by Nancy Naigle
“And be sure the screen is in place so any sparking embers remain in the firebox. You don’t want to set this place on fire.”
“No. One project is enough. Thank you so much for getting the fire started for me. It was really nice of you to come over here in the middle of the night to rescue me.”
“You didn’t need rescuing,” he admitted, “but I’m glad I didn’t miss sharing your first big snow.”
“Me too.”
“I’ll go get your phone, then Elvis and I’ll head on out.” Matt didn’t want to overstay his welcome, but he really didn’t want to leave. “And snow cream tomorrow. My treat.”
Her face lit up. Tomorrow couldn’t get here fast enough.
Chapter Twenty-two
The next day Liz could hardly believe how beautiful the snow was. All of the footprints they’d made last night were completely covered over this morning. As if it hadn’t happened.
But it did.
Planning to treat herself to a hot Creekside Café breakfast, she bundled herself up and got into her four-wheel drive. She tried to pull out, but all she did was spin. She got out to look and realized the snow had drifted almost up to the bumper. It wasn’t likely she’d be going anywhere anytime soon.
As she stood there looking at the hopeless situation, Matt drove up.
She waved. He always showed up at just the right time.
He rolled down his window. “Where are you going? I told you I’d make snow cream this morning.”
“I was going to go to the café for breakfast.”
“Maizey doesn’t have power down there either. I made biscuits and sausage gravy.”
“Have you taken me to raise?” It was a joke, but it was beginning to get a little ridiculous. “I don’t remember the weather ever being this extreme.”
“That’s because as a kid you don’t have to do anything except play on a snow day.”
“That’s true,” she said, and then an idea hit her. “We should build a snowman!”
Matt looked at her like she was crazy, but then he smiled. “Really?”
“Yes! Sure!” She ran over to a wide patch of smooth snow. “How about here?”
“Yeah. We can do that.” He bailed out of his truck and raced over to her side. Together they scooped and mounded snow, and it didn’t take long to get the huge base of the snowman heaped into place.
“The snow is wet enough to pack,” Matt said. “It’s perfect for snow building.”
She pushed her wad of snow, trying to roll it into a bigger ball. “It’s heavy.” She let out a puff of frosty mist.
“Yeah. It is.”
There has to be an easier way. She jumped to her feet, ran over to pop the back hatch on her Range Rover, and took out a bucket. “Reinforcements!” She quickly fashioned the head for the snowman.
“Nice job!”
“Thank you very much. Plus, the bucket can double as a hat. Here, help me do the middle one.”
He took the lead, and finally they had the perfect-size tummy layer for Mr. Snowman.
Matt lifted the middle section to sit on top of the bottom layer, giving it a good shove to make sure it wouldn’t roll off.
She wandered off in search of something they could use for the eyes, nose, and mouth. With so much snow, it was slim pickings to find anything, but she did come back with two medium pinecones for eyes, and a row of small ones to use for the mouth.
Elvis lay nearby in the frosty yard biting at mouthfuls of snow.
“What is he doing?” Liz asked. “Do you think he needs water?”
“No,” he said. “He seems to believe it’s his job to eat all of the snow.”
“That’s hysterical.”
“He’s still a puppy. Hopefully, he’ll figure it out.”
She stuck the pinecones in place, then removed her scarf and wrapped it around the snowman. “It’s great. All we need is a hat.” She lifted the bucket.
Matt took off his cap and placed it on top. “Mine looks better.” He stepped back, taking stock of what they’d built. “It’s missing something.…” He jogged over to the tree line and came back with a small pine branch. He tugged his pocketknife from his pocket and trimmed it down to nearly nothing, then pressed it just above the mouth of the snowman for a nose. “He’s one handsome dude now.”
“I guess he deserves a name.”
Matt thought for a second, then raised a finger in the air. “I’ve got it. How about Flurry?”
She wrapped her hands around Matt’s biceps. “I like it.” She snuggled in close for a moment, then pulled away. “I’m getting cold. You want to come in for some hot chocolate? I think I can get water hot enough in the fireplace to make some.”
“Sounds good.”
She grabbed the breakfast bag he’d brought. As they walked back over to the cabin she wished they’d built Flurry over here where she could enjoy him.
It was a bit of a comedy of errors trying to get a pan of water close enough to the fire to warm up the water without spilling it, but eventually with Matt’s help she got it done.
She went to her bedroom and dragged the quilt from her bed. The king-size quilt was plenty big enough to reach between them without being too awkwardly close.
“This is the quilt you got at Flossie’s, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. My first Angel’s Rest purchase.”
He tucked his feet under it. “A good one.” Elvis plopped down on the floor and put his chin on the quilt. Matt took his phone out and took a picture of him.
They sipped hot chocolate in front of the fireplace, and Matt played old country Christmas music from his phone. Willie Nelson crooned “Pretty Paper.” Gram had always loved that song.
The two of them talked about music, favorite books, architecture, even most embarrassing moments.
She got up and checked the time on her phone. “I can’t believe how much time has flown by with us sitting here talking.”
