Paige watched as Wes searched through all the boxes and bags.
"Here we go!" He took out a drill and picked up an empty five-gallon bucket. "Hand me a potato and that peeler, please. I tried this out last night, and I think you'll be impressed at how well it works."
Paige couldn't believe her good fortune. She'd been more than a little worried about getting the potatoes done, but hadn't want to let on to Wes. "Oh, no—you didn't! I've seen that YouTube video several times and always wanted to try doing them that way. But we use a high-quality instant potato product for our catering events because we know what the outcome will be every single time, so I haven't had the chance yet."
She watched as Wes stuck a potato on the end of a clean drill bit and started the drill. He held the peeler to the potato as it spun, and in less than five seconds, the peel was gone. "There." He pulled the potato off and tossed it to Paige, who dropped it into the sink full of cold water she'd prepared.
"You, sir, are either insane or magical. I haven't decided which yet."
He gave her a wry smile. "Does it matter which, as long as the potatoes are peeled?"
She shook her head. "I guess not."
"If you want something to listen to, there's a radio in the window over there. I think only one of the stations isn't playing Christmas music all the time. But if you want Christmas music, have at it." He turned to the potatoes. Paige switched on the radio and found the regular music station. Whatever Wes had going on was his business, and she could humor him this afternoon. She didn't dare tell him she'd been playing Christmas music ever since Halloween ended. He didn't say anything about her choice, but he did sing along to some of the songs. He had a nice voice. Nothing swoon worthy, but she was glad he could carry a tune. A tune in a potato bucket. The thought made her smile.
The rest of the morning flew past. Thankfully, the dinner was pretty simple. It only took an hour to peel and rinse off a huge pile of potatoes. They sliced them in fourths, put them in several five-gallon buckets, and covered them with cold water so they wouldn't brown. They'd cook the potatoes closer to the meal, since Wes was only able to scavenge a few slow cookers to keep the finished potatoes warmed. Paige opened industrial-sized cans of apple and cherry pie filling, and they fashioned the cobblers, and began baking them one by one in the oven they'd left free.
By noon, they were both exhausted. Wes eyed a cherry cobbler. "So, don't you think it's about time we tested them? For quality control, of course."
"Of course." Paige found some Styrofoam bowls and scooped up generous servings, then pulled one of the gallons of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. "You know, ice cream is good, but I wish we had whipped cream. Have you ever tried it homemade?"
"Once or twice. I loved it." Wes thought for a moment. "You know, we've been working for hours. I think we could take a quick break." He had a gleam in his eye. "I even have some cream at home. I tried to make some Alfredo sauce. Turned out pretty good, but I didn't use all the cream. Wouldn't take me long to run and get it."
If he had invited her to his house, Paige would have been a little alarmed. But even though he'd been weird about the subject of Christmas, he'd been nothing but a gentleman to her. And he helped the poor and downtrodden. And she'd just spent the whole morning alone with him. In fact, she felt extremely comfortable with Wes, and she was struck with the desire to see what his house looked like. "Do you have a stand mixer?" she asked.
"Actually, I do. It belonged to my grandmother, but it still works."
"Sugar? Vanilla extract?"
"Sure." He peeked at one of the hams in the oven. "The vanilla is a few years old. Does that matter?"
"It just won't be as strong. Well," she said, "what if I come with you and whip the cream up there?"
“Sounds like a plan.” Quick as anything, he snatched his keys off the counter and shrugged on his coat, then took her coat and helped her with it. "My stomach's rumbling so much, it might cause an earthquake."
"After all those pancakes?" she teased.
"Well, there's this woman who ran me into the ground this morning. ‘Peel those potatoes! Dump that can!'"
It was fun to see him so animated. Such a contrast to the Wes she’d met last night—had it only been that long? "You poor, overworked man. Never mind that I was perfectly willing to run the potato drill."
Wes grinned, and she melted, in spite of herself. "I know. But you’re the expert on everything else, so it made sense for me to do the dirty work." He held out his hands, stained brown by dozens and dozens of potatoes.
