Shelter Me: A Frazier Falls Novel

by Collins, Kelly

  “You’re not a girl. You’re a grown woman who should know the state of her mother’s health already.” I tugged my collar higher up my neck. “I only wanted to know your name, but I could visit and ask your mom instead.”

  “Ugh, bloody busybody,” she grumbled. “For your information, I ask her all the time about her health, and she tells me she’s fine.”

  The word bloody sounded exquisite in her accent, which seemed to have grown more pronounced the more worked up she’d gotten.

  “You want to know about your mom? I’ll need a name.”

  She let out a resigned breath. “Emily.”

  “Emily?”

  “My name. It’s Emily. Now, how has she been?”

  “Not great,” I admitted. “We had a hot summer, which quickly turned into a harsh winter. We hardly got any fall at all. We don’t see her in Reilly’s anymore.”

  “We?”

  “Me and my brothers. We used to drive her home if she’d had one too many.”

  Emily looked uncomfortably at the ground. “Thank you.”

  “What was that?” I leaned in, feigning temporary deafness as I held a cupped hand up to my near-frozen ear.

  “Thank you,” she burst out. “God, you’re impossible.”

  “I’ve been told.” I pulled the bags to my chest, hoping they’d insulate me from the cold. “You get home safely.”

  She rolled her eyes, then returned to her car without another word.

  “Didn’t even offer to drive me home.” I held the bags tightly and trudged slowly back.

  When I arrived, I all but fell through my front door. The central heating, a miracle of modern ingenuity, warmed my frozen skin as I shed layers of clothing and put away my purchases. I didn’t have the energy to cook after my ordeal, so I made do with a microwave pizza and a bottle of beer.

  I flopped on my sofa and flicked through the channels until I came across a show with an Irish actress who reminded me of the red-haired vixen from the market.

  “Emily Flanagan,” I murmured.

  It was time to learn everything I could about the newest, meanest girl in town.

  Chapter Four

  Emily

  The sound of my cell phone buzzing was a welcome relief in the silence of Mom’s living room. She was asleep, and I was using the central heating instead of the fireplace for warmth. I told myself it was because it seemed ridiculous to build a fire when I could have a warm house at the click of a button, but in reality, it was because I had never been able to start a lasting fire in my life.

  I loved the crackling, sparking noise like the bonfires they used to build on Guy Fawkes Night back in Ardmore. My mom used to joke that it was silly for the village to celebrate a British tradition, but there was something inherently satisfying about the whole affair. As my grandfather used to point out, there was nothing wrong with celebrating everything.

  It didn’t matter that I was Irish and not English. A giant bonfire burning away, sending plumes of smoke fifteen feet into the clear and frosty night sky was mesmerizing. There were other memories associated with it—toffee apples, plastic cups of soup, fireworks, and running around with the six other children in the village. It had been magical.

  Now, as an adult who knew better, the memory was spoiled by how cold I got by standing around waiting for the fireworks, or how often the whole festival was canceled because it rained, which happened a lot. In reality, there were only one or two good bonfire nights that I had witnessed in my life, but they’d left a lasting memory.

  They still stuck with me, grinding away at my consciousness until all I wanted to see in the living room fireplace was an inferno, and so I gave it a try.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was covered in soot, with a sorry excuse for a flame struggling amidst the kindling and firewood.

  “What was it Grandad told me?” I murmured. “Don’t suffocate it? What does that even mean?”

  I strategically placed twists of paper here and there to attract the flame. It was still cold. Something I’d never associated with a fiery lick of heat before. No doubt, it needed time to build up. Patience was a virtue I’d always struggled to master.

  Thoughts of my mother, and how happy she would be when she woke to see a roaring fire, filled my head. I grinned merely thinking about it. It was a simple thing, but she was too sick to get on her knees and start one up herself. With her compromised lungs, the smoke would be a killer.

