, “So I’m sorry I haven’t texted or called, the past couple of days. I do want to meet and talk, but I didn’t want to interfere with…arrangements. D’you think we could meet later this week? Friday maybe? I could do tomorrow, but…”

  Tomorrow would have been Brooke’s preference. Hell, today would’ve been even better. But then the weather had happened, and the papers hadn’t even been processed, and when she’d called the office to check in, Mark had insisted she take the rest of the week—no, really, he insisted. And so… “Sure. Friday’s fine.”