Those dark, weighty clouds filling the sky when I left the café carried through on their promise of snow. It started shortly after I returned to the rental house and continued into the next day and the next. Every time I look out the window, I feel as if I’m inside a snow globe.
The nice thing about all this snow is that I’m getting my wish for isolation. Mae has called a few times to check in, but I haven’t had any more unexpected visitors. The only person I’ve seen in the last three days was Nathan, Liam’s friend and business partner, who was sent by Mae to shovel my driveway. When he finished, I opened the door and called to him to see if he’d like to come in for coffee, but he said he had other work to do and he’d take a rain check.
The snow has finally stopped today, and I’ve spent the last hour telling myself I should go out. The armchair near the fire is quickly forming an ass-shaped groove from my prolonged sitting while alternately reading and watching the fire, the TV, or the snow outside. Laziness has never been something I’ve indulged in—I’ve always been too busy with a regimented schedule—but after three whole days of lounging in pajamas, I now see the appeal.
Unfortunately, my supplies are dwindling. I’ve eaten almost all of what Mae brought, plus what she left in her welcome offerings. I need to eat a salad. And some fruit. And I should get some apple cider vinegar and green tea to detox my system after all the sugar and carbs I’ve consumed since my arrival in Honeywell.
With that in mind, I get dressed for the first time in days and head out to my car. I contemplate walking, but Liam wasn’t kidding about the sidewalks out here being the last to get cleared. My boots are more stylish than practical, so even if I could convince myself that trudging through the snow would be a good workout, my feet would be soaked and frozen within minutes.
When I reach the downtown area, I park in a public lot and make my way up Main Street. The snow must have amped up the business owners’ festive spirit because there are even more Christmas decorations than there were a few days ago. Small pine trees sit outside the door of each business, some decorated, some bare. Garlands and twinkle lights have been wound around the lampposts, and each one is topped with a giant snowflake-shaped light.
I stop outside Sweet Escapes to admire the tree beside one of the giant nutcrackers. It’s been decorated with a mix of miniature nutcrackers, candy canes, and ornaments shaped like baked goods and coffee cups. Laminated business cards with the Sweet Escapes logo are tucked into several of the branches.
“Pretty great, huh?”
I whip around, my foot catching on a bit of slippery pavement that almost sends me flying. Liam reaches out to steady me, both hands gripping my upper arms.
“You good?” he asks, his brown eyes sweeping over me, lingering on my boots before lifting to settle on my face.
I let out an embarrassed laugh. “Note to self: get more practical winter boots. Thanks for the save.”
“Considering I’m the reason your butt almost met the pavement in the first place, the least I could do was stop you from falling.” He releases me and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. Everything all right?”
“Yeah, I’ve just been—” I stop myself before saying ‘hiding out’. “Hibernating, I guess. Had to come out to forage for food.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” he says, indicating the café with a tilt of his head. He sees me eyeing the decorated tree and adds, “The city buys trees from Admans’ Farms and provides them to all the businesses downtown every winter.”
He reaches past me to secure one of the nutcrackers that’s slipped toward the tip of a branch and looks as if it’s about to take a dive. He’s in my personal space for the briefest of moments, but it’s long enough for me to inhale his winter-fresh scent mixed with a hint of citrus shampoo.
“So each business decorates their own?” I ask, and he nods. “Wow. I can’t imagine something like that in Toronto. The decorations would be stolen within minutes. The trees too, probably.”
“Sounds about right. Honeywell isn’t perfect and we have our share of bad seeds like any other place, but we’re big on community. People look out for each other.”
Just like I can’t imagine Christmas trees adorning the streets of downtown Toronto, I also have trouble picturing what it would be like to feel the sense of community Liam is talking about. To know there’s always someone looking out for you. I’m sure it has its drawbacks; if real-life small towns are anything like the fictional ones my characters have resided in, there’s a lot of gossip and people being too involved in others’ business. But it would be nice knowing people genuinely care about you and your well-being.
“Can I buy you a coffee?” Liam asks.
