“Hoooo, boy,” says Millie Bradford as she rolls a strand of Fiona’s strawberry-blonde hair around her curling iron wand. “Holly is going to be steaming mad over this one.”
Fiona meets Millie’s eye in the mirror she’s facing at Scissors & Ribbons. “It’s almost like Coco knew she was leaving, and she planned to swoop in with these investors the minute Holly was off the island.”
“But how could she have known Holly was leaving?” Millie asks, setting the curling iron on the counter of her hair station.
“Could be she’s got a bit of the witch in her,” offers Calista Guy, the new island masseuse who doubles as Millie’s salon assistant.
Millie and Fiona laugh.
“She’s definitely a bit of a witch,” Millie says, shaking her head. “But there’s no magic in that woman.”
“What does that even mean?” Fiona asks, twisting in her seat to look at Calista. “Are you talking about real witches and potions and stuff?”
“You know, that she’s into sorcery and spells and witchcraft. Like my mother-in-law.” Calista shrugs nonchalantly.
“Oh, now you’re pulling our legs! Your mother-in-law can’t be that bad,” Millie says, waving a dismissive hand in the general direction of the front desk.
“You just wait,” Calista says with big eyes. “You all talk about this Coco woman like she’s made of lizard tongues and vinegar, but none of you have met Idora Blaine-Guy. That woman will turn you to stone if you stare at her too long. Make no mistake.”
“When does she get here?” Fiona asks, turning back to the mirror so that Millie can finish curling her hair. It isn’t like she needs a weekly hair appointment to get by on a tropical island where the dress code allows everyone—even the resident M.D.—to wear bikinis as underclothes and to pad around unpaved roads in flip-flops, but Fiona is a firm believer in supporting the local economy, so she stops by every week like clockwork for a wash and style and a manicure.
“Idora-ble the Horrible?” Calista asks, eyebrows raised so high that they nearly meet up with the hairline of her perfect afro. “Last I heard she was closing on the sale of her condo in Toronto and was planning on being here sometime in the next week. I actually don’t want to know when—it would be kind of like knowing too much about the details of your own death.” Calista shudders.
“Does Vance know that you refer to his mother as ‘Idora-ble the Horrible’?” Millie asks with genuine amusement.
“Lord, no!” One hand flies to Calista’s heart. “I mean, he knows we aren’t the best of friends, but I don’t think he’d be a fan of the nickname.”
“But she’s really coming down to help with the boys, right? So maybe she’ll stay out of your hair,” Fiona says.
“She’ll be living at our house, Dr. Potts,” Calista says, dropping her chin to her chest and throwing Fiona a serious look. “So she’ll be ‘in my hair’ already based entirely on her proximity. But yes, her main job is to help with Mexi and Mori.” Calista’s six-year-old twin boys are currently the only children living on the island—the only ones ever to live there, in fact, aside from Holly and her friend Emily Cafferkey—and Calista and Vance had quickly realized they were in over their heads when they’d discovered just how much mischief two little boys could get into on Christmas Key.
Fiona shrugs. “Sorry—I’ve never had a mother-in-law. I’m not sure what kind of advice to give here.”
“Has Buckhunter’s mom been down to visit?” Calista asks, punching a few keys on the computer at the front desk.
“His mom passed away a long time ago,” Fiona says. Millie turns her chair so that she can work on the back of Fiona’s hair.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Calista slides a pair of square-framed reading glasses on so that she can see the screen in front of her. “And though it’ll sound crass, frankly, I’m a little jealous.”
Fiona smiles. “Yeah, she died of cancer about twenty years ago, I think. He doesn’t talk about her much.”
“So, wait,” Calista says, taking the glasses off again. “Buckhunter’s mother would be…”
“Holly’s grandpa’s mistress.” Fiona fills in the blanks of the Baxter family tree for the island’s newest resident.
“Wow. Weird. And he and Holly really didn’t know they were related until last summer?”
“Nope,” Fiona says, staring out the window at Main Street. She can see Calista out of the corner of her eye. “He and Coco agreed to keep it quiet for as long as possible, and Holly’s grandpa moved Buckhunter onto the family property to watch over Holly just before he died. She had no idea until Buckhunter told her everything.”
“Family secrets, man…” Calista shakes her head, one fisted hand on her hip. All three women are facing Main Street, watching as golf carts drift by on the island’s only paved street.
“Family secrets are a doozy,” Millie agrees, spinning Fiona’s chair so that she’s looking in the mirror again. “And this hair looks pretty magnificent, if I do say so myself.”
“Looks fab, Millie. Thanks.” Fiona pats the beachy waves on either side of her head. “Now I need to get Buckhunter to take me to the Ho Ho tonight to show it off.”
“Is Joe playing tonight?” Millie walks over to the front counter while Fiona grabs her purse from the hook near the styling chair and follows her.
“Wouldn’t be a Friday night without Mr. Sacamano and his guitar, would it?” Fiona asks, pulling her wallet out of her bag.
“I’ll have to see if Ray is up to it,” Millie says, ringing up the services on her cash register. Fiona slides a credit card across the counter. “He’s been feeling a little under the weather lately.”
Fiona frowns. As the only doctor to a population of just over a hundred, she has the medical records of her neighbors neatly filed away inside her brain, for the most part.
“Has he been taking the vitamins I recommended?” she asks.
“Sure has,” Millie confirms. “I even bought him one of those boxes with little dividers for the days of the week and I fill it every Sunday night. He’s just been sort of low on energy.”
“I could see him again this afternoon if you can get him over here,” Fiona says, looking at the watch on her wrist. “Maybe just do a quick check and see if I can figure out what’s up.” She’d been hoping to close up shop after lunch and just take emergency calls on her cell phone, but the thought of boisterous, fun-loving Ray Bradford not feeling well enough to join them at the Ho Ho Hideaway on a Friday night has her concerned.
