account, she was reminded of how much she needed to get a job and get back to the city. She was volunteering her time at the B and B in exchange for a room, and the bar paid minimum wage and was never busy enough for her to make much in tips. “Victoria never expected you stay, and she’s a good friend—she’ll understand your decision. Just like you supported hers to move back to Brookview.”
“Brookhollow.”
“Sure, whatever. Call Mike Ainsley and secure this position before Christmas. We really want you to spend the holidays with us this year. Last year wasn’t the same without you.”
Guilt washed over her. Without their parents, she and her sister had always spent the holidays together, but the year before she’d decided to stay in Brookhollow, knowing that Christmas in the city—her first one single and alone—might be too depressing. But the holiday hadn’t been the same for her, either. And the truth was, she wasn’t happy in the small town anymore. It was time to move on. “I’ll call him in the morning.”
* * *
JACOB UNLOCKED THE back door of the three-story house on Pine Street where he was renting the attic-turned-bachelor-suite from Mrs. Kelly, a retired schoolteacher. Despite the late hour, all of the lights were on. He suspected she waited up for him every evening, and he sighed when he heard the sound of her slippers shuffling down the hallway.
“Jake, that you?” she called.
So much for sneaking upstairs unnoticed. “Yeah, Mrs. Kelly, it’s just me.”
“Hi, dear,” she said as she entered the back porch off of the kitchen. “I was hoping you’d be home sooner.”
Home? Hardly. Home was a two-bedroom apartment in the city that he hadn’t seen in three years, first living undercover in a dive motel in Brooklyn, where he slept with his clothes on and his gun under his pillow, and then hiding out here in Brookhollow, where the only danger—for now—was this woman’s nosiness.
Home was such a distant memory, he wasn’t sure he’d recognize it even if he ever did see it again.
He sighed. “Why? What did you need help with?” In addition to paying three hundred dollars in rent for the twenty by twenty, six-foot high space that had given him a permanent neck cramp from stooping, he’d also become her jar opener, her sidewalk clearer and, most recently, her plumber.
“Well, I wanted to start my holiday decorating...”
“Isn’t it a little soon?” Heather could argue that businesses needed to get an early push on the season, but individuals? Was that really necessary?
Mrs. Kelly’s expression revealed that she thought he was crazy for even making the suggestion. “Of course not.”
“Right. Okay, so what do you need?” Because he knew that’s where this was headed.
“Well, my nephew used to come and help me get my things out of the storage space...but he’s away at the police academy in Boston.”
That’s right, her nephew was Cody Kelly, the young man who’d been counting on the sheriff’s position here in Brookhollow once he graduated in a few weeks. Well, the kid could have it...as soon as Jacob didn’t need it anymore.
“He’ll be here during the holidays of course, so don’t worry, you’ll get a chance to meet him.”
He wasn’t worrying, and he seriously doubted he’d be attending the family’s holiday festivities. The young man probably wasn’t thrilled that Jacob had taken his position and wouldn’t be excited about meeting him, either.
“But in the meantime...”
“You’d like me to get your decorations out for you.”
She smiled. “You are such a sweet boy.”
“First thing in the morning, I’ll get everything out before I go to work,” he said, turning the corner and starting to climb the stairs.
She hurried after him. “I was kinda hoping to get started tonight.”
Jacob poked his head around the corner, checking the time on the microwave. “It’s eleven-thirty. You want to start decorating now?”
She nodded. “I’m a bit of a night owl.”
He stifled a yawn. “Mrs. Kelly...” How did he tell the woman that, just because he was renting space in her home, she couldn’t expect him to be there to help her with every project? That he preferred his privacy and space. He should never have ignored his gut, which had told him moving into her attic apartment would be a mistake. The price had been right, and at the time, he’d hoped he wouldn’t need the place for more than a few weeks, a month at most. But a few weeks had quickly turned into four months and counting.
Four long months hiding who he really was, avoiding meaningful contact with people in town, trying to get used to once again being a beat cop—handing out tickets and issuing fines—and desperately trying to convince Mrs. Kelly that he could do his own laundry and that she didn’t need to go into his apartment for any reason, especially not to put away his clothes. He’d learned quickly to keep anything personal in his locker at the station, away from curious old eyes.
The only thing he kept close by was his gun...and he hoped his landlady wouldn’t be nosy enough to check inside the toilet tank in his bathroom.
But just in case, better to stay in her good books... “Where is the storage space?”
Her eyes lit up. “Well, since I turned the attic into an apartment, I’ve been storing everything in the crawl space,” she said, leading the way.
He hesitated. Crawl space?
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
He followed. “Mrs. Kelly, do you mean like underneath your house? That kind of crawl space?”
“That’s right,” she said, opening a half-size door beneath the staircase at the end of the hall. She reached inside and pulled a string attached to the lightbulb in the low ceiling. “Everything is in here.”
Yeah, everything like spiders, mice, enough dust to induce an asthma attack in the healthiest of lungs...
“I can no longer bend enough to get in there,” she said.
Jacob glanced at her. Mrs. Kelly was barely five feet tall; if she couldn’t bend low enough, how could he? “Huh, Mrs. Kelly... I’m not sure I’m the guy for this job. Why don’t you hire a junior high kid to come over after school and help you? Pay them twenty bucks, and I’m sure they’ll be eager to help any way they can.”
“Pay someone?” She looked at him as though he’d suggested burning it all. She shook her head. “No need. You’re here. There’s only four or five boxes.” She peered inside the space and waved him closer.
Sighing, he got down on his knees and crawled beneath the stairs. The cold draft coming from the large, uninsulated space made him shiver. He hoped she didn’t have any snow globes among her decorations; they were probably frozen solid.
“They are all over in that far corner.”
Of
