“I’ll allow you to finish your scone and tea,” he said. “ And I’ll grant you your spiel and I give you my word, I’ll listen. Then I intend to send you back home. Understood?”
“Understood,” she said, ditching the half eaten scone, tossing it on the plate. “Do you know about the Christmas Wish Tree at the Big Sky Living store?”
Of course, he knew. He’d founded the entire charity in an effort to give back to the local kids. But she obviously didn’t know that, so why bother telling her. “Yes.”
“I picked my star this week and it was a wish from a little boy named Owen. He has leukemia.”
An old and familiar knot in his stomach surfaced. He ignored it. “Go on.”
“He’s six. He’s been in and out of the hospital but he’s been home for the past few weeks. He wants to have a winter carnival in Starlight Bend and invite all the kids to attend.”
He shifted in his chair, causing Sammy to sigh, as he too had to adjust his position. The familiar knot turned into full-blown heartburn. Once again, Noah ignored it. “So why come to me? Ask one of the charities that deals with this sort of thing to host your carnival.”
The woman sitting before him let out an exasperated sigh. “I tried. He’s on the list but this is something they can’t do right away. It would take months, and it wouldn’t necessarily happen in Starlight Bend. His parents don’t have the money to take him anywhere, and he can’t travel anyway. I spent the last few days calling everyone possible, including all the businesses in town, but it’s impossible to get that much money and the amount of land needed, let alone all the carnival rides shipped in without having some major contacts. We’re due for another big snowstorm right before Christmas. I need someone with a ton of contacts, money, and the ability to make miracles happen. I think, Noah Elliot, that person is you.”
He could have sworn his heart stopped beating and both his lungs deflated of all their oxygen like a balloon with a slow leak. He’d been so careful, wrapping his heart in ice, and he wasn’t about to let this sob story make a crack in that wall of ice surrounding his heart. He dragged in a large breath. “Then you really have come to the wrong place, Ms. Whitmore. There are no miracles here. I’ve done my fair share of giving and helping. Sorry, but I have nothing left to give to the people of Starlight Bend. I wish you luck, I truly do, but I can’t help you.”
Noah was surprised how much the words physically hurt him. His fingers twitched slightly. The heartburn rose higher. He’d thought he was way past all humanity, but it seemed some of it still lingered. He waited for her to storm out after a tongue blistering, but she picked up her tea, and started sipping it, all the while regarding him thoughtfully.
“I don’t believe in miracles either, Mr. Elliott. I believe in the power of people and their choices. There’s nothing mystical about it. You have the means to help. Your property is perfect. I have a list of vendors who I already contacted, who are willing to come, but they’d need to get the booths and rides here before the storm and they need a little money to make that happen. I’ll take care of the organization and invitations. I’ll take up donations from the town to try to help with the cost. But you are the only one who can pull something like this off. And it’s not about waiting for a miracle or God to swoop down and cure Owen of cancer. It’s about you saying yes and helping me put on a winter carnival for Owen, and other kids like him. To buy them a few hours of happiness and distraction before they go back to reality, and in some cases, before they are no longer with us. Then you can disappear back into this mansion and never see another human again. You can go back to pretending you’re the only person in the entire world who got hurt and found out the world is unfair and can sometimes be a horrible place. So now I ask you, please, will you do it?”
For the second time that evening, shock overcame his speech. How dare this slip of a woman challenge him? As if she understood a single thing he’d gone through in any part of his life. He cleared his throat. “Who do you think you are?” he growled. “You think because you like to play at helping others that somehow you are a good person. That doing so helps you sleep at night in a warm bed when others go without. You pick a wish off the tree and make me responsible for some kid’s happiness just because I have money? This has nothing to do with me. This is your wish, lady, and I never asked to be dragged into your world.”
