A Haunted Holiday in Hillbilly Hollow

  A Haunted Holiday in Hillbilly Hollow

  Blythe Baker

  Copyright © 2018 by Blythe Baker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Description

  Newsletter Invitation

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  About the Author

  ‘Tis the season to be haunted...

  When Emma volunteered to help out at Hillbilly Hollow’s annual Christmas Garden event, she expected to spend the holidays stringing lights on trees and selling hot cocoa at the ice skating rink.

  But that was before a dead man was found in the reindeer pen. It was before a ghost visited Emma, demanding justice. And it was way, way before Emma wandered into a creepy old Victorian mansion to look for a murderer.

  Now, with the town on edge and the Christmas Garden facing what might be its last year, can Emma catch a killer and bring back the festive atmosphere at Hollow Heights Park before the event is ruined forever? Or will Christmas Day find Hillbilly Hollow facing its most haunted holiday ever?

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  1

  I made my way across the dew-soaked backyard, past the leaning outhouse and around the chicken coop. Rounding the corner of the coop, I smiled when I saw my grandma outside in her faded red sweater, collecting eggs into a wicker basket and scolding one of the chickens.

  “You get back here right now, Martha,” she said, wagging her finger at a fat red hen that seemed intent on escaping the wire fence.

  Grandma looked up and noticed me then. “Well, good morning, sleepy head,” she said. “High time you were out of bed. Are you on your way out? You haven’t had breakfast yet.”

  “No, I’m just going out to talk to Grandpa for a minute,” I replied. “I thought I could do with a quick walk and a bit of air. Anyway, on a morning this chilly I thought you would still be in bed too.”

  I didn’t add another good reason for her to have slept in, that she had been up on the roof singing her heart out for at least half of the previous night.

  Grandma frowned and then burst out with a hearty laugh.

  “Still in bed at this time? That’s a funny one, Emma. Tell your grandpa not to be late for breakfast. I had to cook two batches of eggs yesterday because he got distracted and let the first lot get cold.”

  “I’ll tell him,” I promised her. “For all the good it will do. You know what he’s like when he’s in the middle of something.

  “Yes, that I do,” Grandma admitted. “But he won’t want to irk me twice in two days, mark my words, Emma.”

  I walked away, but I couldn’t resist glancing back over my shoulder at her as I went. She was in good shape for her age. She squatted down to collect the eggs and jumped back up again like a woman of half her years. With her weather beaten skin not so much wrinkly as lived in, it was easy to forget she was over seventy.

  Were her “funny turns” as Grandpa called them really any big deal? I had thought she would stop having them by now, and yet they continued. It hadn’t caused any problems yet. But surely in no universe was it normal to clamber up onto the roof and sing in the middle of the night?

  I spotted Grandpa in the distance and I paused to watch as he herded a stray cow back into its field. I knew he wasn’t going to want to hear what I was going to say to him, but I felt like maybe I should say it all the same.

  Grandpa caught sight of me and turned to wave. The cow he was herding saw her chance and lumbered back away from the gate leading into the field.

  “Grandpa. The cow,” I shouted, pointing. I laughed at my grandpa’s expression when he saw the escapee.

  He turned on his heel and firmly guided the cow back into the field again. By the time I reached him, the cow was back in the pasture and the gate was firmly closed. The big animal’s chance at escape was over for another day.

  “Ah, she’s a wanderer that one. I should name her Emma,” Grandpa said, grinning as I joined him. “She would for sure like a wander through the big city I’d be willing to bet.”

  I laughed. “Yes, but I’m not sure she’d know her way back when she realized that sometimes home is exactly where you need to be.”

  I sobered, remembering my grandma’s message. “Grandma said to warn you not to be late for breakfast. She’s not happy about having to redo yesterday’s eggs.”

  He snorted. “Tell it to the cow. That old beast will be the death of me. Two days in a row she’s gotten out and I still haven’t worked out how she’s doing it.”

  He shot me a sidelong glance. “But you didn’t come all this way out here to warn me not to be late for breakfast. So why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind?”

  “Grandma had another one of her turns last night, didn’t she?” I asked.

  Grandpa nodded, double-checking the pasture gate. “Day four it was, so it’ll be over for a time.”

  I said, “Grandpa, I know we haven’t worried about it much before but maybe the time has finally come when Grandma needs to see a doctor. I’m sure if I asked him to, Billy would take a look at her.”

  Grandpa shook his head. “Don’t you go gettin’ ideas about telling your friends our business,” he chastised.

  “Grandpa, Billy’s a doctor. It’s not like I’m suggesting putting it all over social media.”

  Grandpa scrunched his nose. “Social what?”

  Before I could answer, he cut me off. “Never mind. I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again. Your grandma’s funny spells are harmless. It’s not like she’s going around hurtin’ anyone.”

