by Susan Wiggs
Suddenly he found himself getting very excited about this new wrinkle. Christmas was coming early this year, it seemed.
“That’s great,” he said.
“Which way is your car?” She looked toward the exit.
Oh shit. She was expecting him to offer her a ride.
“Uh, yeah. I’m actually meeting someone else today,” he said, supremely uncomfortable. “I didn’t realize—”
“Oh!” Her cheeks turned red—even redder than they were from the cold. “Oh my gosh, that was totally presumptuous of me, to assume you’d come to give me a ride.”
“Any other time, I’d love to offer you a lift.” He cast about, trying to figure out when he could get together with her. With the arrival of Maya’s kids, it was going to be hard to carve out time to do anything. “It’s just that today, someone special is coming.”
“Oh.” The smile left her eyes, yet stayed frozen on her lips.
Those delicious ripe lips. He knew how soft they were, he knew they tasted like berry lip gloss; the memory had haunted him since he’d kissed her. He was an idiot. “I mean, not that you aren’t special, but, I mean—”
“Logan,” called Maya, waving from down the platform. She came walking toward him, towing her kids along behind her. Her face taut with nervousness, she put her arms around him and gave him a hug. He knew why she clung; he could feel her shuddering intake of breath and sensed she was about to shatter.
“Hey,” he said, stepping back. In the realm of awkward moments, this one definitely ranked.
“So,” said Maya with forced cheerfulness, “are we going straight to your place or—”
“My place,” he said, then stepped farther away from her. It was too late, though. His foot was already planted deep in his mouth. “Er... Maya, this is Darcy.”
“Hi,” said Darcy; then she shifted her glance at Logan. “Sorry, I’d better be on my way. I’ve got...you know, that work stuff going on.”
“Sure. Of course.”
“Good to meet you,” she murmured, and hurried away, practically running as she followed signs to the taxi stand.
Logan suppressed a groan of frustration. He couldn’t let himself worry about her for the moment. Shifting gears, he focused on the kids, trying to figure out how in God’s name to make this easier for them. He couldn’t. No one could. “Okay, gang. To the mountaintop. You’re going to love it there.”
“I’ve been to your house,” said André. “Last summer. Remember? I got to have a sleepover with Charlie before camp started.”
“You’re right. But that was a different house. The one in town. I sold that house and moved.”
“Where do you live now?” asked Angelica.
“On the mountaintop, like I said. There’s a big old house up there that will hold everybody who’s coming for the holidays. You get to sleep in a bunk room with Charlie and his cousins.”
“Cool,” said André. “I get the top bunk.”
Logan opened the back door of the Jeep and loaded in their luggage. “Buckle up. It takes about half an hour to get to the new place. Even Charlie hasn’t seen it yet. He doesn’t arrive for two more days.”
The kids chattered nonstop on the drive up the mountain. They seemed excited and, to Logan’s relief, not terrified that their mother was about to leave them.
“Mama has to go away for a job,” said Angelica.
Logan glanced at her in the rearview mirror. The little girl looked guileless. He didn’t blame Maya for fudging the details. No point in scaring the kids by telling them their mom was headed for a frightening place. A quick scan of André’s face revealed a different story. Logan suspected the boy wasn’t fooled for a minute. André’s skin was stretched taut across his cheekbones, and his eyes were narrowed as he watched out the window.
“So, Charlie is really excited about having Christmas with you guys,” Logan said. “He can’t wait to see you. He’s coming all the way from Oklahoma.”
“He’s moving to Japan,” said André. “He wrote me an email about it.”
“That’s cool that you guys email each other.” Logan was glad to hear it. He received regular emails from his son, too, filled with briefly stated facts—the world according to Charlie. “I got a haircut today.” “There was a field trip to the Vehicle Operations Center.” “Sushi was invented in Japan. I ate one sushi roll and it was yucky. When I move to Japan I will not eat sushi.”
Logan always wrote back promptly. It was not the same as being with his son, but with the emails and daily video phone calls, they managed to stay connected.
“Why did you move to the mountaintop?” asked André. He kept staring at the winter woods out the window. The black lines of the bare trees etched the hillside.
“It’s not exactly the top,” said Logan, “but close enough. I live there because it’s near my work, a resort called Saddle Mountain.”
“What kind of resort?” asked Angelica.
“In winter, it’s a place to go skiing or snowboarding, or sledding. You can also take a nature hike if you bundle up and stick to the trails. We can put on the snowshoes.”
“That sounds like fun,” said Maya. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”
“How will Santa Claus know where we are?” asked the little girl.
“Kids always wonder that,” Logan said. “He just does, that’s all. It’s one of the special things about Christmas.”
“Really?”
“When I was your age, my parents took me to Florida at Christmas. And Santa always found me, and I always found what I was wishing for under the tree.”
“I don’t get how that works,” said Angelica.
“It just works,” said Maya.
“Your mother is right. Sometimes it takes a miracle. What do you want from Santa?” Logan asked.
“I’m not telling,” André said. “I’ll only tell Santa.”
