“Speak of the devil.” Kieran took Addy’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Let’s welcome our guests.”
“Merry Christmas!” Annie Scott, the vintage shop owner, threw her arms around Addy. The funny, snarky redhead had become Addy’s favorite TC friend. Within a week of moving to Trappers Cove, Annie had introduced her to the town’s movers and shakers, including her tech billionaire husband.
“You look amazing, as always.” Addy stroked the faux fur collar of her friend’s beaded mohair sweater.
Annie beamed. “Thanks, doll. Kieran, you’ve met my husband, Michael Garwood?”
“Of course.” Kieran shook the man’s hand. “Fine thing you’re doing for our hospital. We’re grateful.”
“Don’t mention it.” Michael gave his flame-haired wife a fond smile. “It’s good to know that, when the worst happens, help will be available, thanks to Doctor Addy.”
“Thanks to our new surgical suite,” Addy corrected him. Construction had already begun on the new facility, and plans were underway to expand staffing for the increased patient load from the surrounding area.
“We brought you a little something.” Annie handed Kieran a cellophane-wrapped antique teapot. “For your morning cuppa.”
“Why, that’s…” Kieran blushed to the roots of his hair. “Thank you, Annie.”
“Quit blocking the doorway, you two,” a gruff voice grumbled.
“Can it, Mo,” his companion snapped. “We’re not in a hurry.”
“Speak for yourself, woman. I’m freezing my butt off out here.”
Mo and Nabila Abadi, owners of Ali Baba Kebabs, smothered first Addy, then Kieran, in a tandem hug. Mo thrust a package into Addy’s hands. “From our kitchen to yours.”
“Moroccan spices,” Nabila added and sniffed the air. “What smells so good?”
Kieran’s grin held a note of pride—as well it should. He’d been working all day on today’s feast. “Lamb stew, Irish soda bread, apple and berry pies, and Addy’s delicious onion thing I can’t pronounce.”
“That’ll warm you up.” Nabilla smacked Mo’s chilly butt and made way for the next arrivals: Daphne Lee from the bookshop, who brought a cookbook; her brother Ryan and his girlfriend Lilo, who brought non-alcoholic ginger beer from their Salty Dog Brewery; baker Garrett Becker, who brought sourdough loaves and butter cookies; plus Xander Anagnos, owner of Souvenir Galaxy, and his girlfriend Hannah Leoni, editor of theTrappers Cove Beacon, who brought a jar of organic dog treats and a kerchief printed with UFOs for Snoot.
And this time, not one of them called Kieran “Fred.”
Bringing up the rear, organic farmer Jesse del Toro and his fiancée, Gemma Moore, brought potted herbs.
“For your windowsill garden,” Gemma said, rubbing Jesse’s muscular shoulder. “It’s good for the spirit to see green growing things in wintertime. Aunt Zora sends her apologies. She had a last-minute Tarot emergency, but she and Marquetta will be along soon.”
After introducing her new neighbors and Kieran to friends from the base, Addy urged everyone to dig in. As more guests arrived, the party spilled into the parking lot, where Kieran had installed a party tent and propane heaters borrowed from the Salty Dog Saloon.
Seated beside her at a picnic table, Kieran beamed. “Isn’t this grand, Doc?”
“It really is.” She scooted closer and kissed his cheek. “Your friends are so welcoming.”
He nudged her arm. “Our friends.”
“Think the ghost will put in an appearance tonight?”
“The moon is full, so she might.”
Just then, Zora and Marquetta pulled up and hopped out of the librarian’s VW Bus. Her woolen cape flapping, Zora hustled toward them, brandishing a small package.
“Sorry we’re late, darlings.” She gave Addy, then Kieran, a two-cheek kiss. “Psychic crisis. You know how it is, Addy.”
“I suppose I do. Come inside. I’ll get you something to eat.”
Zora dismissed the offer with a wave of her be-ringed hand. “Pish tosh, we can serve ourselves. But first, here’s a talisman for your new home.”
Addy unwrapped a palm-sized black crystal with delicate striations that glistened beneath the party lights.