  “It’s not normal behaviour, though,” I argued. “What if she fell off the roof and got hurt? That’s perfectly possible, since she’s basically sleepwalking.”

  He chuckled. “She’s not really asleep. No one could sleep through that racket, Emma. Your grandma is a beautiful woman and perfect in many ways, but her singing voice is most assuredly not one of those ways.”

  I said, “You’re missing the point, Grandpa.”

  “No, Emma, you’re missing the point. I’m not having no doctor coming up here poking at your grandma and upsetting her. She doesn’t know about her spells. She’d be embarrassed if she knew. And I won’t have you or no interfering doctor ruining that.”

  “But Grandpa—” I began.

  “No buts. Let it go, Emma. I mean it,” he declared.

  “Okay,” I mumbled. “You know best, Grandpa.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said firmly.

  My eyebrows shot up and he instantly looked contrite.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be cranky. Just that I don’t like people makin’ a problem out of a quirk. Your grandma’s what they call ‘eccentric’, you see. Always has been. Let’s not make it into something more than that, okay?”

  I nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” I said with a
shake of my head.

  “Nonsense,” Grandpa replied. “You can come to me with anything. You know that.”

  It was true. I had even told him and Grandma about the ghostly visions I had begun seeing ever since my accident back in the city, the accident that had caused me to move back to Hillbilly Hollow. Of course, I didn’t often talk about what those visions involved; the idea that I was an investigator for the ghosts might have been a bit much for him and Grandma to take.

  “Emma? Are you alright?” Grandpa asked.

  I realized he had been talking to me while I was lost in thought. I smiled at him sheepishly.

  “Sorry, Grandpa. I was a million miles away. What did you say?”

  “I asked if you’d seen the weather report,” he said as we started walking toward the house.

  “Oh yes, I did. A light dusting of snow is on the way.” I smiled, unable to contain my excitement. I had loved the snow since I was a little girl and Christmas was the absolute best time for it.

  “It’ll be perfect for the Christmas Garden Fair,” I added.

  Grandpa shook his head. “There’ll be more than a light dusting. You mark my words, Emma.”

  I smiled as I heard a familiar bleating sound. Snowball, the little white goat that had attached herself to me ever since I came back to the farm earlier in the year, ran towards me.

  Grandpa laughed. “Oh, you’re in trouble, sneaking out to talk to me and leaving her behind.”

  “It sure looks that way,” I agreed.

  Snowball reached me and gently butted her head against my legs until I gave up trying to walk for a minute and reached out to scratch her behind the ears. Her bleating turned into a sound that was more like a purr.

  “It looks like I’m forgiven,” I said.

  I managed to get Snowball out of my path and I half ran a few steps to catch back up to Grandpa. Snowball trotted happily along beside me.

  As we reached the farmhouse, my stomach rumbled at the delicious smell of frying bacon and freshly cooked eggs that wafted out the door. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until that moment. I hurried inside and poured out three steaming mugs of coffee, while Grandpa washed his hands and Grandma put our breakfast onto plates.

  I was reminded once more of my grandparents getting older when my grandpa’s back gave a loud cracking sound as he sat down. I made a decision then.

  I sat down at the table and tucked into my breakfast, waiting for the right moment to tell them my new plan.

  “Oh, this is delicious, Grandma,” I moaned between bites.

  Grandma smiled, glowing beneath the praise.

  “Are you heading on up to the fair today?” she asked me.

  The Christmas Garden Fair, the town’s annual Christmas event, would take place in Hollow Heights, Hillbilly Hollow’s largest park. It would run for two whole weeks, clear up to Christmas and a little after. With the local historical society I was a member of on hold over the colder months, I’d needed something to do around the community. So I’d volunteered to help out with the fair. I’d been going up to the park every day for the last couple weeks, helping to hang lights and hand out flyers.

  “Yes, I’m going to the park today if you don’t need me here for anything,” I said. Then I added, “I actually wanted to talk to you both about that.”

  I saw Grandpa give a slight shake of his head, signalling me when Grandma wasn’t looking, but I ignored it. Now would be as good a time as any to bring up what was on my mind.

  Grandma said, “If it’s anything to do with the fair then don’t worry. We can take care of your chores around here for the next two weeks, can’t we, Ed?”

  Grandpa nodded enthusiastically, still giving me a warning look.

  I said, “Well, that’s the thing. I was actually going to let Mrs. Schneider know I’m dropping out. There’s so much that needs doing around the farm, especially with the snow coming soon. And it doesn’t seem fair that I go off and do something fun and leave all of that to you two.”

  Grandma said, “Nonsense, we enjoy the farm work. And you didn’t come back here to be our servant, Emma. Go up there and enjoy it. You deserve it after all the work you’ve put into getting the Christmas Garden set up.”