“Good plan,” he said.
“I’ve heard if you tell too many people, it might not come true,” André pointed out.
Logan carefully navigated his way up the winding mountain road. The town fell away, yielding to the fantastic scenery of the winter woods with sunshine peeking through. “Tell you what. We’ll put up a special light display to give Santa a landing indicator. Just in case.”
“If we live with you while Mom is away, who will take care of us?” asked Angelica.
“I will,” said Logan.
“But who’ll be the mom?”
“I can do everything a mom can do, except I’m a little better at certain things.”
“What things?”
“Singing, for one. Snowboarding.”
“Really? What else?”
“Cooking, for sure. Wait until you taste my homemade hot chocolate. You’ll be like, Logan, you should make this for everybody on earth. Then there would be world peace. And global warming would end.”
A giggle erupted from the backseat. “What else?”
“Armpit farting. I’ll teach you how.” As they drove past the resort on the way to the house, he pointed out the highlights. “That’s the main lodge, where you can get a mean bowl of chili and the best French fries known to man. The ski school is on the end there. All the instructors wear neon lime-green parkas so you can find them. The chalet is like a hotel, and it’s got an outdoor pool and two hot tubs.”
“Can we use the pool?” asked André.
“Sure. We get special privileges because we run the place,” said Logan.
“Sweet.”
Logan liked having the kids with him, even though they reminded him of how very much he missed Charlie.
Pulling up in front of the garage of his place, he looked at it as a stranger might, and was struck by how large the residence was. It had been the original resort lodge, later repurposed for the owner’s family and a number of res
ident workers. In recent years, it had served as a rustic B and B. It had the same old-world vibe as the rest of the resort, with shutters on the windows and brown painted railings all around, a chimney on each end of the building and lights glowing in the windows. When he was by himself in the big old place, he felt like a marble in a pinball machine, rolling around aimlessly. Having the kids with him was going to fill a void, for sure.
“Here we are,” he said, getting out and gathering their bags. “Come on in, and I’ll show you around.”
“Who’ll look after us when you’re at work?” asked Angelica.
“Her name’s Chelsea,” said Logan. “She’s coming up to meet you later this afternoon. You’re going to love her.” Chelsea was a friend left over from his married days. After the divorce, the friends tended to divvy themselves up: friends of the ex-bride, friends of the ex-groom. Chelsea was one of the few who straddled the line, staying in touch with both Logan and his ex.
“Your house is really big,” said Angelica, stepping through the front door. She glanced up at her mother, who nodded reassuringly.
“Lots of room for everybody,” Maya said.
Logan gave them a quick tour—the kitchen and great room, TV lounge and boardinghouse-sized dining room with a long table lined with seating for sixteen. He had never eaten at that table, not once. It made him feel ridiculous, one guy in all this space. The second and third stories featured bedrooms and bathrooms of all sizes, including a bunk room for eight.
“Here’s where you’ll sleep. When Charlie and his cousins get here, there’ll be seven kids.”
“Cool,” said André, climbing like a monkey to a top bunk.
“That’s a houseful,” said Maya.
“I’m up for it,” Logan told her.
She kept checking the screen of her phone. As they walked through the rest of the house, exploring nooks and crannies, dormer windows with views of the snowy woods, she seemed to grow more and more tense. He then gave them a quick tour of the resort.
In the main lodge, he spied Darcy Fitzgerald from afar, but she seemed busy with her friends or work associates, so he steered clear of them. Maya was clearly unraveling, and he needed to focus on getting the kids settled in. He led the way back to the house.
“Doing all right?” he murmured, holding the door for Maya.
“Freaking out,” she said. “My doctor gave me something for anxiety, but the pill I took this morning is wearing off.”
“Who’s hungry?” he asked, turning to the kids.
“Starving,” André said.
“Let’s go make some sandwiches.”
While the kids debated PB&J versus grilled cheese, Maya watched them with her heart in her eyes. Logan hurt for her. He ached all over, imagining how hard this was going to be. “Eye on the prize,” he said to her in a low voice. “Keep that February release date in mind.”
“It’s the only thing keeping me sane,” she said, and checked her phone again. “My ride back to the station should be here by now.”
Adam Bellamy had volunteered to drive her back down to the station.
“He’ll be here soon,” Logan assured her.
“I almost want to get it over with.”
Logan nodded. “The sooner you get going, the sooner you’ll be back.”
“Yes. Oh my God, how could I have been so stupid?” she asked, moving to the foyer, where the kids were out of earshot. “So, so stupid?”
“Hey, take it easy. You’re only human.”
“I thought I loved him. I kept thinking... I wasn’t thinking. Love makes us do such stupid things. Why is that?”
“No clue. I’ve made my share of mistakes.” He noticed her watching her kids, devouring them with her eyes. “I swear on my life, I’ll take good care of them,” he told her.
“I know, Logan. I can’t thank you enough.”
When her ride pulled up in front of the house, she wobbled a little on her feet, and Logan took her gently by the arm to steady her. “Easy,” he murmured. “It’s going to be all right.”
