Deck the Shelves (Village of Berkingsley #2)

Let There Be Peace on Earth

Chapter 11

(and in Berkingsley)

W hen Saturday morning came around, all the nervous energy that had been building all week left me feeling like the main character from Frozen . The pressure from our money-raising efforts felt almost as big as coronation day. When my alarm chimed, I jumped out of bed, the adrenaline already running through my veins. The market didn’t open until 11 a.m., but we needed a few hours to set everything up. Pippy, who had been snuggled tightly against my belly, didn’t appreciate my early morning enthusiasm. She rolled over with a grumble and a yawn and nestled herself deeper into the duvet cover.

“Today is not the day to suddenly become an adolescent, Pips,” I said in a singsong voice. “It’s go-time in Santa Land.”

As I got myself ready, the steamy romance novel I had on audiobook played through my mobile speaker, but my mind was too anxious to pay attention. After the third replay of chapter four, I gave up and blasted my favorite hits from Taylor Swift’s Lover album instead. Even the queen was telling me to calm down. Showered, hair blown, and dressed like the embarrassing aunt at the family holiday party, I was ready to perform a Christmas miracle. I sent a message to Emilia.

Me: You ready, lady?

Emilia: So ready. Meet you at the truck in ten?

Me: Perfect.

All of the supplies sat waiting at the bookshop, so I only had to prepare Pippy. I quickly dressed her in a cozy elf sweater that matched mine, and we ventured outside.

“Rise and Shine, Sleeping Beauty!” Theo greeted us as we met him at his truck.

“Good morning, dorkface,” I replied lovingly. “Are you ready to sell some vino?”

“You bet! I’m hoping the weather will stay this mild all day so we’ll get a good turnout. And if not, maybe people will load up on the vino to ward off the cold.” He gave a good-natured laugh.

“It’s kind of exciting to be a part of the festival, isn’t it?” I asked, hopping in the truck. “Usually, we just spectate or come late for the bonfire.”

“There’s a bonfire?” Emilia asked from the backseat of the truck.

“Oh, it’s quite the spectacle. After the market closes around 4 p.m., all the older folks of the village go back to their comfortable houses and the festivities turn over to the young people. There’s music, drinking, and roasting of spider dogs and marshmallows. As long as they clean up their mess and don’t get too rowdy, the village supervisor looks the other way. It’s been a village tradition for as long as I can remember.”

“Unfortunately, it seems we have finally reached the old folk status. Here we are, participating in the festival instead of the twilight activities. Feels a bit like we should be mourning,” I said melodramatically.

“We’re about five years past our prime, Alice. I think last time the kids thought we were chaperones trying to break up the fun.”

“The kids…” Emilia repeated, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah, I’d say you’re better off running the festival these days, babe.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her in the rearview mirror. “I stopped playing drinking games when I met you, love. Now, I can’t wait to settle down, get married, and spend all my nights in bed with you.”

“Ew. Stop. Gross.” I said, putting my fingers in my ears. Theo pulled up to Spines ‘n’ Wines, and we unloaded the speaker Trevor had on loan from The Royal Albert Music Hall. A few of Emilia’s students agreed to serenade us on the keyboard with Christmas tunes throughout the day, but during the times they were on break, we wanted to make sure we had festive music playing to catch the attention of people walking by the shop.

Early yesterday evening, Theo and my dad had assembled the tent in front of the store. The three main roads on this block of the village had been shut down for the day’s festivities, so there was plenty of space. Many businesses on the road had their own tents up, and there was also a central area where individual vendors could sell their goods. Two long gray tables sat parallel underneath our tent, and a square table stood in the back corner. It all looked a little drab. Emilia shook her head, staring at the setup.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“It’s a good thing we got here early, right?”

“Right. Let’s put our creative minds to work,” she said.

We spent the next hour laying out red and green polka-dotted tablecloths and wrapping the poles of the tent with green garland that shimmered with gold LED lights. Theo headed to the eatery, making sure everything was set for the wine-tasting booth with Scarlett, but before he left, he secured the speakers to the base of the tent legs and connected them to the keyboard. Emilia and I danced playfully around the tent to a pop Christmas playlist that played through the speakers as we decorated. With just an hour to go before the festival began, we filled bowl after bowl with assortments of candy and icing for gingerbread house decorating. The square table held a clipboard with a sign-up list for the contest that would follow and a cash box for donations in case people didn’t want to give electronically. We also had boxes and boxes of graham crackers and gingerbread stacked in piles, ready for construction.