Millie closes the drawer under the computer and tears off a credit card receipt for Fiona. “Could you really? I’ll go get him now,” she says with obvious relief. “Calista—can you watch things here for twenty or thirty minutes while I go and pick up Ray?”
“Sure, sure. Go on. I don’t have a massage client until four o’clock.” Calista slides a stool up to the counter and sits down, resting her weight on her elbows. “I’ve got all the action I could ever want right under my nose,” she says, making a sweeping gesture at Main Street. “So you all go on, and I’ll be right here when you get back.”
Fiona draws some blood, takes Ray’s vitals, and hits him with a shot of Vitamin B12 before sending him on his way. She’ll need to run a quick test to see if he’s low on iron, but other than some complaints about feeling listless, he seems fine to her.
“I’m walking out of the building right now,” Fiona says into her phone as she locks up the front doors of Poinsettia Plaza.
“I can see you. Do you want me to drive?” Bonnie asks, getting up from her desk in the B&B’s office and tidying papers hastily. She sticks the pens and pencils back in the jar next to her computer and pushes in her chair. “I should’ve gone home to change, but it doesn’t much matter now.”
“Change into what, Bon?” Fiona looks both ways and crosses Main, her phone cradled between her ear and shoulder as she searches her purse for gum and lipstick.
“I don’t know. Maybe a summer dress. Or a bustier and hot pants.”
Fiona rolls her eyes and shoves a stick of gum in her mouth. “For Wyatt?” she asks, smiling as she takes a step up onto the curb.
“Oh, you bite your tongue, girl! Wyatt Bender, my patootie…” Bonnie says with disdain as she takes her purse off the hook by the door. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.” She ends the call and fluffs up her red hair as she turns off lights and heads for the front of the building.
There isn’t a single visitor on the island this weekend, so Bonnie stops and takes a careful listen. The B&B is silent.
“Hey,” Fiona pops her head in. “We’ve got no one, right?”
“Not a soul. A rare weekend without anyone to cater to.”
“So lock this joint up and let’s go meet up with everyone.” Fiona walks all the way in and pokes her head through the doorway so that she can see the hallway. “Leave the lights on, or turn them off?”
“Might as well turn everything off. Feels kind of spooky, doesn’t it?”
“A little,” Fiona admits. “I keep thinking I’m going to see Jack Nicholson pop his head around the corner and say, ‘Heeeerreee’s Johnny!’” she says with a menacing grin.
“Oh my stars in heaven,” Bonnie says, coming up behind Fiona and grabbing the fabric of her tank top. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got the willies now.”
The women share a ride in Bonnie’s golf cart, chattering the whole way about who might turn up at the Ho Ho Hideaway, and what Holly and River might be up to on their European adventure.
“They probably haven’t left the hotel yet,” Fiona says, consulting her watch. “It’s about six o’clock here, which means it’s eleven p.m. in London, right?”
“Sounds about right to me.”
“I hope they have an amazing time—Holly deserves it,” Fiona says loyally. “I hate watching her go back-and-forth with Jake, and that whole mess with Bridget…”
“We all dodged a bullet when Bridget left the island.” Bonnie turns the cart into the sandy lot of the bar. The sun still has a few hours until it sinks into the water for the night, and the golden haze of evening wraps around them as they look out at the beach. “She wasn’t one of us.”
“And neither is Coco,” Fiona says. She steps out of the cart and follows Bonnie to the steps of the open-air bar. “Bon,” she pauses, “I really think we need to call Holly.”
Bonnie stops on the bottom stair and turns to face Fiona. There’s a steel in her eyes that’s borne of protectiveness and love for their young mayor, and she takes a deep breath before answering.
“You’re probably right,” she says, “but let’s have a drink first, huh? We’ll call her—I promise.”
Fiona ponders this as the waves crash nearby. “Okay, one drink. I could do that. It might give us time to figure out how to break it to her.”
“That a girl.” Bonnie’s smile is wide as she reaches out a hand to take Fiona’s. “Let’s get you something with rum in it, and take a spin on the dance floor, doll.”
Within a half hour, the bar is full of nearly everyone Bonnie and Fiona know, and they’re laughing and talking their way through the crowd as Joe Sacamano pours shots, mixes drinks, and fields song requests for when he takes the stand at dusk. When Chubby Checker comes on the sound system, Jake grabs Mrs. Agnelli’s wrinkled hand and carefully dances The Twist with the sharp-tongued octogenarian. Wyatt Bender flirts mercilessly with Bonnie all night long, and Cap Duncan nurses a Diet Coke and chomps on an unlit cigar. He’s been off the sauce for months, and the only way that Heddie Lang-Mueller will stay by his side is if he stays away from the hard stuff. He puts one hand on Heddie’s lower back and leans in close, laughing at something she says in German, their shared language. The only thing missing from the happy scene is Holly.
At ten-thirty, Fiona finds her phone in her purse and punches in Holly’s number, motioning for Bonnie to walk down the stairs with her and onto the beach. They sink to the sand together, holding the phone between their ears as the sound of faraway ringing competes with the rolling of the waves and the merriment of their neighbors in the bar.
“It’s three-thirty in the morning there now, isn’t it?” Bonnie hisses. She pulls her knees up and hugs them close to her ample chest.
Fiona nods. They listen to the lonely sound of the phone ringing on the other side of the Atlantic until Holly’s voicemail finally picks up.
“Hi, this is Holly Baxter, mayor of Christmas Key and proprietor of the Christmas Key B&B. Please leave me a message and I’ll get back to you…”