A Haunted Holiday in Hillbilly Hollow Read online

I finished washing and drying the dishes. Three times I tripped over Snowball as I put the dishes back away.

  “You’re definitely at least half dog,” I said to her as she looked up at me with her baleful brown eyes. “Don’t worry. I love dogs too.”

  By the time I was all finished with the pots, my grandparents were back outdoors and I had to go looking for my grandpa. I found him tending to some empty land.

  “Just turning it over to stop the frost from ruining good soil,” he explained when he saw my confused look.

  “If you don’t need my help, I was going to head out to the park and just double check everything is in order for the opening,” I said. “Do you know what happened to the keys to the truck?”

  “Oh, it’s the big opening tomorrow, isn’t it? You’ve all worked so hard and I’m sure this year’s Christmas Garden will be the best one yet. But I get why you feel like you have to check everything one last time. The keys are in the drawer. Take as long as you like, Emma. We’ve got the farm under control.”

  “Thanks.” I beamed.

  I went back into the house and found the keys to the truck.

  “Sorry, Snowball, this one’s going to be a solo mission I’m afraid,” I said as I scratched the goat’s ears once more.

  I ducked out quickly, making sure she couldn’t escape out into the front yard as I went. I got into the battered old truck, the very one I had learned to drive in, and headed towards Hollow Heights Park.

  I knew Grandpa was right; we’d all put a lot of work into the Christmas Garden Fair and it was going to be perfect. But he was also right about me just needing to check it one more time. As paranoid as that probably made me, I was a perfectionist, and I would rather encounter any issues today while there was still time to put them right than find them tomorrow and ruin the big opening.

  I went into town and spent the rest of the day at the park, working with other volunteers to string a few more colorful lights from the trees and put the finishing touches on the decorative Christmas displays. By the end of the day’s work, I was confident we had got everything done to perfection. The Christmas fair was as ready as we could make it.

  I couldn’t help feeling proud of my efforts, as I glimpsed the twinkling lights in my rear-view mirror while driving away from Hollow Heights. I would head home and get a little sleep and be all ready for the opening tomorrow.

  2

  I straightened up and pressed on the small of my back until it gave a satisfying cracking sound. The crack did little to ease the burning in my muscles, though. My back hurt and my arms were even worse. And I had only split and carried in half of the wood for the wood burning stove. I’d been working beneath the cold glow of a bare bulb from the woodshed, because it wasn’t yet light outside.

  I stifled a yawn as I put down the splitter, grabbed an armful of wood, and headed back past the outhouse, carrying in the next load. Snowball trotted merrily alongside me. Her joyful, almost skipping gait made me shake my head in wonder. Didn’t she know it was only four o’clock in the morning? Morning? Ha. That was a joke. It was the middle of the night as far as I was concerned.

  That was the main trouble with this job. Not the endless chopping or the fight to get the flame going. No, the worst part was the early start. Until the wood burner kicked in, the whole house was freezing, so whoever was doing that job had to be the first one up. I vowed to myself I would split the wood for tomorrow tonight and at least get an extra hour in bed the next morning.

  “Do you think I’ll stick to that, Snowball?” I asked her as I struggled in with the wood.

  She gave me a look that was almost a smile.

  I laughed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” I said to her.

  An hour later, the wood was all split and lugged inside. The logs were arranged in the stove exactly how I’d seen Grandpa do them. The biggest, thickest logs were on the bottom of the pile, working up to the smaller ones at the top. The tiny pieces of kindling were scattered over those and, in theory, the flames should have been taking. But they weren’t.

  I pulled my fingers back and yelped when the extra long match burned down too far, scorching my fingers for the third time.

  “Having some trouble with that, dear?” my grandma’s voice asked from behind me.

  I hadn’t heard her come in and I jumped. Then I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment when I realized how pathetic my fire-lighting attempts must look to an old hand like Grandma.

  “Yes, a little trouble,” I replied.

