by Liz Isaacson
“You’re leaving?” Meg couldn’t help the slight hint of hysteria in her voice. Her mother had gone to bed an hour ago, but seeing as how she slept in the recliner in the living room and Meg was having this hushed conversation in the kitchen, there wasn’t much privacy.
“This is a two-bedroom house,” Eli whispered back. “Where do you think I’ll sleep?”
Desperation rage through Meg and she pushed her hand through her hair, still not used to the shorter cut. “She refuses to pack,” she hissed. “I can’t deal with this.”
Eli put both hands on her shoulders, grounding her and forcing her to face him. “Meg, sweetheart. Of course you can do this. You’re a strong woman, and I believe in you.”
She nodded, but only because her neck seemed to have developed a mind of its own, not because she believed him. He got to leave, and the strong surge of jealousy had muted her. That, and the way her mom snuffled and the recliner squeaked as she moved.
Meg pressed her eyes closed, and Eli dropped his hands. “I’ll be back bright and early. You’ll be okay. Okay?”
Meg was very tired of feeling weak. So she opened her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and nodded. “Okay.”
Eli nodded a single time and crept out the garage door. With the garbage gone, and after Meg had emptied almost the entire can of air freshener she’d found under the kitchen sink, the house smelled much better.
Meg winced with the click of the door, the sound almost like a gunshot in her soul. But she was a strong woman, and she could do this. She went down the hall to her mother’s room and found two baskets of clean laundry. At least her mom had gotten that far.
She tucked her long side pieces of hair behind her ears and opened her mom’s closet to find a suitcase. She’d only be staying a couple of days, so she wouldn’t need much. meg lost herself in the monotony of folding laundry, repeating the same motions over and over and getting something measurable done.
Her muscles, bones, and brain begged her to stop, to go to sleep, but she kept up the work until she’d gotten through all the clothes and packed what she thought her mom would like best. She hadn’t gotten along well with her mother in decades, and yet, she still felt this strange connection to her she could only attribute to blood.
Her mind settled with the mindless work, and her thoughts quieted. Finally. She’d been so discombobulated since Thanksgiving, since Eli started holding her hand, since him confessing he liked her.
And yet, her mind whispered that he wasn’t being genuine. That he hadn’t admitted anything until she’d told him she was quitting.
She tried to push those thoughts away, ignore the traitorous feelings. With her mom packed and ready, Meg finally retreated to the bedroom where she’d grown up and climbed into the stale sheets.
Morning came quickly, and a text from Eli sat on her phone that was ten minutes old.
In the driveway with backup.
She hoped that meant hot coffee and fresh pastries. Getting in the shower now. Give me twenty minutes?
Your wish is my command.
Meg shook her head and smiled at the text. She’d been saying that to Stockton for years, and Eli had picked up on it and started saying it a year or two ago. Meg had entertained several fantasies of him saying it to her as he held her close, and she’d smiled up at him coyly and said, “I wish you’d kiss me.”
And he always granted her wish, and it was always the best kiss of her life. Not that she’d had many kisses to begin with, so she didn’t have much to go on as far as the fantasies went. But she was almost afraid to kiss Eli for fear that the real thing wouldn’t be as good as what she’d conjured up in her mind.
Once she was showered, dressed, and ready for the day, things livened up. Her mother had awakened, and Eli came in, and after consuming an apple fritter and the world’s best cup of coffee—it said so right on the to-go cup—Eli started loading up their bags, all smiles and sunshine.
He’d obviously slept better than she had, and Meg let him handle her mom as she didn’t seem to know how. Her mother didn’t say anything cruel either, which was a miracle all its own.
Eli acted as a buffer between Meg and her mom on the long drive back to the lodge, though her mom sat in the middle seat between them. She didn’t say a whole lot, other than to criticize Meg’s haircut, to which Eli piped right up and said, “I think it’s very flattering.” He acted like nothing ever bothered him, but Meg saw the twitch of his jaw and the flash of fire in his eyes before he turned them back to the highway. “And Meg likes it, so that’s really what matters.”