  Twenty minutes later, the fire seemed to be doing much better. It was finally getting warm. Reasonably convinced that it would do its own thing now, I settled into the corner of the sofa with a blanket and my cell phone, content to torture myself with the social media updates of my friends all happily living their lives in Los Angeles. I nearly dropped the damn thing when it buzzed in my hand.

  My best friend, Sadie, was calling.

  “God, am I glad you rang,” I immediately blurted out. “I’m going absolutely batshit crazy over here in the backwoods of the bloody beyond. It’s—”

  “Woah, slow down there, Irish,” Sadie joked. “Your accent is showing, and I can barely understand a word you’re saying.”

  I took a deep breath, let my heart slow down, then spoke with a far more painstakingly crafted, neutral voice. “Sorry. You know how it is when I only have my mom for company.”

  “Not made any friends there?”

  “I hope you’re joking.”

  “Not found anyone down at the local bar to hang with? Canoodle with?”

  “There is no canoodling happening here. The thought makes me cringe. Even if there was someone to meet—which there isn’t—it would be impossible because the weather is horrific.”

  “Like planes are canceled horrific?”

  “Yep,” I nodded my head in misery, “At least for now. I’m hoping it clears up by next week so I can get back to work. I’m out of vacation time, and I can’t see the boss man giving me extra comp time.” It was hard to believe I’d spent the month of January in Frazier Falls. “I’ve been gone too long by about thirty days.”

  “Aw, Flanagan, it can’t be that bad.”

  “You say that, but you have no idea how awful people can be. You’re so lucky you’ve always lived in a city where people stay to themselves and mind their business and manners.”

  “Sounds like you had an encounter.”

  “Hardly.” I jumped in fright when the fire let out a loud pop. It was merely a log splitting in two, but scary, regardless. Once the sparks settled, the flames continued to happily dance away.

  “Tell me who has you burning inside?”

  “Burning implies a level of passion for a person worth heating up over, which he isn’t.”

  “Okay, now I’m curious,” Sadie said. “Who is he?”

  That’s what she wanted to know. “He was arrogant as hell and went on to tell me I was the one being awful. In the end, he told me my ma deserved better than me.”

  She laughed. “Sounds like you’ve met your match. How old is he? Is he hot?”

  “Don’t you care how torturous it is for me to be here?”

  “Yes, but this is the closest thing to gossip you’ve had to tell me since you left. You’ve gotta spill. It’s your responsibility as my best friend to entertain me.”

  I checked the time on my mother’s ancient grandfather clock, which had survived the trip from Ireland to become the only possession she had left from her old life.

  “Shouldn’t you be working? It’s barely four.”

  “Yes, but I’m bored. You know we can’t do anything until you come back and get our project plans approved. At this rate, that will be February. Give me something to talk about until then.”

  I laughed quietly. “Fine. You win. The guy couldn’t have been much older than me. And he was hot as hell, which makes him more annoying.”

  Sadie let out an ooh of interest. “Ooh, what did he look like? Give me details.”

  “Legit tall, dark, and handsome. Blue eyes, I think.”
/>   “You think?”

  “I was trying not to be obvious when I checked him out in the store, given that we were arguing. It was dark in the parking lot when we had our next encounter, so I’m not sure.”

  “What happened in the parking lot?”

  I growled. “I slipped on the ice and fell. He caught me.”

  “Emily, that’s not arrogant. He was being chivalrous, and that’s a rarity these days. You need to jump on this guy pronto. It’s not like you’re going to be around long enough for an actual relationship, so who gives a crap if he’s slightly unpleasant? In this case, hot trumps everything.”

  “All you want are the dirty details.”

  “Absolutely! At a minimum, you need to get me a photo of him.”

  “Sorry, no can do. I’m hoping I’ll somehow never see him again, though it seems like his brother works in the only convenience store in town, so knowing my luck, we’ll run into each other again.”

  “He has a brother? Is he hot, too? He might be nicer … you never know.”

  “You’re awful. But yeah, he was pretty damn good-looking too.”

