Lunch feels like a showdown. It’s high noon when Holly steps up into the open seating area of Jack Frosty’s, and Coco is already there, standing at the bar as she waits for Buckhunter to direct them to a table.
“Coco,” Holly says with a nod. “Buckhunter.”
“Hey, kid,” Holly’s uncle says with a lift of his chin. “Welcome home.”
“Thanks. Where do you want us?”
There’s the scrape of a chair across the wood floor and Holly’s eyes flick across the bar. It’s Jake and a teenage boy Holly’s never seen. The table has two empty drink cups on it and two burger baskets with a few leftover french fries.
“Mayor,” Jake says, approaching. “Good to see you back.”
Holly feels only the slightest flutter in her chest as Jake’s eyes lock in on hers. This is good, she tells herself—barely any physical response to his nearness—this is an improvement. Maybe her time away did more than show her Europe; maybe it also dulled her feelings towards her ex even more.
“Hi, Jake.” Holly looks at the tall, lanky boy standing just behind Jake’s shoulder. He’s got short hair and a hint of red to his skin that will soon turn into a deep brown tan. His teeth are straight, and his elbows and knees seem just a touch too big for his youthful limbs.
“This is Logan, Katelynn Pillory’s son.” Jake turns around and claps a hand on Logan’s bony shoulder. “Logan, this is Holly Baxter, our mayor.”
Logan’s eyes widen just slightly, and though it doesn’t seem possible, his skin reddens another shade. “Hi,” he says in a voice that somehow breaks on the single syllable. Jake and Buckhunter hide their amusement. Logan clears his throat and tries again. “Hey.”
Holly puts out a hand to shake his. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. I’ve known your mom since we were teenagers.” Logan pulls his lips over his teeth self-consciously and gives her a close-lipped smile and a nod. “How is she?”
“She’s good.” Logan looks at Jake for reassurance. “She’s taking care of my great-grandpa right now.”
“I’m so glad you two could come down here. How are you liking Christmas Key so far?”
Logan shrugs. “It’s pretty quiet. And everyone is…”
“Old?” Holly finishes for him. Buckhunter and Jake laugh while Coco runs a hand over her already smooth hair.
“Yeah. I mean, kinda.” Logan puts his hands into the pockets of his shorts and lets his shoulders fall forward. His discomfort is so tangible that Holly feels for him.
“What are you and Jake up to?”
“I convinced him to help me clear up the mess from that spot on December Drive,” Jake says.
“Oh, the one where the palm tree is falling apart and blocking the road?”
“That’s the one,” Jake confirms. “In exchange I told him we’d have lunch and then Cap would take him out on the boat for a bit. It’s not easy being the only teenager on the island.”
“With no cute girls,” Holly says, shooting Logan a sympathetic look. He blushes furiously under his sunburn again.
After an awkward pause that everyone but Holly notices, Jake steps up to the bar and hands Buckhunter a twenty to pay for lunch. “We’ll see you later,” Jake says, making eye contact with Coco and Holly and taking his change from Buckhunter. He and Logan head back out to Main Street and cross over to North Star Cigars to meet up with Cap.
“Should we just sit anywhere?” Coco glances around the empty bar.
“This is good,” Buckhunter says, tossing two cocktail napkins onto the counter. “We can talk while I clean up back here.”
“I was really hoping for your full attention.” Coco pouts at him. “Not half your attention while you wipe down tequila bottles and organize your glassware.”
“So the island has some new blood,” Holly says, hoping to change the subject. “We’ve got Vance’s mom here to watch the twins, and Katelynn and Logan here to take care of Hal…” she trails off, looking out at Main Street. “It’s amazing how different it already feels.”
“And it could feel even more different.” Coco jumps in with both feet, seeing her opening. “Different isn’t always bad, Holly. With a few tweaks, we could have this island running like a well-oiled machine. New people, new revenue, new opportunities for exposure.”
Buckhunter pours two iced teas and listens from behind the bar. This tug-of-war will be between his half-sister and his niece, and—if anything—his job is to play mediator and tie-breaker.
Holly chooses her words carefully. “I don’t disagree with that.” She slides the iced tea closer and jabs the ice with a straw. “I had a lot of time to think on my trip, and I do agree that we’re missing out on some opportunities because of my stubbornness about change.”
Coco visibly pulls back. For a moment, she’s speechless. Even Buckhunter stops what he’s doing to watch Holly’s face, which gives away nothing.
“The reality show was fun and we got some crazy exposure from that, but an influx of tourists—particularly if they’re only seasonal—isn’t necessarily going to keep us afloat.”
“Have we had that much of a reaction?” Coco asks, holding her iced tea in one manicured hand.
