by Jean Oram
“I’m not even going to humor you with a reply,” she said.
“That sounded like one. So that would be a yes for next year?” He winked at Zach. Logan and Catherine had hit it off immediately, already making digs like long-time friends. Maybe it was the England-Australia connection. Union Jacks and Queen Elizabeth. Whatever it was, Zach had to admit he was a tiny bit jealous.
Something Logan had obviously noted, as he mouthed behind Catherine’s back, “She likes me.”
Zach scowled, causing his friend to grin and cozy up closer to Catherine. He swept Xavier from her arms. “Babies love me.”
Xavier’s bottom lip trembled, the move spreading to his chin before he finally let out a wail.
“Actually, they don’t,” Zach said. “You’re too much of a dingo.” He carefully plucked Xavier from Logan before Catherine could, determined—thanks to his testosterone—to one-up his friend as well as impress the woman in his life by settling the infant. Which he did.
He shot Logan a smug look, not caring if Catherine saw him or not.
“He likes Zach,” she said, smiling warmly at her son. Zach wanted that smile aimed at himself. He bet it felt wonderful to be looked at like that. To be cherished and loved.
Wait. Now he was envious of an infant?
As though she was catching herself, Catherine’s expression became more closed. She struck Zach as being very British as she said in a clipped tone, “You two have known each other a long time?”
“Too long,” both men replied at once.
“And you work together?”
“Unfortunately,” Zach said, as Logan added, “Bad decision on my part.”
Catherine dug her child from Zach’s arms. “We should let you work.”
“We’re fine,” Logan said. “It’s not every day Zach gets married. Are you guys going to throw a party?”
“A party?” Catherine asked. “Why?”
“Because we got married,” Zach said. The last thing she probably needed was the town fawning over them more than they already were. He had a feeling it might cause her to freak out. She needed time to adjust, settle in.
“Lots of time to think about it,” Logan said. “Folks in Blueberry Springs love this kind of stuff. They might even throw a surprise one if you don’t plan it yourself.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Zach said, dismissing the comment. He wasn’t so involved in the community that they’d go to the bother. Logan was probably just angling to get Catherine to buy a dress from his wife’s bridal shop.
“You wouldn’t happen to know someone who’s looking to hire an employee who can do some work from home?” Catherine asked.
Logan met Zach’s eye and Zach shook his head. Nope. Not happening.
“Are you good with numbers? Well organized?” Logan asked.
“We should work on that new system for Mandy,” Zach said, angling himself in front of Logan, pressing into his physical space, pushing him from the room as well as the conversation. “She needs it set up by Friday.”
“I am,” Catherine said, following them.
“Do you have experience with invoices—sending them out, making deposits and the like? Communicating with customers?”
“Yes.” There was cautious hope in her tone, and Zach wanted to punch Logan for leading her on.
He continued to press Logan. “Catherine can start looking for work in a day or two—once she’s gotten over the jet lag. I’m sure we can help her find something.”
“Like being our office manager. Both you and I suck at doing all that client billing. We’ve got a ton of people we’ve never even invoiced.”
“I’m getting to it, and we don’t suck at it.”
“Did you ever charge Moe and Amy for redoing their locks in the middle of the night? Or installing their new system?”
“I’m getting to it,” Zach said darkly.
“Right. I’m pretty sure there’s a statute of limitations on billing.” He leaned around Zach. “When can you start?”
“Right now?” she asked.
Zach gave Logan a look of warning.
“Our clients are waiting,” Logan sang.
“They can keep waiting. Catherine needs a chance to settle in.”
And he needed a chance to find her a job. One where she wouldn’t be in his business, noticing things. Like how he could dream up complex security systems that could keep thieves out of federal banks. Things that would prove he wasn’t just some regular joe, but a man with a past she might find threatening. A man who could break or hack his way into anything, anywhere, anytime. Because he had a feeling that if he wanted a chance with this woman, he needed to act as nonthreatening and normal as boring George next door.
4
Zach had managed to coax Catherine into taking a walk. He hoped it would help ease their mutual feeling of being at loose ends, their conversations awkward as they danced around a day of domesticity together. As well, Xavier had become more and more unsettled as the afternoon wore on, so Zach had bundled the new arrivals in his extra winter wear. The baby had quieted after a block or two, and now they walked in silence, other than the quiet crunch of snow beneath their feet on the sidewalk.
Success.
Well, except Logan had promised Catherine a job. Why? She was running from something, and for all they knew she may have swindled money from her last boss. Plus while having them both work from home would normally be ideal for a young family, it was maybe not so ideal for two people who had just met, and had yet to determine if they enjoyed spending extended lengths of time together. Or any time at all.
“Do you want to see about getting some winter clothes?” Zach asked Catherine. She was pushing the stroller, her tousled mass of blond curls set off by the red-and-black plaid of the insulated jacket she’d borrowed. His big black mitts looked ridiculous on her slender hands, but seeing her dressed in his clothing made him feel warm inside. “There are a few stores a couple of blocks over.”
Catherine blinked and inhaled.