As a last-minute surprise, yesterday, Freddie’s sister had dropped off a painted sign to the store that read, “Gingerbread House Contest.” Each red letter was meticulously outlined in green glitter paint, courtesy of Liddy’s creative eye. A caption underneath stated that all donations for supplies would go directly toward keeping the bookstore open. Propped on a stand, it was the perfect addition to the front of the tent. Tomorrow, we were going to hold a festive party at Blackley Manor where people could cast their votes on which Gingerbread House they favored the most.

After we added the finishing touches, we stepped onto the cobblestone street to admire our work. The nervous energy in my stomach dissolved instantly as I gazed upon our festive setup. It was a good thing I loved Christmas because all of this decorating really was making me feel like I had picked up a second job as an elf.

“I think it looks beautiful, Alice. It really came together.”

I linked arms with Em and gave her a squeeze. “Thank you, love. I agree. Oh,” I said, unlinking my arm and walking behind the square table to grab a stack of green and red construction paper from my bag. “I almost forgot these. In case you want to share your countdown tradition with the kids. I also brought tape and scissors.”

Emilia’s eyes grew damp. “Oh, Alice. Thank you. Thank you for including my mom in the day.”

I took her hand in mine and squeezed it. “Well, without her, you wouldn’t be in Berkingsley, and I would be without my best friend. I’d be honored if you shared her tradition with others in the village.”

Before we could get too weepy, Mum and Dad walked out the front door of the shop, breaking up the moment. I had asked them to stay inside until the festival started, tasking Dad with keeping an eye on Pippy. They still felt uncomfortable accepting help from the community, so I was trying to involve them in the details as little as possible. This was my gift to them, and I didn’t want them worrying about anything.

Mum pulled me into a soft hug. “Alice, this is so wonderful. Thank you for doing all this for us.”

“Of course, Mum. I’d do anything for you and Dad. The bookstore is not just home to us; it belongs to everyone in the village.”

My dad gave me a side squeeze. “We’re so proud of you, Alice dear. Sometimes I forget that you aren’t my little girl anymore. You are a trailblazer, and it makes me so happy to see you doing what you do best, leading and taking care of others.”

“It’s nothing. Really. I love you both. Now, head on inside and get prepared for the customers we send your way. Scoot!”

Groups of people started to gather and wander around the village center, bundled up in scarves, hats, and gloves, filtering in and out of the tents lined up on the road. The day was pretty mild except for a slight breeze that would come and go, adding a bitter chill when it did. But along with the snap of cold, it also brought a whiff of roasted chestnuts and the sweet scent of cinnamon-coated almonds. So, I didn’t mind the wind. Emilia’s students filtered through in shifts every thirty minutes, some playing classical Christmas songs, others a playlist of jazzy renditions, and one animated teenager even drew the crowd into a sing-along.

Emilia and I took turns outside the tent, one of us encouraging passing spectators to design a gingerbread house while the other helped inside with contest registration and refilling supplies. Turn-out was slow at first, but once a few groups of people began decorating, others became interested in what they were doing. Soon, both tables were at full capacity, and I found myself walking in circles, refilling the candy bowls, registering people, and answering any questions people might have.

The wind picked up after a bit, and the warm sweat that had formed underneath my winter jacket started to give me a chill. But I was so chuffed at how things were going that I barely gave it a second thought. At one point, I looked across the tent at Em and gave her a huge grin. She returned my smile with one of her own and a thumbs up. We were doing this. We were going to save my parents’ bookshop. I just knew it.

The jingling bells of a sleigh suddenly became audible over the energized voices of the young children and competitive teenagers building their creations. I looked up at the sound of a horse whinnying and saw Trevor and Noah at the front of a three-row horse-driven sleigh. Noah played the part of refined coachman, in a black formal jacket and a tall top hat. Trevor, on the other hand, with his cheeks and nose glowing almost as bright as his ginger hair, looked absolutely miserable. He sat rigid as a soldier on top of the black seat cushion, his head buried within his shoulders, holding a paper cup in each hand.

I hurried over and shouted up at them, “I can’t believe you’re driving that thing.” Noah had negotiated a tough sale for one of his property clients, who happened to be a friend, and as a thank-you, the man had allowed him to borrow his horse and sleigh for the day. The money raised from the sleigh rides would be going straight to my parents’ shop.

“Hey, I look pretty good on top of here, don’t I? Maybe I’ll take up a new hobby.”

“No freakin’ way. You’re on your own then,” Trevor answered. He leaned over in my direction and attempted a strained smile that looked more like he was in pain than enjoying the festivities. “Alice, I’ve got a delivery for you and Emilia. One hot chocolate and one caramel latte with extra whip, courtesy of Theo.”

“Oh, wow. That’s great. Thanks, Trevor.” I took both covered cups from his hands and embraced the heat that radiated from the cardboard. “The magic is already working. Tell Theo thanks as well.” I took a sip from the hot chocolate. The rich liquid warmed my insides instantly. Delicious.

