Wish Upon a Christmas Star (10 page)

“Kayla told me you might stop by and see me.” Helene was a
small woman with long blond hair, big eyes and a way of making you feel you were
the only person in the vicinity. “She said you’re looking for your brother.”

“I am.” Maria produced the age progression and showed it to
her. “By any chance, does he look familiar?”

Helene studied the photo. The longer she looked at it, the
faster Maria’s heart beat.

“Something about him reminds me of a guy I see around
sometimes,” the woman said. “Plays the guitar. Give me a minute and I’ll come up
with his name.”

Maria allowed herself to hope.

“I have it.” Helene snapped her fingers. “Clem. His name is
Clem.”

As quickly as Maria’s hopes had risen, they crashed to earth.
Clem was the name of the guitarist with the limp from The Flying Monkey. She
realized she’d been holding her breath and made herself exhale. “It’s not
Clem.”

“Then, no. Sorry, hon. I don’t recognize him.” Helene shook her
head. “You should ask my brother. He knows everybody in Key West.”

“I already did.” Maria had emailed the photo to Key Carl, who’d
given the same negative response as his sister. “Kayla sent me to you because
she said you know a lot of people, too.”

“I do, but most everybody I know is here at the sunset
celebration,” she said. “Have you shown that photo around?”

“Yeah,” Maria said. “Nobody knows him.”

A woman in a floppy hat and a red sundress decorated with
snowflakes approached the booth and picked up one of the vases, turning it this
way and that.

Helene held up a finger to Maria. “Can I help you, hon?” she
asked the potential customer.

“I can wait until you’re finished,” the woman said.

“I’ve taken up enough of your time,” Maria told Helene. “Thanks
for looking at the photo.”

“No, thank
you
for what you’re
doing for my sweet girl,” she replied. “Kayla wears her heart on her sleeve, you
know. This job with her uncle Carl means a lot to her. She’ll be crushed if it
doesn’t work out.”

“Then I hope my advice helps.” Maria liked Helene Fryburger. A
lot. The woman obviously had her daughter’s best interests at heart. “I’ll let
you take care of your customer. Nice meeting you.”

Maria showed the age progression to a few other merchants who
didn’t recognize Mike, then went in search of Logan. She found him within
minutes, looking through landscape paintings of the Florida Keys at an artist’s
booth.

“Hey,” she called as she approached him. “Any success?”

“None,” he said. “How about you? Was Kayla’s mom any help?”

“No.” Maria indicated the vendors to the left of them, one who
sold homemade soap and another peddling straw baskets. “If you hit those booths,
we got everybody.”

“I did,” he said.

She swallowed her frustration and gestured at the paintings
he’d been looking through. “See anything you like?”

He flipped to a rendering of a typical Key West house
surrounded by lush vegetation, the pastel-blue siding contrasting with the green
of the palms and the red flowering trees. “I like the juxtaposition of the
colors in this one.”

“It’s nice.” Maria angled her head, taking a closer look at the
painting. “You’re way more talented than whoever painted it, though.”

“A matter of opinion.”

She shook her head. “It’s a fact. You have a gift. I don’t
understand how you could have given it up, especially because you were so
passionate about painting.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Logan muttered under his breath.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it.” He turned away from the booth and began walking
through the crowd.

Maria hurried to catch up. “I’d rather not forget it. I’d
really like to know what you meant by that.”

He slowed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “C’mon,
Maria. Today couldn’t have been easy on you. We don’t need to talk about this.
There’s no point.”

“Why not?” She knew she was belaboring the point but couldn’t
stop herself. “I only stated the obvious. I can’t understand how you could love
something so much and just give it up.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. It occurred to her that her words
had a double meaning. Once upon a time, back in the days when she’d believed in
happily ever after, Logan had claimed to love her, too.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” His voice was tight. “I only
gave up on painting. You gave up on me.”

Before Maria could form a reply, cries of delight split the
air. All around them people pointed at the horizon, where the sun was dipping in
a sky that glowed red, yellow and orange. Camera shutters whirred, street
performers suspended their acts and people jostled for better positions. Two
girls about nine or ten years old held hands, jumping up and down in
delight.