“You’re right,” she said quietly, causing a thumping in his chest. “Maybe I am playing at helping others. Maybe this really has everything to do with me, what I want, and not Owen. But the truth is I picked his star, and he wants a carnival and I need you to help me. I can’t do it without you. But I’ll tell you this. Even if you throw me out right now, I’m not giving up. This carnival can give something to these kids that is priceless in this world today. A memory. A good memory. Something they can pick out, dust off, and remember with a smile when things aren’t going well. Don’t you think they deserve that?” She paused and looked him dead on. “Do you have one of those memories, Noah?”
He remained silent. And still. His insides coiled, and the old feelings rose to the surface, clawing to get out. He remembered one of those moments, when his gates used to be open. And now, he could imagine kids running and playing on his property. People strewn around twinkling lights and festive rides, laughing and having fun. The community of Starlight Bend would be invited back behind the closed gates. It would be like it was before.
He pushed down those feelings. Too many things had changed. He’d gone from a man who’d believed in Starlight Bend, to the Grinch of Starlight Bend. The very thing that gave him pleasure had betrayed him. He didn’t have any friends or community anymore, and no words from a social worker were going to change it.
Those intent brown eyes were still trained on his face, waiting for his response.
“Will you help me?” she asked.
He didn’t hesitate this time. There was really no other decision.
“No, Ms. Whitman. I won’t help you. Charles has your things. I think it’s time you leave.”
He half expected this little spitfire to go off half-cocked on him. Instead, she nodded with dignity. A deep sadness in her eyes pleaded with the humanity he’d buried deep, now begging to rise up and be heard. “Thank you for listening to me. If you change you mind, let me know.”
Noah watched her retreat, stopping to pat Sammy on the head. He heard the low murmur of voices, and then eventually, he heard the sound of the front door closing.
“Sir, I think you’re making a mistake.”
He looked up at Charles. A grim smile settled on his lips. “I know. But I’ve made them before.” He stood up and headed to the office, his celebratory mood in closing the deal long forgotten. “Don’t make dinner for me tonight, Charles. I’ll be working late.”
Hours later, the doe-like eyes of Josephine Whitman still haunted him.
~~*~~
The next day, Noah received an overnight package. He assumed it was business, since who else would send him anything, so he ripped it open and a picture fell out. He reached down and picked the photograph off the floor, noticing his hand trembled just a tad.
The boy in the picture was smiling. He had blonde hair and a huge cowlick. One of his front teeth was missing. His face was gaunt, as if he hadn’t eaten in a long time, and his skin was a mottled color with splotches of red on his cheeks. His eyes were sparkling blue, and reflected back a cheerful happiness that the world didn’t deserve.
Noah sat in his office and stared at the picture for a very long time. Also in the package, was an article from the local newspaper. The story told about how Owen Salt was battling cancer, but regardless of his battle, Owen had a dream. A dream that he would one day open up his own animal rescue shelter for sick and disabled pets when he grew up. If he grew up, Noah thought. He believed animals made people nicer, and even sick animals could make a difference. He believed they had a right to a good life, too.
Owen Salt owned a chocolate brown lab named Hershe
y.
The handwritten list, also in the over night package, held an elegant scrawl that seemed familiar. Joey had taken the time to write out in detail the vendors, with contact, delivery, and cost information. The attached Excel spreadsheet showed confirmed prices and totals for each.
A phone number was written on the bottom of the page.
Noah tucked the letter into the top drawer of his desk and worked the entire day, pushing Owen Salt, his dream, and his dog, out of mind.
In the evening, he sat in front of the fire with Sammy, and held the list in his hand. It was ten at night when he finally reached for the phone.
She answered on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“I don’t want my name to be anywhere on the invitations. You are just using my property. I will not attend and no one is allowed in my house. You need to set up whatever it is that’s required; porta potties, a trailer with a kitchen, or anything else on my land, but not one person gets through my front door. Do we understand each other?”
“I understand,” she said. “May I come to your house to discuss some details tomorrow?”
