Chapter 1

1

C

hristmas.

A day like any other.

Davis rolled over in bed and looked out the window. The sky was beginning to lighten and the ocean with it. The beach was deserted, no sign of life. Most of the town had left to visit family elsewhere. He didn’t blame them, considering their usually festive town was conspicuously devoid of any decoration.

That was what happened when a big Hollywood actor decided to film in your small town. Even though filming had started just after Thanksgiving, the story was supposed to take place in the spring, which had meant no Christmas decorations allowed. With Starlight Ridge’s bright blue skies and unlimited access to palm trees, no one would know the difference. That was fine for the movie crew, who had left for the week and weren’t returning until after New Year’s. But what about everyone else in Starlight Ridge who were stuck without?

Davis swung his legs over the side of the bed and winced. The floor was cold against his bare feet. He listened for the familiar sounds of Adeline, his chocolatier neighbor. One of the drawbacks of living in the apartment above his hardware store was that he could hear everything that went on next door. When she arrived at her shop early to make truffles, Adeline usually cranked up the volume of her reggae music. She said it helped her work, but Davis was certain she only did it to annoy him.

Not this morning, though.

This morning, it was silent.

Davis would have to remember to thank the famous Eli Hunt for whisking her away. Adeline had gone and fallen in love with the actor as he filmed in their town, and she’d run off to Oklahoma, off all places, to meet his family. No reggae music for seven days.

Strangely enough, though, as much as Davis was enjoying the rare moment of silence, he preferred the sounds of his hammer.

So, after his usual coffee, fried eggs, and toast, Davis grabbed his toolbelt from where it was slung over the back of a chair and headed down the stairs to his store. He’d need some hinges for Starlight Bed and Breakfast’s front door, as well as for Jessie’s window shutters.

Jessie used to own a bakery where Adeline’s chocolate shop was now, but she had retired several years earlier. And yet, it still seemed to be Jessie who kept the town running. She was the glue that kept everything from devolving into chaos.

As much as Davis liked Jessie, she was a talker. And Davis…wasn’t. He never felt like he had anything to add to the conversation and always ended up feeling awkward through the whole thing. Hopefully Jessie would be busy in the kitchen and he could get in and out quickly. Of course, he wouldn’t mind if she sent a few of her homemade tarts with him.

Davis threw the parts he’d need into a satchel and slipped it over his head and across his chest. The crisp air attacked his exposed skin as he stepped outside, a welcome relief to the stuffiness inside his shop.

That was where the quiet of the morning ended.

Despite the half-empty town, Davis hadn’t even made it to the end of the boardwalk when long, brassy notes punctured the air.

Erwin, the owner of the seafood restaurant, Seaside Bay, sat on a chair with his saxophone, and he was playing Christmas music. Or at least trying to. Normally he had the rest of his brass band members with him, but it seemed he was playing only his part of the music. The rest of the band must have gone out of town, leaving poor Erwin behind.

The restaurant owner wore a tacky Christmas sweater that lit up, and his gray-speckled hair was covered by a Santa hat. When he caught sight of Davis, his face brightened, as if he expected Davis to stay and listen. If it were anyone other than Davis, they would have, no matter how dissimilar to Christmas music it was.

But the high-pitch sounds were wreaking havoc on Davis’s sensitive nervous system, and he felt a migraine coming on. He considered slipping his headphones on. As a child, he’d always had a pair on hand for situations like these, or for large town events during tourist season, or even when he’d go to the big city to see a movie. They didn’t cancel out the noise completely, just put a damper on it, making things more bearable. But a child could get away with things that an adult could not.

And Davis knew that if he put his headphones on now, it would not go over well. Erwin acted like the town grump, but Davis knew the truth. He was a softy, and it would completely ruin his Christmas.

Davis paused on the boardwalk, attempting a smile. Maybe if he stayed for a minute or two, it would suffice. But Davis couldn’t do it. It was too painful. Literally.

So he gave Erwin a small wave and said, “Merry Christmas,” trying to ignore the look of disappointment that Erwin gave him for not staying longer.

Thankfully Eliza, one of the beach lifeguards, was approaching. Despite being bundled up in a jacket and fingerless gloves, she held a volleyball under one arm, like she was just returning from an early morning practice. The annual competition wasn’t for several months, but she was the captain of the town’s beach volleyball team, and she took her job very seriously. Especially when they were playing Estrella De Mar, the next town over.

Davis waved her over. “Hey, I have to get over to the bed and breakfast,” he said, then nodded to Erwin. “But there’s a man who’d love to serenade you with his saxophone if you have a moment.”

Eliza grinned. “I love being serenaded. Thanks for the heads up.” She turned toward Erwin but paused and glanced back at Davis. “You have plans today?”

“Yup. You?” He couldn’t imagine she didn’t. Eliza seemed to have friends everywhere she went.

“Always,” she said. “I’m having some people over for an early dinner. If you find yourself needing somewhere to go, you’re welcome to stop by. We’ll eat around four o’clock.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She gave him a smile that told him she knew he was just being polite. He wouldn’t come by for dinner and would spend it alone instead. But she didn’t push him, and Davis continued on his way, leaving the sounds of Erwin’s serenading saxophone behind.

The Warners’ charming bed and breakfast sat on top of a small hill overlooking the town, and when he arrived fifteen minutes later, Davis’s breaths were heavy. Mrs. Warner had called him the previous evening about the front door being broken again and needing it fixed before the film crew returned at the end of the week. He’d offered to run over right away, but Mrs. Warner had insisted he wait—it was Christmas Eve, after all.

