by Susan Wiggs
Alice glanced at the big antique clock on the wall. “Donno went to the airport to pick him up. Looks like he’s here in time for dessert.”
* * *
To Mason, Simon Gauthier was a ghost from one brief encounter twenty years before. Mason had burst into the Paris apartment after the bombing to find his father with Celeste and her little boy. The single impression had been fleeting—a kid in short pants with knobby knees and dark hair, clinging to his mother’s skirt as he stared wide-eyed at the intruder.
Now in his twenties, he was tall and slender, with longish dark hair and brown eyes, a firm handshake and a direct gaze. A day or two’s growth of beard shadowed his face. He wore an olive drab Utilikilt with wool socks, lace-up boots and a rough woolen sweater. His luggage consisted of an oversize backpack, battered from travel, baggage tags fluttering from the handles.
“Thank you for inviting me, Alice,” he said after the round of introductions. His English was precise and fluent. “I’ve wondered about you and your family all my life.”
“We have a lot to catch up on,” she said simply. “I’m glad you accepted our invitation.”
Faith and her girls came to the dining room to meet Simon. The guy was friendly, Mason observed. In no time at all, they were chatting about Simon’s life in Grenoble, where he had recently finished university. He had a degree in engineering and industrial design, and he worked as a ski instructor.
To Mason, the newcomer was not the most interesting thing in the room. It took most of Mason’s self-control to resist staring at Faith. He wanted to grab her and throw his arms around her. She seemed subdued, though. Standoffish. Damn, was she still seeing that keyboard player?
“We should all go for a ski day,” Ivy said. “I love to ski.”
“That sounds like heaven,” said Mason’s mom. “I used to love to ski the way most people love to breathe.”
“Then you should do it again,” said Ruby. She had a way of cutting to the chase.
“I concur.” Simon grinned affably. “I believe we could rig something for you, Alice. You’re familiar with a sit-ski, yes?”
She looked flustered. “Oh, I don’t think—”
“Come on, Mom,” Adam said. “He might be onto something.”
She bit her lip, looking worried. Mason tried to imagine what was going through her head. The avalanche, the accident. The last time she’d been on a ski slope.
Then she smiled. “I’ll make you a deal, Ruby. I’ll go skiing if you and your sister come, too. And your mother.”
“I’m scared.” Ruby’s knee-jerk reaction to anything new.
“You think I’m not?”
* * *
Faith stood at the base of the Saddle Mountain Ski Resort and regarded the network of ski trails with trepidation. There was a good dumping of powder, clear skies, and even a glimmer of sunshine. But Faith knew she was a terrible skier. She’d tried it only a few times, and that had been years ago.
“This is so cool,” Cara said, clearly feeling no trepidation at all. “Did you see me on the bunny slope?”
“I did. You’re a natural, kiddo. Ruby, too.” Ruby was already on the beginner hill with her ski school class. She’d conquered her fear in record time, and Faith could hear her laughter across the acres of snow. The girls had gotten an early start with Ivy, who had given Cara a lesson.
“Simon told me if I can make it down the bunny slope okay a few times, he’d take me up the chairlift. Mom, you look great in that outfit.”
That was something, at least. “Thanks. Ivy loaned it to me.” The powder blue jacket and white pants fit perfectly. “I don’t want to be one of those lame beginners who looks like a million bucks but skis like a klutz.”
“Everybody’s a klutz starting out,” Mason said, pulling up next to them on a snowmobile. “It’s kind of a rule.”
Attached to the snowmobile was something called a bi-ski for Alice. The rig had two skis on a frame, a molded seat and hand controls. Two thick straps would be used by Simon to assist her down the mountain.
Donno came out of the lodge, pushing Alice in her transport chair.
“I can’t believe I let you rope me into this,” Faith said to her.
“It’ll be fun,” Alice said. “You’ll see. I need you to come along because we might need more than one medic.”
“Very funny.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to throw you and Mason together,” Alice added.
Faith nearly choked on a cold breath of air. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, come on, you think I don’t see how much you’re attracted to each other?”
Faith’s cheeks burned. “You’re delusional.”
“No. When you’re together, the electricity is almost palpable, and don’t pretend it’s not. I have no idea what you’re so afraid of, Faith. Look at me. I’m about to ski down a mountain with no arms and no legs. If that doesn’t scare me, then admitting you’re in love with my son shouldn’t scare you.”
“But I’m not—” But she was.
To her relief, Simon and Adam came over to help get Alice into the rig and up the mountain. They all met at the summit, and it was time for Alice’s first run.
With Simon’s assistance, she skied down the hill. It was incredible to watch. She glided as if she were on a cloud. The controls allowed her to turn and control her speed. Faith forgot her awkwardness as she skied nearby. Alice laughed and shrieked with glee the whole way down.
“She’s having fun at last,” Mason said, sliding to a stop next to Faith. “I love that.”
Faith smiled at him. “Me, too. Your mom’s an amazing woman. She’s worked so hard and come so far.”