“The show’s on,” Logan said.

He walked to a less crowded area, staking out a spot with an
unobstructed view. Maria stared after him, dumbfounded by what he’d said, as the
crowd oohed and aahed at the sun’s fiery descent.

Questions filled her head, paramount among them how Logan could
have such a skewed view of the past. She wouldn’t ask any of them, though. Logan
had been right.

There was no point in discussing it. What was done was
done.

* * *

K
AYLA
CHECKED
THE
VIDEO
stream on her
smartphone and assured herself Santa was untouched before filling her lungs with
jasmine-scented air.

Giving silent thanks for the technology that rescued her from
doing surveillance work sitting in a car, she smoothed down her flirty red skirt
and tried not to notice that her hands were shaking.

Since she could check in on Santa every ten or fifteen minutes,
she hadn’t allowed her big case to wreck this long-awaited chance with Alex. She
wouldn’t let her nerves derail her, either. Instead of acting like the
schoolgirl he’d initially thought she was, she’d be adult and sophisticated.

Holding her chin high and lifting her lips in a smile she hoped
was serene, she glided into Estrada’s Pub.

A young man at the door thrust out a Santa Claus hat similar to
the one he was wearing. “You can’t get in tonight without one of these.”

Kayla’s hand flew to the hair she’d spent thirty minutes
styling so it fell just so. “You’re kidding me. I really have to put that
on?”

The bouncer picked up a white bit of fluff that looked like it
was made from cotton balls. “It’s either the hat or the clip-on beard.”

Kayla put on the hat and stepped into the bar. Paralysis hit
her hard. People in Santa hats and beards laughed, talked and hoisted mugs of
beer and assorted drinks. Dartboards lined a wall in the back. Strung above them
was a banner that read First Annual Christmas Mixed Doubles Dart Tournament.
Multicolored Christmas lights twinkled from every fixture, adding to the assault
on the senses.

She ventured forward on her high-heeled sandals.

“Kayla!” Alex beckoned to her, breaking away from a knot of
people and meeting her halfway. He wore a grin and a Santa hat similar to hers
yet still looked so handsome she had a hard time catching her breath. “Glad you
could make it.”

He touched her arm, making her think of the other places she’d
like him to touch. She almost groaned at the thought.
Think
adult and sophisticated,
she warned herself.

“My pleasure,” she said.

Ugh! Had she really said that? With that snooty intonation?

“No, it’s mine.” Alex raised his voice a little to be heard
over a jukebox that was playing a corny Christmas song with barking dogs.
“Something came up and my partner couldn’t make it. Can you fill in?”

Uh-oh. She shouldn’t have told him she knew how to play
darts.

“Is that allowed?” she hedged. “Don’t tournaments make you
preregister or something?”

“This tournament’s for fun,” he said. “Nobody will mind if you
step in. Come on.”

The hope on his face decided her. That, and the chance to spend
time with him. After all, how hard could darts be?

“I’m in,” she said.

“Terrific.” He took her hand and led her to a group of men and
women roughly his age. She didn’t know any of them. “Everybody, this is Kayla,
my new partner.”

“Alex always picks quality partners.” The comment came from an
exotic-looking woman with slanted cheekbones, short dark hair and a willowy
build. “She must be a ringer.”

A ringer? Kayla would be lucky if she could hit any of the
rings on the dartboard.

“You can keep up with her,
querida.
” A handsome man with dark hair, olive skin and a Spanish accent
slung an arm around the woman. To the group, he said, “Nalani looked great in
warm-ups.”

“Do I get some practice throws?” Kayla asked Alex.

“’fraid not.” He indicated the area with the adjacent
dartboards. Two couples had already started squaring off against each other.
“We’re starting. It’s 501, by the way, not cricket.”

The only cricket Kayla knew of was the English game played with
bats and balls. She had a better handle on 501.

“That’s the game where the first team to reach 501 points wins,
right?” she asked.

“Not quite,” he said slowly. “The objective is to count down
from 501 points to zero.”

Kayla thumped her forehead. “Of course. The principle’s the
same, though. Aim for the 20s and the 19s.”

