A Snowed-in Christmas
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
Chapter 9
The wooden doors of The Jammed groaned open to the chilly December wind, scattering snowflakes across Bert’s path. He walked in, greeted by the rich scent of roasting garlic and simmering herbs, a cozy contrast to the cold outside.
The sheriff’s eyes scanned the interior, searching for Karen. She was, sitting in a corner booth, bathed in the warm glow of a vintage hurricane lamp. Even from across the room, Bert could see the way the light danced in her amber eyes, turning them molten gold. Her hair, usually tamed in a sleek bun, cascaded down her shoulders in fiery waves, catching the light like spun copper. She wore a dress the color of deep red, hugging her curves in a way that made his breath hitch. A single pearl necklace, nestled in the hollow of her throat.
As he made his way towards her, Bert couldn’t help but feel a nervous flutter in his stomach. Karen was breathtaking, even more so tonight.
He reached the table, his heart hammering against his ribs. Her smile, when she looked up, was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.
“Hi, Bert,” she said in a husky whisper. “You look dashing.”
He chuckled. “Hello, Karen. Thank you, you look gorgeous, too, but no surprise there.” He handed her the bouquet, and said, “These are for you.”
“Thank you so much. You remembered I love lilies,” she leaned down to smell them. “Maybe they’re not as elegant as roses, but they last. Always been my favorite.”
“They’re loyal.”
Karen pressed her lips together and gave Bert a small nod.
“I don’t know who’s more nervous, you or me.”
“It’s definitely me,” Bert said. “Let’s order our dinner.”
During dinner, Bert made small talk, asking Karen about her trips.
He asked Karen questions about the places she had visited, and Karen told him in detail about some of her adventures.
“I read your notebook. Well, most of it. It was a fascinating read. You traveled a lot. I’m glad you got to fulfill your dream.”
“Thank you, Bert. That’s very kind of you. Would you like to see some pictures?”
Karen didn’t wait for an answer, she grabbed her phone, and moved next to Bert, showing him the first one.
Karen put on her reading glasses and Bert did the same. “This was in Tuscany. I stayed on this gorgeous farm with a lovely family. They let me stay for free as long as I worked.”
“It’s beautiful,” he said, as she swiped through the pictures, showing the Tuscan hills and cypress trees.
“Do you want to see more?”
Bert’s eyes found hers, and he nodded just once.
Karen showed him pictures of castles and reefs, of skyscrapers and beaches, of hidden hiking trails and bustling bars.
And with each new story she told, she asked him for one of his own.
Karen wanted to know how Bert spent his free time, to which he answered with a multitude of things that surprised her. He’d fallen in love with reading mystery books, trekking, and fishing, and he’d even picked up skiing, though he said he was still figuring it out. He had a huge collection of vinyl records. Mainly jazz.
He told her about their friends’ lives, and he filled her in on how everyone around town was doing, the drama, and the gossip.
Bert told her about Molly’s father death, and how it changed Middletown for the better; and how Marcus Carter stopped being a hermit thanks to a veteran with PTSD.
He told her how Molly and John Harding reconnected and got married.
“John Harding’s son, Red, got married to Katherine Davies. Red and his business partner, the renowned chef Tony Marino, own this restaurant.”
“Oh, wow! So many changes! The place is packed. How did you get a table?”
“Red always saves some tables for the locals. He never forgets how people in town supported him when he started the business.”
“I’ve listened to people talking about you. Everyone loves you.”
Bert shrugged, resting importance on her words. “Small towns are like families. We all know each other. We all take care of each other. I’m sure you remember how it was.”
“I do. I’m really loving my visit here,” Karen said. “All these memories keep flooding back.”
“Like?”
“I keep picturing this cute, little bakery. It had a hand-painted psychedelic mural on one of the walls, and they made the best croissants ever!”
“Flour Power Bakery,” Bert said, with a grin. “Yeah, it’s still here ... and the mural.”
“No way! In the city, the main street looks different each year. And the staff. You’re anonymous—”
“Here it feels like everywhere is home.”
“I miss that,” Karen said sadly. “I’m still a small-town girl, even if I’ve been living in the city. I never forgot Middletown ... or you,” Karen said, in a whisper.
Karen’s words brought a shaky smile to Bert’s face.
Then, he surprised her by asking, “Tell me about your husband.”
“Really?”
Bert nodded.
“I met him on one of my travels. He was well off.”
“Of course, he was,” Bert couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice. “I bet he didn’t have any problem getting your father’s permission to get married.”
“It wasn’t the money that attracted me to him, if that’s what you meant. I was never a gold-digger.”
“You’re right. That was a cheap shot. I apologize.”
“To make a long story short, we clicked, fell in love, and got married. He was a good man—you would have liked him.”
Bert made a noncommittal gesture.
“We stopped traveling when I got pregnant. We had two children, a girl and a boy. You’ve met Bethany. She grew into a wonderful young woman. My son got married and now lives in England.”
Bert nodded. “Your daughter looks like you.”
“Oh, she’s even prettier. But, of course, I’m biased.”
Bert smiled at Karen.
“My husband and I traveled a bit more once the kids left for college, but then he got cancer. We fought it for a few years, but he lost the battle three years ago.” Karen let out a long, painful sigh.
“I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been a tough time for you.” Bert placed his large hand on Karen’s and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“It was. My daughter stayed with me and helped me through it. She’s the one who convinced me to come back to Middletown for Christmas. Her family will join us on Christmas Eve.” Karen wet her lips before continuing, “I know it’s been a long time, but I never had the chance to apologize for what I did to you. I owe you that, at least. I was such a coward. I should have been honest about how I felt.”
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