"Ha. Need me to drive to spare your delicate hands?"
He responded by hurrying outside and racing to his truck, then held open the passenger door.
"Gave up so soon, I see?" she called.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Problem is, you wouldn't know where you were going." He motioned for her to get in, so she did, without a word. She couldn't remember the last time any man had opened the door for her like that—and she and Wes weren't even on a date.
No more snow had fallen, so the paved roads were still clear. Within five minutes, they were turning onto a road that must have had gravel underneath, as it was lumpy under the yet-untouched blanket of snow. She jounced and bounced here and there as they went over a frozen rut. "Sorry about that," he apologized. "I need to do something about those in the spring."
"It's no big deal," Paige said. And it wasn't. The trees rose on either side, snow contrasting with their dark branches. Evergreens dotted the forest, adding to the picturesque feel. Her spirits lifted, taking it all in.
After a minute more, they turned a corner, and a clearing opened up before them. Right in the middle sat a small, well-kept house. The wood had been stained instead of painted, and with the green roof, the house seemed to be part of the forest itself. "You live here?" It could have been a page out of a storybook. She'd never seen anything so enchanting.
"Appears that way."
"Did you build it?"
He nodded.
Was there anything he couldn’t do except cook? “This looks like the perfect way to live. Simple, quiet, out in the trees. I admit that I envy you here in the countryside.”
Wes only smiled, but Paige could tell he was pleased.
They got out, and a dog came from around the house and stiffly walked up to them. "This is Newton," Wes said. "How are you, old boy? You want to come in?" He opened the front door and let Newton inside. "Silly mutt hates being in the house unless I'm here."
Paige walked in and almost squealed with delight.
The design was simple. The front door opened into the living room, but with a small tiled area to remove dirty work boots, as evidenced by the ones sitting there. Beyond that was a hallway, presumably leading to bedrooms and a bathroom. To the right, the living room opened up, a long row of windows letting in the light, with a woodstove in the corner. Natural wood shone everywhere, lightly stained to a golden color, even the floors.
Paige walked over to the windows. "So much light! It's wonderful! You must feel like you're living in a perpetual sunbeam."
"Some said I was a fool for putting in so many windows. True, they don't insulate as well as walls, but I got the best ones I could afford. The light was worth it." Wes was obviously proud of his little house. Paige could see why. If she could have designed a cottage in the woods, this was what she would want.
The kitchen sat directly opposite the living room on the other side, with a small dining area in front of a window, and a bar and the rest of the kitchen behind that. The gray granite countertops were functional and wide, perfect for cooking. She would love to have free rein to decorate a place like this. A woman's touch would go a long way. Wait—what was she thinking? Back to the task at hand. "Your house is lovely. You did an incredible job with it. And now, before our dessert cools off too much, shall we whip that cream?"
He went to the refrigerator. "Sounds good to me!"
They made quick work of the cream. Wes even had a partly d
ried-up lemon, so she used a little zest. Then they stuck the cream in a container and drove back to the community center.
The whole five-minute drive back, something kept nagging at Paige. It wasn't until they pulled into the parking lot that she realized what it was.
She didn't know how long ago Wes had built the house, but there were almost no photographs lying around. No pictures of family, other than a very small one that appeared to be a wedding picture taken in the seventies. She hadn't wanted to be nosy and study it, but she was sure the picture must be of his parents. Where were they now? She realized she'd spent the whole morning with him, and the only things she knew about him was that he was a county deputy, he read Harry Potter, could peel potatoes at lightning speed using a drill, liked pie and Imagine Dragons' music (he sang loudly when they came on the radio), and that he had some beef with Christmas. Oh, and he liked doing good things for people, obviously.
Actually, that wasn’t too bad for having known him for less than twenty-four hours. She had the feeling there was a lot more to Wes than met the eye.
They dove into the cobbler and whipped cream. “You know,” Paige said, “if I have to be missing my family’s traditional viewing of White Christmas right now, this isn’t too bad of a substitute.”