Her mother didn’t seem to know how to deal with someone who disagreed with her or didn’t get flustered when she said something they didn’t like. Meg wished she was like Eli, but everything her mom said and did annoyed her.
She’d once asked Carrie how she could stand being around their mom so much, as Carrie usually hosted holidays and events at her house in Fort Collins. Her older sister had blinked at her and said, “I don’t know what you mean.”
So once again, Meg had been the odd man out, the black sheep, the female that didn’t fit in the Palmer family. Bora Bora had provided a fantastic excuse for skipping birthday parties, Easter egg hunts, and summer camping trips.
Wyoming wasn’t nearly as far away, but surely she couldn’t be expected to jaunt the ten hours to Carrie’s just to get a few pieces of chocolate in a plastic egg.
By the time Eli pulled into the parking lot at the lodge, dusk had started to settle over the land. He helped her mom navigate the steps and warmth and firelight greeted them all inside the lodge, along with Christmas music and chatter.
It seemed everyone had spent the day together, and all the Whittaker brothers got along so well. Several chairs had been brought out of the dining room and into the foyer, which already held two long couches and a few armchairs.
Eli’s mother, Amanda, jumped up from one of the recliners near the fireplace and said, “Eli’s back.” She hugged her son and gave Meg the kind of motherly smile she’d always longed for. “How was the drive, Meggy?”
“Long.” Meg melted into the other woman’s embrace, almost wanting to step back and say to her mom, “See? This is how it’s done.”
Amanda released her and put the brightest, biggest smile on her face. “And you must be Janice. We’re so glad you could join us for the holidays this year.” She hugged Meg’s mom too, who wore a look of genuine surprise on her face.
When she stepped back, she patted her hair and said, “Oh, well, thank you.” She gazed around the lodge like she’d never seen anything like it, and Meg supposed that might be true. Whiskey Mountain Lodge was one-of-a-kind, and completely remodeled from top to bottom due to a fire a few years ago.
Whoever had renovated it had invested in the best materials money could buy, and it felt high-end and homey at the same time, with personal touches of artwork and tea lights, paired with the comfortable furniture, marble floors and columns, and dark, shiny wood on the staircase.
Eli and Andrew had been working together this past year to bring more tourists and locals to the lodge, and they used the upper six bedrooms on the third floor for accommodations.
Meg’s heart stopped as if someone had shot her with an arrow. She leaned into Eli and asked, “Where’s my mother staying?” just as Graham came out of the kitchen with a glass of sparkling apple cider in his hand. The tree lighting would happen any moment, as Eli had told her they were simply waiting for him and Meg to return before they did it and then served dinner.
Eli met her eye, concern in his. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Welcome, everyone,” Graham said. “It’s so good to have so many friends and family here with us at the lodge this year.” He glanced around, the fondness in his expression easy to find. “We’ll do the tree lighting first, and this year, we’ve got our very own Lady of the Manor to do it.” He beamed at his mother as she navigated through the crowd to Graham’s side. “After that, we’ll do our Christmas Eve g
ifts before we move into the dining room for dinner. The kids have been very hard at work on the name plates and place settings, so be sure to find yours and take it home with you if you want.”
As Meg looked around, she realized the only people there were the Whittaker family members, Celia, Bree—who’d decorated the huge Christmas tree—and then Meg and her mother. It felt like a large group, yet also intimate at the same time.
“Oh, and before Mom plugs in the tree, I’ve been told to warn everyone about the mistletoe. It’s been roving, and it doesn’t accept excuses.” His eyes twinkled as it he himself were Santa Claus, and Meg might have imagined it, but Graham’s gaze seemed to linger on her and Eli—still standing very close to one another—before saying, “All right, Mom. Light us up.”
Amanda grinned at the group and ducked behind the tree, jostling some of the lower branches and ornaments until she got the plug in the outlet. The tree burst to life in an array of colorful lights, and everyone said, “Ahhh,” in tandem, Meg included.
