Deck the Shelves (Village of Berkingsley #2)

’Tis the Damn Season

Chapter Two

(and Other Taylor Break-up Songs)

“ L ooks like Maggie found a new best friend,” Emilia proclaimed as we walked our pups along the cobblestone sidewalk in the heart of the village. Emilia took her role as step-mum to Maggie, an Australian Shepherd, very seriously after she became engaged to her fiancé, Theo, last summer. The afternoon sky was quite overcast, and frost hung on the tips of the grassy yards we passed. We were careful to avoid any icicles that hung from the thatched roofs of the familiar brick storefronts while we strolled. At least my feet were warm and cozy, nestled in my favorite wool socks.

“Indeed. Maybe even quicker than we did, although I’m glad we aren’t as close as they are.” My nose scrunched up as Pippy chased after Maggie, sniffing her behind as they walked. I gently tugged the leash back. “No, no, Pippy. Boundaries are an important part of every relationship. And I’m going to say that this is definitely a boundary you shouldn’t cross.”

Emilia let out an easy laugh. “I’m so happy you’re back in town for a few weeks. What mischief are we going to get into? My life is mundane without you in it.”

We were practically inseparable before I started my hectic job. Emilia was my other half. I bounced every idea off her and shared every detail of my manic lifestyle in our daily conversations. She added that little swirl of America to my afternoon tea with a pot of coffee, and I brought the clotted cream and scones. Always the voice of reason, she helped keep me in line while I encouraged her to long jump right over it.

“Ah, yes. I know,” I said, gathering my shoulder-length black hair behind my head. “I’m thinking about starting a new marketing business where I recommend touristy activities to bored Americans like yourself.”

“A bit snarky today, aren’t we?” Emilia asked gently, looking over at me.

“Well, I said bored, not boring. I love you too much for name-calling. But I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so miserable. I’m not feeling myself lately and not sure how much joviality I’m looking for.”

She leaned over and gave me a side squeeze. “I know. I’m sorry if I’ve been annoyingly peppy. I thought I’d try to cheer you up, but I can join in your misery if that’s what you need today. I just want to be sure we have more happy days than crappy ones these next few weeks. Promise me that, at least?”

I pointed to our girls, who were both squatting and doing their business behind the flowerless hydrangea bush outside the local pub.

“Not sure if we’re off to a good start. Things look pretty crappy from my viewpoint.”

We both looked at each other before bursting into laughter. I hooked my arm through Emilia’s and put my head on her shoulder.

“Why’s it hurt so bloody much? When’s it going to stop?”

“I don’t know, Alice. But it will. I promise. I’ve learned that grief takes on different forms. You’re in the hardest part right now.”

“But I’m tired of being here. It’s almost been two months since Rian shipped off to Cyprus.” Two months since he decided that we would be better off apart. Not just miles apart but living two different lives. Different homes. Different dreams. Different lovers.

“He’s a shithead, and you deserve better. Should I rally the forces tonight? It’s been a while since we got the gang together.” The gang, meaning her fiancé, and our two friends, Noah and Trevor.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m not sure Em. I’m just not in the mood.”

“Wait a minute. Alice, the five-shots-and-still-talking-straight girl, doesn’t want to go out? Maybe I need to be more concerned about you than I thought. What if we start small? We’ll just go to the pub.” She nodded her head towards the building behind our pups. “No clubbing or trips into London. Come on, please? I can’t take seeing you so sad and just…well…not yourself.”

I narrowed my eyes, looking at the lines of concern etched on Emilia’s forehead. “Fine. I’ll do it. But not tonight. I want to just hang with you and drown my emotions in crisps and ice cream.”

“I’m always down for that. Netflix is ready and loaded. But first, it’s teatime, my dah-ling.” She said that last bit in her god-awful British accent, the one she only brought out when she was trying to make someone laugh or cringe. I just shook my head at her.

“Still not any better? Well, damn. I’ve been here for a year and a half now and still can’t nail it.”

“Yeah, that’s probably never going to happen, Em. You should probably just let that dream go.”

“As long as Theo keeps calling me love , I guess I’ll survive.” She pulled her phone out and looked at the time on the screen. “But only if we get some caffeine in my veins, pronto.”

As I brought the third cup of tea of the day to my lips, I took in the scene at the cafe. It was quite busy for four o’clock, and I wondered if others found the warmth from the embers crackling in the fireplace as comforting as I did. It helped ward off the dampness that accompanied the returning drizzle and made our hair soggy and frigid.

“So, are we keeping this power hour a secret from Theo?” I asked. “I kind of feel like we’re breaking a friend code here, stopping at this cafe instead of Mae’s Eatery.” Mae’s Eatery was the restaurant Theo owned and managed right in the center of our village. Modern with a farmhouse twist. It served fresh local foods and wines and also had a full espresso bar.