* * *
Mason felt a surge of joy, seeing his mother ski again. Adam and Ivy did, too, high-fiving each other as their mother nailed the turns and figured out how to stop like a hockey player on ice. After a few runs, she pleaded fatigue, and Donno took her home with Faith and the girls. He and his brother and sister and Simon stayed to ski some more. He felt an edge of competitiveness with Simon, which was dumb, because the guy was fifteen years younger and had been working in the French Alps as a ski instructor. Still, Mason couldn’t deny the urge to out-ski him.
“Last time we skied together, we were scattering Dad’s ashes,” Ivy said as the four of them gathered at the summit in the late afternoon. The lowering sun drew a thread of orange along the western edge of the mountains, and the lift attendants had announced that it was the final run of the day.
Simon regarded her solemnly. He flexed and unflexed his gloved hands.
“We didn’t even know about you that day,” Ivy added.
Simon’s gaze shifted to Mason. “No? What about you, eh?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“I would have liked to be there,” Simon told him. “Why didn’t you contact me?”
“Why the hell do you think?”
They glared at each other for about three heartbeats. Then Mason lowered his goggles and pointed his skis down the hill.
Simon attacked the final run as if it were a slalom race, trying his best to overtake Mason.
And Mason, of course, was having none of it.
They both sped toward the base, each intent on getting there first. They were nearing the bottom when a large dog shot in front of them, chasing a snowball. Both turned to avoid the running dog—but it was too late to avoid each other.
The crash felt to Mason as if he’d hit a tree. At that speed, the impact left his bones ringing. Snow powder exploded all around him; both of his skis detached from the bindings and shot up into the air. He heard a crunching sound and a rush of breath from Simon.
Within seconds, Adam and Ivy arrived. “What the hell?” Adam demanded. “Are you okay?”
Mason unstrap
ped his helmet, gingerly removing it. He propped himself up on both elbows as the snow dust settled. His leg felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. “I’ll be all right,” he muttered, massaging his thigh. He checked on Simon, who was already sitting up, wiping snow from his face. “Et toi?” he asked.
“Merde alors. Casse-toi.” Simon spat the epithet as he dragged himself to his feet. His goggles had broken, and there was a livid bruise, already beginning to swell, on the top ridge of his cheekbone. A horizontal scratch on the bridge of his nose had started to bleed. “Fait de l’air.”
Ivy handed him a snowball to hold on the swelling cheek. “Welcome to sibling rivalry.”
* * *
Mason and Simon resolved their differences the way any two guys would—over a bottle of hard liquor. As a peace offering, Simon bought a bottle of rare Jameson’s and offered shots as soon as they got back home. They gathered around the big stone fireplace, warming themselves in front of a roaring fire and sampling the Irish whiskey. Outside, the snow was coming down in thick flakes.
His mother came in with Faith, and they both studied Simon’s face, the bruise burgeoning into a proper black eye. Two butterfly bandages crisscrossed the bridge of his nose, making a white X. “When did that happen?” Alice asked. “On the slopes, or in the boxing ring?”
Simon shot a glare at Mason. “Une petite chute. Here, have some of this Irish whiskey. The guy at the bottle shop said it has a powerful analgesic effect.” He grinned. “It appears to be working.”
“In that case,” she said, “I’d better try some.”
“How about you, Faith?” Simon offered. “A taste of holiday cheer?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got to be somewhere.”
Shit, thought Mason. Was she going on a date?
“My daughter Ruby’s in the Christmas pageant this year. She’s a lamb in the nativity scene. I need to go pick her up from rehearsals.”
“You should get Donno to drive you,” Mason said. “The roads are going to be terrible.”
“I’ll be all right,” she said. “I’m used to it.” She offered everyone a wave. “Have a good evening, guys.”
Simon’s gaze followed her with a universally recognizable male hunger. “Tell me more about Faith,” he said after she’d gone. “She’s a widow, no?”
“She’s a widow, yes,” Ivy said.
“Is she seeing someone?” Everyone knew the code beneath those four words.
Mason wanted to smack him. The kid was too young for her, still in his twenties. “Yes,” he said, knocking back another shot of whiskey. “She’s seeing guys who are old enough to vote.”
Simon regarded him placidly for a long moment. “Ah,” he said.
That French ah. It grated. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Mason demanded.
“It means j’ai compris. Or as you say in America, ‘I get it.’” He tapped his lowball glass against Mason’s. “Does she know?”
“Know what?”
“That you like her. That you have feelings for her.”
“What the hell—”
“He’s right, you know,” said Ivy.
“Hey, stay out of this.”
“You wish. It’s my job as your sister to meddle. Now, quit arguing with me and go after her.”
* * *
Faith swore through her teeth at the ice-cold van, which coughed like a victim of black lung and kept dying. Finally, she got it started and sat there shivering in the cold, with the engine chugging. This was a ridiculous vehicle for her to own, but at least it was paid for. Getting a new car was one of those things that might happen “one day.” But “one day” kept getting pushed back—after bills, after girls, after she figured out a way to get Cara to college.
A shadow appeared outside her window. She gasped in surprise. “Mason,” she said, rolling down the window. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m driving you to town,” he said.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I’m doing it anyway.”