The spirit here was just too strong to ignore, and Meg loved Christmas. So her mother was here. Eli seemed to have a way with her, and Meg thought that maybe, just maybe, her holidays wouldn’t be ruined.
Chapter Seven
Eli basked in the magic of the Christmas tree, happiness filling him from his boots to the top of his skull.
He slipped his fingers along Meg’s, finally latching on and holding her hand behind their bodies. He squeezed once, leaned down, and said, “I can move Stockton in with me, so your mom doesn’t have to go up and down stairs.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” She didn’t look at him, probably because his mother had zeroed in on them and seemed to know they’d been sharing personal things and holding hands.
“My mother,” he muttered as she started across the room toward them.
Thankfully, Stockton got to them first. “Daddy!” The boy flung himself into Eli’s arms, and Eli laughed as he dropped Meg’s hand and caught his son.
“Hey, bud.” He grinned down at him. “Were you good for everyone?”
“Of course he was,” Meg said. “Weren’t you, Stockton?” She wore a look of such love, Eli wondered how she thought she could quit in twelve days and leave the boy behind.
“Meggy.” Stockton squirmed from Eli to Meg, who took him into a hug. “I can’t wait to show you the horses. Uncle Graham helped me in the stable yesterday, and we put up new chalk boards.”
“That was a secret,” Graham said as he arrived. “How are you, Eli? Good drive?” He clapped Eli on the shoulder and they exchanged a quick hug.
“Good enough.” The truth was, Eli was exhausted. He’d slept little at the hotel, and his senses had been on such high alert for the entire drive so he could protect Meg from anything her mother might say.
“Janice.” Eli’s mother arrived on the scene, and Eli had the feeling that he needed to get out of this foyer. “We have something for you.” She held out a small, box-shaped package while Meg’s mom blinked at it.
“Go on, Mom,” Meg murmured, nudging her mother out from behind her. “Take it.”
“What is it?” Janice demanded, and Eli had to work hard to keep himself from rolling his eyes.
His mother didn’t miss a beat. “Open it and find out.”
Meg finally took the package when her mother continued standing there. “Thank you, Amanda. I think my mom is just tired.”
“I’m not tired.” She practically ripped the package from Meg’s hands and ripped into the red and white snowflaked paper. A shoebox emerged, and it held a pair of slippers that were far superior to the threadbare ones she’d been wearing yesterday.
Eli stared at the gift, wondering how his mother had known to get them for her.
“I texted her,” Meg whispered as if she’d read Eli’s mind. He wanted to slip his arm around her waist and pull her close. The action almost seemed like it would be completely natural, but he didn’t do it.
Meg set Stockton on his feet and bent toward him. “Go get our presents, okay, bud?” The little boy scampered off and Eli caught the look of love on Meg’s face. It didn’t entirely fade when she faced him, and that sent fear right through Eli’s heart.
Fear—and hope.
“Those are nice, Mom.” Meg smiled at her mother, her normally pretty face absolutely radiant.
Her mom looked up from the shoebox, and for a few terrible moments Eli thought she’d snap at Meg, his mother, everyone. Something dark and dangerous crossed Janice’s face, and then she looked at Eli’s mom and said, “These are nice. Thank you.” She drew in a breath. “I don’t have anything for anyone.” She turned her dark eyes on Meg and a measure of cruelty entered her gaze. “No one told me about gifts.”
“It’s fine, Mom,” Meg said at the same time Eli said, “No one expects you to have gifts. There’s usually only one per person, so we’re not all exchanging them.”
Stockton skipped up to them and said, “This one’s for you, Daddy.” He handed Eli a soft package that looked like Stock himself had wrapped it, which he probably had.
“Thanks, bud. And Meggy?”
“Right here.” He handed Meg a small box that looked like it held jewelry. Eli watched her out of the corner of his eye while he pulled the paper off his present.
“Oh, look, a Hawaiian shirt.” Eli grinned at the bright blue fabric with equally neon palm trees and pineapples on it. He held it up to his body. “I do miss the tropical weather.”