“Hey, guys,” she called to her kids, “I gotta go. Come give me hugs and kisses.” Her face was stiff with the battle against tears as she sank down on one knee and opened her arms to them.
Logan’s heart felt ripped in two as he watched her tell them goodbye, breathing deeply as though to inhale their essence. The kids clung, but relinquished their hold readily enough, innocent of her true destination.
“Be strong,” he told her. “You’re going to get through this.”
She practically fled to Adam’s truck, and she didn’t look back. The kids stared after her, stricken.
Logan burst into action. “I’ve got a surprise for you two.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re going to decorate Christmas cookies. Ever tried it?”
André looked skeptical. “You mean with icing and stuff?”
“Icing and sprinkles and everything good. You should see the stuff I bought. But these aren’t just any cookies,” Logan warned him.
“Yeah? Then what are they?”
“They’re Walking Dead Christmas cookies.” Logan went into zombie mode, with a stiff, swaying gait as he growled ominously, taking swipes at both kids.
Angelica squealed and they both ran for cover. Logan herded them into the kitchen, cranked up the music on the stereo and hoped for the best.
chapter eleven
Darcy was distracted in the worst way when she met up with her team for the video shoot. Everyone bustled around with excitement, and normally she would share that energy, reveling in the sense that they were about to do something very, very cool. There were few things more exciting than being chosen to test gear and show it off for the client.
But today she had something else on her mind—Logan O’Donnell. She’d made a fool of herself over him at the train station. What a boneheaded move, showing up, unannounced, on a transparent pretext. And then to jump to the conclusion that he’d come to meet her at the station... She shuddered in horror and wondered how she was going to smile for the camera.
It was a total bummer to find out that her crush—her very inappropriate crush, as it turned out—was now dating a woman with kids. A woman who happened to look like Sofía Vergara. How nice for him.
Darcy felt like a grade-A idiot, chasing after him even though he hadn’t called or sent a text or even a freaking one-line email since Florida. Bringing her team to Avalon for the shoot was hopelessly transparent, the equivalent of a junior high girl riding her bike past the cute boy’s house to get his attention.
Come to think of it, she had tried that ploy in seventh grade and it hadn’t worked then, either.
No wonder he hadn’t called after Florida.
One kiss was hardly an obligation.
Even if it was an amazing kiss.
Even if it happened after a moment of shared magic, like when the dolphins appeared.
Even if it was the kind of kiss she couldn’t stop thinking about, long after it was over.
“We’re ready for you, Darcy,” said the shoot coordinator. “Oh my gosh, you look amazing.”
“Two hours of hair and makeup, and I’m a natural beauty,” she said, flourishing her fashionably gloved hand.
“Ha-ha.”
“Where do you want me?”
“Top of the long chairlift. The light’s perfect today. This resort is ideal, by the way. Whose genius idea was it to shoot here instead of Lake Placid?”
“That would be me,” Darcy said. Me and my dumb ideas.
“It’s great. I’ll bet we can wrap this up in a day.”
That was a relief, Darcy thought as she rode the lift, sharing the ride up with a guy named Jeff, who said he was local and had been skiing Saddle Mountain since he was a kid.
“I like what the new owner’s d
oing,” he said, pushing his ski goggles up on his helmet.
I don’t, thought Darcy. But to be polite, she said, “What’s that?”
“He’s keeping what people like about the resort and building on it, instead of changing everything all at once.”
At the top of the lift, the crew waited with a woman called Brandi, who was Logan’s überefficient assistant. She’d coordinated everything via email. She wore retro stirrup ski pants with a tight sweater, and she was pinup model pretty. She was soon joined by the resort’s director of operations, a striking redhead in a green jumpsuit who was causing the videographer to drool. Apparently Logan liked surrounding himself with beautiful women. No wonder he wasn’t interested in Darcy. Plain old girl-next-door Darcy.
“Ready?” asked the camera guy.
“Ready,” Darcy said.
“Go make our gear look pretty,” said the snowboard company rep.
“I’ll do my best.” Darcy was no supermodel, and she knew it. But when she was on the snow, she felt the same magical rush she felt when surfing. All the beauty of the world flowed through her, and the joy of the ride was a tangible thing, an element that could be seen and photographed. Today there was a bonus—the Christmas season had arrived.
It had always been her favorite time of year, and she was absolutely determined that no one steal the pleasure from her. Even though she’d bowed out of the whole family thing with the Fitzgeralds and the Collinses, the prospect of Christmas buoyed her spirits. Even her realization that Logan was dating someone was actually good news, Darcy decided. Now she didn’t even have to decide whether or not she had a crush on him. There was no decision to be made except to remain happily single. It was further proof that she wasn’t ready for a relationship of any sort, not at this juncture, and she was particularly not interested in a man with a kid.
Even if that man was wildly attractive and kissed like a dream lover.
So there, she thought, and pushed off the slope into a sunny, powder-dusted glade. It was a day made for floating. The sky was the color of a bluebird’s wing. The hill was bejeweled by last night’s snowfall, sparkling in the sun.