  “No matter. Here’s a little trick that might help. Just don’t let your grandpa catch you cheating,” she said with a wink.

  She went to a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a newspaper. She tore off a few sheets and balled them up, before bringing them back. She laid the crumpled papers carefully on the top of the pile of wood and held a match to them. They took instantly and passed the flames on to the kindling.

  “So, that’s the secret,” I said with a laugh.

  “It’s my secret. But your grandpa has his own natural knack for fire-starting. He would never approve of my little ‘cheat’.”

  Within ten minutes, the fire was burning merrily away and the kitchen was more than pleasantly warm. Grandma slipped her coat on.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  Grandma laughed. “Out to get the eggs. Where did you think I was going?”

  “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late in the morning,” I admitted.

  I stood up and followed Grandma. By the time we had collected all of the eggs and fed the chickens, Grandpa was out in one of the fields somewhere. Grandma and I went back inside and Grandma started making a batter.

  “I thought we might have pancakes today for …” She trailed off and came back with a shout. “Stop it, girl! You put that down!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at Snowball’s total disregard for the instruction. She continued to happily munch her way through Grandma’s tea towel.

  Grandma tutted to herself and went to fetch another one. She left it high up on the counter out of Snowball’s reach.

  “I swear that goat costs us more in tea towels than your Grandpa does in shirts,” she said.

  The back door opened and Grandpa came in.

  “Did I hear my name taken in vain in here?” he asked with a pretend scowl.

  “Oh, always.” Grandma laughed.

  We ate the delicious pancakes covered in maple syrup. I looked at my watch after breakfast was over. I still had a couple hours to kill before I had to be at the park. I debated going back to bed, but it didn’t feel quite right going to bed while my grandparents worked. I decided instead to go into town and call in at Suzy’s shop to catch up with her. Ever since she and Brian got back from their honeymoon months ago I hadn’t seen as much of my best friend as I used to.

  “If you don’t need me, I was thinking of dropping in on Suzy before I head over to the park,” I said as I put the last of the dishes away.

  “Fine with me,” Grandpa said. “You know you don’t have to ask. The truck is out front whenever you need it.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I kissed his cheek and then Grandma’s.

  “Enjoy the fair, honey. And say hi to Suzy for me,” Grandma called to my back as I hurried away.

  “I will,” I promised.

  I drove over to Suzy’s place, getting lucky and grabbing a parking space right out in front of the shop. I could feel the chill in the wind even through my winter coat and I hurried into the warmth of the shop. As I rushed in, a customer came out, leaving the store empty, except for Suzy and her racks of clothes.

  “Morning, Emma,” my friend greeted me cheerfully as I hopped up to sit on the counter by the register. “Want a donut?”

  She reached under the counter and produced a donut box that was half empty.

  “No thanks, I already had breakfast,” I said, peering into the crumb-littered box. “But what happened here? These donuts look like they were attacked b
y a pack of ravenous dinosaurs.”

  “Very funny.” Suzy stuck out her bottom lip in a mock pout, as she hopped up onto the counter beside me. “If you must know, I was a little hungry this morning.”

  “A little hungry? A T-Rex couldn’t eat that many donuts.”

  Suzy wrinkled her nose and shook out her blond curls. “Moving on...”

  I took the hint. “My grandpa reckons the forecast for the snow is wrong,” I said, changing the subject. “He said there won’t just be flurries; there’ll be a full on snow storm.”

  “Your grandpa’s right,” Suzy replied knowingly.

  I raised an eyebrow and she laughed.

  “Okay, I have no idea if it will happen or not,” she admitted. “But if Ed predicts it, I’m inclined to believe it. I wonder how bad the extra snow in the Christmas Garden will annoy Betty Blackwell?”

  “What do you mean? What does Betty Blackwell have to do with the Christmas Garden?” I asked, sure I must have missed something, judging by the way Suzy was looking at me, waiting for my reaction.