I peer inside the café, which looks crowded. Maybe a lot of other townspeople have been ‘hibernating’ the last few days too and are now congregating here to catch up. My mind conjures up an image of the dark-haired woman and little boy who met Liam the other afternoon in the café. He’s likely just trying to be welcoming to the new—albeit temporary—resident of Honeywell Hollow, but I don’t want to be fodder for the town’s gossip mill. I’ve had enough of that in the last few months.
“Can I get a rain check?” I ask, remembering Nathan’s words to me yesterday. “I’ve got a Mother Hubbard situation going on at the rental, so I need to pick up a few groceries, then answer the emails and phone calls I’ve been avoiding the last few days.” It’s not a lie; my agent has called repeatedly and I’ve sent her to voicemail each time. I also have a couple of administrative-type emails from the network to deal with.
“Of course.” Despite Liam’s casual tone, I swear he looks disappointed.
Bad Joss. It’s wrong to be pleased about that.
“You’ve got my number if you need anything,” he says. “Oh, and Nathan said he’d be happy to loan you one of his exercise machines, so if you decide you want one, let me know and I’ll bring it over and set it up for you.”
I can’t believe he remembered our conversation and followed through with asking Nathan. It was such a random, in-passing thing, one of those off-handed comments people make all the time and then forget about five seconds later. I had to hound Alan constantly to do the simplest things for me. “I will. Thanks.”
We part ways and I carry on down the street toward the small grocery store. I turn back in time to see Liam holding the door of Sweet Escapes open for an elderly woman before ducking inside himself. And I experience a fleeting moment of regret over not taking him up on his offer of coffee.
*****
Thirty minutes later, with two Patterson’s Market cloth bags full of groceries dangling from my fingertips, I make my way back up Main Street. Mae was right about the limited selection of the local grocery store, although I was able to buy enough food to last a few days at least.
A clothing boutique catches my eye on the opposite side of the street, so I cross over to check it out. I do a little window shopping, peering in store windows at displays of dresses, stationery, cookware, and more. My eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they also sweep the vicinity every few minutes for any sign of a certain handsome, dark-haired handyman.
I’m paused outside what appears to be a newspaper office when my phone chimes in my purse. I pull it out and frown at the text from Nat that simply reads: I’m so sorry, Joss.
My fingers fly over the keypad. Sorry for what?
Shit, you haven’t heard. The three bouncing dots that indicate she’s typing appear and disappear enough times to have my stomach plummeting and then tying itself into knots. I force my legs to start walking again, keeping my eyes trained on the dots on the screen. Finally my phone chimes again and my eyes fly over Nat’s message: I’d call you but I’m at a table reading. I snuck to the bathroom so I could text you. Maybe you should avoid the news sites for a while. And the entertainment shows…
Oh god. Something must have happened with Alan. Has he been badmouthing me to the press? Much to his disappointment, we never made a sex tape, and I’ve never been in the habit of taking or sending nudes to anyone, so there can’t be a leak of any sort of compromising material. I wonder if the paparazzi tracked me to Honeywell…
“Hi.”
The small voice makes me jolt to a stop. I look around and then down, where my gaze settles on a little boy sitting on a low bench outside a building I don’t recognize. I glance around once more, realizing I walked past the lot where my car is parked.
When the boy grins brightly at me, I remember my manners and say hi in return. His smile and eyes are strangely familiar. Upon closer inspection, I realize he’s the child I saw with Liam in the café the other day. “You’re Liam’s son, right?”
He scrunches up his face, tilting his head to the side. “No, Liam is my uncle.”
His uncle. “Ohh.” I draw out the word, giving myself a moment to process this new tidbit of information and the strange sense of relief that comes with it. “I’m Joss. I’m renting a house on Cherry Lane, and your uncle came by on my first day in town to check something for me.”
He bobs his head. “I know. I saw you the other day at Sweet Escapes and Uncle Liam told me and my mom who you were after you left. I wouldn’t have said hi otherwise, ’cause I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. I’m Rex.”
He says all this in a breezy, matter-of-fact tone that makes me want to laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Rex. And it’s definitely a good thing not to talk to strangers.”
He bobs his head again and goes back to what he was doing before, which is…counting money? My eyes narrow on the blue and purple bills in his hand. He fans them out, his brows drawing together in concentration and his mouth working silently as he attempts to count. After a moment, he tilts his head up and catches me staring. “I didn’t steal this, just so you know.”
