Page 4 of Three Days of Holiday

It wasn’t my fault Oceanview Orchards was in Pelican Bay and therefore… Well, usually it meant bullets and bloodshed. Nobody here needed to know the inner workings of our town, and no one needed to know the shit that went on at the orchard. That was a Pelican Bay secret.

After I won this qualifying competition, the big one in a few days, bought my boots, told my older brother Haden about the bakery operation he needed to open, and then punched my twin brother in the arm just for fun, I was definitely getting revenge against Hope for the ambulance photo.

It was a busy few days before Christmas.

The judge reached for a third donut and I wanted to make a comment about how he must not find them too unappealing if he kept eating them like they were candies, but Hope stepped on my toe as if she sensed what my mind was brewing.

I shot her a look, threatening retribution for the photo and foot-stomping later.

“How many producing trees is your orchard maintaining?” the judge asked in between nibbles, bits of cinnamon falling from his mouth as he spoke. Hopefully, he wasn’t a food critic with those chewing patterns.

I started to answer, but the overhead microphone cackled to life. “Judges, please meet in front of the stage for final calculations. We will determine a winner at 4:30,” the disembodied voice finished.

The Judge lifted his hand in a goodbye wave, and I nodded at him before flicking my wrist and checking the time on my watch.

Only ten minutes until three men and two women wearing donut crumb sprinkled judge sashes determined the fate of my life and family orchard.

Perfect.

2

WILL

Holly stood in the back of the room in front of the Oceanview Orchards table with her hands twisted as she watched the judges conversing where they stood in a small circle on the opposite side of the space. Her nerves were so palpable I swear I tasted them from my distance even though I did my best not to look in her direction.

It was just my luck the most beautiful woman I’d ever met had to be the middle sister of the Halliday family. Probably the one person in existence I’d never bring home to my parents. It didn’t stop me from peeking from underneath my eyelashes every time Bacon whined and pulled toward Holly, though.

“Not now, Bacon,” I whispered to him and then tugged on his collar until he settled beside me.

“I can’t believe you brought that mutt in here,” Diane said, scowling at Bacon and then brushing her hand against her pants as if brushing off dog hair. Except she’d didn’t have a speck of golden hair on her pants.

The judges tightened their circle, a clear sign they were getting close to picking a winner. “I could say the same about you.”

Diane simply closed her eyes slowly and then popped them open, swooshing jet-black hair over the side of her face in time to the motion. There was no other indication from her that I’d made a snide comment. She probably had too much Botox during her last appointment. Plus, she was good at ignoring me and living in a reality that only existed in her mind.

The two of us walked a fine line the last six months after our explosive breakup. My father refused to let me fire her, claiming it would cause bad press, but her days were numbered as soon as I took control of the company.

Richard Storm, the weekend weather man, sauntered up to the microphone in the middle of the stage. Like Diane, he was a man who knew what he wanted and cut down anyone to get it. Just looking at him and the way he stopped at the microphone with his too big smile, trying to make sure everyone had their attention on his face before he spoke, made me want to roll my eyes and walk out of the room.

I hated these events more every year.

Everyone here only wanted to suck up to everyone else. Me included.

Richard tapped the microphone twice, creating a screech that forced everyone to look in his direction. Once the pompous windbag was satisfied he had the room, he’d grace us with the winner—thirty seconds past the promised final time and ten minutes longer than I planned to be at this competition.

We weren’t here to compete, but I’d dropped in to seehow stiff the competition from the east side of the state would be at the finals.

“If I can have your attention, please,” Richard said and tapped the microphone again. The bastard knew we were forced to listen to him not only now but every Saturday and Sunday at noon, three, five, and seven. “It was a very tough competition, and the judges want to let every orchard know you have presented wonderfully today. It came to a few points to set apart the winner, and we look forward to you putting on a spectacular show at the state finals.”

“Get to the winner,” a female voice called from the back of the room, and we twisted in that direction. Holly and her sister, Hope, stood side by side at their display. What was with the Halliday family and their obsession with the letter H?

Holly’s face turned a bright shade of pink and she shook her head no, indicating she hadn’t yelled.

“How uncouth,” Diane mumbled beside me.

Richard tapped the microphone for a third time, and we turned in his direction. Holly hadn’t yelled. Her voice wasn’t as raspy as the person who shouted, but you wouldn’t catch me sticking up for a Halliday. At least not with Diane.

“As I was saying,” Richard proceeded, not deterred by the outburst. “We judged each contestant on many aspects and have chosen two winners today. An alternate and the farm who will represent us at the state finals. First the alternate.”

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