His hand slid up her cheek. She fought the urge to rest her head in his strength. Cash Bodine was something she shouldn’t get used to. Because just like Christmas, he was here now, and soon he’d be gone.
“You look beautiful, Chess. Go and get changed and come with me to dinner.”
She didn’t answer on account of the big lump in her throat.
He pressed the key into the palm of her hand and stepped back, giving her some much-needed room. “Think about it. I’ll probably head over in an hour or so.”
Chess stared down at the key in her hand. In the space of a few minutes, Cash had shown her something she thought was lost forever—kindness. He was a man who could make her think about things she had no business thinking of. And what did hope do to a girl like Chess Somers? It set her up to fall.
Chapter Six
Cash pulled on his boots and then sat on the edge of his bed for a few moments, listening to the wind slam snow and ice against the window. It was never-ending, this storm, and he was restless, not used to having so much downtime and being cooped up inside. He had an hour to kill before heading over to the diner and decided it was as good a time as any to get some work done.
Plus, work was a distraction, and at the moment, he needed one. It was that or wear a hole in the carpet, pacing the room while he wondered about the woman next door. About whether she’d come to dinner with him and if anything could make the sadness he’d glimpsed go away.
He grabbed a folder from his duffel bag marked “Tanesha Davis.” A picture of a pretty young black woman was pinned to the top. Her hair was straightened and long, her dark eyes shiny, her smile big. It was a candid photo that captured something special. Love. Happiness.
She was from Kentucky, had gone to college in upstate New York where she was a junior, and, up until six weeks ago, things seemed to be fine. But then she suddenly dropped out of school and moved in with some guy her parents had never heard of. Tanesha called them once a week but refused to come home. She wouldn’t tell her parents where she was living, wouldn’t give them any details about this man, and in desperation, they’d hired Cash to find her.
It was something he was good at. Finding people who didn’t want to be found.
He read over what little information he’d gotten from the parents, then made notes about her social media accounts, which, for the most part, had gone silent, save for a few pics she’d posted to Instagram and Twitter. Nothing on Facebook, but that didn’t surprise him since Facebook seemed to be a platform for folks over thirty these days. He looked through the names of people who’d commented on her posts, investigated them as much as he could, and came up with a list of kids to talk to. By the time he was done organizing the file, it was after four. He grabbed his coat and knitted hat and headed outside.
The window to Chess’s room was lit, though the blind was pulled down. He knocked on her door, but there was no answer, then waited a minute or so before knocking again—still no answer. He listened carefully, moving closer, but with the wind in his ears, it was hard to do. He gave one last rap.
“I’m heading over, Chess.” His voice sounded muffled even to him, and he doubted she heard.
No answer.
Now, Cash wasn’t the kind of guy to wait around for anyone, but something about this woman had him stomping his feet, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, and glancing around to see if anyone was watching, because he felt like an idiot standing in front of her door. He was no different from his fifteen-year-old self, waiting for Sue Weatherby to sneak out of her house so they could go to the river and make out—Sue looking for some form of commitment and Cash hoping to finally move past third base.
When it was obvious Chess wasn’t answering her door, Cash turned and tucked his chin as another gust of wind hit, and trekked through the snow. He stopped midway to the diner and thought that maybe she’d been in the shower or had been drying her hair and didn’t hear him—he turned around and took a step back, but put the brakes on before he marched his butt over there like some damn Neanderthal and made a fool of himself. If Chess wanted company, she knew where the diner was.
He trudged through the snow and pushed his way inside. He was hit by a wall of heat and almost immediately heard his name. Shaking snow from his boots, he looked around. The lights were dimmed, and candles were lit on most of the tables. Somewhere, Elvis Presley’s ode to Blue Christmas played, and he smelled cinnamon. Joely motioned him over to where she sat at a table in the corner, a glass of red wine in her hand.
