Page 13 of Take Me Home for Christmas

Her mother shrugged. Elle closed her eyes and counted to ten.

“Relax. He’s not going to get lost in town. Besides, we never get to see you. Why don’t you hang out with us and help Ginger with the cornbread for the dressing,” Lori suggested.

Ginger made a face. “I don’t need help baking the cornbread. My cooking skills have improved drastically.”

Lori shot Elle a pleading look because it was no secret to anyone in Chances Inlet that Ginger’s cooking skills hadnotimproved anywhere near drastically. As much as she’d wanted to succumb to the temptation of the delicious smells and spend time with the people she loved, her future depended on West finishing his book. She needed to keep that first and foremost in her mind.

“Ginger has got this,” she said, making a mental note to forgo the cornbread dressing at Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow and have the mushroom and sausage stuffing instead. “I have to track down a wayward author.”

Ignoring Ginger’s smug smile, Elle snatched a slice of apple from the pile Lori was tossing together for her pies and left through the kitchen door. Her brother’s goofy golden retriever, Midas, and Lori’s Australian shepherd, Tessa were sunning themselves on the veranda. Both dogs insisted on being scratched behind the ears before they would allow her to pass.

“Some watchdogs you two turned out to be,” she muttered. “West probably tossed you treats to get you to allow him to slip by.”

The walk into town should have been pleasant. It was a sunny fall day with a warm sea breeze. It seemed like most of the residents of Chances Inlet were out and about, many offering a wave and shouting “hello” when she passed. All Elle could think about, however, was finding West. She hated that her first inclination was to check Pier Pressure, Chances Inlet’s only bar.

“Elinor!”

She cringed at the familiar voice. Good manners dictated that she stop and say hello, despite wanting to locate West as soon as possible.

“Good morning, Bernice.” Elle bent down to give the petite woman a hug. Bernice Thompson had been the office manager for her father’s construction company all of Elle’s life. She was also the nosiest person in town. If anyone knew West’s whereabouts, it would be the spry busybody in front of her.

“You are a sight for sore eyes, sweet girl,” Bernice said. “I’m glad you’re home. And you brought a bonafide celebrity with you, too.” Bernice leaned in closer. “I’ve had a crush on Everett West for years. And this morning, I took a selfie with him.” She pulled out her phone and swiped at the screen. “See?”

Sure enough, it was West with his arm around Bernice’s shoulders. And they were standing inside the Queen of Hearts Bakery.

Gotcha.

“Ahh. What a great picture. You should print it out, and I’ll get him to sign it.” Elle moved in the direction of the town square. “I’m going to see what he’s up to now.”

“Oh, he’s not at the bakery any longer.”

Elle’s heart sank.

“I believe he went to the bookstore,” Bernice continued.

“Fantastic.” Elle breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll head that way.”

Bernice stopped her with a hand on Elle’s forearm. “I was wondering if I could pick your brain while you’re in town.”

“About?”

“The PR firm we’ve been using to handle the social media for the town dropped us. They said we are too small of an account. Can you imagine?”

She had trouble imagining what any of this had to do with her.

“It’s bad enough Garth had to close down the newspaper,” Bernice continued.

Wait. What?

“The newspaper shut down? When did that happen?”

Bernice made a tsking sound. “Four years ago. While you were galivanting around the globe in the Peace Corps.”

Elle rolled her eyes. “I would hardly call it galivanting, but whatever.”I almost died in a flipping earthquake, for crying out loud!“Look, I’m sorry about the PR firm and the newspaper closing and whatever else is bringing you down today. I’m just not sure what that has to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you,” Bernice insisted. “You are an expert at those little bait-click posts on social media.”

She fought back a groan. “It’s called clickbait.”

---