He half closed his one eye. The woman disturbed him. Brought up strange feelings he didn’t want to re-visit. Yet, he ached to see her face one more time. Perhaps, it was because she’d caught him off guard. He was positive when they sat together and spoke again, the novelty of having someone else in his home would have worn off and he would feel nothing, and content to be isolated once again.
“Come for lunch tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Elliott, but I have to work. May I come over around five thirty? You don’t have to feed me.”
He gave an annoyed grunt. “Five-thirty. Charles will have dinner ready.”
“Thank you, Mr. Elliott.”
“Noah. Call me Noah.” Though she’d called him that a few times already the other day.
“Then please call me Joey.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow evening, Josephine.” He hung up. His tongue tingled with pleasure from saying her name. Her full given name. Plain and polite on the outside. Elegant and fierce on the inside.
“Josephine,” he whispered.
Shaking his head, he tightened his fingers around her list and stared into the fire.
Chapter Four
Joey rubbed her palms down her jeans and blew out an annoyed breath. Why was she nervous?
Her instincts had been right. She’d sensed he wanted to help, but Noah needed nudging. The picture had to have been what pushed him into agreeing. Owen was a kid with such great attitude and heart, and it showed in his picture. Even the Grinch of Starlight Bend couldn’t deny Owen’s wish.
Joey drove her car up the mountain, her tires spinning a bit on the intermittent patches of ice. The four-wheel drive helped, but her old Ford was, well, old, and her tires were probably low on tread, but she made it up the mountain non-the-less. She got out and walked to the door, this time taking in the grounds with appreciation.
The rustic mansion was part stone, part log cabin, with giant windows. The front patio was outfit with a timbered roof, and various cushioned chairs scattered amidst a wood burning stove. The property was surrounded by thick woods and gorgeous pine, overlooking the mountains and the valley below. The land spilled in every direction for miles.
There was hot tub on the back deck visible as she approached, and a detached cabin that she assumed served as a guesthouse, except Noah Elliott didn’t have guests.
Again, she didn’t need to knock. The massive doors parted, and Charles greeted her with a warm smile. “Good evening, Madame. Welcome.”
“Please call me Joey. Thank you so much, Charles.”
“It’s my pleasure to have you as our guest this evening.” His proper speech matched his impeccable appearance. Black suit, red tie, polished shoes, and his glorious white mane of hair. He took her garb and hung it up. “Do you have any allergies? Any special preferences? Vegetarian? Gluten free? Pesceterian? Vegan?”
She laughed. “No, I eat just regular food. I’ll be happy with anything you cook.”
“Wonderful. For now, Mr. Elliott is waiting for you in the sitting room. Dinner will be ready shortly.”
“Thank you.” Her boots padded soundlessly on the rich wood floors as she made her way inside. Sammy greeted her at the door with canine enthusiasm. She rubbed and petted him, laughing as he shoved his wet nose at her.
“It was the picture. Very intuitive of you to know that.” His deep voice stroked all her hidden places. Joey fought a shudder as her body responded and craved him to stroke with more than his voice. She blushed.
She eased her way toward the fireplace and stood in front of Noah. She had to tilt her headway back to make eye contact, but she drank in his damaged face, wondering why something felt so right between them. The eye patch added to the sense of brooding mystery of his presence. “Because he’s pure of heart,” she said. “It’s hard to fight such innocence and happiness from a kid who has battled and seen more bad times than good. “
He nodded. The air stirred between them, rising to a steady hum of awareness. “Perhaps. Maybe it’s just because you’re a pain in the ass.”
She grinned, taking that as a compliment. “That, too. But I promise I won’t bother you much. I’m extremely organized and I made a detailed list of tasks. I can do most of it, of course.”
“Charles is quite competent and enjoys helping out. Before you dazzle me with your to-do list, let me offer you a cocktail. Wine?”
“Yes, please.”
“White or red?”
“Red.”
He crossed the room to the elegant bar in the corner and began uncorking a bottle. Today, his black slacks were offset by a snowy white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. Dark swirls of hair peeked out from the fabric. Her fingers tingled, wondering what it would be like to spread her fingers across his broad chest, feeling his chest hairs tickle the palm of her hand. “Do you work out a lot?”