Holly nods. “Yeah, we’ve had tons of activity on social media, and Bonnie says there are some bookings through the end of the year that are a direct result of Wild Tropics. I missed a lot by being gone and not having my phone handy, but she says we get calls and emails almost daily from people who want to come to Christmas Key.”
One side of Buckhunter’s mouth curls into a smile as he watches his niece hold court with her mother. “Good work, kid,” he says quietly.
“Thanks.” Holly smiles at him and they exchange a look. Their alliance is strong, and they both know that their votes will outweigh anything that Coco throws at them if need be. “So, let’s hear all about whatever it is you’re cooking up now.” Holly turns to face her mother.
“I’ve got investors ready to bring a casino to the island, and we’ve already done the hard work.”
“Such as?” Holly lifts an eyebrow.
“Scouting a location, surveying the island to see where we could expand and grow, looking into the kinds of utilities and services we’d need to support that kind of growth.”
“And?” Holly sets her feet on the rungs of the barstool and prepares to hear all the ways her mother wants to dismantle her island.
“Casino on the north side,” Coco launches in. “New apartment-style housing on the south side near the Jingle Bell Bistro. There are plenty of spots that could be developed with new stores and businesses, and we’d need a newer, bigger dock to support arrivals and departures.”
Holly nods. “Who are the investors?”
Buckhunter scratches his bare arm as he leans against the bar. Still, he says nothing.
“Netta and Brice Killjoy would be the financial backers—”
“What do they do that they have that kind of money?”
“Investments, I think. And dot-com money.”
“Ah.” Holly takes another drink of her iced tea. “Go on.”
“We had a representative of the Seminole tribe here to talk about using the land for a casino, and he’s willing to come back to talk to you about how we’d work with the tribe to build and run the whole thing.”
“Huh.” Holly is intentionally keeping her thoughts in her head for the time being, though she has plenty she’d like to say. “Well, I think it would be best to sleep on this for a few days and then reconvene after I’ve had a chance to go over some pros and cons. Should I call you at home when I’m ready to talk about it?”
Buckhunter intentionally steps away from the women, turning his back so that Holly can process what he already knows is coming.
“I’m not sure I’m headed back up there anytime soon,” Coco says. She crosses her legs under the wooden counter of Buckhunter’s bar. “I’ve been feeling a little restless in New Jersey, and I think it would be good for me and Alan if I stepped away for a bit and got my head together.”
“At a spa,” Holly adds. The patient façade of neutrality drops. “You need to step away and get your head together at a spa, not on my island.”
Coco’s jaw drops. “I have every bit as much right to be here as you do, Holly. And this isn’t your island.”
Holly holds her tongue. Coco is right: Christmas Key isn’t technically just her island, but in her heart it is.
“I have some ideas of my own,” Holly says. “But I need a little time to get my thoughts together. Since I missed the last village council meeting, I’m thinking of calling one here soon.” She stands up and smooths her shorts over the tops of her thighs.
“So that’s it?” Coco shakes her head, looking back and forth between Holly and Buckhunter. “Holly isn’t ready to decide, so we all sit on pins and needles while we wait for her to catch up. That’s all there is?”
“That’s all there is for now,” Buckhunter says. His eyes dance playfully as he watches the firm set of his niece’s jaw. “Give the girl a chance to re-acclimate to island life, and then we’ll get the scoop. I promise.”
Holly is taking big strides as she walks the beach with Pucci at her side that evening. The sun has just started to set and the humidity in the air is finally retreating. Getting over her jet lag after coming this direction has been no big deal, and the walk is both invigorating and good for her mind.
The waves tear across the sand and lap over Holly’s bare feet, covering them with the warm Gulf water. Of all of the people and things she missed on her trip, she has to admit that it’s probably the beach she missed the most. And Pucci. And her bed. Oh, and Bonnie and Fiona and…well, she's missed all of it.
“Here, boy!” Holly whistles for Pucci as he takes off down the sand. It’s not that she’s worried he’ll get lost or into mischief, but more that she’s missed him and wants to see him at her side, brushing against her bare legs as they walk. “Want me to throw your ball?” she calls out. Pucci doubles back eagerly, his pink tongue hanging from one side of his mouth. Holly wings the yellow tennis ball into the surf and watches as her dog bounds in after it, the water slicking his golden fur to his body. She smiles at his wagging tail.
Having her mother here is going to be interesting, and not necessarily in a good way. She’s going to have to get to the bottom of this nonsense about Coco needing to take a step back from her life with Alan; in fact, maybe a call to her stepfather is in order here to see exactly what’s going on. Calling him isn’t her first choice, but if she has any hope of getting Coco off the island, she’s going to have to start digging a little.
Her cell phone is in the back pocket of her pink shorts. Holly slides it out and presses the button to turn on the screen. There are several notifications from Instagram and Facebook (people who watched Wild Tropics still follow and comment on Christmas Key’s social media daily, and Holly makes a mental note to do better about commenting and responding to everything). There’s also a missed call from River, which surprises her. She presses the voicemail button and puts the phone to her ear.