  “God, it’s not fair. Clearly, all the handsome guys have left Los Angeles and moved to Frazier Falls.”

  “Hardly,” I laughed. “Most of the male population here are in diapers, both young and old. I did get his name, though.”

  “Which is?”

  I paused for a moment to remember. “Eli. Eli Cooper.”

  “Give me two seconds.”

  “For what?”

  My phone buzzed a few seconds later. Sadie had sent me a photo—of Eli.

  “Did you social media stalk him?”

  “It’s one of my many superpowers. That’s him, right?”

  I didn’t want to say yes, but it was him—every tall, dark, and brooding bit of him. “Yep,” I said reluctantly. “That’s him.”

  “Oh my God, he’s gorgeous. Seriously, get yourself on his profile now. And who is—Christ almighty,—he has two brothers, and they’re all stupidly hot. That’s so unfair.” There was a moment of silence followed by an ear-piercing squeal. “And a soon-to-be brother-in-law, too. Who’s also handsome. That means one of them is getting married. Not Eli, though, so I guess you’re in luck.”

  “Stop planning my life. You’re being creepy.”

  “And you’re being impossible.”

  “Like you said, I’ll be leaving soon. Who cares how many brothers this guy has, or who’s getting married?”

  “You should, so you can get in there for some fun before you fly back. God knows you need it.”

  “Like I said, if luck is on my side, I’ll never see this Eli guy or his brothers again. I’m here for my ma. Speaking of …” I paused when I heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway. “It sounds like she’s up. I better go. Thanks for calling and giving me a few moments of normalcy.”

  “Any time. I mean it. Call me any time. Preferably during work, because I need the distraction.”

  “I don’t know how you keep your job.”

  “Me either,” Sadie laughed. “You love me, and you know it, Flanagan.”

  “As much as I hate to admit it, I do. Go back to work.”

  “Overrated.” She sighed. “Go find that guy and do the same.”

  “Sadie—”

  But the call ended with a click, leaving my protest unfinished as my mom wheeled her oxygen tank to the living room. The flickering fire lit up her eyes.

  “Emily, sweetheart, you have no idea how lovely it is to see a fire.”

  I stood up and led her to the corner of the sofa, arranging her oxygen tank down by her feet as I put a blanket over her lap. “Do you want some tea, Ma?”

  “Yes, please. A glass of wine sounds better, but I’ll settle for tea”

  “If you can’t have alcohol, the least I can do is make you something full of caffeine.”

  Mom chuckled, but it came out more like a cough.

  “Is Earl Grey okay?” I asked from the kitchen. “That convenience store was out of normal tea bags yesterday.”

  “That works. Milk and—”

  “Two sugars,” I finished for her. “I know.”

  I found a chocolate bar in the cupboard to go along with the tea. It wasn’t a perfect pairing, but it would do. Oh, to have a packet of good, old-fashioned digestive biscuits would have been perfect. Sometimes, I could admit that there were things about Ireland that I missed in America. Proper biscuits were one of them.

  When I returned to the living room with tea, my mother sighed in appreciation as she took the cup from my hand. She inhaled the steam with a smile on her face.

  “Nothing like a good cup of tea.”

  “I can’t attest to it being any good, but it’s still tea.”

  There was silence for a minute or two as we ate and drank, then I located the television remote and found her favorite channel.

  “Who was that on the phone?” she asked.

  “It was Sadie. She was checking in to see how things were going.”

  “I take it you told her things were terrible?”

  “Hmm … maybe.”

  “You know, one day, you might rediscover those small-town roots of yours and realize you love this place.”

  I made a face. “It’s not likely. Frazier Falls doesn’t have much to offer me.” What I wanted to say was Frazier Falls wouldn’t pay for the utilities or put food on the table. I did that by working in Los Angeles.

  “Hard to believe you made do with three hundred folks once upon a time.”