“How are the rides going? Are you getting many passengers?”

“Yes, we’ve been doing rides back-to-back since 11 a.m. Just took a quick detour to deliver these goodies to you. Looks like you’ve been pretty busy too!”

“I’m so glad to hear that, and yes, we have! I have a good feeling about this, guys. Thank you again for all of your help today.”

Noah bowed his head with a salute, “Of course, my lady. Anything for a friend. We’d better get back before our line of customers get too anxious. Ta-ta.” He tipped his hat at me, and I curtseyed back. What happy idiots we were. Gosh, I was enjoying this too much.

Before returning to the tent, I took a peek at my mobile to check the score of the “football match.” They were sixty minutes in, and it looked like Freddie had scored again. It seemed that he was having a good afternoon as well. Seeing his name on the screen warmed me up even more than the hot chocolate. I couldn’t wait to congratulate him later. Look at me, caring about sports for the first time in my life. My dad was going to be overjoyed by this new development. He’d always wanted a sidekick when he watched football on the telly.

Emilia nudged me, taking hold of her latte and motioning me to switch places. I took up the task of greeting everyone and explaining the details of the contest. The wind continued to blow, and it suddenly felt like the temperature was taking a nosedive. All the hot chocolate and scored goals in the world couldn’t keep me warm anymore if this kept up. I suppose I should have worn real trousers instead of the polka dot red and green stockings I sported. But where was the fun in that? Freddie was right. Deep down, I was made to be Santa’s little helper. I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little brown-haired girl with purple earmuffs scurrying over to me.

“Hi, Alice! You hung up our sign!”

“Of course I did! Hi Liddy. It was so thoughtful of you and your mum to paint it for us.”

“My mum is really talented at drawing, and I like to paint. Uncle Freddie mentioned that you might need a sign, so we made it together during our craft time. I’m so glad you fancy it because Andrew stepped on it before it was dry, and we had to redo that part.” She wrinkled her nose in annoyance.

“I hadn’t even noticed. It’s perfect. Where’s your mum now?”

She turned and pointed behind her. Sophie was talking to a woman but noticed Liddy pointing, so she gave a quick wave. “Where is your little brother?”

“He stayed home with Dad. We thought he’d complain too much, so we made it a girl’s day out! They’re watching Uncle Freddie play football on the telly. Can I help decorate a gingerbread house?”

“You sure can! I’ll get you started, and then you and your mum can work together.”

I gathered a bowl of graham crackers for her and found an empty place at the table. There were many empty places now. Only one other family remained, and Emilia was currently carrying their decorated house into the bookshop for safekeeping until the contest the next day. I glanced at the time and noticed it was only a little past two o’clock. The tablecloths had started flapping around, and a cold drizzle began to patter off the tent roof. Sophie, holding her purse over her head, jogged over to the tent.

“Brr. What a sopping mess this weather has become! How are you, Alice?”

“Hi, Sophie. It’s so good to see you and Liddy. Thank you again for your gracious donation of the sign for our event. It was a splendid way to bring people into our tent! I know it doesn’t look like it, but we’ve been quite busy in the last three hours. It just began to clear out.”

“Yeah, it looked like a lot of people were leaving when we started walking this way. It’s only supposed to get colder and wetter in the next hour.”

“Oh, gross. Those aren’t the best conditions for outdoor activities.” As the words left my mouth, the collection of plastic knives and bowls of candy blew off the tables and onto the ground. Sophie and I rushed to grab them before they propelled down the cobblestone road. Emilia exited the bookshop in a flurry to help. After we collected the cutlery that blew away, she told us that the festival was slowing down at the other end of the road, according to a text from Theo.

“Oh blimey, this doesn’t sound good at all.”

“Maybe it will pass,” Emilia said in a hopeful voice.

“Doesn’t sound like it, according to the weather update on my phone,” Sophie said. “Why don’t Liddy and I help you move everything inside and maybe people who are left will venture in to warm up?”

“Fabulous idea,” I said. “Let me get a marker. Liddy, is it okay if we add Come Inside to the bottom of your sign?”

Her lips pinched together as she gave it some thought. “Oh definitely, Miss Alice. I think that would be a rather smart idea.”

Together, the four of us, joined by my mum and dad, carried all the supplies inside within a few minutes, starting with the keyboard and speakers.

“I guess now we wait and see,” I mumbled under my breath.