Meg smiled at him and pulled the end of the white ribbon winding around her box. She picked at the paper, and Laney came over to stand beside Graham before she got it off and the box open.
Meg sucked in a breath and glanced up at Eli. “You did this?”
He peered at the necklace with a few colored gems hanging from the chain, along with a silver M. “I had no idea.”
“I did,” Laney said. “That blue one’s your birthstone.” She pointed to the white one. “That one’s Stockton’s. And that pink one is just because I liked it and it needed three jewels.”
Meg looked back at the box and reverently took the necklace out of the box. Eli caught the glassiness of tears in her eyes as Laney helped her put the jewelry on. “Thank you, Laney. I love it.”
“Stockton’s not your boy,” her mom said, and Eli took a half-step in front of Meg and Stockton.
“Graham,” he said.
“Let’s go see if Celia will let us have any of that chocolate pie.” Graham scooped Stockton into his arms amidst a squeal of delight from the little boy and left before he could hear anything he didn’t need to.
“Mom.”
“You can’t even have kids.” She scoffed and shuttled a few steps away, clutching her slippers tight. “What kind of woman is that? One who can’t have kids. What a waste.” She shook her head like she really pitied Meg, but Eli didn’t get that sense at all.
Meg made a noise like a leaky balloon, the tears splashing down her face now. She didn’t bother to hide them as she met Eli’s eyes with absolute terror and desperation in hers. Ever the polite, perfect Meg, she said, “Excuse me,” before hurrying out of the foyer and down the hall that led to her bedroom.
Helplessness filled Eli, only driven out by the pure rage he felt for Meg’s mother. All the eyes on him felt like lead bricks, and he could only look at one person—his mother.
“Mom, I—thank you for getting the slippers for Janice. I’m going to go get her settled in her bedroom and I’ll join everyone for dinner.”
“What about Meg?”
“I’ll see if she’ll come out.”
You can’t even have kids.
What a waste.
The words tortured him as he led Janice down the same hall where Meg had just escaped and put her bag in Stockton’s room. “Meg’s right there,” he said, indicating the door in the corner. “And Stock and I are across the hall.”
Janice said nothing but looked around the room as if she found it absolutely lacking. Eli di
dn’t stay to hear her assessment of it, but simply said, “I’ll let you freshen up for dinner. I’ll come get you when it’s time.” He backed out of the room and brought the door closed. He wanted to lock it from the outside, but it didn’t have that feature.
He turned toward Meg’s bedroom door, his heart struggling to beat against those damaging words her mother had spoken, the feelings he had surging through him. He really liked Meg, and he didn’t want her to quit, and he thought maybe he should tell her so in exactly those words.
Before he lost his nerve, he stepped toward the door and knocked on it.
“No,” Meg said from inside, and Eli tried the doorknob to find it locked.
“Meg, please let me in.” Eli leaned his forehead against the wood, willing to have this conversation through the door if he had to. He didn’t really want to, because he had a feeling his mother loitered just around the corner, listening.
“I…I can’t, Eli.”
The thick door kept her sniffling quiet, but Eli imagined it anyway.
“Please.”
The door opened, but Meg didn’t stand there. Eli pushed the door open a bit further and let it settle, searching for Meg in the dark room. He found her standing with her back to him, silhouetted in the window.
“I’m coming in.”
“That’s why I opened the door.”
Eli entered the room and shut the door. The only light came from a small lamp on the bedside table, which cast her in golden hues, making her dark hair shine like oil. He wanted to take her into his arms and whisper words of comfort. Touch his lips to the hollow behind her ear and reassure her that he was there, that he’d shield her from anything unpleasant.
So many thoughts ran through his mind, and he wasn’t sure now was the time for any of them to be vocalized. He moved forward and wrapped his arms around her, whispering, “I’m so sorry. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Even living half of his fantasy felt wonderful, and he pressed his cheek to hers, enjoying the shape of her body in front of his. “I really like you, Meg, and I don’t want you to quit being Stockton’s nanny.”