Holiday Rebel

Chapter One

by

Rebecca Zanetti

As red daisies went, the flower was a little wilted. Frozen, shrunken, and stuck to Serenity’s windshield, the perennial had already lost several narrow petals. Besides being a sad bloom out of season, it was the final fucking straw.

She yanked the bloom free, tearing the frozen green stem from beneath her windshield wiper. Enough was enough.

The late-December wind slithered through her thick jacket, freezing her neck, but she didn’t feel the cold. Instead, heat suffused her, filling her with a boiling temper she rarely let loose.

Turning, she stomped across the icy sidewalk to the long, metal building that had served as the lone hardware store in Silverville for nearly a century. Her boots had traction and were the best they stocked, so she barely slid across the smooth ice. Even through her anger, she made a mental note to scatter both gravel and ice remover before the temperature dropped again.

“Hey, boss.”

Earl MacIntosh finished organizing the new red shovels by the front door, artfully arranging them around the remaining Christmas decorations, now discounted to fifty percent off. He’d worked at the business for nearly seventy years, starting as a cleanup kid after school. His shoulders stooped from age, but since he’d started at around six-foot-eight, he was still taller than anybody she knew.

“How was lunch?”

She’d walked to the diner to meet a friend, not thinking her mysterious stalker would blatantly leave another flower on her car in the middle of the day.

“Delicious. I ordered the smash burger.”

“You look angry.”

Darn it. She’d been trying to hide her ire. Figured. Even though she’d inherited her dark hair from her Grandpa Fiazzi, her skin was all Irish from her mom’s side. So, when she blushed, she freaking blushed.

“I found another flower just a minute ago.”

Earl leaned on the handle of a shovel, his bushy, dark gray eyebrows rising.

“I thought the first few were kinda romantic. But when does romantic extend to creepy?”

“Around flower number six, and this is number thirteen,” she said, automatically glancing around to ensure everything was in place. Christmas music still droned from the invisible speakers, and she made a mental note to update the streaming channel. “Oh, good. The new snowblowers made it. Finally.”

The supply chain problem was killing her, and they were having a heck of a winter. Shovels and snowblowers had been tough to come by. Now, she was stocked. Finally.

Earl’s faded brown eyes narrowed.

“Do I need to kick some butt?”

Even at his age, his shoulders were broad, and his arms toned. He had the body of a farmer, and there was no doubt he could inflict damage if necessary. Even if he weren’t such an impressive force, she would’ve taken him seriously. He deserved respect.

“I don’t think so. Yet,” she murmured, twirling the damaged flower in her fingers. “Even if I needed help, I’m not entirely sure whose butt you’d need to kick.”

He scratched his gnarled, gray-stubbled chin.

“You don’t think it’s Rory?”

Rory wasn’t exactly a romantic, and she couldn’t see him leaving a flower on her windshield every day. Even so, they had been engaged, and she’d ended things.

“I’m not sure. It’s not like I knew the guy very well.”

Or at all. They’d fallen in love, had planned a life together, and then it had turned out she hadn’t known a thing about his real life. Well, nothing she could see here in the small town of Silverville.

Even now, despite them breaking up months ago, just the sound of his name cut deep into her heart. She was dumber than her neighbor’s Belgian Blue cow. That beast had run headfirst into a wooden fence so many times they’d finally moved her to a pasture that fronted a forested mountain. It was a good thing BlueBrat didn’t like to climb things.

Earl gingerly set the shovel back in line.

“I could have a talk with him if you’d like.”

“No,” she said. “If anybody needs to speak with Rory, it’s me.”

Earl shook his head. His thick, gray hair was short on top, but he’d let the sides grow longer, which looked odder and odder every day. But Serenity wasn’t sure how to tell him that. One of his granddaughters had recently opened a hair salon near the other end of town, so no doubt the woman was experimenting on her grandfather.

He was charming regardless.

“I’ll figure it out, Earl. Don’t worry.”

The man’s brows drew down.

“I can’t see Rory doing something like that,” he declared. “Are you still mad at him?”

“No,” she said curtly. “I’m not mad at him. It’s just over.”

Earl sighed.

“Come on. Even though you won’t tell me what got you so riled up, I know you love that man. He loves you. That should be enough.”

She barely kept her temper at bay, wishing she could talk to somebody about Rory’s job. It was probably treason or something for her to even consider doing so.

“Love isn’t enough.”

“That’s just silly,” Earl stated glibly. “Plus, it’s the holiday season. Christmas is over, but perhaps you’d like to start the upcoming year by fixing all that has gone wrong with your romance. I would truly love to see you happy again.”

Huh. Serenity was done with the conversation, and she still hadn’t told Earl about the hang-ups. They’d started a couple of weeks ago, and the person on the other end of the line was an unknown caller who never spoke.