“You’re easy to talk to,” he said.
“It’s been fun. How long do these power outages usually last? I guess it could take a long time.”
“No. Actually, it’s just the opposite,” he said. “It’s rare we are down for more than a day even in the worst of storms. I think this time we just had so much heavy ice it seems to have the whole town out.”
“So, you don’t consider this a bad storm?”
“No. I consider it a perfect storm.”
“For what?”
“Oh, you just wait.” His eyebrows waggled in a goofy way. “Are you warm yet?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Dry?
“Yes. What are you up to?”
“Get your coat. We’re going for a ride.” Matt stood. “I want you to see something. Antler Creek at its finest, actually.”
“Great.” She didn’t even hesitate, hopping to her feet and heading for her coat.
“Do you mind if we leave Elvis here?” The dog licked his lips, but one side of his lip stuck on one of his canines.
Liz and Matt both laughed. “See. He looks like Elvis.”
“He definitely does.”
“We’ll be back in a bit, buddy. No sleeping on her bed.”
“You do whatever you like, my sweet Elvis.” She and Matt walked outside, and as soon as they crossed the makeshift bridge over the trench in front of her house, they both broke out into a run toward his truck, laughing.
Matt jumped, pretending to high-five Flurry as they dashed by him.
The sun was beginning to set, and with the temperatures dropping the snow was crunchier than it had been earlier.
They got in his truck, and he pulled out of the driveway.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.”
She was beginning to like his surprises, but she was dying to know where they were going.
He took the road straight down the mountain, then headed across town. When they passed the turn toward the interstate, there were pickup trucks lining one whole side o
f the street.
“What’s going on?” It seemed as if everyone in town knew about wherever it was they were going, but she didn’t remember anything being in this block.
He pulled along the curb between two trucks. A rainbow of colors dotted the hill.
Her mouth dropped open. “Every kid in town must be sledding here tonight.”
“Probably every dad too. When the power goes out, and there’s snow … this is where everyone comes.”
“Oh, my gosh. How fun.”
“Mill Hill is perfect for sledding, plus they have hot chocolate and that old barn has heat. A place to warm up and visit until the power comes on. If there’s one thing the people of these mountains know, it’s how to bring the community together when things go wrong. In this case, when we lose power, there’s always Mill Hill.”
“Is there a mill here?”
“No. The Mills own the land. Generators offer light, fun, and hot chocolate. And there are firepits for s’mores.”
“I love s’mores. Pop used to make the best s’mores over our firepit.”
“I remember that,” Matt said.
“Are we going sledding?” She wasn’t sure how much she liked the idea of flying fast down an icy hill on top of a board with metal railings. She’d never been much of a daredevil.
“No.”
That put her at ease. “Watching sledding is fun too.”
“No, ma’am.” Matt shook his head. “I’m more competitive than that, and something tells me you might be too.”
“Cool.” She clapped her hands. “What do you have in mind?”
“Follow me.” He walked to the top of the hill where kids were sledding, then veered off to the back side, where people were going down a gentle slope on what looked like giant plastic trash can lids headed for three-foot-tall bowling pins.
“Human bowling? Oh no.” She wagged her finger, and took a giant step backward. “You’re not getting me to do that.”
“Chicken?”
“It’s crazy.”
“Crazy fun,” Matt said. “Seriously. The pins are inflatable and made of soft rubbery bouncy stuff. It doesn’t hurt one bit.”
“Then, you go first.”
“You’re on.” He paid at the shed, then brought two plastic saucers over to where she was standing. “We’re on lane five.”
“I have a very bad feeling about this.”
“Don’t worry. So, here’s how it works. We each take a turn being the ball by sitting on the saucer sled and gliding down to knock over the big blow-up pins.” Matt waved to someone at the bottom near the pins. “Wave to Flossie.”
“Flossie? As in the old lady from the antique shop Flossie?”
“There’s only one Flossie. Her family owns all of this. Well, she does now. She’s the only one left. She’s been running this snow bowl for years.”
“Snow bowl?” She laughed. “Fine, so how do we keep score?”
“Just like bowling. We make ten runs, and Flossie handles all of the official scoring.”
Liz took the blue saucer. “Okay. You first.”
He sat in the red sled, bunched his knees up tight against his body, then bounced his butt to get moving. On the way down he leaned to the left and right, trying to aim for those big pins, but in the end he only knocked the left four down.
A brightly lit scoreboard showed his total of four on the left. Her score was still blacked out.
“I can beat that,” she said. Of course, he couldn’t hear her from all the way down there. She got in her saucer and slid down the hill. The tighter she bunched the faster she went, and it made her scream, but it was fun.
Plowing right through the middle of those bowling pins, she ended up with a 7–10 split, but she still beat his glide. “You’re on, Matt!” The scoreboard updated. Eight to four.
With each glide, the smack talk got a little sillier. It was an absolute blast. People started gathering at the top of the hill, watching and rooting them on.
An air horn blew. “That means it’s the last frame,” Matt announced.
He’d have to do something pretty spectacular to beat her now. She wasn’t even worried.