“I didn’t think you did,” I say quickly. “That’s just…a lot of money for a kid like you.” Who’s alone on the street with no adult supervision…
“It’s for the community center,” he says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward the building behind him. “I swept the floor at the café, sorted the recycling at the bookshop, and then helped Mr. Patterson put out the fruit at the grocery store.”
“So you earned all that money and you’re giving it to the community center?”
“Yep,” he says happily. “I donate all the money I make. Plus people always give me extra ’cause they know I give it to the center.” My expression must show my bewilderment because he adds, “They’re talking about shutting it down. There’s not enough money to keep it going, and some big company wants to buy it and turn it into a fancy market with a bunch of hipster-type places, and that’s not what Honeywell is about.”
I nearly choke on the laughter that bubbles up my throat. This kid can’t be more than eight. The way he recites all the information about the center makes me think he’s heard the adults in his life talking about this fairly often.
“Uncle Liam says the community center is the heart of Honeywell,” he continues. “He spent a lot of time there when he was growing up and so did my mom. Now I do too. The whole town does. All our town events are there, plus it’s where people go if they need help.”
“Sounds amazing,” I say. “I wish I’d had a place like that growing up.”
He nods slowly, his face solemn. “You can come to some of the events while you’re here. There’s always something happening, especially around the holidays.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell him. “Can anyone make a donation to the center?” When he says yes, I dig in my purse for my wallet. He watches me with eyes the same rich brown color as Liam’s. His dark, thick hair is just like his uncle’s too. His eyes go round when I pull out several twenty-dollar bills and hand them over.
“For real?” he says.
“For real. I admire how much you care about the center. I hope the town is able to keep it open.”
“Me too. Thanks for this. You’re really cool.” He hops up and skips toward the building, disappearing inside. He returns before I even have a chance to turn around and head for the parking lot where my car is. He smiles at me as he plops back down on the bench.
I cast a glance around. Rex is clearly intelligent and independent, but he’s young to be on his own, even in a small, safe town like Honeywell. There must be someone inside the center for it to be unlocked, but there’s no one else out here, and it’s going to be dark soon. “Is someone coming for you?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Yep, my mom. She should be here soon. If she’s not, I’ll call Uncle Liam and he’ll pick me up. Or Uncle Nathan. Or Aunt Mae.”
“Mind if I wait with you? Maybe you could tell me more about the community center and help me figure out which events I should attend.”
“Sure!” He pats the space beside him enthusiastically. I cringe as I lower myself onto the cold iron bench. Rex chatters away, telling me about the various activities at the center and the clubs that meet there. He lists off at least a dozen upcoming holiday-themed events, including a tree lighting next weekend.
I smile as I watch his animated face. I don’t have much experience with kids; I never babysat in my teens, and none of my close friends have children. My encounters have been limited to the times I’ve played a mom or a doting aunt in movies. Most of the kids have been great, although fame has already gone to a few of their heads if the ridiculous demands they make are any indication. I became pen pals with a particularly sweet little girl who played my daughter a few years ago. Thinking of her reminds me I haven’t written to her in awhile; I bet she’d love a postcard from Honeywell Hollow.
The sound of heels click-clacking down the sidewalk draws my attention to a young woman heading our way. Her heeled boots are as impractical as mine are, yet she walks in them with confidence.
“All right, I’m here! Sorry I’m late.” She stops near the bench, her focus completely on Rex. He ignores her for a moment while he finishes the story he’s telling me, and her attention shifts to me. The other day when I saw her in the café, it was only for a moment and she was across the room. Up close, she looks different than I first thought; younger by at least a decade, with dark under-eye circles that stand out in stark contrast to her pale skin. Her mouth is set in a hard line as she looks at me with narrowed eyes.
“This is Joss,” Rex tells his mother. “She was keeping me company while I waited. She gave me money to donate to the center, so I was telling her about all the stuff that’s coming up for Christmas.”