“Steve loves the King. We’ve already listened to the entire Elvis Christmas record, twice.” Joely winked. “Glad you showed,” she said with a grin, holding up her wine in welcome. “I wasn’t sure if you would.” She wore a faded red sweater overtop jeans, and she’d pinned Rudolph to her chest. The nose glowed when she moved. Her hair was styled somewhat, piled on top of her head and—Cash looked closer—colored lights flashed from between the waves.
“LED,” she said, laughing. “I saw this in some magazine and thought, why not?” She patted her hair. “Do you like it?”
“It’s something else,” Cash replied with a nod.
Joely pointed to a bucket on the counter. It was filled with ice and beer. “Steve had an extra case in his room, so you can thank him for that.”
Cash said hello to a couple huddled together at a smaller table by the window and then helped himself to a cold Stella before walking back to Joely.
“Steve need help back there?” Whatever he was cooking up had his mouth watering and stomach rumbling.
“Nah,” she replied. “He doesn’t like anyone in his kitchen.”
The door to the diner blew open, and Cash turned, a ready smile on his face that slowly faded when an older man who moved slower than any human Cash had ever seen shuffled inside. Joely was up and out of her chair like a shot to help the old guy to a spot right beside her. She fussed over him.
“Cash, this is Mr. Williams.”
The old man doffed his hat, and it took a bit for him to catch his breath before he looked at Cash. “Call me Ted and we’ll get along just fine.” His face was lined with age, his blue eyes faded, and he had a full head of snow-white hair.
“Ted it is,” Cash replied. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“I’m good.” Ted reached inside his parka and retrieved a small flask. “Now if Joely would grab me a glass and some ice, I’ll be better than good.” He winked at the waitress, and she obliged. While Joely was busy getting his glass, he sat back in his chair and looked up at Cash. “You’re the young buck in thirty-one.”
Cash nodded.
“You from around here?”
“No. Originally from Florida. Lately from pretty much everywhere.”
“Just passing through?”
“You could say that. My sister lives here.”
Ted accepted the glass from Joely and added a good amount of whiskey to the ice before glancing up at Cash. “That story sounds familiar.” He took a gulp and hissed as the fire burned down his throat. “I passed through this town in sixty-three. Had no plans on staying, that’s for damn sure. I’m originally from Kentucky, and my buddy had just been drafted. I knew my number was up, that I could be called next, and the military was no life for me. Too hard-headed to take orders. My plan was to join up with relatives in Canada. Had a job lined up in their family business and a future.
“But then I stopped at this small café in the town center. There was a sign out front advertising a Reuben as their sandwich of the day. Now, I love a good Reuben, so I took a seat inside, and the prettiest girl I’d ever seen brought me the worst coffee I’d ever tasted. And that was it. I took one look at her and knew I wasn’t going anywhere.”
Joely sighed. “I love this story.”
“I put a ring on that woman’s finger one month before I shipped off to ’Nam, and Bernie was waiting for me when I got back four years later.” Ted’s eyes glazed over. “Lord, I’m looking forward to se
eing her again.”
Steve walked into the diner from the kitchen, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, carrying a large tray laden with pots. “Dinner’s ready.”
He arranged everything on the counter and, when it was displayed to his satisfaction, stood back and for the first time smiled.
Cash supposed it didn’t matter the cigarette violated all kinds of health inspection laws, because the homemade meal more than made up for it. There was no turkey or ham, nothing fancy like that. But Steve had pulled together homemade meatloaf, garlic mashed potatoes, Brussels sprouts, which Cash could take or leave, mixed green salad, and a pickle tray that, more than anything, reminded Cash of his youth.
His grandmother used to bring one for Christmas dinner every single year until his dad left and everything went to hell.
Cash stood by his table and waited while the older couple made their way to the counter and filled their plates. Joely was doling out a generous amount of food for Ted, and Steve was digging in as well.