“You can pay me back later if that’s an issue,” he said, guessing the source of her hesitation. She’d been careful not to overstep, and to keep a boundary between them. She was fiercely independent and he was curious as to what had made her that way. It caused him to want to take care of her, to ease the burden of always being in charge. Which was ridiculous, because that would be the last thing a woman like her would ever want.
“Or, honestly,” he said, lowering his tone so it sounded a bit more grave, yet playful, “I should pay for it, since I brought you all the way across the planet to this freezing mountain town.”
Catherine laughed as she shivered, hunching further into his jacket. “You might owe me for that.”
A few flakes of snow fell from the clouds, floating toward them. “We should have chosen Cyprus.”
“But then we wouldn’t have had this amazing winter wonderland.”
“You lived along the coast?” He was fairly certain Cyprus got snow in the mountain regions.
She gave a nod of agreement, then tipped her face to the sky while letting out a huff of joy as the flakes drifted onto her pink cheeks. “This is incredible.”
“You’ve seen snow before?”
“Of course, but this is…this is winter. Real winter. And technically, it’s still only autumn. This weather will freeze you without a second thought.”
“That’s rather grim.” Zach shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, having forgotten his own gloves while bundling up her and Xavier.
“Sorry,” she said with resignation. “I’m like that sometimes.”
“I have my moments, as well. ‘The world is too much with us.’”
At the quote, Catherine’s spine straightened and she looked at him with interest.
“Bob Dylan?” he mused, trying to recall who he should attribute the line of poetry to. “No, Henry David Thoreau. Nope, that’s not right, either.”
“William Wordsworth.”
“Ah yes. The
cynical old bugger. If he could only see us now. His criticism of materialism and modernism. Man, he must be turning over in his grave faster than a hot dog on one of those rotisserie things at the gas station.” Which wasn’t that fast, now that Zach thought about it.
He was trying too hard to impress her.
“You like poetry?” she asked.
He hesitated, struggling to come up with a line or two that wasn’t trite and overused—or a limerick he’d learned in the army that wasn’t completely inappropriate to recite in front of a woman. One you wanted to like you, at least.
“I know a little of this,” he said casually, “a little of that.”
She quoted a line he didn’t recognize.
“Shakespeare?”
She gave him a look loaded with disappointment.
Wrong. Not the old bard then.
“I memorized enough poetry to keep the ladies happy—in other words, impressed.” He’d found he needed his memory banks for more vital information, like how to survive in enemy territory.
“Interesting,” she said, sounding very proper and British as she teased him. “A ladies’ man?”
“Not especially. I lacked…” He squinted, as though trying to see whatever it was he failed to possess so he could describe it, claim it, fix it.
“Follow through?” she asked in amusement.
Man, he loved the way she spoke.
“I was preoccupied maybe.” With survival. Keeping himself together. Both in high school and later in life. “If you’re afraid, don’t do it. If you’re doing it, don’t be afraid.”
“Is that a personal motto?”
“Genghis Khan. I’m not sure I agree with the first part. I say do it even if you’re afraid, otherwise you’ll never do anything worthwhile.”
She nodded thoughtfully, her footsteps slowing as she peeked in on her bundled son to ensure he was protected from the flakes which were growing fatter, causing an almost-whiteout.
“Where did this renaissance man grow up, that he can quote Wordsworth and Khan, has a home security system that could rival Fort Knox, and isn’t a big fan of winter conditions, since he thinks Cyprus is better than this? Florida? I’ve heard it’s lovely.”
“Philadelphia,” he replied. “I actually don’t mind winter here in the mountains. The cold is worth it. Although sometimes it goes on too long. There are other things I’d like to do than shovel the walk every day.”
Zach nudged Catherine, pointing for her to turn right. The snow was falling harder now, but he knew from his short time in the mountains that the sudden flurry could be similar to a cloud burst, only with inches of fat flakes piling up instead of rain. The stroller was already having issues with its small wheels, the wet snow clumping as it collected on the sidewalk.
“Isn’t the house the other way?” Catherine asked.
“We’re a block from Wally’s Sporting Goods. Let’s let this weather finish whatever it wants to while we see what Jen can do to get you two geared up for a true mountain winter.”
“Fur-trimmed parka?” Catherine asked hopefully.
“Boots so big and warm you’ll have trouble walking.”
She gave a shiver. “That sounds wonderful. Maybe add some snowshoes and a Saint Bernard dog with a little barrel of brandy attached to its collar.”
“That I can arrange.”
Catherine smiled up at him, happy and free, and he wondered if this was what real life looked like.
Catherine could see the shop up ahead, its promise of warmth like a beacon to her toes, which had gone numb about two blocks back. Her hands, despite the bulky mitts, were starting to ache from the cold. A few more seconds of brisk walking and they’d be there. Just a little farther.
Zach stopped, then backtracked a few steps. He stooped, brushing the snow near his large boot with his bare hand. As he straightened, he focused on something cupped in his palm. With his index finger, he pushed and poked, knocking off clumps of snow, until he held up something pinched between his fingers.
“How are you not freezing?” she asked, stomping her feet.