If possible, her eyes narrow further as Rex speaks. Silence stretches for a long moment. I’m about to say hello when her eyes go wide with recognition. Crap. Liam did say his sister was a big fan of the From the Heart Network.
“Sorry,” she says, shaking her head. Her expression clears and she gives me a smile that transforms her whole face and shows me a glimpse of the resemblance between her and Liam. “I was just surprised to see Rex with a stranger. I’m Thea.” She offers me her hand, and I stand to shake it. “You’re Josslyn Hazelwood.”
My smile wavers, but I don’t let it slip. “I am. You can call me Joss. It’s nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine. I’m a big fan. I’ve seen all your movies.”
“Thank you.” I glance down at Rex to find him watching me with wide eyes.
“That’s why you look familiar,” he says slowly, eyes searching my face with open interest. “Mom’s always watching those romance movies.”
Thea laughs lightly. She ruffles her son’s dark hair, leaving her hand on his head and rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. “It’s true.” Her eyes dart away and then return to sweep over my face. I’m accustomed to feeling on display, and I feel that way now, even though they mean well and are simply curious.
“We need to get going, but I work at The Watering Hole, a bar at the edge of town,” Thea says. “You should come by tonight and I’ll buy you a drink.”
“You’re working tonight?” Rex cuts in before I can respond. “You already worked all day today.”
“I know, buddy, I’m sorry. They asked me to do another shift and I couldn’t say no. I called Mae on my way over and she said she’d make those fajitas you love for dinner and then you can sleep there.”
Now I’m the one watching curiously; I duck my head to make it less obvious, but my eyes go back and forth between Thea and Rex. Thea’s smile looks forced, and her shoulders are hunched slightly. I don’t need the bags under her eyes to tell me she’s exhausted; her body language says it all. I’m also fairly certain I catch a whiff of alcohol coming off her. She mentioned working in a bar, so it’s possible she had a spill earlier today, but I have a feeling she might have had a drink or two herself.
That thought makes my stomach tighten with dread. Did she drive here? Is she going to drive Rex to Mae’s? “Can I offer you a ride to the Murphys’ place?”
“Oh, thanks, but Mae’s still at the café, so I’m going to drop Rex there and then walk back to work.” Whatever she sees in my face makes her expression shift. “I don’t currently have a license.” Her tone is light despite the hint of challenge in her words, almost like defiance.
“Well, walking is good for you anyway, right?” I say with a shrug, hoping to convey I’m not judging her.
Her lips curve the tiniest bit. “That’s right. So, tonight? I’m heading back to The Watering Hole in about an hour and I’ll be there ’til midnight. It shouldn’t be too busy since it’s a weeknight, so you can come in for a drink and we can chat while I work.”
“Oh, um, I…” Deflecting and gently turning people down are among my specialties. It’s a talent I’ve had to hone over the years to prevent people from walking all over me or assuming they can somehow lay claim to me due to my status as a public figure. I guess a few days of sitting around mindlessly has dulled my skills because I can’t think of a single excuse not to go, even though hanging out in a bar is the last thing I want to do. The temptation to go home, get back into my pajamas, and carry on with the book I’ve been reading is too great. Plus, despite my resolve to eat healthier from now on, the box of extra creamy mac and cheese I impulse bought at the market is calling my name.
“I won’t tell anyone who you are,” Thea says. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”
For a second, I think the comment is meant as a form of blackmail. She wants me to hang out with her and if I don’t agree, she’ll broadcast the fact a celebrity is hiding out in Honeywell Hollow. But as I study her face and take in her hopeful expression, I realize how mistrusting I’ve become. Besides the natural wariness that comes with being well known, Alan told so many lies while he was cheating, it made me doubt my formerly stellar bullshit meter and my ability to tell the difference between those who are genuine and those who aren’t.
Even knowing Thea is a fan of my movies, there’s something in her eyes that tells me she’s genuine. Genuine, and also lonely. I ignore the voice in my head that tells me I recognize that look because I often see it in the mirror. Although I didn’t come to Honeywell to make friends, what could it hurt to meet her for one drink? She’ll be working, which means if I find I’m not enjoying myself, I can make an excuse at any time and head back to my pajamas and book.
“Okay. I’ll see you later tonight.”