“You’ve been drinking,” she observed.
“Half a highball. Give me a break. And get out of that car or we’ll be late to pick up Ruby.”
Sometimes, she thought, the best thing to do was to just surrender. She rolled up the window and shut off the van. The heated seat of Mason’s car was undeniably comfortable. So was their silence as he drove her to the church. She kept thinking about what Alice had said earlier. There was no escaping it. Now Faith wondered if Mason knew, if he had any clue as to how much she liked him.
They arrived just as the rehearsal was wrapping up. The pageant directors, Eddie and Maureen Haven, managed to get the kids to sound like angels everyone had heard on high. The final number sounded as sweet as birdsong.
Ruby was wiped out at the end of the evening. Faith had brought along a snack for her and managed to get a few bites of food into her before Ruby fell asleep in the backseat. “She gets so fatigued,” Faith explained. “Especially after the skiing today.”
When they arrived back home, he picked Ruby up and carried her to the door. Ruby stirred and snuggled cozily against him. His breath caught, and the expression on his face was one of surprised tenderness, as if he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. “She’s light as a feather.”
“I know. Sometimes she seems so fragile to me.” Faith felt a familiar thrum of worry, something she lived with every day of her life. “Let’s take her straight to bed. If I know Ruby, she’s down for the count.”
Ruby didn’t wake up. They put her to bed. Across the room, Cara slept like a corpse, as wiped out as everyone else by the skiing.
Faith wasn’t tired at all. She felt like staying up all night, talking to Mason. Every nerve tingled when she was with him. They went down to the lounge room together. Outside the windows, big snowflakes wafted down. Mason added a couple of logs to the fire while Faith fixed two mugs of hot chocolate.
They settled down on the big chesterfield sofa, watched the cheery fire and sipped their hot chocolate. After a few minutes Mason set down his mug. Then he took hers and set it down, too.
“I got you a present,” he said, handing her a smallish gift bag.
She gasped in surprise. “Really? That’s so nice.”
“Open it.”
Her heart gave a wild leap when she took out an oblong case of some sort. Jewelry? She opened the case and gave a laugh. “Oh, my God. You got me a pair of red Fendi sunglasses.”
“Indeed I did.”
“I can’t believe you remembered.”
“You’d be surprised at what I remember about you, Faith.”
She put the glasses on. They felt chic and luxurious, and the dancing flames in the fireplace took on a special glow. “But I didn’t get anything for you.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Yes, you did. Merry Christmas, Faith.” With slow deliberation, as if he’d been thinking about this moment all his life, he took off the glasses, then slipped his arms around her and kissed her.
She softened into the kiss, holding tight, feeling their hearts beating together. It was fantastic, the kind of kiss that made her forget the whole world. When it ended, she waited for a moment with her eyes closed, wishing she never had to open them and face reality.
She forced herself to look up at him. She didn’t know what to make of the kiss. Was he just lonely?
He smiled and gently brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. “You look worried.”
“Do I?”
He leaned forward to kiss her again, but she pushed herself away, drawing her knees up to her chest. “You have to stop doing this. You... We have to stop.”
“I was just getting started.”
“I don’t want to start anything with you.”
“Faith—”
> “No, listen. We can’t start anything because I can already tell you it’s going to end badly. And it’ll be a mess and people will get hurt and—”
He touched his finger to her lips. “Are you still seeing that guy? The one in the band?”
She felt powerless, mesmerized by his touch. And against all her better judgment, she said, “Right now I’m not seeing anyone but you.”
26
After the holidays Mason went back to his place in the city. It was beautiful, with a terrace and views of downtown, stylishly furnished and comfortable. There were some art pieces Regina had picked out, and they were beautiful, too, but when he looked at them, he felt nothing. The more he thought about Avalon, the less like home his apartment seemed. Still, it was a great place in a great neighborhood. He could step outside and be anywhere within a few short blocks—bars, restaurants, a gym with a climbing wall, shopping and movies and shows.
Had those things ever mattered to him?
It seemed as if everything that mattered was far away. He immersed himself in work, doing what he did best—putting together deals, making his clients happy, earning plenty of money. He took a winter trip to Nassau and tried kiteboarding, enjoying the rush of skimming along the waves, being swept along by the wind. He met people in bars, drank and danced and flirted, but it didn’t fill the void inside him.
Whenever he visited Avalon, Faith managed to make herself scarce. She insisted that getting involved would be a mistake. There would be a mess—that was her term for it.
He couldn’t dispute the observation. When it came to personal relationships, he had a habit of making a mess of things. He kept thinking it was different with Faith. He was different with Faith. He wanted things he’d never wanted before—quiet evenings at home, long, comfortable silences and conversations that had no end. He wanted to know everything about her, and to share everything about himself. He wanted forever.
The clarity of the thought resounded through him. No more overthinking or second-guessing. But the trick would be to convince Faith that he was absolutely sincere.
He decided to woo her. Court her, whatever that old-fashioned word meant. He intended to win her heart by showing her a good time.