Once Cash had his plate filled, heavy on the meatloaf and mashed potatoes, light on the Brussels sprouts, he headed back to the table where Joely and Ted were at, and was just about to sit down when the door to the diner slammed open, taken by the wind. Chess slipped inside and stood there for a few moments, swiping snow from her shoulders, her eyes wide and glassy and nervous. She looked as if she was going to turn her butt around and head back outside. Cash didn’t give her a chance to do that. He set down his plate and strode over to her.
“I’m glad you decided to come,” he said, watching her closely. Her cheeks were red, from the cold or nerves, he didn’t know, but she looked so damn unsure of herself, it pulled on that protective string inside Cash. It was a string that had been slowly unravelling ever since he’d landed at this damn motel.
She cleared her throat and nodded. “I thought, it’s Christmas, so…”
“Come on,” he said, reaching for her hand. “The food is hot.”
She moistened her lips and looked up at him, and he felt her gaze like a punch to the gut. There was no other way to explain it. Something happened in that moment that flustered the hell out of him. Which was damn silly, because Cash Bodine was a guy who didn’t get flustered or worked up.
It stopped him cold, and his hand fell away from hers.
“Is something wrong?” she asked softly. Her voice wavered a bit.
Yes.
“No. I’m good.” He nodded to the table behind him. “Come on, grab a seat.”
Cash turned and waited until she walked past him, then he put his hand at the small of her back as she walked over to Joely’s table, where the waitress had already set another place. He introduced Chess to Ted and Joely, and she sat in the empty chair between Cash and Ted.
“Would you like some wine?” Joely asked. “I brought a couple of bottles. It’s not the expensive kind, but it does the trick.”
“I’m good, thank you,” Chess murmured.
“You two know each other for long?” Ted asked.
Cash shook his head at the same time Chess did. Her hair was left loose and natural, with long curls cascading over her shoulder. She wore makeup, an attempt to cover her bruises, though her cheek was still puffy. When she pulled some hair forward to cover her face, he felt that something happen again. It was an inconvenient something. And he had a feeling that that something was going to complicate the hell out of his stay in Crystal Lake.
“Plates are by the food on the counter. Help yourself.” Joely pointed, and Chess got up from the table. She’d barely vacated her seat when Ted leaned over.
“Just passing through, huh?” He winked at Cash. “Good luck with that.”
Chapter Seven
It took a bit, but eventually, Chess relaxed. Considering she hadn’t planned on coming to the diner until she walked out into the storm, that was saying something. She was curled up on her bed when Cash had knocked at the door, and after he gave up, she stared at a room filled with empty bottles, a half-eaten burger that had molded over, and a note that had fallen from the dresser to the floor. It contained a name, Dave, a phone number, and casino had been underlined.
The mystery of where her mother had gotten to, solved.
Chess had slipped from the bed, sent her mother a text message to let her know she was back at the motel and that she was okay. And then she’d gotten dressed. It was Christmas Eve, after all, and damned if she was staying in this dump alone.
Ted Williams was funny and warm and had more stories to tell than her former Sunday schoolteacher, Mrs. Eddes. Chess ate her food, which was better than anything she’d eaten in ages, and, along with Cash, Joely, and Steve, listened to Ted talk about his wife, his kids and grandkids, and his favorite time of year, which happened to be Christmas.
“Gosh, my Bernadette loved Christmas. We’d wait until the kids were tucked in bed Christmas Eve, and then I’d nibble on the cookies they left out for Santa and drink the milk, which I didn’t mind one bit even though I’ve never been a milk lover. Then I’d make reindeer footprints in the snow, toss out a few half-eaten carrots, while she laid out the presents under our tree.” He sighed. “We didn’t have a lot back then, but what we had was enough. Each kid got a new coloring book and a big pack of those Crayola crayons, then whatever special thing they’d been asking Santa for. A new ball glove, some doll with hair you pulled out of the damn head, or maybe it talked. New socks, underwear, and nightclothes. Bernie and me, well, we didn’t buy for each other. We decided early on to spend what little we had on the kids. Seeing their faces light up was more of a gift than we’d ever want.
