Christmas in Bed

by Bridget Snow

  There was only one thing left to do. Grover plugged in the lights.

  They were modest, thin strings of white bulbs around the edge of the porch’s roof, but anything more would have been gaudy. These bulbs served a purpose. They were a guide to the welcome and promise of an open door.

  Everyone cheered.

  “This was a colossal undertaking, and it would have been impossible without your dedication and teamwork,” Mel said. “To thank you for all of this hard work, I’d like to host a Christmas Eve breakfast here tomorrow morning. Waffles and crepes, omelets and hash, all the trimmings.”

  Everyone cheered again.

  Mason leaned toward Mel, turning so that no one else would hear his words. “Can you afford that?”

  “No,” she said. “But everyone put so much effort into this. They deserve a respite, and a chance to enjoy this gorgeous house now that the decorating is complete. Did you ever imagine it would look so perfect?”

  “Yes,” Mason said. “The day I met you. Say what you want about city girls, but they get it done.”

  “I just can’t believe tomorrow is Christmas Eve,” she said. “Already. We’ll take our pictures for Harvey, have a town-wide feast, and then I have to book a flight back to New York. The very latest one that exists.”

  Mason’s hands found Mel’s shoulders and dug in, massaging her sore muscles while they spoke.

  “Are you really going?” he asked. “Everyone loves you. You’re a part of Pine Corner now.”

  “I’m broke and running up more credit card debt the longer I stay,” she said. “I don’t have a choice. I need a paycheck.”

  “Let’s revisit this tomorrow,” he said, digging deeper with his hands and sliding them further down her back. “After you’ve seen your Christmas present. It’s already hung.”

  “What? When? We have three Christmas trees here, how am I supposed to find it?”

  “You’ll find it,” he said, still digging his fingers into her flesh. He moved lower as he spoke, his strong hands rapidly sending a wave of relaxation through Mel’s whole body. “It’s not hung on a tree. Now let’s get to bed.”

  “With all this excitement,” she said. “I’m not even tired.”

  “Good,” he said. “Me neither.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Melody

  Mel stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Mason had fallen asleep without a shower, clearly exhausted after a marathon of lovemaking.

  She blew her hair dry and then pulled back the covers. He was still naked, but then again, so was she. With a quiet wiggle, she slid into the space next to him and pulled his arm over her, nestling into his grip as a cozy little spoon.

  The whole house was stuffed with so much pine she couldn’t tell if the scent was Mason this time. She smiled at that. A whole house that smelled like her man. He was literally the air she breathed. She shoved an arm under a pillow and tried to let sleep take her.

  It didn’t work.

  Her eyes were tired, but her mind was racing. What if the latest flight to New York wasn’t even late at all? She never did check. Maybe a storm would roll in and ground all the flights so it wouldn’t matter. She’d be the only person in the world happy for a cancelled flight on Christmas Eve.

  She reached for her phone to check the weather, but her hopes were quickly dashed. The only storms were to the west. It was clear skies all the way to J.F.K.

  As she prepared to set the phone back onto the nightstand, it vibrated.

  Mel startled as the name Craig Oleo popped up. She moved Mason’s arm, careful not to wake him, and then wrapped herself up in a robe. Quickly slinking out of the bedroom and closing the door behind her, she answered before the fourth ring.

  “Craig?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. “It’s midnight.”

  “It’s even later here,” he said. “Did you change your flight?”

  “I… well…”

  “Are you gonna tell me that on your salary you bought a last-minute Christmas Eve flight and didn’t immediately put in for reimbursement? Come on, Melody, I’m not stupid. You were going to blow me off.”

  “I was not, Craig. I’ve just been busy.”

  “Well good news,” he said. “I bought you a new ticket. You should start packing, because you leave before sunrise.”

  Now, Mel was wide awake. “I have one more day!”

  “Do you remember that morning, back in March, when you left work all woozy on a Friday claiming to have the flu?”

  “I was sick for a week,” she said. “Not that I took any time off for it.”

  “No, you didn’t. And that’s the problem. You missed more than half a day when you left, and never put in for the time. You owe me another day, and Lorna can’t do this alone. You can go back to Manitoba another time.”

  “Montana.”

  “I’m emailing you the itinerary,” he said. “Sleep on the plane, I need you alert when you land.”

  The call ended and Mel leaned against the bedroom’s closed door, thinking hard and breathing harder. He couldn’t do this. Could he?

  The one thing she wasn’t going to do this moment was pack. Not without one more call and a long, hard think. She threw on some proper pajamas and went down to the kitchen while her phone dialed through.

  “Lorna,” Mel asked right away, “you up?”

  “Oh, baby. I am now. Is this a booty call?”

  “I just got off the phone with Craig. He has me on an early flight home because he doesn’t think you can handle things without me.”

  “I’ve worked my ass off!” Lorna said. “The reports are in better shape than they were this time last year, and I’ve been following your notes the whole time.”

  “And?”

  “Things are right on track. Could two people blast through this faster? Yeah, duh, especially if one of them is you.”

