The Bell Ringer's Christmas: Weko Harbor, #2

By Kristy K. James

An accident killed his dreams, she had to walk away from hers – together, can they forge a new one?

 

After Tara Nelson's parents died, her grandmother hadn't hesitated to open her home – and her arms – to finish raising a heartbroken little girl. So, when a stroke left her confined to a wheelchair, Tara didn't have to think twice about putting her plans on hold to take care of her. It was a hard, often lonely life, and sometimes, she longed for someone special to share the burdens. Especially after falling into the arms of a strong, handsome bell ringer.

 

His emotional wounds cut so deep, Shane Cavenaugh didn't think they'd ever heal. So the last thing he needed was a complication in his carefully planned, solitary life. But thanks to an icy parking lot on a cold November night, a complication is exactly what he got. Now, he can't get a kind-hearted cashier out of his mind. And he's not sure he wants to either.

 

Can the wonder of the Christmas season light the way to a future filled with hope, happiness, and love for two lonely people?

 

Welcome to Weko Harbor, a place where the friends you made when you were a kid are friends for a lifetime. And sometimes, they might be more than just a friend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristy K. James
• Release date: Dec 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215765920

Kristy K. James

Kristy K. James' first goal in life was to work in law enforcement, until the night she called the police to check out a scary noise in her yard.Realizing that she might someday have to investigate scary noises in yards just as dark as hers if she continued on that path, she turned to her other favorite love...writing.Since then her days have been filled with being a mom and reluctant zookeeper (7 pets), creating stories, and looking for trouble in her kitchen.

Book preview

Chapter 1

W onderful, Tara Nelson muttered, rolling her eyes heavenward as she walked toward her grandmother's twelve-year-old Hyundai. While the front driver’s side tire wasn’t flat, not pancake flat, it wasn’t close to fully inflated either.

Technically, since Gran didn’t have a license anymore, it was her car. Hers to drive. Hers to worry about when the tires were getting bald and losing air. And hers to stress over when there wasn't money in the budget to replace them.

Climbing behind the steering wheel, she set a paper bag with two foam takeout containers on the seat beside her, shivering and rubbing her gloved hands together as the engine idled. It would be a few minutes until it warmed enough to clear the frost on the windshield so she could head for Grover’s Service Station and Car Wash. Hopefully, the food would still be warm by the time she got home.

While she waited, she went over the month’s expenses, trying to figure out what she could cut out, or at least cut back on, so she could deal with the newest, yet not unexpected, problem.

By the time she pulled out of the parking lot, she knew it couldn't be done. Not with their usual income anyway. It had been wishful thinking before she'd even started doing the mathematical gymnastics in her head.

There was no choice but to try to pick up a few more shifts at the store. Or the restaurant. And she sincerely hoped for the restaurant since it would save a twenty-mile round trip each time. More likely, though, it would be a bit of both. But she could live with that, as long as she could get the hours she needed.

With the holidays fast approaching, the already steady stream of customers at both businesses would pick up even more, so earning enough to pay for the new tires shouldn’t be a problem. Or at least some decent used ones, if her plans didn’t work out. And too often, they did not.

For now, she just needed to hope for the best for the next few weeks. And, of course, pray like mad that the daily additions of air would keep her from being stranded on a snowy country road on a frigid winter’s night.

The second half of October had turned cold – and it hadn't warmed up since. Now, a few days into November, it felt more like January, and Tara was nearly frozen when she finally pulled into the driveway. She wouldn't have time to do much more than wolf her supper down and change clothes before heading to her part-time job.

But at least it would be warm in the house, she thought gratefully as she raised a shaky hand to put the key in the lock. It felt like her entire body trembled, and her teeth were chattering like a windup toy.

A welcome blast of heat hit her full in the face when she opened the door, and she almost groaned in pleasure. Instead, she stepped quickly inside, closed it behind her, and walked to where her grandmother sat, waiting in the doorway between the small foyer and the living room.

Hey, Gran, she said, smiling as she bent down to kiss her cheek. I hope spaghetti and green beans sounds good, because that was the special today.

She’d discovered, soon after Smitty hired her, that it was almost always more budget-friendly to buy their suppers on the days she worked. One of the perks was that she got one meal per shift free, so that took care of her lunch. But she also got a generous employee discount. Used in combination with the low price for the special of the day, they saved a small fortune.

It’s not as good as yours, Janet Nelson told her, reaching up to hug her with her good arm, but I have to admit your boss does a real good job with his.

Smitty was the owner and chief cook at Smitty's Family Restaurant, and nearly everything they served was prepared as if he was going to serve it to his own family. It was probably why his was one of the most popular places in town.