  “You haven’t heard, have you? I thought you’d come here to moan about it. Do you live under a rock or something, Emma?”

  “No, I just tune out the town gossip. I know I can rely on you to give me the highlight reel,” I replied.

  “Well then, how’s this for a highlight? It seems you’re not the only one with too much time on her hands now that the old fort is closed for the winter and the historical society has nothing to do.”

  Suzy was referring to the old nineteenth century fort on the edge of town, where I often volunteered to participate in old fort days, entertaining visitors during the warm months. The fort was run by the local historical society, of which Betty Blackwell was president.

  Suzy continued. “Betty Blackwell has just gone and got herself put in charge of organising the volunteers at the Christmas Garden Fair.”

  “Ugh,” I groaned. “You mean to tell me I’m going to have to answer to her from now on? She’s such a nitpicker, and she can’t get along with anyone.”

  “Being stern and abrupt is just her way, Emma. She should have been a school teacher.”

  I snorted. “I don’t think many kids would have enjoyed that school.”

  “No, probably not,” Suzy conceded.

  “So, how did she do it? Coming in on the fair management after all the actual setting up was done? Getting to boss everyone around and not do any real work?”

  Suzy shrugged. “Mrs. Schneider and her go back years, don’t they? And Mrs. Schneider’s arthritis is playing up in the cold. So Betty saw her chance and took it.”

  My cell phone buzzed in my pocket and I had a horrible feeling it was going to be Betty calling to tell me I was late to the park, or that I lacked dedication, or one of the hundreds of other things she had said to me over my time with the historical society.

  It wasn’t Betty. It was a text message from Billy. I slipped my phone back away hoping Suzy would let it go. She didn’t, of course.

  “Not answering a text. That’s not like you at all. And that half smile you’re trying to hide means it was from Billy, wasn’t it?” Suzy grinned.

  I sighed and nodded.

  “So answer him,” she said.

  “I will when I’m back in the truck,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just date him already?”

  “Because it’s not like that, Suzy. We’re friends, that’s all.”

  “Yeah right. That’s not what he wants and we both know it.”

  I didn’t bother trying to deny it. I knew Suzy was right, but it was easier to tell myself neither of us wanted more, because I really did care a lot about Billy and I didn’t want to hurt him.

  “Seriously, Emma. Why don’t you give him a chance? He’s sweet, good looking, you actually care about him. What’s he missing?”

  “He isn’t missing anything. It’s just … it’s complicated that’s all.”

  “Complicated my foot. You just don’t want to commit to dating him because you’re afraid if it doesn’t work out, that’ll be the end of your friendship.”

  I frowned. “You know me far too well,” I said.

  She grinned. “Yup. Now you’d best get going or you’re gonna be late and Betty won’t like that. She’ll probably put you on toilet cleaning duty or something.”

  I shuddered at the thought. “Yeah, you’re right. See you later,” I said, sliding down from the counter and making my way to the door.

  “Give Billy a chance,” Suzy shouted after me.

  I just waved in reply. Suzy was still laughing as the door closed behind me. I hurried back to my truck and pulled my cell phone out again. I found myself a little too eager to read the message.

  The text message was short and to the point.

  BILLY: Lunch?

  I smiled to myself and then shook my head as if to clear it. I wasn’t going to go down the road of asking myself what it meant that I was always so happy to hear from him. Anyway, it wasn’t like I could say yes to this invite.

  ME: Sorry, can’t. It’s the first day of the Christmas Garden.

  I paused for a second and added a sad emoji before pressing send. I’d barely gotten the truck’s engine going when my phone buzzed again.

  BILLY: I’ll come to U. See U around two.

  I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face this time, and I didn’t attempt to wipe it away. Instead, I pulled away from the parking spot, telling myself I was just happy at the thought of seeing a friend. And having someone to vent to if Betty Blackwell wound up being her usual charming self.