Oh. My. God. That was a stupid thing to say.
His lips twitched. “I have a full gym on the lower floor. Why?”
“Oh, no reason. Just wondering.”
“What else are you wondering?”
“Well, for someone who never leaves the house, you always seem a bit overdressed.”
He shrugged. “I like nice things.”
“You don’t have any urge to go out? Have a drink at the bar? Go Christmas shopping? Eat at a restaurant? Travel?”
Those broad shoulders lifted. He poured the wine into a glass. “I have a full bar here. I shop via the Internet. Charles is a gourmet cook. There’s nothing out there that I can’t get in here.”
“Ouch.”
He laughed. “Nothing personal against you. Sammy is more personable than people and I prefer things to be predictable.”
She shook her head, fighting a smile. “You’re more stubborn than I am.”
“I doubt that.” He walked over and handed her the glass. His fingers brushed hers. A pleasant tingle prickled her skin. Her gaze swept over his face, noticing how he suddenly stiffened, drawing away from her. “I know its hard not to stare.”
She frowned. “Stare at what?”
“This, of course.” He jerked a finger at his face. “I understand how it makes people uncomfortable. This… having someone over for dinner isn’t something I do. Don’t feel obligated to stay. I understand.”
Joey shook her head. “That’s presumptuous. And stupid.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“You were burned in a fire trying to save two teenagers. I know the story. They could have died but they didn’t, because of you. I’ve seen people without limbs. Vets who can’t walk. Women bald from chemotherapy. Forgive me, but looking at you doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It actually reminds me of the goodness in the world. Did you get a glass eye?”
He slowly shook his head. “No.”
“Well, I don’t blame you. The eye patch is pretty cool. You
carry the look well.” She took a sip of wine and smiled. “This is delicious. I get the feeling it’s probably a lot more expensive than the nine dollar bottle of wine I usually buy.”
“It’s been aging for almost five years in my cellar. One of my favorites.”
“Then I’m going to enjoy every sip.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty. You?”
“Forty,” he said. “You think you’ve seen some things. Well you haven’t. Trust me on that. I’ve seen more than you could imagine.”
She waved a hand in the air in dismissal. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’ve met twenty-year-old kids who make a senior citizen seem like a wide eyed child.”
“Yes, you said you were a social worker. What does that actually entail?”
“I place children in foster care, then follow-up with home site visits. My area includes Starlight Bend and Kalispell so I do some travelling.”
He sipped his own wine, seeming to mull over her words. “What made you want to get involved with such a career? Were your parents involved with charities or do-gooders?”
She winced, but answered the question with her usual honesty. Joey learned early to accept who she was, bumps and all. It was so much easier to accept her past and know she was the one who really controlled her future by making her own choices. A motto she consistently shared with the kids she counseled. “No, I grew up in foster care. My mom was a junkie. Died when I was four. No father, so I was put into the system, but I was never adopted. Guess I had too many issues and I wasn’t young enough. Couples prefer babies. Anyway, I finally scored a decent foster family. My foster mom was nice, and supportive. She always pushed education and good grades as a way out, so when I turned eighteen, I was able to get myself a scholarship and get into college. Took me longer to graduate since I was working full-time, but I got there eventually.”
“You were in foster care?” he asked quietly. “And on your own at eighteen?”
“I was one of the lucky ones. Too many kids fall through the cracks because they’re hard to deal with. We had a great after school program in Starlight Bend a few years ago, but it closed down. It helped to keep the kids busy, and out of trouble, giving them meaningful things to do. Most of these kids act out with these kick ass attitudes that are only hiding fear and feelings of inadequacy. That program helped a lot of those kids, but now too many of them are back to their old tricks. I wish I could reach more of them, but eventually they have to make their own choice whether to take my help or not.”
Holiday Heat: The Men of Starlight Bend Page 42