Finding Christmas (Blue Harbor Book 7) Read online

  “I just can’t believe that this man would waltz into town and change everything! Suzanne hasn’t even been gone two weeks. And it’s Christmas. It’s tradition for me to accompany the kids. It’s tradition for them to have a show for their parents! The senior class will never have an opportunity to ring the silver bells for their final song! That’s a rite of passage.”

  Cora gave an understanding cluck as she sat down with their mugs. “This setback might give you a chance to explore some new traditions. That’s what happened to me last Christmas when my sisters all decided to make their own plans. I ended up finding a few of my own and new people to share them with, too.”

  She gave a wistful smile at the mention of her boyfriend and his sweet little girl, Georgie, who had come into Cora’s life last holiday season.

  But Jenna wasn’t convinced. “My music is the most important thing in my life, and Christmas has always been my favorite time to share what I love with everyone.”

  “Sadly, not everyone loves the holiday as we do,” Cora said, shaking her head. She added a few more marshmallows to Jenna’s reindeer-shaped mug. “But at what other time of the year can you have hot chocolate and cookies for breakfast and not feel remotely guilty?”

  That managed to pull a smile from Jenna. She knew that Cora could.

  “You’re right, I suppose. There’s a lot to look forward to, and next year Suzanne will be back.” Jenna hoped so, at least. She turned the mug in her hands. “The new principal implied that there were budget issues and lots of changes going on in the school.”

  “Maybe he was referring to Suzanne?” Cora arched an eyebrow. “And on the subject of budget issues, I don’t know if you’ve heard but Helena was in here yesterday and she told me that the library might be closing by year-end.”

  “Closing?” Jenna had successfully forgotten her problems now. The town library had been at the center of the community since their parents were children. “But…why? How?”

  Cora shrugged. “This town relies on tourism more than anything else, and there hasn’t been enough funding. The donors can only give so much, and the rest comes from the town. The mayor is thinking the property might be better served as another inn.”

  “Another inn!” Now Jenna couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But there are already so many.” They lined Main Street, all similar in style with white cedar board siding and black painted shutters, the most popular being, of course, the Carriage House Inn, owned by Conway family’s dear friends, the Bradfords.

  “There’s plenty of demand, and it would only help bring in more tourists and more money to the town.” Cora sipped her cocoa. “Or so that’s what Helena was told.”

  Helena had been a strict but loyal librarian for years, guarding the building with the same care as those who held the position before her. The historic property was always clean, warmly lit, and meticulously cared for, as were the books. Helena never shied from slapping a late fee on someone’s account, but neither did she resist helping someone with research.

  “There’s a special town meeting this weekend.” Cora glanced at the elf-shaped clock and stood. “You should come. I think my sisters and I would agree that it’s important to do what we can to stop this from happening. Helena has always been a friend to us.”

  “I’ll be there,” Jenna agreed, slurping back the rest of her cocoa. Helena went back to their school days; like so many others in town, she wasn’t just a passing face, but a part of their history. And the library was a part of the town’s history.

  Jenna stood and left the remaining cookies with Cora, knowing that she’d probably share them with Georgie next time she saw her, and followed her cousin into the storefront, where all their troubles seemed to vanish as one beautifully decorated tree after another lit up the space.

  “Who can’t smile when they come in a place like this?” Jenna stopped to study a display case of Nutcracker-themed ornaments. The music from that ballet was a special favorite of hers.

  “You’re forgetting that I almost lost my store last year.” Cora raised her eyebrows as she unlocked the front door and turned the sign. “That’s what gives me some hope for Helena and the library.”

  Jenna felt better just hearing the conviction in Cora’s tone. The Conway women were strong, independent business women who always came out on top. They could help their friend and this town.

  But they couldn’t help the pageant, she thought a little glumly.

  “I think you’re right, Cora,” Jenna said, lifting her chin. “We’ll figure something out. Christmas brings out the best in people, after all.”

  Or at least, some people…but probably not that new scrooge of a school principal.

  Chapter Two

  Travis sat in his grandmother’s house, watching the snow fall out the bay window while the fire crackled in the nearby fireplace. An old movie played in the distance—one of the holiday variety, and only because it made his grandmother happy.

  He didn’t see the hype, didn’t understand all the energy that went into one day of the year that passed just as quickly as the others. But here, in Blue Harbor, it wasn’t just a day. It was dragged out all month long if the decorations and the signs for the Winter Carnival and all its festivities were any indications.

  At least here in the cozy house that he used to visit as a boy, the decorations were kept to a minimum, but that was only because he hadn’t gotten into the attic yet to fetch the boxes, even though his grandmother had reminded him daily about it. He stood now, seeing no better time, but his Gran motioned for him to sit down again, and he knew better than to argue.

  “You’re going to miss the best part,” Gran said from her favorite chair, a mere three feet from the television screen. Her knitting needles clicked as her fingers worked the yarn, but her eyes never strayed from the movie.

  “You mean to tell me you’ve already seen this movie?”

  She balked at him. “Only about fifty times! It’s a classic. You haven’t watched this one?”