Emilia smirked as she put a small biscuit into Maggie’s mouth. “I come here every so often to keep Theo off my scent. If I only got my free lattes from his place, I might run it out of business.” She leaned back against the oversized fluffy pillow on the couch we were sitting on and crossed her legs. “I’ve already told you how I’ve desperately been trying to convince him Blackley Manor needs an espresso machine.”

“Yeah, I remember. How’s that proposition turning out?”

“He told me just to send the hotel guests to his restaurant. I won’t admit that the machine’s really for me.”

Pippy started nipping at my toes, looking for another biscuit. Another perk of this café was that they allowed pups inside, even providing a big communal bowl of water near the door to wash down their free dog treats. I hadn’t taken notice before, but now that I had a new four-legged rugrat to keep happy, it was a welcomed addition and only added to the cozy vibes of the place.

“One more, Pippy, and that’s it.” I held my hand out to her, and her little snout gobbled up the treat in a frenzy. It was amazing how a thing so miniature-sized could have an appetite the size of a giraffe.

“She’s the perfect pet for you, Alice. Your personalities certainly seem to jive.”

“Yes, we are both the spunky sort, aren’t we Pips?” I lifted all of her five pounds of fluff to my face and rubbed my nose against hers. “Thanks again for letting me stay at the hotel, even though we’re breaking the ‘no pets’ policy. I promise I’ll make sure she doesn’t wee inside.”

“Just remember to take her out the back door so guests don’t get suspicious. We have you in a back room next to our apartment, so it shouldn’t make a difference, but I’d like to avoid any complaints from grumpy guests.”

“Got it. Do not enrage the holiday grinches.” I took another gulp of tea, and my thoughts started drifting away from our light chit-chat. That’s how things went these days. I would be my usual chipper self for hours at a time, tucking the sad moments away in the back of my mind while I made small talk with colleagues or helped organize the fashion selections behind a new campaign at work. But then, bam . A song would come on the radio, or a quiet moment to myself would allow my brain to remember, and my heart would begin to ache.

My mind overflowed with anxiety as I thought about Mum and Dad. The Christmas season was one they eagerly waited for all year, as did everyone else in Berkingsley. It was a common sight to see all the businesses in the village adorned with lights and sparkles in early November. Once old Mr. Bromson, the head of the Post Office, strung lights across the front window, it was fair game for everyone to follow suit. Do it too early, and you lived in fear that your letterbox might be stuffed with old, stinky socks. He was the village authority on holiday celebrations.

By Mr. Bromson’s timeline, the village most likely had become a winter wonderland weeks ago. With the whole street aglow, it was impossible for my parents to forget about hanging the icicle lights from the roofline or filling the window display with the fake, cottony snow that sat perfectly amongst the ceramic Christmas village set. Where was little George pulling the sled with the tree or Maeve ice skating with her forest critters decked in red stocking hats? These two-inch figurines were the root of many fights between my sister Scarlett and me growing up. Veiny crack lines glued together with the messy precision of a child are still visible on many of them. But not this year. The entire display was missing, along, it seems, with the Christmas spirit of the shop.

My already anxious mind churned out question after question. Was Ma or Dad ill and couldn’t find the energy to decorate? Dad’s eyes seemed to miss the spark they usually held when he greeted a new customer. Why was the shop closed so early during one of the busiest seasons, and what was with the boxes Dad was unloading? He usually only stocked a few books or bottles of wine at a time, choosing to unbox inventory the day he received it instead of once a week, mirroring his claim that one should never do tomorrow what one can do today. Were they upset that I hadn’t visited in a while and didn’t want to decorate in case I was absent for Christmas? I just didn’t know what to think.

“And that’s why I won’t ever join Theo at the hardware store again. He’s on his own for this next kayak-building project.” Emilia paused, waving her hand in front of my face. “Earth to Alice. Are you here with me?”

A single thought suddenly seized my mind. “Emilia, are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes, actually, I am. Sundays are my day off. No piano students and no rehearsal for myself.” Besides owning Blackley Manor, Emilia was also a talented pianist who performed throughout Europe during the year. “And like I just said, Theo has taken this new woodworking hobby to the extreme and holed himself up in the back shed, building himself a kayak for when spring comes around. I love his creativity and sense of adventure, but I will never understand his eagerness to work outside for hours on end. I know that winters aren’t as cold here as they are back in Boston, but still. You won’t catch me building anything in this weather. Ha. Who am I kidding? I won’t be building kayaks in any weather.”

“Alright,” I said, interrupting her, “I know exactly what will cheer me up. Let’s go back to Blackley Manor and get our Christmas princess movie marathon started. I’m ready to get into the holiday spirit. I’ll tell you my plan as we walk.”

“Finally! You don’t have to tell me twice!” She took a last sip from her mug, tucked her long blonde hair into her wool pom-pom hat, and gathered Maggie’s leash. “Let’s go!”