Page 3 of Kringle and the Kraken

Well, that and the fact that my mom and siblings would drag me out of bed—literally—if I tried to skip out. Tried it once. Won’t make that mistake again.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, inwardly groaning when I saw it was a new message in the Kringle family group chat.

Mom: Holiday planning meeting tomorrow at 2. I’ve already made the eggnog!

I rolled my eyes and stuffed my phone back into my pocket, ignoring the persistent buzzing as my siblings responded, no doubt excited to kick off the season.

For me, it was too early for eggnog and holiday cheer. They could forcibly drag me from bed on Thanksgiving, but until then, I was content to keep my holiday cheer meter firmly locked in the off position.

I tuned back into the conversation between the KELPS members just in time to hear them mention something that finally grabbed my attention.

“Hey, Pete, what did you just say?” Eight pairs of eyes swung my way.

“You haven’t heard?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Abe leaned forward. “Some young guy bought the old Ferguson Hardware building on Main.”

The building had been empty for the last year after the Fergusons had moved to a larger location on the edge of town. Ever since, there had been a lot of speculation about what would happen to the prominent storefront.

More interesting was the fact that someone new had moved to town.

“What’s he doing with the store?”

Glances and shrugs were exchanged around the table.

“I’m not sure.” Joe looked at Tom, who owned the pet store across the street from the old hardware store. “Do you know?”

Tom shook his head. “Not sure, but a big ole truck showed up on Tuesday. Took them half the day to unload. The young man is mighty handsome, I will say that.” Tom looked straight at me as he dropped that grenade into the conversation. “Tall, light brown hair, around your age or so. Reminds me a little of my Paul when he was young.”

Marvin patted Tom’s arm. Tom’s husband, Paul, had passed away three years ago. He’d been the one to bake us treats for our Saturday meetings. We all missed him, his warm welcoming personality, and his cherry strudel. Clara’s was good, but it just wasn’t the same.

Again, every face in the multipurpose room turned my way, making me feel like a bug under a microscope. I knew exactly what they were all thinking, and I hated it. At one point or another they had each tried to hook me up with every man-loving man in their family tree, and it hadn’t worked out well the two times I’d let them meddle.

But Tom never said anyone was as handsome as his late husband, and the comparison made me a little curious, though I tried not to let it show on my face. With this group, given an inch, they’d take a mile, and I knew better.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I shook my head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“But, Kris—” Stan started, and I held up a hand.

“No. No matchmaking.” I met every gaze around the table. “You are all worse than my aunt Karen, but at least she stopped bugging me about settling down years ago.”

Pete smirked. “Who said a damn thing about settling down?”

“Yeah. A little holiday fling to get you in the spirit is all you need.” Abe winked.

“Hard pass. I do not need a fling to get me in the spirit of anything.”

A chorus of dissenting noises echoed around the table.

“And on that discordant note, I think it’s time I get going.” I picked up the box of flyers from the table and stood.

“You let us know if you change your mind.” Joe smiled warmly.

“I will, but I can assure you I won’t.”

They grumbled good-naturedly as I shrugged into my jacket and tossed my scarf around my neck, and by the time I walked out the door, the conversation had veered from my love life to other town gossip.

---