Wes grinned at her and stuck another spoonful of cobbler in his mouth.
Chapter Ten
Not long after lunch, Rachel showed up. "I shooed everyone out of the diner as fast as I could.” Paige fought the impulse to give Rachel a hug. Rachel had no such impulse control. She flung her arms around Paige. "I get so excited about things like this! Don't you?"
"Yes, I do!" Paige said, and she meant it. Rachel's enthusiasm was infectious.
Wes dragged a table from the back room into the dining area. "Where do we want to set this up? I figure we'll need at least four to hold all the food. Oh hey, Rachel. Thanks for coming."
Rachel nodded and blushed slightly. Paige began to suspect that Rachel might have feelings for Wes. The thought should make her happy, as they were both wonderful people, but instead, her stomach dropped a little. What was wrong with her? Sure, Wes was a great guy, but so was Michael, and she actually had a date with him. A real date. For . . . tonight.
Oh, shoot. Oh, shoot, shoot, shoot. She glanced at the clock. One thirty. How could she have forgotten to call him?
"Excuse me, guys," Paige said, taking off her apron and putting on her coat. "I forgot to make a very important phone call. Wes, let's line up those four tables in front of the kitchen counter, but far enough away from it that we can have lines going on both sides. Rachel, if you wouldn't mind putting those last hams in the oven, that would be perfect."
Both Wes and Rachel went to their tasks, and Paige stepped outside to call Michael.
"Hey!" His smooth, deep voice made Paige smile into her phone. "What's up, gorgeous? I can't wait to see you tonight!"
"Hi!" She bit her lip for a second, then straightened her shoulders and plowed on. "I got stuck in Higgins—about four and a half hours away—for a traffic ticket. Long story—I had to stay the night, and I can't leave here until after dinnertime. So I hate this, and I'm so sorry, but we'll have to postpone our date." She took another breath and added, "I'll understand if you want to cancel it entirely."
For a few seconds, all she heard was Michael breathing. Then he said, "Well, it’s not ideal, but only because you're there, and I'd rather be where you are. How about Monday night? That’s the only one I have free, so . . ."
Paige's heart sank. "Monday is when we're going to see It's a Wonderful Life in Rochester. Mamma set it up and everything. We won't get back in town until late." She remembered something that had come up in discussion with her mother only last week. "Unless . . . you're free for lunch? Mamma told me about a Norwegian sweater history exhibit on display at the museum right now, along with a couple others. It’s supposed to be pretty cool—something about the origin of the patterns and what the symbols mean, stuff like that. I wanted to go, but the rest of the family has already seen it, and Mamma spends so much time there volunteering that she won't care." Well, now she probably scared him off for good. Sweater exhibit? What was she thinking?
"Sounds perfect and low key. I'd love to walk around looking at old sweaters with you." She could practically see the wink that was his signature move, the one that made all the girls' hearts flutter if they were in range. "How about lunch first, then the museum?"
He was okay with her wacky idea? Cool. "That works."
"Pick you up at noon?"
"Looking forward to it!" They hung up, and Paige went back inside, wondering how on earth she'd managed to keep his interest after she suggested learning about sweater history. Of course, she thought it was neat, having been in and out of the museum all her life. But most girls she knew were more interested in the latest sweater fashions, not the history of sweaters themselves. Ah, well, she could torture herself about it later.
By three o'clock, the kitchen hummed. Two other volunteers had shown up, and Paige set them to preparing pans of green beans, slicing ham, and cooking and mashing potatoes. She kept Wes busy lifting heavy pots on and off the stove. They packed some of the already-cooked ham in coolers filled with ice and set them in snow outside until they were needed. The last hams would finish baking soon after the meal started. Not only would they smell wonderful as people came in, but there would be enough room for everything this way.
By five thirty, everything was ready. They shut the metal kitchen window blinds so the diners couldn’t see the hustle and bustle in the kitchen.
