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From a distance, I could hear strains of Christmas music. It was December nineteenth. Tonight was a dance, so I was staying far away. I didn’t want to have to fake smile at everyone.
It’d been difficult running my mother’s doll shop and putting on a brave face. It’d been difficult waiting on customers who were in the Christmas spirit. It’d been difficult trying to call my son repeatedly, only to never get a call back from him. Will was finishing his second year at Colorado State University. He’d been devastated last year when he’d come home to the wreckage his father had caused. It’d been a hard Christmas. He’d told me he would come out to Jewel Cove to be with me this year, but he hadn’t told me when.
I stared up at the moon with a prayer in my heart. “Dear Lord, help ease this pain. Help me get through the holidays. Please help my son.” My voice cracked, and tears streamed down my face.
Pain burned in the center of my chest. Some of it was about my ex, but most of it was about the life I had lost. It was my son’s loss, too. We’d both had to find a new normal, and I truly hoped that his new normal would include a space for me. He’d beendistant the past couple months, and I knew he had to be. He had to process his own grief.
I sighed and tried to focus on the cold-water lapping around my bare feet. The sand squeezing between my toes. Grounding—the therapist had told me to do that. Take my shoes off and walk on grass or sand. Ground myself in the present. Yet the present was six days before Christmas, and there was no way to escape the memories of the past.
“Dear Lord, give me new memories and please bless my son.”
Chapter Two
Charles
There were only two things I hated more than the Christmas season: death and taxes.
The idea stewed in my brain as I drove my Ram truck through town. If only it had snowed. At least then Jewel Cove would look nice and wintry. I could imagine plowing through the snow, sending it flying and showing that a truck was meant to be driven anywhere.
I pulled into the little parking lot next to Main Street. I was on an errand for my grandmother. We would be spending the next few weeks together for Christmas and New Year’s. My parents had passed away when I was young, leaving my grandparents to raise me and my three younger brothers.
My brothers were all deployed and my grandfather had passed away ten years ago, so it would just be the two of us this year. Strike that—it would be the four of us; my grandmother and I, plus Hazel, my grandmother’s live-in caregiver, and Henry, the cook and butler of my grandmother’s home. My home, I guess would be the appropriate term.
I stepped out onto Main Street, breathing in the salty air and pulling my coat tighter around me. Jewel Cove didn’t usually getthis cold. It was in the upper forties despite the sunny weather, and with the humidity, I felt it.
Despite my dicey history with Jewel Cove, it was nice to be back. It had been home for Christmases and summers while I was growing up. During my brief marriage, I stayed in New York with my wife for Christmas, but I’d been coming back to Jewel Cove since the divorce. Sometimes my brothers came too, but mostly it was me and my grandmother.
Luckily, work was flexible. I pretty much ran the company my grandfather had built, King Enterprises. I could work anywhere. I always took over my grandfather’s old office when I was home. I thought he would’ve liked that; he’d raised me for it.
I paused at the bakery and stared at the chocolate muffins in the display window. They’d always been a weakness of mine. It was almost noon, but I’d skipped breakfast. I kept walking. I’d wait until after my purchase.
A sign caught my eye up ahead: “Doll Shop.” I’d spent years in and out of that shop as a kid. I thought about the girl I’d dated and laughed with and fallen in love with over those summers and Christmases.
Too bad she’d married another and broken my heart. Not to mention the fact I’d made a fool of myself at her wedding when I’d tried to stop it. She’d decided to have it in the little white church we’d always talked about getting married in. She’d looked so beautiful in her wedding dress. I’d found her before the ceremony had begun, and I’d pleaded for her to call it off and marry me. She hadn’t listened.
Years later, after I’d gotten married, the whole story had seemed silly and childish, like it was just part of the growing-up process—part of loving and losing and moving on.
Now, as I stared at the doll shop, I had to ask myself,What if?
Which was stupid, because I knew the woman I’d once loved was living in Colorado, and the shop was now owned bysomeone else. Grandmother had told me last Christmas about the shop owner passing away and the shop being sold. I’d been sad to hear it but hadn’t thought much of it.
Last year, I’d been preoccupied with the huge fundraiser my family was putting together in the name of my younger sister, who’d passed away when she was young. I’d overseen it, juggling dozens of responsibilities, and my personal past hadn’t mattered.
This year, though, I didn’t have all of that on my plate. Our family had hired a manager to handle all the details. Now, it was five days before Christmas, and the shop was lit up with cheery lights just like every year. I wanted to be happy that the little shop looked healthy and thriving, yet I could only think about the what-ifs from the past.
Of course, the ‘what if’ of my failed marriage stewed in the back of my mind. I blinked back the pain. Maybe I had failed my ex-wife. Or we’d both sort of failed one another. Nevertheless, one thought of failure led to a bundle of them, as Grandmother always said.
I sighed and tried to focus on the job in front of me: picking up the doll my grandmother had ordered. I didn’t understand why, in a day and age when everything could be shipped to your door, I had to pick it up at that store, but I’d do anything for my grandmother. I would get the doll, drop by the bakery to order chocolate muffins, and then go back to Grandmother’s and finish the deal I was working on. It would take me the rest of the day. Thank heavens. My work was all I had.
I stepped up to the door of the shop, trying to push away the memories of the past. When I grasped the doorknob, I was surprised to realize it had been replaced. The old one had always stuck when I’d turned it, and I’d have to push a little harder than normal to get inside. I knew this because of many late nightswhen I’d brought her back here and we’d laughed about how hard it was to get into the store.
I walked inside and was immediately comforted by the quaint atmosphere. Decorations were hanging up everywhere I looked, and soft Christmas music played in the background. I shut the door and looked around. It was like I’d walked back in time—like I had walked into this shop nineteen years ago.
Nobody was at the front counter, so I walked deeper into the store, noticing the Christmas dolls on display at the front. They were arranged in comfortable settings around Christmas trees and porcelain villages.
To be truthful, I thought the dolls were freaky. My grandmother loved the old tradition of collecting them, and she had a room full of dolls. I never went in there. I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking about how Grandmother would tease me about that. More than once, I’d told her that the doll room would be a better fit for a serial killer.
“Can I help you?” The voice was familiar, yet strange. “Sorry, I’ve been organizing some inventory.”