The crappy weather sent everyone scurrying back to their dry, warm homes, and that eventually included me. I wasn’t one to mope or feel sorry for myself when things went wrong, but this was bigger than myself. All I could think about was Mummy’s comforting smile, growing warm from the oven steam as she baked our favorite casserole, and Dad clapping his hands together, reporting the daily bookshop sales while we spooned chicken and biscuits into our mouths. Images flashed in my mind of Scarlett and me transforming into our childhood selves, fighting over who would get the first bite of the chocolate cream pie when we came home to visit. Spines ‘n’ Wines was our home and after the poor afternoon turnout this morning, it looked like it would only be ours for a short time longer.

In my ultimate state of self-pity, I stupidly picked up my mobile and rolled my thumbs over the screen until I found Rian’s Instagram page. I was already feeling low. Why not dig myself deeper into the pit of desolation? I was getting good at playing the victim card. Somewhere deep in my head, I knew clicking on @Hot_(r)AF_Dude was a completely idiotic thing to do. He’d kept the username I created for him as a prank last summer, and even though I now saw that as a screaming sign of his minuscule level of maturity, at the time, my lovesick heart only carried warm and fuzzy feelings. Now it flashed at me like a neon sign at the pub. How could I have missed the warnings?

My thumb hovered above his feed, about to start scrolling down out of habit, careful not to double tap, when I stopped myself. Did I really care what Rian was doing or what girl he might be seeing? I didn’t, I realized. I gave zero shites what was going on in that man’s life anymore. Even though the weight of the day’s failed events held me down, a part of me felt so much lighter without the heartache there.

Nestled under the covers and half a bottle of red wine later, I had finally allowed my brain to rest. My imagination ran wild as I dived back into the steamy cowboy romance I had on audiobook. Clara was about to get her boots knocked off her by the hunky ranch hand when my mobile buzzed, and a text bubble popped on screen. There appeared two simple words that held such possibility, especially after the sex scene I had just devoured.

Freddie (Hot Football Guy): Hey you.

Where did I go from here? Did I answer honestly and include him in my doom and gloom? Or did I put the focus on his amazing win on the football field? Or did I simply respond…

Me: Hey.

Freddie (Hot Football Guy): What are you doing?

Me: Hmm… well. I’m currently lying in bed, with a glass of red wine and a book. I saw that you had a great match today. I’m so happy for you and the guys.

Freddie (Hot Football Guy): Thanks, Alice. We’re pretty chuffed with the turnout. Can I video call you?

Before I could give him an answer, his image popped up on my screen. I watched as his hand raked through his short hair as he waited for me to answer. I fluffed out my own hair and sat up a bit straightener against the frame of the hotel bed. Then I pushed ‘accept.’

His mouth broadened into a smile when he saw me. Even in my despondent state, his grin stirred feelings of excitement down in my belly.

“I just wanted to see what you were wearing,” he said.

“Woah, you get right to the point, don’t you?”

“I needed to see how urgent your request was for this jersey. And the verdict is in. There’s no rush. Those pajamas suit you just fine.”

I looked down at the tiny pink tank top I was wearing, paired with a pair of lacy white shorts that barely covered the top of my thighs. My eyes shrank at him. “Just fine, huh?”

“I was trying my best to be gentlemanly. What I mean is that they’re hot. You look hot. I mean, not literally hot. I think you’re probably quite cold wearing those in winter. But then again, I sleep naked. So, who am I to judge?”

“Oh my gosh, Freddie! I didn’t think you had it in you to nervous-ramble. You must be spending entirely too much time with me.” I frowned at my statement.

“Oh, is that not a good thing?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m just thinking that it’s been a few days since we hung out, and I kind of miss you.” I froze for a moment. What was I doing?

He grinned so big that the ridged dimple along his mouth made an appearance, and I immediately felt at ease. “I kind of miss you too, Alice. You were on my mind all day. How did the Christmas Festival go?”

“Not that well. The weather took a turn for the worst, and the crowds died pretty early. With a little over twenty entries for tomorrow’s contest, I don’t think we will make enough in ticket sales to come close to the numbers we need to keep the shop afloat.”

“Sophie told me that the afternoon crowd was sparse. I hadn’t realized just how much it would affect your overall efforts. I’m so sorry, Alice. I know how much you depended on this to be successful.”

“Yeah, it sucks. I feel like I’ve let my parents down. They had accepted the fate of the shop, and I had to wedge my zealous ideas into the mix. Overly confident, know-it-all Alice, mucking it all up for everyone.”

“You mean to say, compassionate and resolute. You saw your family hurting and you took action. That’s admirable, Alice. Give yourself some credit.” He grew quiet for a moment, twisting his lips in thought. “I have an idea. Give me an hour to work some things out. We might just be able to get that Christmas miracle.”

“What do you mean, Freddie?”

“Just—give me an hour. We’re not giving up that easily.”

His screen turned black, leaving me alone in the hotel room wondering what plan he could possibly be plotting, and stuck on the fact that he called us a ‘we.’