The dinner didn't start until six, but some had come early, Judge Gatlin among them. He came over to the kitchen and stopped in front of Paige. She hoped he'd be pleased, and his red-rimmed eyes said everything. He took her hand. "Thank you, dear. This means the world to me and this town. This is the first Christmas since my wife passed, and I know she'd be thrilled to see the tradition she started carried on in such a wonderful way." He squeezed Paige's hand with both of his and shook it. His voice broke as he said again, "Thank you."
Paige blinked a few times until she could see clearly. "Your Honor, I never thought I'd be happy to have gotten a speeding ticket—uh, sentenced to community service—but this has truly been a pleasure."
He shook her hand again, then straightened up as well as he could. "Enough of the chitchat. All this looks good enough to eat!"
At six o'clock on the dot, the mayor of Higgins gave a speech. Movement at the doorway distracted Paige, and an elderly woman stood there, trying to take off her heavy coat. In a flash, Wes was there, smiling at her and gently helping her take off her coat, then hanging it up in the entry. He offered his arm and slowly escorted her to a seat.
How nice to know that some men still did such things. She turned her attention back to the mayor, and his words of warmth and Christmas love echoed in Paige's heart, making her both glad to be there and aching for home. Someone bumped into her and whispered, "Excuse me." Wes smiled down at her, not apologetic at all. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Well, we did it." His breath smelled of peppermint and tickled her ear, sending tingles to the tips of her toes. "Though, really, you did it. This wouldn't have come together without you. So as a deputy, I'll officially go on the record for being glad we caught you speeding."
If she turned her head to look at him, their noses would nearly touch. They were surrounded by people, and she was sure they were already making enough of a scene. Rachel stood across the way, and she wore a strange expression as she studied them. When she noticed Paige watching her, the expression vanished, and she smiled. Yes, something was definitely there on Rachel's end, but did Wes feel the same way? Paige had to remind herself that she hoped Wes did. Rachel was a wonderful girl. She'd pitched in and helped them all afternoon. So Paige wondered why the thanks she felt was tinged with resentment.
Wes stood straight again, and Paige realized it had been far too long since he'd whispered to her. She didn't want him to t
hink she was ignoring his compliment. "Hey," she said, bumping into him slightly with her hip, "it was a team effort. A team effort with a pro on your side. This is going to be awesome."
"Let's eat!" the mayor proclaimed, and over a hundred people lined up and began filling their plates.
"Shall we?" Wes asked.
"I need to stand back and make sure everything stays filled. But you go ahead. I think Rachel should eat now too, and then we can switch later on."
Wes grabbed a plate from the table. "All right. But we're getting ours from the kitchen so we don't have to wait in line.” He moved his gaze to someone behind Paige. “That okay, Rachel?"
Rachel appeared next to Paige. "Fine with me. Let's eat in there too so we can keep an eye on things. There are too many sneaky little ones who might try to swipe extra cobbler." They disappeared with their plates, and Paige watched over the food, refilling dishes as they emptied.
Audrey, one of the other volunteers from the afternoon, kept the water and lemonade dispensers filled. Each time Paige went to the kitchen to switch out a pan of potatoes or ham, Rachel and Wes were talking or laughing, and one time, Wes even had a smear of potatoes on his nose.
As the dinner progressed, Paige grew more and more out of sorts. She hadn’t slept much the night before and she'd been working all day, so that was probably it. Paige and Audrey finally switched with Rachel and Wes, and Paige ate in the kitchen alone while Audrey went to sit with her family.
As Paige chewed a mouthful of green beans, a little boy wandered into the room. He was about the size of her twin nephews, Ethan and Edgar. But where they were gingers with freckles, this boy had black hair and brown eyes, with the most squishable cheeks. He was so adorable, she wanted to hug him, but she didn't want to scare him. "Do you have any Christmas cookies?" he asked.
Paige had never been sadder to have no cookies. "No, I don't. I'm so sorry." His face fell, and her heart broke. "What's your name?"
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