“But one year, I thought I’d surprise her. It was long after the kids had moved out, and it was just the two of us again. I was downtown, and the pet store was running an adoption event. Now, we’d had a dog a while back, and it up and died, sending the kids and Bernie around the bend. They were so upset, I swore we’d never have a pet again.”
Ted paused, and Chess could almost see the memories unrolling inside him. She reached over, wanting to grab his hand, but something stopped her, and she froze before carefully withdrawing her hand.
“I walked into that pet store and over to a big cage filled with cats. Fluffy kittens sitting there like toys, looking up at all these prospective new parents. But this one little kitten, a calico half the size of the others, was hanging upside down from the top of the cage. I looked at her and she looked at me, and I was a goner. The little thing had one blue eye and one hazel. I took her home and presented her to Bernie, and her smile was as big as the world. We called her Tinsel because by that first morning, she’d pretty much tore apart the place and taken every piece of tinsel off the Christmas tree. That was a week before we found out Bernie had the cancer. Tinsel was by her side until she left this world.”
Ted’s voice was shaky, and Chess felt her eyes water. This was love. The kind of love she dreamed about and the kind of love she doubted she’d ever find.
“I had that old girl for nearly fifteen years after Bernie left us, and she died a few months back, in the fire.” Ted swiped at his eyes. “Stupid thing knocked a candle over, and the house went up. Sometimes I wish I went up with it,” he whispered.
For a moment, there was silence, and then Steve cleared his throat. “No, you don’t, you old goat. You live to come in here every day and complain about my food.” He cocked his head. “Today’s the only day you haven’t.”
“That’s because it’s Christmas Eve,” Ted retorted. “And the meatloaf wasn’t half bad.”
Steve smiled. “How about some apple pie?”
“Heated with some of that cheddar on top?”
Steve got up to get the older man his dessert, and Chess grabbed the empty plates on the table. She followed the cook into the kitchen and set them on the large dish rack.
“I’ve seen that man several times, and I’ve never said hello or asked him how he was doing.” She looked at Steve. “Or you, for that matter.”
Ste
ve was busy shaving cheddar on top of a piece of pie. He shrugged. “Don’t beat yourself up, kid. We get busy or distracted, and life slips by us sometimes. The trick is to do something about it. One thing I’ve learned is that life doesn’t happen for you. Life happens to you. But the kicker is, it’s up to you to do the driving, if you know what I mean.”
Steve put the slice of pie in the oven and turned to face Chess. “Just look at Ted out there. He’s lost his wife, his home, and his damn cat, but he’s still invested in life, in spite of feeling like it’s too much sometimes.” He reached for the cigarette tucked behind his ear and lit up. “He’s living in this motel while his insurance settles the house and that mess, and he’s waiting on his kids, who didn’t make it down for Christmas because of this storm. But he’s here and he’s smiling. It’s more than I can say for a lot of folks, myself included. Most of the time, I get through my day without looking anyone in the eye, including Joely, and she’s up in my business twenty-four-seven.”
He cracked a smile. “I guess it’s true what they say about Christmas.”
“What’s that?”
“It thaws even the coldest of hearts.” He nodded to the door. “Let them know I’ll bring out dessert for everyone.”
Chess wandered back into the dining room. Cash looked relaxed, sitting beside Ted, listening to more stories. Joely was well into the wine by this time and had her elbow propped onto the table, holding up her chin while she listened intently. The elderly couple by the window where holding hands, talking quietly to themselves.
Elvis still sang, but he was no longer blue. Instead, he was singing about a silent night in a voice full of soul.
When Cash glanced up suddenly and locked eyes with her, Chess’s heart skipped a whole bunch of beats. A slow smile crept across his face, and her mouth went dry at the power that sat there. When he motioned for her to come sit, she didn’t hesitate and slipped onto the chair beside him.
A Little Bit of Christmas (A Crystal Lake Novel Book 3) Page 4