“Which is something I plan to change,” Callie said breezily and she turned the knob.
To her surprise and pleasure, the door opened easily and she pushed it wide. The generous expanse of the balcony lay before her, and she stepped out into the wintry air.
A few inches of snow covered the wooden-slatted floor and ornate wrought iron railing. The roofless balcony jutted out in a half-moon shape from one side of the triangular Tremaine Tower building, with the twelve-foot wide clock face only a few feet above. The clock had three sides, and the bell’s cupola was in a peaked-roofed top just above it. The silvery glittering ball that exploded with light every New Year’s Eve sat on the very pointed tip of the cupola.
Callie walked to the railing and stood there, looking out over the quaint village of Wicks Hollow. She was only twenty feet above the ground, which was why this was a usable location for a wedding—the guests would be below, and a small reception would take place inside the building afterward.
The small town of Wicks Hollow was relatively quiet in December, although tourists did come in from Chicago, Detroit, or Grand Rapids for “holiday shopping” weekends. Many of the local shops offered unique and artisan items, and the town was always dressed to the nines, so to speak, in holiday decor starting the week before Thanksgiving. The tourists stayed in Victorian homes turned into bed-and-breakfasts decorated with fresh greenery, candles, and acres of ribbons and garlands.
Orbra’s Tea House also did a healthy business during December for (mostly) ladies who wanted “Holiday Tea” with their friends, sisters, daughters, mothers and so on.
But it was late in the afternoon—just after five—and already the sun had mostly disappeared behind the Lake Michigan horizon. Callie could make out the lake’s black water rippling just beyond the westernmost row of houses, shops, and trees. The small marina was closed for the season, but since the trees had dropped their leaves, she could see the broad and deep expanse of the lake, and the Stony Cape Lighthouse just to the north. The sky was dark blue and the lake was inky, with the horizon being only a blush of pale blue in the wake of the setting sun.
Holiday lights in combinations of green and red and blue and white decorated the lampposts throughout the town—green and red on Pamela Boulevard, and blue and white on Faith Avenue. Massive urns spilling with holly, spruce, and fake poinsettias dotted each corner, and wreaths adorned every streetlamp.
In the center of town, just beyond a small park from Tremaine Tower, grew a thirty-foot pine tree that was kept trimmed into a perfect elongated triangle shape. It had been decorated with white and green glittering lights, stars, and reams upon reams of silver and gold garlands. A sparkling three-dimensional star sat on the top branch. Streaks of tinsel and glitter lights arched from each tip of the star, bouncing and dancing in the breeze.
Below, tourists and villagers walked along the streets carrying shopping bags, pushing strollers, managing leashed dogs, and holding hands with loved ones. The little flurry of snowflakes made it look like the consummate festive winter scene.
Callie sighed. This was going to be the perfect place for a wintry, outdoor wedding. She understood why Brenda and Barclay—and the others who’d tragically followed—had chosen the venue originally.
Cursed. They were all cursed. What makes you think anything will be different now?
Her breath came out in quick, foggy little puffs—less substantial than those inside the building—and she knew the tip of her nose had turned bright red from the nip in the air.
What if she was wrong? What if her idea backfired and ended up being a public relations nightmare instead of a brilliant marketing move?
She started a little when Ben came up from behind and moved to stand next to her at the railing, resting his elbows on top as he leaned forward. “Nice view,” he said.
“It’s like a miniature of the balcony at Buckingham Palace—you know, where all the royal couples stand after their weddings and kiss for the throngs of people below.” There she was, babbling again.
“And like the pope’s balcony at St. Peter’s Square. But, as you say, smaller.”
She smiled, and the shape of her breath-puff changed. “That’s right. You get it. It’s just a shame so many unfortunate things happened here.”
Ben made a noise like he was about to say something then changed his mind. “Well, have you seen enough?”
“I guess so,” she replied, wondering why he insisted on staying here with her. She was perfectly capable of checking out a wedding venue all by herself. After all, that was her job.
He stepped back from the rail but seemed to be waiting for her to precede him off the balcony and into the room. Callie decided to acquiesce. He was right—it was getting too dark for her to be bumbling around in an unfamiliar building. And she’d missed lunch because an appointment with a potential new client back in Grand Rapids had gone long, and then she drove down here to pick up the key for the building.
“I’m heading to Uncle Trib’s restaurant,” she heard herself say as Ben opened the door to the landing and gestured her through. “I’d love to buy you a drink and, you know, maybe catch up on things? I’d love to hear your thoughts on Tom Holland’s Spiderman.”
“Oh, thanks a lot, but I’d better not. Not tonight. I’ve got some stuff to do,” he said hurriedly. “End of year is coming sooner than you think. Thanks anyway, Callie.”
It was a good thing it was dark in the stairwell so Ben couldn’t see the high, hot flags of color she knew burned on her cheeks. Well, that was pretty blunt and final and she should have just kept her mouth shut.
At the bottom of the steps she sailed out of the building, then turned and waited for Ben to exit so she could lock up. She was glad to have something to focus on instead of having to look at him. “All right, thanks a lot for stopping by,” she said, taking her time with the lock.
“It was really nice to see you again, Callie,” he said as she finished turning the key. “I—uh—hope your wedding goes well. Merry Christmas.”
And then he walked off across the square, shoulders hunched against the sudden, stiff breeze.
Two
Stupid.Stupid. Stupid.
Ben called himself that and worse as he stalked away from Callie, striding across the snow-covered green toward the downtown area.