“And the triple line,” Alex added.

There was a triple line?

“We’re up next, against Jorge and Nalani,” he said, “but I’ve
got time to get you a drink. What would you like?”

“Tonic water, please,” Kayla said. “With lime.”

“Not gin?”

“I don’t drink,” she said. “I’m silly enough as it is.”

He laughed. While he was gone, Kayla moved away from his
friends to a quiet corner where she could check her smartphone. As expected,
Santa was unscathed. Somebody would have to be awfully bold to pull off another
prank at this relatively early hour of the night when lots of people were in the
street.

She slipped the phone back into the deep pocket of her skirt
and watched the side-by-side games. The teams took turns, with each contestant
throwing three darts per visit at the board. She couldn’t figure out all the
rules, though. She sidled up to Nalani. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a
question.”

“Not at all,” Nalani said with a friendly smile. Her speech had
a musical quality.

“What does going bust mean?”

“The last dart you throw needs to hit the bull’s-eye or a
double segment,” she said. “If it doesn’t, or if you don’t end on a double, it’s
a bust.”

“Duh! Of course!” Kayla said. “Thanks for the refresher.”

Nalani smiled. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Bars aren’t really my scene.”

“So Vanessa doesn’t have anything to worry about?” Nalani
asked.

Kayla thought the name sounded elegant, as if it belonged to a
woman of great beauty and poise. “Who’s Vanessa?”

“Alex’s regular partner.” It seemed to Kayla that Nalani put
extra emphasis on the word
partner.
Did that mean
Vanessa was also Alex’s girlfriend?

He returned with her drink a few moments later and stood beside
her as the other teams finished up their games. And then it was their turn at
the dartboard. Alex and Jorge squared off to determine which team would start,
with Alex’s bull’s-eye beating Jorge’s throw.

“Ladies first,” Alex told her, sweeping his hand out with a
flourish.

Kayla fought the urge to wipe her damp palms on her skirt.
Drawing in a deep breath, she gathered the three darts in her left hand and
stepped up to the line. Now what? One of the previous competitors had flicked
her wrist back and forth four or five times before letting the dart fly. That
seemed like a good idea.

Kayla went into the motion and sent the dart airborne. It hit
the outer portion of the board. A four. Kayla forced herself to smile and looked
at Alex over her shoulder.

“Just warming up,” she told him.

Her next toss landed on a two. The third throw missed the board
entirely. Nothing was left to do but take the walk of shame back to Alex’s side
while Nalani started her turn.

“Now you know I’m a fraud,” Kayla said. “I can’t play at
all.”

“Sure you can play,” he said. “You hit the board twice.”

“I only got six points!”

“Better than zero.” He winked at her and waited for his turn,
where he racked up ninety-nine points. He didn’t strut when he rejoined Kayla,
probably because a high score was nothing unusual for him.

“You’re really good at this, huh?” she asked.

Nalani turned around and called, “He’s really good at it.”

“Now I feel worse,” Kayla admitted.

“Then cut it out,” he said. “I like to win as much as the next
guy, but the fun is in playing. If not for you, I wouldn’t have a partner.”

“Because your girlfriend, Vanessa, couldn’t make it?”

One of his eyebrows lifted. “My girlfriend? Vanessa and I only
hook up at darts.”

“Oh,” Kayla said. Now she had something else to feel
embarrassed over.

“You’re up next, Kayla,” Jorge called.

“My partner’s a bit inexperienced,” Alex told his friends.
“Mind if I give her a few pointers?”

“We would if we were losing,” Jorge said. “But since we’re up,
go right ahead.”

They approached the dartboard together, with Alex standing
close enough behind her that she could feel his breath. Her heart drummed, her
legs felt rubbery and she thought she might hyperventilate. He took gentle hold
of her forearm.

“Align your shoulder, elbow and hand to point at the board in a
straight line,” he said, his mouth close to her ear. “Yeah, that’s right. Now
keep the dart level and throw it with the same motion you would a hammer. Got
it?”

She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded. The instant
she did, he released her. She felt strangely bereft.