“Look what I found.” He still wasn’t walking, and Catherine checked on Xavier, who seemed warm and content. Maybe he was actually as frozen as she was, but the shock of it was preventing him from crying. Zach was still standing there as though expecting her to come over. She glanced toward the Wally’s Sporting Goods sign. So close. And yet so far.
As she struggled with the stroller’s wheels, which had done fine rolling over the hard crust of snow earlier but were now sticking in the new snow, Zach came forward, showing her his find. “A ring.”
Up ahead, a woman as puffy as a penguin in all her outerwear exited the shop, a wave of heat shimmering in the air before the door swung closed again.
“It looks old,” he said, walking slowly beside Catherine.
She wished he’d pocket it so they could move faster. The delightful flakes from earlier were now stinging her cheeks with a relentless cold.
She glanced at the ring when he held it her way. Her best guess was that it would be valued in the ten- to twenty-thousand-pound range. A nice find for sure.
Zach clutched it in his fist. “It’s likely an heirloom and means a lot to someone.” He shoved his free hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He kept stopping, then walking, then stopping.
He jabbed at the screen with what must surely be frozen fingers, then held the device to his ear. Seconds later he said, “Scott, it’s Zach. Any chance you’ve had a report of a lost ring?” He described the piece, listened a moment, then said, “Beth Reiter’s grandmother from the nursing home? Yeah, I know Gran.”
He pocketed the fist holding the ring.
It was easy enough to make it look like you were doing the right thing and claim that you’d returned it to the likely ailing, memory-challenged woman, when in fact you’d pawned it. Catherine sighed, confident about how this story was going to play out. People didn’t do the right thing these days. They didn’t return things if they didn’t have to.
She adjusted Xavier’s cap, wishing he could grow up in a world where people were honest even when nobody was looking. Where they shared the same values that she strived to hold dear. Old-fashioned, sure, but how wonderful it would be to be able to count on others. She had hoped, when choosing Zach and this small town, that Blueberry Springs was a place still stuck in its ways where morals were concerned. But maybe that kind of community no longer existed. Maybe they shared hand-me-downs, but that was all.
Zach ended the call and Catherine felt the urge to sigh as a way to release the disappointment welling inside her.
“Shall we? You look half-frozen.” He guided her into the sporting goods store.
The shop was expansive and warm, stuffed with everything from cross-country skis, skates and sleds to big puffy jackets that looked so comfy she wanted to curl up in one even though it wouldn’t have the comforting smell of Zach’s cologne.
“Zach! How’d those skates work out for you?” called a welcoming female voice through the racks of bulky clothing.
“Pretty good.”
A woman with a big smile appeared, her nose gem twinkling under the lights. Her blond hair was natural, unlike Catherine’s, but had a funky streak of purple.
“Jen, this is Catherine and Xavier.”
Catherine slipped off Zach’s oversize mitts and smiled.
“They need outfitting for winter. Catherine, this is Jen Kulak. She owns the place.”
Jen worked her gaze over the three of them, still smiling, then said, “I’d heard you’d gotten married, but said I’d believe it when I saw it.” She stretched out a hand to shake Catherine’s.
“Why is the place called Wally’s?” Catherine asked.
“He’s the old owner. Retired. Now it’s all mine.” Jen gave a playful cackle and rubbed her palms together as though she was an evil villain who’d finally gained the upper hand. “Mine, I say.”
Zach let out a sigh as though unimp
ressed. “Anyway, I was thinking a proper parka. Ski pants. Hat. Everything.”
“Right.” Jen sobered up, even though a hint of mischief was still gleaming in her eyes. “Let’s start with Xavier.”
She led them to a rack and started tugging out little snowsuits that she claimed would work in a car seat. “This brand kept my son warm. By the way, did you get the infant seat I sent over? Rob said he was going to deliver it, but when I checked the car an hour later it was still in there.”
“He dropped it off before our walk,” Zach said.
“Thank you for the loan. It’s very generous,” Catherine added.
Jen shrugged. “We aren’t planning on having more kids. I’m just sorry our little snowsuit would be the wrong size for Xavier.”
“You have just the one child?” she asked.
“Just the one.” Jen had moved to adult sizes and was building a stack on a bench nearby.
“I’m sure we don’t need all of this…” Catherine said uncertainly.
“You will,” Zach stated, with a sureness that made her reassess the pile. How were they going to carry this home? And how much was it going to cost? Was the offer to work for Logan and Zach a real one? She could tell Zach hadn’t been comfortable with it. She wasn’t sure if he had something to hide—finances had always been a private and somewhat touchy subject in her family—or if he just didn’t want her underfoot.
Jen was holding up items in front of Catherine. “Red okay?” she asked. “It would look amazing with your complexion.”
“Mitts, not gloves,” Zach said to Jen, adding black ones to the pile and removing a pair of thick gloves.
“Mittens? For me?” Catherine hadn’t realized they common were for adults as well as for children.
“They’re generally warmer,” Zach said.
“Just a bit unwieldy,” Jen added. “But for your first winter, mitts are probably best.”
The bell over the door jingled and a woman hustled into the store, her auburn curls coated with white flakes that quickly melted, giving her a sparkly appearance. “Zach!”
The urgency in her voice had Catherine turning to take a second look.