  Christmas movies weren’t really his thing. “Why don’t we find something you haven’t watched before?” He’d love to see if a hockey game was playing.

  Gran, however, shook her head. “This is one of the best holiday films ever made. The costumes. The scenery! I watch it every year. It’s tradition.”

  Tradition. He was starting to hear that word a lot lately, something he couldn’t connect with himself. His ex-girlfriend was fine with a wreath on the door, which they’d locked promptly behind them before boarding a plane to the Caribbean. And his mother…well, she didn’t make time for silly things like decorating a tree or hanging garland. She was too busy trying to keep the lights on. And too proud to ask for help.

  Travis warily studied the scarf his grandmother was making—something chunky and a little uneven in a shade of blue best suited for a newborn baby. He had the unsettling feeling that he might be the intended recipient.

  His grandmother used to send a box every year—ranging from socks to hats, and he didn’t have the heart to toss them any more than he had the nerve to wear them out in public. He could only imagine what the kids at school would have said about the variegated yarn, much less the oversized pom-poms. It was tough enough always being the new kid, seeing as they bounced around most years, sometimes even midyear. He was spared having to wear any of his grandmother’s creations since she never visited around the holidays, choosing instead to stay in this small town where she had friends as close as family.

  Maybe, even closer.

  Now, watching as his grandmother laughed at something one of the actors in the film said, he couldn’t help but wish that they’d spent more time together over the years.

  All the more reason to make this year count, he told himself.

  “Don’t wear your fingers out,” he half-joked, but there was concern in his tone, too. His Gran was getting up there in years, and she was his only living relative now. In many ways, she was all he had.

  Gran, being Gra
n, harumphed, and stopped knitting only long enough to swat his comment away.

  “No risk of that. I hope to finish some mittens in time for the tree lighting ceremony tomorrow night.” The knitting needles clicked as her fingers moved a little less swiftly than they once had.

  Travis hesitated. Everyone at the school had mentioned it in passing, as if it were something that couldn’t be missed, even though he failed to see how it could be so exciting to stand around in the snow, waiting for some lights to come on a spruce tree. “Are you sure you’re up to it? It’s going to be cold—”

  She looked up at him sharply. “I should think so! It’s winter in northern Michigan!” She pursed her mouth and went back to her knitting. “But if you’d rather stay inside next to the nice warm fire, then you can drop me off at the town square and pick me up after the festivities.”

  She was calling his bluff and she knew it. They were both all too aware that she would never be able to get her wheelchair through the snow-covered park on her own, and he wouldn’t let her, either.

  “Speaking of fire, let me throw another log on it for you.”

  But his grandmother brushed him away before turning to him once the commercial break started. “It’s fine. I’ll be turning in soon. I had a long phone call with my friend Betty today that left me tired.”

  “Oh?” He knew that his grandmother usually looked so forward to the visits she had from people in town. The ringing of the telephone usually brought a smile to her face and boosted her energy for a bit, giving him a glimpse of the woman she used to be, the way that he remembered her when she was still young and she would regal him with stories of this town and even her youth. His visits to Blue Harbor were infrequent at best, usually during summer break when he was too young to stay home alone and his mother needed childcare, but those were memorable days. Good days, really.

  “They’re considering closing the library. The donor contributions haven’t been enough in recent years and the town doesn’t want to cover the rest when they could repurpose the building.”

  “That’s too bad.” Travis frowned. Libraries had been a haven to him as a child, a consistency from school to school, despite everything else feeling different. It was there that he could find the same books, the same authors, bury himself in the same stories and escape the anxiety that came with always feeling like an outsider.

  Now, as an educator, he placed great importance on libraries, and he encouraged the teachers and staff at the schools he’d worked in to do the same, supporting projects that included research that might not be found with a click of a home laptop or even smartphone.

  “You remember, Travis, I used to bring you there every Saturday morning when you came to visit.” His grandmother smiled at the memory. “You loved that train set in the children’s section. I used to have to make sure you didn’t pocket the caboose!”

  Travis laughed along with his grandmother at the memory, but he was dismayed nonetheless. “Is the town really in trouble?”

  “Tourism keeps booming. And that’s just the problem.” His grandmother raised an eyebrow. “It’s sometimes easy to forget about the reason people want to visit our lovely town.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Blue Harbor appeals to city people because of its history. Because we’ve preserved the buildings, taken care of them over time, given people something that they can count on when they return each year. This town hasn’t changed much since I was a girl. Or since you were a boy.”

  Travis nodded pensively. His grandmother made a good point, but then, that never surprised him.

  “This town is home to me, and that includes all the people and houses and businesses that are part of it,” she said. “Change should come with careful consideration, because once it happens…well, there’s no going back.”

  Travis thought about all the changes that had occurred in his life—too many to count. Eventually, he forgot the places he’d lived, or they merged and he couldn’t remember which apartment had the small balcony and which one had the loud neighbors, and he learned to focus on the present, not the past, and certainly not the future.

  “There’s no place like home, as the saying goes.” Gran stifled a yawn as she resumed her knitting.

