Chapter One
Penny cringed as her sister, Abbey, sang at the top of her lungs in her off-key voice. Her voice might have been muffled behind the life-size figure she manhandled, but her intention rang out loud and clear. “Hark The Herald Angels sing, something, something, something.” The remaining lyrics were merely hummed, since Abbey had memorized only the first line.
Waddling out the door of the shop behind her sister, Penny imitated the movement of the six-foot-tall plastic nutcracker she jockeyed to the sidewalk, almost as if she danced with the figurine. “Aren’t we rushing things a bit, Abbey? Thanksgiving hasn’t even happened yet.”
Abbey dusted off the shoulder of the life-size nutcracker in front of her. “And you know retail no longer waits until after Thanksgiving to start selling for Christmas, especially in Lobster Cove. We’ve had our card display up for over a month, our ornament inventory has turned over four times since the first of November, and we just had our first big snowfall of the season.” She squared her nutcracker alongside the doorway. “People are in the mood to shop for their Christmas gifts. Not to mention, Mom and Dad have had their house decorated for weeks now. Since this is one of our busiest times of year, we need to draw attention to the shop. Our nutcrackers will do the trick. They always do.”
They both glanced up at the store sign as they wove their arms around each other. The Treasure Chest had been the fulfillment of a lifelong dream to work together. The shop overflowed with inexpensive and mid-range priced items in addition to the greeting cards, since the store had become one of Baxter Greeting Card’s signature stores. A lot of inventory needed to be turned over each month to pay the mortgage on their prime storefront real estate at the intersection of Main Street and Hidden Cove Drive, just one block away from the trolley stop.
Penny sighed softly. Abbey made sense. They had to do everything possible to compete with the other shops, all chasing the same tourist dollars. Even if doing so meant having six-foot-tall nutcrackers flanking the door for the next six weeks. Penny’s eyes smarted with sudden tears, but she blinked them away quickly, telling herself the moisture merely came from a reaction to the cold weather. “I think we need new names for these boys, especially after last year’s debacle. I now have two reasons to despise the season.”
As she wiggled her nutcracker to his final position on one side of the entrance to their shop, Abbey grunted. “This is our make-or-break season, so your attitude has to shape up, Penny. I had hoped a year would give you enough time to get over last Christmas’s aborted wedding.”
Penny jerked her big statue a bit too hard to the left before she squared him with the frame. She bit her lip at the chastisement as she glanced at Abbey. Anyone could tell they were from the same family, with their dark hair, blue eyes, and slender builds. Often, they were mistaken for twins, even though Abbey had been born two years earlier. The only noticeable difference was Penny could sing in key, but Abbey had a tin ear.
“Even though I’m over both Max and Ricky, their betrayals still hurt. And the fact they both screwed up my Christmases makes me hate the season.”
“Well, if getting your head back on straight this year means we rename Hans and Gunther, let’s do so. What’d you have in mind?”
Penny squinted up at the lifelike plastic statues towering over them. “I don’t mind Hans, but I’ll name mine Solo, since that’s what I am.”
Abbey grinned and wrapped an arm around Penny. “Well then, may the force be with us as we head into our peak season. The weather’s finally turned cold, perfect for putting folks into the holiday gift-buying mood. Let’s get inside. I’ve got something exciting to show you.”
Once inside, they returned to the corner of the back storage room where an office with two desks had been carved out.
Abbey took a huge folder from one of the desks. “I got this a few weeks ago from corporate in Portland. Having Baxter’s main offices in Maine and so close to our store is really convenient. More than once, we’ve had to make a mad dash to pick up more inventory. And we’re one of the locations they call on when they need input from a store level. For now, though, these are our instructions on how to set up the shop for the Christmas cycle.”
Penny glanced at the papers and layouts in Abbey’s hands before she shrugged. “Not much new and exciting there, just a duplicate of what we did last year.” She blew out a sigh. “And the year before that.”
Abbey’s eyes sparkled, and she grabbed for one of the papers in Penny’s hands. “But we didn’t have this last year, did we?” She threw open a four-color flyer, the paper crackling with the flourish of the movement.
“What exactly is this?” Despite her attitude toward the season, Penny couldn’t drag her gaze from the colorful brochure Abbey held in her hands as she stood alongside.
“This is the newest line of Christmas cards from the hot and talented abstract artist, Dale McLintock. What you won’t find are pictures of the artist himself, if in fact Dale is a male. All very mysterious. Reminds me of Sia, the singer who hides behind her hair.”
Penny’s eyes narrowed as she studied the flyer. “I suppose Dale could be a female artist. The name is fairly unisex and could swing both ways, and while these pictures are bold, a woman could be behind the brush.” She ran her finger along the photos of the cards, lingering over them. “If Thomas Kinkade and Georgia O’Keefe had a hippie baby, it would be this artist, don’t you agree? These pictures are comforting Christmas scenes with an edge, if that makes sense.” She straightened, shifting her focus to the business at hand. “So, are we to feature these cards prominently in the store and hype the mystery behind the talent? This might be a fun season after all.”
Abbey wrestled the flyer back from Penny’s grasp. “Well, corporate is already doing the hype, so we’ve got a lot of help there. We’ll get blow-ups of the cards to put in the windows. And one lucky store will be chosen for the unveiling of the artist.”
“What do you mean? Dale McLintock will come out of the closet this Christmas?” Penny’s nose wrinkled, and she rubbed the itch. She leaned closer in an attempt to read the instructions Abbey held in her hands.
Abbey cleared her throat, and then pointed to the final instructions on the information from the main office. “The artist will make himself or herself known at one lucky store in a few short weeks, just in time for the serious Christmas crowd.”
“Wow.” Penny bounced from one foot to the other. “Can you picture the masses of humanity who’d show up to discover who the artist is? What a great marketing gimmick.” Her shoulders slumped, and her movement ceased. “But we don’t need to hold our breath. I’m sure the honor will go to one of the big stores in a trendy city with a huge population, maybe in downtown Seattle. Or New York City.”
Abbey tapped the brochure with her finger. “The instructions say all stores are eligible. The big unveiling could happen here in Lobster Cove.”
Penny laughed for the first time since she hauled Solo out to the front of the store, her mood lightening. She stepped to a corner of the storeroom, where she tussled with a large box. “Dream on, Abbey. But I bet these are the blow-ups of the cards. I’m now dying to see them and put them in our windows. We’ll place the boxed cards in a featured location.” She patted the box for luck. “I have a feeling these will be our best-sellers of the year.”
“Let’s make certain we have a huge supply of the cards on hand before we go crazy with the windows. They’re supposed to be sold in boxed sets as well as individually.”
Penny sat at the computer, which took over most of the top of one of the desks. A few inventory sheets from the morning’s shipment were in a basket alongside but otherwise, neatness prevailed. “If they’re here, then I’ve logged in the inventory and can tell you exactly where I stashed them on the shelves. I can put my hands on them in a flash.” She hummed “Jingle Bells” as she searched her computer records and could swear she smelled cinnamon in the air. Maybe she could get through the season after all. She loved a good mystery. And Dale McLintock certainly qualified.