  “Yep, seems unthinkable now.” After another moment of silence, I turned to face her. “Do you miss it? Ardmore, I mean?”

  “Oh, no. Not at all,” mom laughed. “The weather was awful, and the MacLellans' were the worst gossipers in town. Your da wasn’t always a good guy, but the stories they told about him grew taller each time. I’m glad we moved. Frazier Falls seems like the happy medium between a tiny village like ours and a big city. I’m happy here.”

  “What can I do to persuade you to move back to Los Angeles?”

  Mom frowned. “Emily, please stop trying to get me to move closer to you. I want to enjoy what I have left of my life. I can’t do that in California. It’s too crowded. Too much everything.”

  “I know.” She was right. It was all those things, but it was home.

  I let out a sigh of resignation. I’d always known I got my stubbornness from my mother, but now it was coming back to bite me. If I couldn’t convince her to come back with me, then that meant …

  No. Don’t even think about it. You can’t move here. No job. No hope. No life.

  The thought was enough to send shivers down my spine.

  I would never, even if my life depended on it, move to Frazier Falls. But what if Ma’s life depended on it?

  Chapter Five

  Eli

  The snow had finally let up enough that my brothers and I could head out for our usual Friday drinks at Reilly’s. It couldn’t have come at a better time. I was certain Pax was on his way to suffering from full-on cabin fever because he’d said at least a hundred words in the last ten minutes.

  “And then John Reilly had the gall to say I’d been flirting with his wife. I didn’t even talk to her—I smiled, and somehow I was flirting.”

  “Pax,” Owen muttered. “Shut. Up.”

  I glanced at him, surprised. He shrugged his shoulders. “He’s been staying with me all week, and he’s driving me crazy.”

  “I was trying to bond,” Paxton complained. “I thought being snowed in together would do the trick, but now I’m tired of the snow and Owen.”

  “Stop whining,” I said.

  Pax glowered at me. “It’s never been this bad. At least not since I could remember, which means I was really young during the last massive snowstorm. This is the worst winter I’ve had to survive in my entire life.”

  “It’s not like Eli and I remember that much, either,” Owen chimed in. “I was six. All I remember is staying ins
ide a lot. School was canceled.” He pumped his fist in the air. “That was a bonus.”

  “And yet, we keep our office open even though we have no orders. What’s up with that?” Pax complained.

  “If it makes you feel better,”—I got up to buy another round—“we’ve got all of next week off. No need to go in until the second week of February.”

  “Except for me and Rich,” Owen added. “We’re visiting a prospective site for the Green House apartments on Tuesday, weather permitting.”

  “You should take Carla, or she’ll get jealous,” Pax said. “She could start thinking you like Rich more than her. You spend more time with him, after all.”

  We all laughed, but Owen waved a hand dismissively.

  “I’m not sleeping with Rich. Besides, Carla doesn’t like flying when the weather’s bad.”

  “How far is the site? Can you drive?”

  “I don’t know, Pax—can I drive to Germany?”

  “Germany?” Pax sputtered. “Wow, you’re getting your name out there.”

  “Our name,” he said.

  “That’s enough reason for another round.” I looked from brother to brother. “Same?”

  Owen shook his head. “Swap me over to vodka and cranberry juice. Can’t be drinking beer all night.”

  “That’s called getting old,” I remarked.

  “Eli, you’re only two years younger than me.”

  “Yep, and that means I have two more years of drinking beer.” I lifted my near-empty mug. “Cheers.”

  Leaving my brothers to head to the bar, I signaled Ruthie, the barmaid, that I was ready to order. She put down her phone and smiled.

  “What will it be, Eli?”

  I laid a twenty on the table. “That was quite the smile. What were you looking at on your phone?”

  She blushed. It was adorable against her strawberry-blond hair and the spray of freckles across her nose.

  “I may have a date with a guy from the next town over.” She looked out the window. “If this snow ever lets up.”

  “Lord knows you need to get away from the men in Frazier Falls,” I half-joked.