  “So you wouldn’t be mad if I didn’t come back?”

  “Nah, I’ll be— wait, like, at all?”

  “My apartment is in New York, I have to come back at some point. I’m just not sure about coming back back.”

  “Right on, sister! Stick it to the man. I’ve always wanted a reason to visit Montana. Mason have any hot brothers?”

  “I could introduce you to Kyle,” Mel said, “but here’s the thing: if I’m a no-show, Craig will want you in the office first thing Christmas morning, to pick up the work I’m not there to do.”

  “And I’ll tell him to shove a corn cob pipe up his butt,” Lorna said. “Heck, I might even shove it up there myself. I’m not doing that to Casey.”

  “That’s right!” Mel said. “I picked up a gift for her in Pine Corner’s local toy store. I’ll ship it out first thing, I hope they can overnight it in time.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Lorna said.

  “I know how rough Christmas is looking with Vin out of the picture. It was the least I could do.”

  “I’m hugging you through the phone right now,” she said. “Most of my booty calls don’t involve toys. This is the best booty call ever!”

  “Most of your—? Nevermind. I haven’t made any decisions yet, but I would never, ever make one this big without checking with you first.”

  “I’ve got your back, momma.”

  “Thank you, Lorna. Send Casey my love.”

  Mel set down the phone and checked the wall clock. She’d have to leave in two hours to catch that flight, so there wasn’t much time to work with.

  First things first: an entire town was arriving soon for a home-cooked breakfast bonanza, and she did not plan to disappoint. Lucy could handle the kitchen, she hoped, but Mel could do all the legwork.

  Mixing bowls and measuring cups flew around the kitchen in a baker’s frenzy, and Mel’s mind chipped away at her little Craig problem the whole time.

  There were eggs to beat, batters to mix, dough to knead for biscuits. She prepared what she could and placed everything in the fridge in marked containers, all the while m
ounting an internal battle.

  I’m not going back, she thought. Ever.

  No, I’ll go at night, just like I originally planned to. Craig will have to deal.

  Wait, I originally planned to go in January, and HR even approved it. He always treats me like this, it will never end!

  But then she thought about the house, and her vanished savings account, and the reality of property taxes.

  What would a bank do with the house in foreclosure? Would they sell it for pennies to the likes of Bill and Tina? Would they let it rot until the pipes froze and burst, flooding the house at spring’s first thaw?

  Mel had just swooped into Pine Corner and given everyone the hope that this house had been revived. She couldn’t let a little righteous indignation get in the way of that. She needed her job, even if it tore her away from Pine Corner.

  And Mason.

  Her heart sank at the thought of leaving him here, in the middle of the night, but there was no time to do this any other way.

  She washed up the worst of the dishes, wiped down the counters, and looked for a pen. Her eyes burned from tears she fought to keep inside while she wrote a note to leave on Mason’s nightstand.

  Dear Mason,

  You look so peaceful, sprawled out on the bed. I don’t have the heart to wake you with bad news. My boss called just after midnight and demanded I come straight home.

  My time off ran out early.

  Two weeks ago, I missed New York. Now it feels like a foreign country. I’ll do my best to get back here as quickly as I can, even if only for a weekend at a time. We can phone each other in between.

  I know it’s not the same.

  Please make sure tomorrow’s breakfast goes well. Everyone’s looking forward to it and my leaving is not their fault. Everything is in the fridge, and I left a pre-mixed batch of cocoa in a stockpot with written instructions for Lucy.

  My flight leaves at 5:40 a.m. I’m leaving a spare house key on the nightstand and a kiss on your cheek. Sleep well and we’ll talk soon.

  Love,

  Mel

  She called a cab, and packed a few essentials in a small duffel bag. When she pulled away from the house, she finally let herself cry.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mason

  Mason grunted in his sleep and reached across the bed, but his arm landed flat against the cold covers. He lifted his head and squinted. Mel hadn’t come to sleep?

  He rolled over and nearly dozed off again, but something in the back of his mind wouldn’t settle. He rolled off the mattress and pulled on his boxer briefs so he could wander the house and find her.

  Everywhere he went, the lights were off. He knew the living room had a nice couch, but it wasn’t nice enough to fall asleep on. He decided to check it anyway, barely awake as he shuffled down the stairs.

  Nope, no one in the living room.

  The kitchen, oddly, had a few dishes in the sink, and a lot more in the drying rack. Had Mel been cooking?

  It was nearly three in the morning.

  Groggy and confused, he stomped toward the basement steps. “Mel?”

  No answer.

  Now he was getting worried. He paced through every room in the house — quietly, just in case something was amiss. Each room he cleared only confused him further. Finally, he made it back to the master bedroom, but this time he kept the lights on.

  That’s when he noticed the note.

  His eyes shot open as he scanned through it.

  “No,” he said. Craig will never let her come back here. Hell, send a city girl back to the city and maybe she won’t want to come back.

  He grabbed his phone and called her. The call went right to voicemail, not even a single ring. He tried again, with the same result.