“I hope you got home okay. I hate that you left.” There’s a muffled noise as he shifts the phone around, and Holly can hear voices in the background. “Anyway, we tried, right? We took this thing off the island to see if it would float, and I guess it didn’t. If you ever feel like talking, you know where to find me.” There’s more background noise and chatter, and she can picture him in a pub somewhere, making this call after a pint or two. The message ends, and she listens to it again.
Hearing River’s voice has taken the wind out of her sails a little bit in terms of calling Alan, but it still needs to be done. With a sigh, she scrolls through her contacts until she finds her stepfather’s cell number.
“Holly?” Alan answers after two rings. “Is everything okay?”
“Hey, Alan. Everything is fine.” She takes a step into the water and stops there, looking out at the orange glow on the horizon. Pucci trots over to her and drops the soggy tennis ball next to her right foot. “I just wanted to call because I got back from a trip and found my mother here.”
“Uh huh.”
“And she’s been talking about extending her visit a bit—”
“Yes,” Alan says. She can picture him nodding and making a serious face on the other end of the line, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as he sets the evening newspaper on one knee. Her mom and Alan have been married for a number of years and Holly actually really likes him, but there’s an awkwardness about calling him to pry into the state of his marriage to Coco that isn’t lost on her.
“Anyway, I wasn’t sure if there was something going on. Something I could help with.” It sounds lame even as she says it, but Holly isn’t sure what else to offer.
Alan exhales. “Well. She’s a real ticket, your mom.”
Holly gives a short laugh. “Understatement of the year.”
“I know you two don’t always see eye to eye, so it probably won’t surprise you that she and I don’t always agree either.”
“I haven’t fainted from the shock yet,” Holly assures him. “Go on.”
“Hol, she just isn’t happy up here. She’s got her yoga and the gym, and sometimes she goes out with girlfriends, but she says something is missing in her life.”
Pucci nudges her calf with his cold, wet nose to remind her that she’s got a job to do, so Holly bends over and picks up the tennis ball. She throws it into the sand this time.
“She has everything. I can’t imagine what’s missing.” Holly watches Pucci trot off after the ball again.
“Well, you’re missing, for one thing.”
“Me?” Holly squints into the setting sun. “I’m right here—where I’ve always been.”
“Yeah, but you’re not in her life. Not the way she wants you to be.”
Holly snorts. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Now, just listen.” Her stepfather’s voice is smooth and calm, and she knows that—as always—he’ll aim to be the voice of reason between Holly and Coco. “Your history is between the two of you, but I know most of the details, and I think she’s always regretted the way she acted as a young mother.”
“As a young mother? How about the way she acts now, Alan?” Holly ignores the ball this time when Pucci drops it at her feet. He pants and waits for his mistress to chuck it into the water again. “Her single solitary goal in life is to remind me that I’m a complete burden to her and that she will never support anything I say or do.”
“Hol, you know that’s not—”
“I know that’s not what, Alan? True? I’m supposed to know that’s not true?” Holly’s voice skips octaves as she climbs the ladder towards hysteria. “And her being here—that can’t happen. You two need to make up or go on a cruise to rekindle your romance or something—whatever it takes. Because she’s down here trying to turn my island into a floating Golden Nugget. Next thing I know she’ll be trying to convince me that no casino is complete without strippers.”
Alan says nothing for a moment after Holly finishes her rant. “I think you’re overreacting. She just wants to be involved,” he finally says.
Holly folds one arm across her chest and holds the phone to her ear with the other. The beauty of her surroundings fades away as she seethes about her mother intruding in her life on a long-term basis.
“How about you give her a chance?” Alan goes on. “It would be a personal favor to me, Holly.”
Holly isn’t sure she owes Alan any personal favors, but he has kept her mom occupied and up North for the past fifteen years or so. He probably does deserve a medal or something for that. She sighs.
“Fine. I’ll give her a chance. But the second she starts meddling in my personal life or trying to sell off chunks of this island to NBA stars who want to build McMansions, she’s packed and on the next boat.”
“Fair enough,” Alan says. There’s a tinge of sadness to his words. “I want her to be happy, you know.” Holly nods, though of course Alan can’t see this. “And if what she needs to do right now is be there with you and find some purpose to her life, then so be it.”
“Yeah, so be it,” Holly agrees, but with far less enthusiasm. They end the call with the agreement to stay in touch, and Holly’s gaze refocuses on her surroundings. It wasn’t exactly what she’d hoped to come home to, but what would her life on Christmas Key be without a few hurdles to clear?
“Pucci!” Holly calls, whistling to call him back from the sand dunes. “We’ve got our house back, boy—let’s go home!”