  When I pulled up into the parking lot at Hollow Heights Park, the area was still almost empty. We had an hour or so before the Christmas Garden’s grand opening, which was in reality no grander than the clock striking eleven am and old Marty Flint, the groundskeeper, pushing open the gate to that section of the park.

  I quickly typed out a response to Billy, telling him I would look forward to seeing him, and then I stuffed my phone back into my pocket and headed towards the makeshift tent that was being used as the fair’s headquarters.

  I wasn’t even halfway there when I heard the raised voice of Betty Blackwell rolling across the gardens. Shouting already. A moment later, I saw Frank Clarkson, who looked after the reindeer in the temporary petting zoo, stomping out of the tent, his face red with anger.

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me, Frank Clarkson!” Betty shouted, following him out of the tent.

  “I’m most certainly not goin’ to stay here to be insulted by you,” he replied. “You’ve barely been here ten minutes and already you think you’re in charge.”

  Frank’s usually red face was an especially bright shade today, his thick gray eyebrows climbing so high into his wrinkled forehead that they nearly met his hairline

  “I’m in charge of this event,” Betty reminded him. “And it would do you well to remember that.”

  Frank scrunched up his scruffy face which, judging by its stubble, hadn’t been shaved in a couple weeks. “Sounds about right. Turning up once the hard part is done and taking credit for everyone else’s work.”

  Betty flushed pink and her mouth gaped open and closed like a fish out of water.

  It was pretty much the same thing Suzy and I had said, but to speak to Betty that way to her face seemed more than a little harsh, I thought. As abrupt as Betty was, her heart was in the right place and she was always volunteering for community stuff around the town. The more cynical town’s folk said it was because she loved having power over people, no matter how irrelevant that power might be. Personally, I liked to think it was because she was lonely or wanted the best for the town.

  Frank was headed straight for me, storming in the direction of the reindeer pen.

  “This isn’t over, Frank!” Betty shouted after him.

  He didn’t even bother to reply.

  “That woman will be the death of me,” he muttered as he passed me.


  Not wanting to get involved in the argument, I pretended not to hear him and kept walking towards Betty. She spotted me and disappeared back into the tent. She came straight out again before I could reach her, a clipboard and pen clutched in her hand.

  It occurred to me that the older woman, with her tightly pulled back hair and high-collared blouses, was rarely seen without a clipboard. It seemed to add to her air of authority.

  “Emma, how nice of you to join us,” she greeted me, looking pointedly at her watch.

  I chose to ignore the sarcasm and smiled at her.

  “Glad to be here, Betty. It’s always good to do our bit, right? I see Frank is giving you some trouble.”

  Betty just made a humph sound.

  I wanted to ask her what their argument had been about, but I knew she wouldn’t tell me. Anyway, I reminded myself that I didn’t want to get involved.

  “Some of the lights in the patch of trees behind the apple cider stand were pulled down last night. I need you to restring them,” said Betty.

  I nodded, bristling inside at her lack of a “please”. It didn’t much matter, though. I would have fixed the lights anyway. Too much hard work had gone into this to leave a patch of trees unlit.

  “Any idea who vandalized the lights?” I asked.

  Betty shook her head. “No. It’ll be teenagers, I’m sure. You know what they’re like. Too much time on their hands. If they were my kids, I’d soon find something for them to do and stop them from going around terrorizing people.”

  “I’ll get right to work repairing the display,” I said, avoiding the subject. While I was annoyed about the lights, it was a stretch to say that the local teens terrorized people.

  I moved away from Betty and found Colin, the handyman, and begged a set of ladders off him. Then I went to get a new string of lights. I soon managed to get them all hung and switched on just in time for the Christmas Garden to open.

  I hadn’t realized how many families with small children had begun gathering at the gate, until they began making their way inside. It was worth every minute of the time I’d given to repairing the display when I heard the children gasping with amazement and saw them pointing and smiling, their cheeks pink from the cold and their eyes glittering with excitement.