  He looked down at his underwear, then glanced at the floor behind him, unsure where the rest of his clothing ended up.

  Forget modesty, he thought. If she gets through security, I may never see her again. He grabbed the spare key Mel left him, raced downstairs, threw on his winter coat, and sped toward his truck barefoot and nearly naked.

  When he turned the key to his truck, the engine made a grinding sound but wouldn’t start.

  “Come on,” he said, trying again. “Come on, come on, come on.” Still nothing.

  Shivering, and reaching the peak of his frustration very quickly, he roared in anger and slammed both hands down on the steering wheel.

  “I know you’re just cold,” he said, “but so am I. And if I don’t stop that woman from making the biggest mistake of her life, I always will be. Now come on, you old pickup. Purr.”

  His fingers pinched the key in the ignition and prepared to try again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Melody

  Mel carried her small duffel to the check-in desk and lined up behind a man and a woman just showing their passports to the ticket agent.

  This was it. Her last destination in Montana. The airport air was stale, and the lights harsh. Her stomach knotted up at the idea of leaving this place behind.

  It’s only temporary, she told herself. I can’t afford not to.

  “… cancelled,” the ticket agent said.

  Mel’s heart leapt at that word, but it wasn’t directed at her.

  “But we have hotel reservations in California,” the man in front of her said. “Please, I don’t care how many connecting flights you have to put us through, there has to be a way.”

  “I can’t route you west,” the ticket agent said. “The airports are closed on account of all the snow. There would be no place to land. We can choose a new destination if you want to go east instead, but you’ll have to pay the difference in airfare.”

  The woman that was with him held a hand to her face and headed toward a row of plastic seats

  “Excuse me,” Mel said. “My cab got lost on some back roads, and now my flight leaves in one hour. Does that leave time to get through security?”

  “It does,” the ticket agent said. “There’s no line at this awful hour, you’ll be fine. I’ll be with you right after I help these two.”

  “Thank you,” Mel said, setting her bag down next to her. She should have smiled at that news, but arriving late to the airport was her last hope that missing the flight wouldn’t technically be her fault.

  Not that Craig would have differentiated.

  Mel carried her bag to an open seat and set it down on the floor between her feet. She laughed when she caught sight of her snow boots, with her pajama pants tucked into them, and she was still in her night gown underneath her coat. She was in such a rush to prepare for tomorrow’s breakfast and throw together a bag that she completely gave up on dressing for travel the way she normally would.

  The woman at the check-in counter handed the man a phone and he set it on the ledge. With a long gray wire stretching out behind it, he lifted the receiver and started dialing numbers from a sheet of paper in his hand.

  Mel reached into her coat pocket for her phone to check the time, and to consider calling Mason. The airport’s walls, however, seemed to block out all cell reception. She’d have to borrow a landline from the ticket agent, which would put her in line behind that other guy again.

  “Ma’am,” the check-in agent said. “I can help you now, if you’re ready.”

  A surge of adrenaline pumped through Mel’s veins. Was she ready?

  Two weeks ago, Melody Lane would have hung her head low, gone back to work, and put up with Craig. Lorna would have torn him a new one over the phone, but that wasn’t Mel’s style.

  What do I do now?, she asked herself. Better yet, what would Ruth M. Hansen do?

  That answer was clear: Everything. Her great grandmother would march back into Hansen House and find a way to provide for the house here, because here is where the house provided for her. She never ran back to Billings when the going got tough. What made New York any different?

  And unlike Ruth M. Hansen, Mel had a secret weapon. Mason Archer. Tree farmer, woodworker, bodyg
uard. There was nothing that man wouldn’t do, and nothing they couldn’t do together if they worked as a team.

  “Ma’am?”

  “No thanks,” Mel said, smiling at the ticket agent as she stood from her hard plastic seat. “I’ve changed my mind. Have a Merry Christmas.”

  “Thank you,” the woman said. “You too.”

  Mel reached down for her duffel bag. When she looked up again, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her.

  “Mason?” she asked. He was breathless, and his hair stuck up on one side from sleep. He wore a heavy winter coat, but nothing beneath it save a pair of boxer briefs that clung so tight to his body that his every outline was on full display. He was covered in goosebumps, forcing his skin to stretch taut over his pecs and abs.

  “Don’t go,” he said.

  “Mason, I—”

  “If you go to the city,” he continued, “you’ll remember French press coffee, and fancy salons, and a dry cleaner on every corner. The city will lure you back in with its fast pace and high energy. It will swallow you up, and you’ll wonder why you ever gave Pine Corner a passing thought.”

  “If I went to the city,” Mel said, carrying her bag toward him, “I’d remember the subway rats; the need for a good facial scrub after walking a few blocks amidst all the exhaust and fumes; and cab drivers who would rather talk on their phones the whole ride than ask how your day has been.

  “I’d remember filling my nights with TV movies about hunky men and the lucky women they fell for, when I used to have the real thing.

  “I’d remember a time when I had a house full of warmth and smiles and teamwork, instead of an apartment with just two chairs at a lonely kitchen table.