Davis would have preferred fixing her door to sitting at home, alone, waiting for it to be a reasonable enough hour to go to bed. That was what he did most nights, Christmas Eve or not.

However difficult it had been, Davis hadn’t wanted to encroach on the Warners’ evening and had waited as instructed.

As he approached the bed and breakfast and walked up the porch steps, he noticed that the front door was slightly ajar, as expected with busted hinges. But when he knocked, no one answered. Probably sleeping in. Davis drummed his fingers against his leg, weighing his options. He didn’t particularly want to wait to start the repair, not when the cold air had been infiltrating their home all night. Their personal living areas were at the back of the bed and breakfast, and they probably wouldn’t even hear him.

His mind made up, Davis pushed past the broken door and placed his satchel and toolbelt on the floor next to the check-in counter.

Two hinges and twenty minutes later, he was opening the door, swinging it back and forth. That should hold. Eli Hunt had attempted to fix it a few weeks earlier but had done a lousy job of it.

Over the years, Davis had seen many people attempt their own home repairs when they shouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near a hammer. At least it kept him in business. When they weren’t purchasing their own supplies, they were paying him to fix their mistakes.

Mrs. Warner walked in just as he was grabbing his toolbelt from the floor. Her lips parted in surprise. “Davis, what are you doing here?”

“Your door was broken,” he said, equally surprised that she’d be confused by his presence. “You asked me to fix it.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean on Christmas. It could have waited until tomorrow.” She released a small laugh and shook her head. “Go home, Davis. Enjoy Christmas Day. Better yet, join my family for dinner.”

The town couldn’t imagine that he’d want to spend Christmas on his own, but he was actually enjoying it. It wasn’t often he had quiet. Before his parents had retired, there had always been people around. If it wasn’t customers, it was his parents, or his twin brothers, who were twenty years younger than him. People liked to tease him that his folks had had a honeymoon baby, realized what a mistake that had been, and then taken a couple of decades to muster up the courage to try again.

On Davis’s thirty-third birthday, his parents had decided they needed a little more adventure in their lives. They talked about eventually returning to Starlight Ridge with his teenage brothers, but for the time being, they were out exploring the world and homeschooling the twins in the biggest classroom ever. Last time Davis had spoken with them, they had been working with a service organization in Southeast Asia. Thailand, he thought.

Even with them gone, he still had to deal with Adeline and her reggae music. Yes, a little peace and quiet was just what he needed. The perfect Christmas gift. Going around town fixing things—that was just a bonus. He’d always loved repairing what was broken. As a child, he’d broken things on purpose just to see if he could fix them, much to the chagrin of his parents. So, no, fixing a couple of busted hinges on Christmas Day wasn’t an imposition.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he told Mrs. Warner. “But I have plans.”

Mrs. Warner’s lips quirked up. “Really.” Her skepticism was obvious. But Davis really did have plans. He’d be spending most of the afternoon fixing Jessie’s shutters. Erwin had attempted it a couple of years earlier, which was surprising in itself, given his and Jessie’s confrontational relationship. The repair had lasted longer than Davis had expected but not as long as it should have. The shutters each now hung by a single corner.

“I’m going to Jessie’s house,” he said truthfully, knowing Mrs. Warner would interpret it differently than he intended.

She brightened. “Oh, that’s wonderful. You’ll have a lovely time, I’m sure.” Mrs. Warner paused. “Though I have to admit, I had hoped you would go out and visit your parents this year. I know they keep inviting you, and I don’t think you’ve had a proper vacation since they left. Might even meet a woman while you’re at it.”

Davis’s heart dropped.

Meet a woman. Get a wife.

He’d heard it all before, and it didn’t get any easier.

What Mrs. Warner and the rest of the town didn’t realize was that he had already done just that, a couple of years earlier. Well, nearly.

Davis had done the unthinkable. He’d fallen in love. And asked her to marry him. And been happier than he’d ever been. Until his worst nightmare had become reality.

Bridgette had died. Courtesy of her damn motorcycle.

And his only saving grace had been his family leaving him their store. At least then he was given projects he could fix, even if his own life wasn’t one of them.

“I’ve had a lot of work lately, more than usual. Maybe next Christmas,” Davis hedged. This was also true, thanks to Eli Hunt and his large film crew.

Davis shuddered just thinking about it. Eli Hunt. White trailers. The town overflowing with noise and people. The idea of sticking around when all of that resumed after the holidays seemed even more nauseating than the thought of traveling.

Maybe visiting his family wasn’t such a bad idea. Davis had kept putting it off, not because he didn’t want to see his family. He did. As much as Davis enjoyed the quiet, he missed his parents, and his brothers even more. But his anxiety always won out in the end.

Part of him wondered how the town would survive without him and his store if he left. And then he realized how ridiculous that sounded. It was absurd to think the town would crash and burn because he left for a couple of weeks.

Just like that, the idea that had sounded crazy when first mentioned by Mrs. Warner took root, and by the time Davis had finished fixing Jessie’s shutters and been bribed to stay for dessert, Davis had made up his mind.

He was going to get on a plane—a flying bullet where he’d have to sit much too close to people he didn’t know—and travel to a foreign country to see his family.

And hopefully not die from a panic attack on the way.