“So, where’s your crew staying? Have they arrived yet?” Mom asks.
I wince. “We may have waited a little too long to book their rooms so they’re staying in Gloucester.”
“Oh, honey! They could have stayed here with us!” Mom replies, looking disappointed.
Looking around the three-bedroom house that I grew up in, I can’t help but wonder where she would put them if we had took her up on that offer.
Memories reminiscent of sleepovers in the living room when I was younger come to mind. I can’t see reliving those moments with the crew. Not to mention all the stories that Mom and Dad would no doubt love to tell my coworkers about my youth.No thank you.
two
. . .
Nathan
Main Street is buzzingwith excitement. Shop owners are putting the finishing touches on their Christmas window displays and volunteers are wrangling garland around the last of the light posts and making sure everything looks absolutely perfect.
Santa’s arrival in Mistletoe Bay by lobster boat and the tree lighting ceremony that follows always pulls the whole town together.
Fire hazards, traffic headaches, and all.
I should be used to it by now. Fifteen Christmases as police chief and this week always looks the same—good-hearted chaos wrapped in twinkle lights.
But this year feels…different.
Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s the fact that everywhere I go, someone keeps mentioning her name.
Tessa Pope.
It’s like she’s been haunting my thoughts ever since I pulled her over this morning.
Emmy Alder and her baristas were all buzzing with chatter at the Dockside Cafe about ‘little’ Tessa when I stopped by for a hot coffee after lunch. Her name popped up again when I had to pick up some extension cords from Rhett Jennings at Red Barn Repair Company. Everyone was discussing the documentary crew setting up around town. A crew that belongs toher.
Each time someone mentioned Tessa, my jaw ticked tighter.
The same Tessa Pope I used to haul home in the back of my cruiser for “creative mischief.” Things like toilet-papering the mayor’s house. (Oooh, Charlie justlovedthat.) Painting hearts on the water tower on Valentine’s Day. And who could forget about that one unforgettable night she “borrowed” a nativity sheep on a dare?
Now she’s back. Cameras and all.
My agitation still hadn’t subsided when I stopped by the Mayor’s Office to check in with my best friend, and our Mayor, Charlie Emerson.
“Pulled Tessa Pope over again this morning,” I said, sinking deeper into the chair across from his desk. My knee wouldn’t stop bouncing, and the sound of it tapping against the floor was starting to piss even me off. “Doing fifty in a twenty-five zone.”
Charlie didn’t even look surprised as he adjusted a stack of folders on his desk. “Give her the usual talk?”
“In one ear and out the other.” I scrubbed a hand over my jaw. “I swear, she lives to torment me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Maggie and Lilah were sprawled on the couch, the perfect picture of sibling opposites. Maggie was glued to her phone, thumbs flying, while Lilah had her face buried in math homework like it was a personal vendetta. I’d known those girls since the day they were born, and God help me, I was probably the closest thing they had to a bad influence.
Maggie looked up, eyes bright with curiosity. “Is she really in town to film a Christmas movie?”
I grunted. “Documentary. Something about ‘old fashioned New England traditions’ and the people who keep them alive.” I leaned back, arms crossed.” Guess she missed the part where those fu … freaking Puritans banned Christmas.”
Maggie rolled her eyes at me. “Okay, old man. The Puritans were from like the sixteen hundreds. Lots has happened since then.”
I couldn’t help the half-smile that tugged at my mouth. “Doesn’t make it not true,” I replied with a wink.
Charlie shot me a look—the one that saidbehave, Hale—then shut his laptop. “I assume we’re all set for tomorrow?”