For casual dining, the only real competition he’d ever had was Hank Rutledge’s Surf ‘n Soda Shack, which is where Tara had worked from the time she was seventeen until Hank closed the doors nearly two years ago. Now, even though Hank’s grandson, Nick, had opened it again, Tara couldn’t bring herself to leave Smitty’s. Not when he’d come to her rescue, hiring her when she’d so desperately needed another local job.

He sure does, she agreed, grabbing the handles of the wheelchair and pushing it out to the kitchen.

She didn’t waste any time setting the old Formica table with plates, napkins, and forks. Not much bigger than a card table, it was pink with matching vinyl chairs. It had been a fixture in the room for as long as she could remember, along with the pink countertop and appliances. Definitely not your run-of-the-mill kitchen décor, but then her grandmother had never been run-of-the-mill either.

In under two minutes, they were enjoying the spaghetti, along with still semi-crunchy garlic toast. Tara hated speed eating, but three nights a week, she worked five-hour shifts at the Super-Mart just inside the Petoskey city limits, and that meant she was pressed for time.

I'm going to have to ask Eileen to put me to work on Saturdays for the rest of the month, she said as she raised a forkful of spaghetti to her mouth.

The tires? Janet asked, her brows drawn together in the brief silence that followed. Tara knew that like her, Gran was trying to find something in their already tight budget that they could do without. They'd both known this bill would be coming, sooner rather than later, but a furnace repair last month had eaten up most of their savings. There was no cushion left for anything else.

Yeah. I figure they should last a few more weeks, if I'm careful, but they're getting pretty bad.

Can't have you driving on snowy back roads with those.

It wouldn't be my first choice, she said with a chuckle. Anyway, four Saturdays should be enough. That'll leave December clear for decorating and baking.

Finishing her supper in record time, she rinsed her plate and fork off before flying into her bedroom to change into the required khaki slacks and navy shirt. She tied her dark hair into a ponytail before hurrying back to the kitchen to make sure Janet had finished eating.

She didn't like to leave her on her own with food, in case she choked. She ignored the little voice in her head reminding her that her grandmother managed to eat her breakfast and lunch every day on her own without a problem. The other little voice, the one that gave her stomachaches and caused endless worry taunted, So far.

Okay. I'm heading out, Tara said, rinsing the other plate and fork before slipping back into her jacket. She'd wash the small load of dishes when she got home later. Marie was in Smitty’s earlier and said to tell you she'd be coming by for, and I quote, ‘a rip-roaring game of checkers.’

Janet scowled back at her as Tara wheeled her to the living room. The women at church had, without being asked, been volunteering their time to make sure Gran had ‘company’ as often as possible. On the nights Tara worked, someone usually stopped by for a couple of hours.

Gran had always been a favorite, lending her nurse’s aide skills to whoever needed them. And since her stroke eight years ago, the goodness she'd sown most of her life had been repaid over and over again. Tara couldn't have been more grateful.

You drive carefully, Janet cautioned as she headed out the front door.

I always do. Love you, Gran.

I love you too, sweetheart.

SHANE CAVANAUGH GRABBED the thick pair of gloves from the console of his old pickup truck. He liked to keep them where the air from the defroster could warm them during the drive through town.

After pocketing his keys and putting the gloves on, he climbed out of the cab and headed across the parking lot toward the southern entrance of the store. The sound of high-pitched ringing let him know without looking that the other bell ringer had already arrived.

The frigid wind, courtesy of a polar vortex that moved into the area during the afternoon, beat against his parka and jeans as he walked across the wide parking lot. A surprise shift in the jet stream sent it plunging a hundred miles south of its original path. Unfortunately, Emmet County was smack in the middle of that new path.

He was glad he'd donned a pair of thermal underwear before getting dressed, though as cold as it was now, they weren't going to help much when the sun went down in an hour or so.

Oh well. He was no stranger to the ever-changing northern Michigan temperatures. Born and raised on the Lake Michigan coast, he'd have to be a special kind of stupid to not expect the worst when it came to winter weather. Especially during the holidays.

This was his fourth season as a bell ringer and only one had been even close to comfortable. If he'd hoped for a repeat this year, he'd have been disappointed. But he'd learned five Christmases ago that hoping for anything was a waste of time.

Hey, Shane, Link Ellison called, waving a greeting before turning to smile at a shopper heading to the warmth of the store. Not surprising, the woman barely acknowledged him as she stepped into the lobby.

About midway between the doors, Shane changed direction so he could spend a minute talking to the volunteer he was most often scheduled with.

Hey, Link. How's it going today?

