She reached the line of shops on Beach Street and wrapped her coat more tightly around herself. It was a gray day, with temperatures in the forties, but the damp made it feel colder.
Being cold, outside in the windy weather, made her think of Paul, how he’d wrapped his coat around her and fussed like a mother hen on that unforgettable day when he’d finally kissed her. Then again, everything made her think of Paul.
Seeing Paul and Davey at the Christmas Fair had nearly broken Amber. The open, welcoming happiness in Davey’s eyes; the coldness in Paul’s.
As she passed Lighthouse Lit, a movement inside caught her eye and she stopped. She’d figured it would be closed until noon, like the other stores.
The sign on the door said Closed, but there was Mary, alone inside, moving a stack of books.
Amber tapped on the glass and pointed at the door.
Mary put down the stack and opened the door. “Hello, dear,” she said, her voice quieter than usual.
She didn’t look well. Dark circles sagged beneath her eyes, and her normally gorgeous white hair frizzed out beneath a kerchief. She wore faded blue jeans and a T-shirt, not at all her usual attire.
Come to think of it, she hadn’t looked her usual self when they’d been elves together, either.
“Are you okay?” Amber asked. “Do you mind if I come in for a few minutes?”
Mary hesitated as if she were about to refuse, but then stepped aside and let Amber walk through the door.
Amber looked around. She’d heard about the vandalism at the bookstore, but everything seemed to be pretty much in its place.
What was different were the signs topping most of the displays: 50% Off! Everything Must Go!
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Help me put this up, dear,” Mary said, beckoning her to the back of the store. She pulled out a banner. “I guess we’ll just tape this up across the window.”
The banner read Store Closing Sale.
“I’m not helping you put that up,” Amber protested. “You can’t close down. Why would you?”
Mary rolled up the banner, grabbed a roll of tape and headed to the front of the store. “I’m moving on.”
“But...it’s the Christmas shopping season. And everyone loves Lighthouse Lit. We need you!”
Mary shook her head. “I’m very replaceable. Someone else will open a bookstore.”
“You’re not replaceable!” Amber watched Mary struggle to tape up one end of the banner and then went over and helped her hold it. “Is this because of Imogene?”
“Because of Imogene, and what she said. Everyone knows my past now. No one will want to shop here.” She slipped past Amber, unrolling the banner as she went, and started affixing the other end of it to the window.
Amber stalked over and held that end for the older woman, too. “That’s ridiculous. People don’t believe what Imogene said. They believe you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Mary finished a hurried, sloppy tape job and then turned toward Amber, hands on hips. “What are you doing out in this cold, anyway?”
“Thinking,” she said.
“About Paul?” Mary beckoned her to the back of the shop again and poured her a cup of tea without asking if Amber wanted it.
“About Paul, about Hannah, about a lot of things.”
“But mostly about Paul, eh?” Mary raised an eyebrow as she perched on the stool behind the cash register. “The two of you really seem to be going somewhere.”
“It’s not going to work.”
“Why not?” Mary’s eyes were piercing.
Amber waved a hand. “Something happened in the past, and he blames me for it. And he’s sort of right to blame me.”
“Did you have a choice?” Mary asked gently.
Amber thought of Wendy, sick and crying, desperate to confess the sin that lay heavy on her heart. There had been no time to call a priest or counselor.
Had she had any choice, in that situation, but to hold Wendy’s hand and listen, and then promise not to tell? “Not really.”
Mary nodded slowly. “Life stinks sometimes.”
“Yeah.” Amber studied Mary. “I didn’t take in everything your stepdaughter said, but it sounds like some things happened that you didn’t have a choice about, too.”
Mary pursed her lips and tilted her hand from one side to the other. “You’re not wrong. There were parts of it I didn’t have a choice about, but parts I did, and I screwed those up royally.”
“Sounds familiar.” Amber leaned on the counter and took a sip of tea. She looked around the store. “Do you really want to leave when things are pretty good in your life? I mean, you have your store, your friends, your new puppy—”
“I gave the puppy to Kirk.” Mary’s voice went husky on the last couple of words.
“No!” Amber stared at Mary. “You love that puppy!”
Mary nodded, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “I love her, and that’s why I gave her away. I don’t know where I’m going and I can’t put a dog through that.”
“And you’re punishing yourself.” As soon as she said it, she knew it was true, and Mary’s wide eyes and raised eyebrows confirmed it.
Was Amber doing the same thing to herself?
“I’m just looking out for the dog,” Mary said, but her protest sounded half-hearted.
“That dog loves you already. Don’t you think you deserve to have a dog that loves you?”
“No!” The word burst out of Mary, and then she stared at Amber, her eyes getting suspiciously shiny.
Amber studied her. “Think about that,” she said. “And why don’t you think about this move a little longer, too?”
“My mind’s made up.” Mary wiped her eyes. “But you know what? I value your friendship and I hope we can stay in touch. You’re a good person, Amber Rowe. A very good person.”
She opened her arms, and Amber came around the counter for a hug.
And as she walked out of the store, as she made her way down to the waterfront and sat on one of the benches facing the