Matt slid down the hill again and got all ten pins. He leapt to his feet whooping and hollering, then ran back to the top. “A strike in the tenth frame means I get two more slides.”
Liz was trying to do the math in her head. He probably could beat her. Especially if she choked on her slide. I’ve got to beat him.
Matt went down the hill again, and, just as before, he hit the pins right in the middle, knocking all of them down. He walked up the hill looking a little like Mick Jagger strutting off some satisfaction. And darn if Matt didn’t get one more strike on his next glide.
“No fair. You’ve done this a million times,” she said.
“Don’t be a sore loser,” he teased.
“I haven’t lost yet.” She went right to the starting line, then slid her sled up and down a four-foot path up to the line trying to slick up her descent. She jumped on the saucer, squatted, and went flying down the hill. She’d never admit it to Matt, but her eyes were closed half the time. She was lucky she hit the pins at all, and luckier that all of them went down. She didn’t even realize they had until she heard everyone clapping and yelling.
She eked out the win by sliding a five and a four—winning by two points. Matt jogged down the hill to where she was still jumping around doing a victory dance.
He caught her hand and spun her, then pulled her in close.
Her breath caught as he held her close for a two-count. She blinked snow from her lashes, and for a moment she could feel the warmth of his breath, and the pounding of her heart.
Flossie announced Liz the winner over a bullhorn. People clapped, and the next set of bowlers started their game.
She pulled out of his arms and brushed the snow from her clothes, a little embarrassed by the public display of affection … or whatever that just was.
“Don’t try to tell me this is the first time you’ve ever snow bowled,” he said.
“It was.”
Flossie walked over to them wearing a warm coat with a giant bowling pin embroidered across the back. “Aren’t you full of surprises, Liz Westmoreland,” Flossie said.
“Thank you,” Liz said. “But speaking of surprises, how did you ever come up with human bowling? It’s crazy!”
“I’m one of the few whose family was from all over. My favorite cousin lived in Wisconsin. He once told me about someone who had done it up there to raise money for their fire department. I thought it sounded like a good way to make a snow day fun.” She spun around and showed off her jacket. “My cousin had this jacket made for me after the first year I hosted this. Ain’t it grand?”
“It is.”
“You’re a natural, Liz.” Flossie waved her clipboard in the air. “As of right now, you have the high score. At the end of the night the high score gets a five-pound decorative tin of birdseed from Goodwin’s Hardware.”
“Oh, my gosh. There are prizes too? This is serious business.”
“Nothing serious about it, but it sure is fun.” Flossie placed a gentle hand on Liz’s shoulder. “Your name will stay up on this board until someone outscores you. So come on back. The bowling proceeds go to the Main Street beautification fund. Last year we made enough money to get the Christmas flags down the street. We’re trying to get enough for lampposts and benches next.”
That was going to take a lot of bowling. “I’ll do my best to help,” Liz told her.
When she and Matt walked back up to the top of the hill, the bowling line wrapped all the way around the hot chocolate shed.
“There must be forty people in line. How did you get us right in?”
Matt grinned. “I paid extra. Fund-raisers don’t mind bribes. All for a good cause.”
“Main Street is a great cause.”
“No,” he said with a snicker. “I meant bowling against you.”
“You were pretty
sure of yourself, weren’t you?”
“Fat lot of good that did me. You swabbed the deck with me.” Matt gave her a sideways glance. “I was undefeated.”
“Until now.”
“You know I’m going to want a rematch, right?”
At this rate the town might get benches and lampposts both.
Chapter Twenty-three
Liz was almost sorry the evening had to end. She hadn’t had this much fun in she didn’t know how long. Maybe ever.
Matt pulled into her driveway.
“Thank you for the fun night.” She wished the night wouldn’t come to an end.
“You’re welcome.”
She opened the door to get out of the truck.
He got out too, and her hopes soared.
“I’ll stoke the fire when I get Elvis,” he said.
Elvis. Right. She’d almost forgotten they’d left him behind. The snow crunched beneath their feet all the way to the cabin.
She opened the door and warmth rushed out. Inside, Elvis was sprawled out in front of the dwindling pile of glowing embers. “I don’t think he missed us,” she teased.
Elvis stood up and shook before walking over to put his nose under Matt’s hand. “That’s my boy.”
He was so easy to be with. It was as if he and Elvis had been part of her life and this place forever.
“I’ll just get this fire going and be on my way.”
A million clever comments fled through her mind to get him to stay a little longer.
Matt put two more pieces of wood on the fire, then brought in a few more and set them on the hearth to dry out. “So the trick to keeping your fire burning longer is giving your logs a little space between them so they can feed off the heat of each other. They’ll actually burn longer that way.” He scooched one of the logs a little farther back with the poker. “Leave a couple of inches between two logs and then place a third caddy-corner across the top. Leaving room for oxygen.”
“So, that’s the trick. I was wondering why your fire burned so much better than mine.”
“It’s not hard to master once you know the secret. That’s a skill you’ll need living up here.”