The bearded man of about sixty chuckled, and Shane grinned back at him. If a guy his age could keep a sense of humor, he should be able to find his somewhere. Trouble was, he thought it might be hiding out from the predicted windchills they were expecting this evening.

You really need to ask? Link asked, glancing at the mostly empty parking lot.

Once they get used to the temperatures again, donations will pick up. Everyone was blindsided when this cold front landed on us.

And right now, the few potential donors braving the weather were scurrying to and from the store, ducking their heads and trying to pretend they didn't see the volunteers standing beside the black kettles suspended from a candy cane shaped frame. Trying to pretend they didn't see them freezing their butts off. Not because they wanted to avoid them, but because they didn’t want to spend any more time outside than they absolutely had to.

At least Shane thought that was the case with most of them. The rest wouldn’t meet their eyes for other reasons. He assumed either because they couldn’t afford to make a donation, or because they didn’t want to.

Yeah. If it sticks around, guess I'll be buying some hand warmers – and taping them all over my body. Shane burst out laughing, a vivid mental picture of the burly man doing exactly that burned into his brain.

Good idea! If it doesn't warm up soon, I may consider giving that a try myself. With a wave, he headed to the other entrance.

THE COLD FELT LIKE it had settled into her bones, the wind cutting through her too thin coat like she wasn't even wearing one. Tara picked up her pace, walking from the back parking lot to the store as fast as she could. It might have been easier, but the light drizzle that had been falling earlier had turned into sleet when the temperatures plummeted, making the pavement a slippery mess. At times, it felt like she was making her way across Rich Deason’s skating rink.

When she finally reached the door closest to the break room, and the timeclock where she would punch in, she breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, the company management hired to keep the lot clear would be coming through with sand trucks before her shift was over.

She'd just nodded at the bell ringer working that door when her heel slipped on a patch of ice the melting pellets had missed and she tensed, waiting to slam into the concrete. But the impact never came, and she found herself staring up into a pair of the deepest blue eyes she'd ever seen.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was wrapped in his arms, pulled securely against his solid chest, but she couldn't focus on anything but those eyes.

Are you all right? His voice, quiet and deep, finally brought her to her senses and she knew the cold wasn’t the only reason for the red in her cheeks now.

Um- Yes. I'm fine, she murmured, clutching his shoulders to right herself. As she stepped away from him, he dropped his hands to his sides. Thanks. I mean thank you. I don't have time to run home and change, so you saved me from getting in trouble with my boss.

What? He glanced down and smiled when he noticed her light-colored slacks. Oh. Yeah. Slush and tan do tend to clash a little, don't they?

They sure do, she said, returning his smile. I've- I need to get to work. Thanks again.

Nearly two hours later, Tara managed to put the embarrassing incident out of her mind. Mostly. Because she still hadn't warmed up, she couldn't help feeling bad for her rescuer and his co-worker. They must be half frozen by now. She wondered how anyone could stay out in the cold like they did, even if it was for a good cause.

I'd sure like to know what we did to get on Eileen’s bad side, Randy Osterholm muttered during the suppertime lull. Tara could hear a bit of a tremor in his voice and knew he was as chilled as she was.

Though they were allowed to wear sweat jackets and sweaters – as long as they were solid colors that complimented khaki and navy, they didn't help much for those stuck at the two checkout lanes nearest each end of the store. It didn’t matter much that there were two sets of doors separated by narrow lobbies. During the winter months, too much cold air still managed to find its way to those stations.

Other managers made sure to move the cashiers around every couple of hours, so none were stuck there too long. But not Eileen. Her pets were always assigned the middle registers, the ones she could take or leave got the next few out. And then there was Tara, Randy, Melissa, and Claudette.

You and me both, Tara said with a sigh. She turned her attention to greet an approaching customer. Hi, Mr. Taylor.

Hello, Tara, he said with a smile, setting about a dozen grocery items on the conveyor belt. How are you this evening?

Good, thanks. How about you? She ran the items across the scanner and put them in the bags as quickly as she could.

Matt Taylor was an up-and-coming attorney who had moved to Petoskey about a year ago. With clients all over the county, he made regular visits to the Super-Mart when she was working.

He even showed up at one of her tables during the lunch rush at Smitty’s on a fairly regular basis. Somehow, Tara doubted there could be that many people in Weko Harbor in need of an attorney, not when they had a few lawyers of their own. No, arrogant as it might sound, she was sure he kept showing up to try and wear her down.

She was afraid if she gave him the slightest bit of encouragement, he'd start asking her out again. She’d lost count of the number of times he'd invited her for meals, or even just coffee – for what seemed like forever – earlier in the year.

Finally, much to her relief, after being turned down a few dozen times, he'd