The snow has finally stopped today, and I’ve spent the last hour telling myself I should go out. The armchair near the fire is quickly forming an ass-shaped groove from my prolonged sitting while alternately reading and watching the fire, the TV, or the snow outside. Laziness has never been something I’ve indulged in—I’ve always been too busy with a regimented schedule—but after three whole days of lounging in pajamas, I now see the appeal.
Unfortunately, my supplies are dwindling. I’ve eaten almost all of what Mae brought, plus what she left in her welcome offerings. I need to eat a salad. And some fruit. And I should get some apple cider vinegar and green tea to detox my system after all the sugar and carbs I’ve consumed since my arrival in Honeywell.
With that in mind, I get dressed for the first time in days and head out to my car. I contemplate walking, but Liam wasn’t kidding about the sidewalks out here being the last to get cleared. My boots are more stylish than practical, so even if I could convince myself that trudging through the snow would be a good workout, my feet would be soaked and frozen within minutes.
When I reach the downtown area, I park in a public lot and make my way up Main Street. The snow must have amped up the business owners’ festive spirit because there are even more Christmas decorations than there were a few days ago. Small pine trees sit outside the door of each business, some decorated, some bare. Garlands and twinkle lights have been wound around the lampposts, and each one is topped with a giant snowflake-shaped light.
I stop outside Sweet Escapes to admire the tree beside one of the giant nutcrackers. It’s been decorated with a mix of miniature nutcrackers, candy canes, and ornaments shaped like baked goods and coffee cups. Laminated business cards with the Sweet Escapes logo are tucked into several of the branches.
“Pretty great, huh?”
I whip around, my foot catching on a bit of slippery pavement that almost sends me flying. Liam reaches out to steady me, both hands gripping my upper arms.
“You good?” he asks, his brown eyes sweeping over me, lingering on my boots before lifting to settle on my face.
I let out an embarrassed laugh. “Note to self: get more practical winter boots. Thanks for the save.”
“Considering I’m the reason your butt almost met the pavement in the first place, the least I could do was stop you from falling.” He releases me and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. Everything all right?”
“Yeah, I’ve just been—” I stop myself before saying ‘hiding out’. “Hibernating, I guess. Had to come out to forage for food.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” he says, indicating the café with a tilt of his head. He sees me eyeing the decorated tree and adds, “The city buys trees from Admans’ Farms and provides them to all the businesses downtown every winter.”
He reaches past me to secure one of the nutcrackers that’s slipped toward the tip of a branch and looks as if it’s about to take a dive. He’s in my personal space for the briefest of moments, but it’s long enough for me to inhale his winter-fresh scent mixed with a hint of citrus shampoo.
“So each business decorates their own?” I ask, and he nods. “Wow. I can’t imagine something like that in Toronto. The decorations would be stolen within minutes. The trees too, probably.”
“Sounds about right. Honeywell isn’t perfect and we have our share of bad seeds like any other place, but we’re big on community. People look out for each other.”
Just like I can’t imagine Christmas trees adorning the streets of downtown Toronto, I also have trouble picturing what it would be like to feel the sense of community Liam is talking about. To know there’s always someone looking out for you. I’m sure it has its drawbacks; if real-life small towns are anything like the fictional ones my characters have resided in, there’s a lot of gossip and people being too involved in others’ business. But it would be nice knowing people genuinely care about you and your well-being.
“Can I buy you a coffee?” Liam asks.
I peer inside the café, which looks crowded. Maybe a lot of other townspeople have been ‘hibernating’ the last few days too and are now congregating here to catch up. My mind conjures up an image of the dark-haired woman and little boy who met Liam the other afternoon in the café. He’s likely just trying to be welcoming to the new—albeit temporary—resident of Honeywell Hollow, but I don’t want to be fodder for the town’s gossip mill. I’ve had enough of that in the last few months.
“Can I get a rain check?” I ask, remembering Nathan’s words to me yesterday. “I’ve got a Mother Hubbard situation going on at the rental, so I need to pick up a few groceries, then answer the emails and phone calls I’ve been avoiding the last few days.” It’s not a lie; my agent has called repeatedly and I’ve sent her to voicemail each time. I also have a couple of administrative-type emails from the network to deal with.
“Of course.” Despite Liam’s casual tone, I swear he looks disappointed.
Bad Joss. It’s wrong to be pleased about that.
“You’ve got my number if you need anything,” he says. “Oh, and Nathan said he’d be happy to loan you one of his exercise machines, so if you decide you want one, let me know and I’ll bring it over and set it up for you.”
I can’t believe he remembered our conversation and followed through with asking Nathan. It was such a random, in-passing thing, one of those off-handed comments people make all the time and then forget about five seconds later. I had to hound Alan constantly to do the simplest things for me. “I will. Thanks.”
We part ways and I carry on down the street toward the small grocery store. I turn back in time to see Liam holding the door of Sweet Escapes open for an elderly woman before ducking inside himself. And I experience a fleeting moment of regret over not taking him up on his offer of coffee.
*****
Thirty minutes later, with two Patterson’s Market cloth bags full of groceries dangling from my fingertips, I make my way back up Main Street. Mae was right about the limited selection of the local grocery store, although I was able to buy enough food to last a few days at least.
A clothing boutique catches my eye on the opposite side of the street, so I cross over to check it out. I do a little window shopping, peering in store windows at displays of dresses, stationery, cookware, and more. My eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they also sweep the vicinity every few minutes for any sign of a certain handsome, dark-haired handyman.
I’m paused outside what appears to be a newspaper office when my phone chimes in my purse. I pull it out and frown at the text from Nat that simply reads:I’m so sorry, Joss.
My fingers fly over the keypad.Sorry for what?
Shit, you haven’t heard.The three bouncing dots that indicate she’s typing appear and disappear enough times to have my stomach plummeting and then tying itself into knots. I force my legs to start walking again, keeping my eyes trained on the dots on the screen. Finally my phone chimes again and my eyes fly over Nat’s message:I’d call you but I’m at a table reading. I snuck to the bathroom so I could text you. Maybe you should avoid the news sites for a while. And the entertainment shows…