  I shook my head, but Grandma was having none of it.

  Grandpa sat in silence, sipping his coffee.

  “There’s more to it than you’re saying, Emma,” Grandma guessed. “I can tell by your face. So why don’t you just spit it out?”

  “Well,” I started.

  I felt Grandpa’s eyes burning into the side of my head and I glanced at him. His look said it all.

  I cleared my throat and suddenly decided I couldn’t go against Grandpa’s wishes. I couldn’t tell Grandma about her funny spells, if he didn’t think it was good for her to know. I had to say something, though.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, Grandma. But you and Grandpa aren’t getting any younger, and I just think it would be good for you both to have a little more time to take it easy, especially now that the colder months are here.”

  Grandma laughed. “She’s calling us old, Ed.”

  “Yes, I got that. Quite somethin’ coming from a granddaughter I can run rings around.” He laughed.

  He had a fair point there. Even after the time I had spent back on the farm, he could still outwork me without even breaking a sweat. I had gotten fitter, toned up a bit, there was no denying that, but I was still a long way from being as tough as either of my grandparents. That was what city living had done to me, I guessed. It had made me soft.

  “You know, Dorothy, she does have a point about one thing,” Grandpa said with a twinkle in his eye. “I reckon these days you and I might be a bit past splitting wood and firing up the wood burning stove in the mornings.”

  Grandma pretended to think about it. “You know something, Ed? I reckon you’re right. She can take care of that for us and then still do the Christmas Garden Fair.”

  Grandma thought we’d found a compromise, a way to make me feel useful and still get to do the fair. She didn’t know my grandpa hated the wood chopping and the stove. He had just taken the opportunity to palm off the most hated job on the farm to me.

  He turned to me now, his face a picture of innocence.

  “What do you say, Emma? Is that a fair compromise?”

  I wanted to say no, but I felt myself nodding.

  “Yes. Yes, it is,” I said, forcing a smile.

  Grandpa winked at me when Grandma got up to start clearing away the breakfast pots. That wink said it all. I had been well and truly played.

  My cell phone started ringing before Grandpa could gloat too much. I glanced at the screen, expecting to see Suzy’s name or maybe even Billy’s. Instead, it was an out of town number. I picked up the phone and stood quickly.

  “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Grandma, leave those pots and I’ll take care of them when I’m done.”

  “You’re a good kid, Emma,” she said as she sat down with her cup of coffee.

  I hurried out of the kitchen and went to stand in the yard. Snowball immediately trotted out behind me, no doubt afraid she would be left out of another trip around the farm. She was going to be disappointed.

  I took the call.

  “Emma Hooper,” I said into the phone.

  “Emma? Hi. Eva Baron here from Baron’s Construction. I found your contact info on a freelance site where you’re listed as a graphic designer. I wondered if maybe you had some time to fit in a small job for me?”

  “Sure. What exactly are you looking for?” I asked.

  She talked a little about the company and the story she wanted to tell through her branding. She told me that the company needed a full rebranding and she wanted me to design their new logo, their website header and a glossy flyer. I almost whooped with excitement. A new work project was exactly what I needed.

  “I can definitely help you with that. My email address is Emma dot Hooper, all lower case, at Emma Hooper Designs dot com. If you cou
ld send over your requirements, your brand colors and a link to your website so I can get a feel for the sort of thing that would match your brand well, I can get you a quote within forty-eight hours.”

  “Perfect,” Eva said. “I look forward to hearing from you, Emma.”

  She hung up before I had a chance to say goodbye. It almost made me nostalgic for New York, where everyone was always rushing around, too busy even to say goodbye on a call. The nostalgia didn’t last long before Snowball bleated and rubbed herself against my legs, almost as though she knew I was thinking about my old life.

  “Ah, I’m not going anywhere girl,” I whispered as I headed back into the house. It was true. A recent visit back to New York to solve the murder of my old landlady had reminded me that Hillbilly Hollow was my true home now.

  “Good news?” Grandpa asked as I walked over to the sink and began to fill it with hot water.

  “Yes, actually.” I smiled. “I’ve just landed a new client, assuming she’s happy with my quote.”

  “You do too much, Emma,” my grandma chastised me.

  I rolled my eyes and said, “Coming from the woman who runs a farm, belongs to a quilting circle, and is talking about joining a book club. Not to mention all the community events you participate in.”

  “But those are fun things, Emma.”

  “So is this to me. I love graphic design. It’s the one thing I’m actually good at.”

  “Nonsense. You’re good at more than just that,” Grandpa said. He winked at me again. “You’re going to make an excellent wood cutter.”

  I groaned inwardly but on the outside I just laughed. “You know something, Grandpa? I think you might just be right about that.”