  Travis watched the final minutes of the movie, but he wasn’t paying attention to the dialogue. He was thinking about what his grandmother had said, about what made this town home to her, and he realized that he was almost thirty-five years old and that somehow, he still hadn’t found that yet.

  The Christmas choir was comprised of a group of local adults who gathered together each holiday season to spread cheer throughout the town of Blue Harbor. No Christmas Eve was complete without a round of door-to-door caroling, though a few homes had been crossed off the list in recent years, because contrary to Jenna’s belief, not everyone enjoyed holiday music.

  Like Mr. Dunne, Jenna thought, as she propped her music sheets on the stand and waited for the rest of the choir group to hang their coats.

  “Have you seen this?” Candy—Jenna’s newest family member, now that she was married to Uncle Dennis—wasted no time in making her presence known. She held a piece of paper up to Jenna, which was surprisingly not another suggestion for a song they should sing at the tree lighting.

  Jenna skimmed the flyer that was referring to the emergency town meeting this weekend and nodded. “I did. Such a shame. Helena must be heartbroken.”

  “I’m heartbroken!” Candy placed a hand dramatically to her chest, drawing attention to her festive sweater, which was red velvet, low-cut, as usual, and had a white-fir trim that gave a distinct impression of Mrs. Clause. A less than traditional Mrs. Clause, but all the same, Mrs. Clause.

  “You know that I am an avid supporter of that library! Why, I must take out…ten, fifteen books a month!”

  And forget to return them, Jenna refrained from saying. Instead, Candy’s stepdaughters had been covering her tab and simultaneously shoving library books into their handbags every time they visited their father, which they later returned to a relieved Helena.

  “Bella’s Books is a wonderful store, don’t get me wrong,” Candy continued, and Jenna wasn’t about to argue with her. Her cousin Isabella had one of the quaintest shops in town, and she pulled in the community with her story hours and poetry readings, and monthly book clubs, too. Candy participated in the latter two, of course, though her poetry was known to raise some eyebrows. “But the library obviously has a much bigger selection of my genre.”

  Jenna handed her aunt back the sheet of paper. “I know how much you enjoy your romance novels, Candy,” she said with a smile. “Are you going to the town meeting?”

  “As if anyone needs to ask! I understand the need for tourism, of course, but if we don’t preserve what makes this town special, eventually, all those weekenders and summer people will stop coming.”

  Jenna nodded. Candy could sometimes be surprisingly wise. “All the more reason to make the tree lighting event extra special then.” She glanced at the group that had already assembled according to height and waited for Candy to take the hint.

  But Candy wasn’t finished yet. Since joining the group a few weeks ago, Candy often had something to contribute, in addition to a high falsetto and a need to be heard above all the other carolers.

  “I was thinking that maybe this year, we could all agree to wear something different than our wool coats and scarves,” Candy said, biting her lower lip.

  Jenna frowned. “Like uniforms? I’m not so sure that people would go for that.”

  “I mean costumes.”

  Jenna pulled in a breath. Candy was never one to back down when her mind was set on something, and there was no telling what costumes she had in mind. Santa’s elves? Jenna was a fan of costumes for children but she wasn’t so sure the look would translate for the adults—or that the rest of the group would agree.

  “Let’s talk about it after the rehearsal,” Jenna said with a smile. “We need all the practice
we can get before tomorrow night!”

  “I’m just so grateful that Amelia gave me the time off work to participate in this!” Candy trilled as she took her spot—front and center—with the rest of the group.

  Yes, and Jenna’s cousin Amelia was all too grateful that Jenna had welcomed Candy into the choir this year so that she could have a little peace and quiet in her kitchen at the Firefly Café, at least for a couple of hours a week, where Candy tended to sing while she cooked her famous cheese biscuits. Amelia had even offered Jenna dinner on the house for the entire month of December in appreciation, Jenna remembered as she turned to the first carol in her binder. An old favorite, even if she did have to remind Candy to not drag out the last note quite so long each time.

  The Firefly Café was one of her favorite spots in town, and Amelia was one of her favorite people. When Jenna’s sister Brooke had moved back to town last spring, she’d made a promise to her sisters to get out more, but after-school piano lessons often ran late, and she’d assumed her holiday season would be packed between choir rehearsals and the school pageant. Maybe she’d have to follow in Cora’s footsteps, make some new traditions. Next year she’d probably be so busy with the pageant that she wouldn’t even have time to drop by the café. Maybe next year, when Suzanne was back, she’d be running the whole show!

  She walked to the piano and took her seat on the bench, hovering her foot over the pedals. She closed her eyes as her fingers found the keys without having to look at the notes, and began to play as her group of neighbors, friends, and family lifted their voices.

  At times like this, she was reminded that Christmas in Blue Harbor was perfect. And worth staying for, too.

  Jenna’s optimism only lasted until the last choir member (Candy, of course) had left the building. Her parents’ house was close to the center of town, and rather than return to her empty apartment, she walked down Main Street to Spruce, taking in all the lights and sparkling trees in people’s front windows.