That so didn’t seem like Rory, even though she’d accused him of bombarding her with calls just the week before. He’d denied it.

What if he really was some sort of obsessive stalker? She’d never gotten that vibe from him, but she hadn’t realized he’d been lying to her, either.

Earl patted her shoulder with a beefy hand.

“It’ll be okay.”

“Thanks.”

Perhaps it was time to speak with the sheriff. Oh, it was just phone calls and flowers—no threats—but still. Her world had gotten creepy.

She turned and made her customary walk down each aisle, ensuring the nails, boards, and carpet samples were in the correct places before ending up at the lone checkout desk at the far end.

She’d considered expanding the area many times, but they really didn’t need two cashiers. While they supplied hardware to the entirety of Silverville, the town wasn’t that big, and they rarely even had a line.

“Good afternoon, Verna,” Serenity said to the woman behind the counter.

Verna finished stacking bills and wrapped them with a rubber band before shoving them back into the old-fashioned cash register. A dented and well-worn figurine featuring a New Year’s baby perched near her elbow.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

Verna’s gaze caught on the flower still in Serenity’s hand. The heat from inside the building had dusted off the ice, and petals now fell rapidly.

“Oh, no. Not another one.”

“Yes.”

Verna brightened. She was around forty with lighter brown hair, sparkling dark eyes, and recently enhanced lips.

“If you really think about it, it does show dedication and romance.” Her eyebrows waggled. “Come on, give Rory another chance.”

“I don’t think these are from him,” Serenity murmured.

A head popped up above the counter.

“Looks like a sad flower anyway.”

Serenity yelped and jumped back.

“Vance, what are you doing back there?”

He stood all the way up with a drill in his hand.

“The bottom of the counter was loose, and I told Verna I’d fix it.”

He grinned. As Verna’s twin, he had the same-colored hair and eyes, but he was a good six feet tall.

“It’s nice to see you,” Serenity said, meaning it. His sister had taken the cashier job a good decade before, and Vance often helped at the store. Other times, he worked as the manager of the local bank.

“It’s good to be doing something with my drill again.” He looked down at it and squeezed the trigger, making it whir. “I almost lost this in the divorce, you know.”

“I know.”

From what Serenity had heard, poor Vance had been married to a woman from Spokane, who was awarded pretty much everything in the divorce. Of course, her source had been Vance’s twin sister, so grain of salt and all that. Even so, she’d been wracking her brain for a single friend she could introduce to Vance.

“Anyway, you got your drill back,” she said.

He made it whir again and smiled, his teeth sparkling white.

“I sure did.” His grin was engaging. “You look pretty today, Serenity.”

She rolled her eyes. He was always saying that.

“I look like I just swept the back room, which I still have to do.”

He glanced at his watch.

“Oh, I need to get to work. My lunch hour is over.”

He neatly tucked the drill under the counter and walked around.

“I have to agree with my sister. I think the flower shows dedication and romance.”

He lifted a shoulder. He wore a checked, button-down shirt with gray slacks for his job as a banker.

“Maybe Rory isn’t so bad.”

With that, he kissed his sister on the cheek and hustled out of the hardware store.

Serenity blew out air.

“It seems like the whole town is on Rory’s side.”

Verna leaned over and patted her shoulder.

“That’s not true. Everybody’s on your side, but we also want you to be happy, and Serenity, you were happy with him.”

“I only thought I was,” she returned. “He just isn’t who I thought he was.”

“I guess, but since you won’t really talk about it, I can’t truly form an opinion. But I do trust your judgment.”

Verna looked toward the sparkling Christmas tree in the corner.

“You want to keep this up until after New Year’s?”

Considering Serenity had a tradition of keeping her decorations at her cottage up until Valentine’s Day… of course.

“Yes. I’ll take it down next week.”

She wasn’t ready to let go of the holiday magic quite yet, even though her life had become bizarre. She tossed the flower into the nearest trash can.

“Let’s put the de-icer on sale.”

“On sale?” Verna reared back. “We have another storm coming next week. I say we double the price. We’re supposed to make money, you know.”

Serenity winced.

“Yeah, but with more bad weather on the way, I thought we could give people a break.”

Verna shook her head.

“You’re never going to be a multimillionaire who expands this place into other cities if you give people breaks all the time.”

Serenity blinked.

“I have no intention of expanding this place. I like it the way it is.”

Verna sighed.

“There goes my chance to work in Hawaii.”

Serenity looked over her shoulder where Earl was, once again, rearranging the shovels.

“They don’t need a lot of shovels in Hawaii.”

The door slid open, and everything inside her went still.

Rory walked inside and stood near the long umbrellas, his stance set, shoulders back, blue eyes blazing.

“I don’t suppose he wants to buy a shovel,” Verna murmured.

International

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