Candlelight Christmas lc-10

by Susan Wiggs

  “Okay, does your TV have a USB port?” When he nodded, she said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Nice one, thought Logan as she fetched her wallet and pulled out a USB drive. She’d managed to deflect the conversation about resort finance by getting everyone to shift gears.

  “All right,” she said, “barring any technical difficulties...” She slotted in the thumb drive.

  “Did you really bring work with you?” Logan’s mother scolded.

  “Just a little,” said Darcy. “There’s a big outdoor retailer trade show in January, so I’ve got some deadlines.” Logan switched on the TV with the remote, and the client’s logo came up along with adrenaline-pumped music. “This is a montage with video that will be featured on the client’s website and in their retail stores. It’s going to go live this weekend.”

  The opening sequence showed the mountain on a bluebird day, the peaks stark against the crisp sky. The broad panorama narrowed, homing in on a grove of birch trees. There was a panning shot of a deer, its head turned toward the camera, eyes alert with caution, before it turned and fled over the crest of the ridge, tail flipped up to show its white underside. The movement startled a brown-and-white hawk into sudden flight. Almost simultaneously, the scene dissolved into a sequence of a snowboarder exploding straight up into the sky as though shot from a cannon. A trail of sunlit snow sparkled in her wake; then she landed in a spray of knee-deep powder, then floated along through a forest glade.

  “That’s Darcy, by the way,” India told her parents.

  “The snowboarder?” her mother asked. “Heavenly days, really?”

  “She’s good, huh?” India said.

  “Good” did not begin to cover it. She was phenomenal, gliding through the snowy wilderness as if, for her, gravity was optional. She embodied everything a snow sport should be—fun and colorful, graceful and exhilarating. Saddle Mountain had never looked better.

  At the conclusion of the presentation, Bilski leaned over to China and said, “Let’s take snowboard lessons.”

  “Better yet,” said China, “let’s go shopping for all that cool gear.”

  “My client would love to hear that,” Darcy said.

  “The resort looks lovely,” said Logan’s mother. “I’m glad we’re here for the holidays. Truly.”

  “Thanks, Mom. It’s going to be great, you’ll see,” Logan promised her. “It’s going to be awesome.”

  * * *

  “I hope those weren’t my brother’s famous last words,” said India after the parents had gone to bed.

  Darcy, who was with her in the kitchen washing up the Irish coffee mugs, asked, “What, does disaster follow him?”

  India chuckled. “I guess we’ll find out.” She reached for a glass jar and took off the top. “Christmas cookie?”

  “Thanks.” Darcy helped herself. It was cut out in the shape of a gingerbread man, though it was missing a limb and had only one cinnamon candy eye. The red-and-white icing resembled bloody bandages.

  “Those are the Walking Dead Christmas cookies,” said Logan, carrying a few more dishes into the kitchen. “The kids and I made them.”

  Darcy took a bite. “Oh my gosh. This might be the best cookie I ever ate.”

  “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

  “I swear, I’ve never said that to a guy in my life.”

  “He’s good, too, huh?” said India.

  Darcy savored another bite. The cookie was tender and delicately spiced. It tasted exactly like Christmas. “I think he knows it.”

  “He doesn’t mind hearing people say so.” Logan dimmed the kitchen lights and switched on the yard lights.

  She gazed out the big picture window of the kitchen while polishing off the cookie. “It’s snowing again,” she whispered.

  “He doesn’t mind hearing those words, either,” he said.

  “Everybody loves the phrase ‘it’s snowing.’ There’s always been some kind of magic in those words.”

  “Speaks to the kid in all of us,” India said. “Snow days, playing outside. In fact, I’m going to check on the bunk room and make sure lights out really means lights out. Then I’m off to bed. Night, you guys.”

  “Night, India. Ski tomorrow morning?” Darcy asked.

  “Only if you promise not to lead me over a cliff.”

  “I would never.”

  Darcy felt so grateful to be where she was tonight, relaxing among friends. But there was also an awkward element. Logan’s presence, just a few feet away, tantalized her. She felt confused by him, and full of questions. Maya’s kids were here, so where was their mother?

  None of your business. She turned her attention to the window again and watched the big flakes gently coming down and settling on the pristine yard. An age-old yearning pressed at her chest; she was a kid again, with her nose pressed to the window. “It’s so beautiful.”

  “Grab your coat and boots,” said Logan. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  “Really? You read my mind.”

  “That’s one of my superpowers, didn’t you know?”

  They bundled up in the mud room off the kitchen—down jackets, mittens, boots, a lantern and a flashlight.

  “You’ll need these.” He handed her a pair of lightweight snowshoes. “Know how to put them on?”

  She grinned. “I gear-tested this exact model.”

  “Man. You’ll have to tell me more about being a sponsored athlete.”

  “Sometimes it feels like turning work into play. Other times it’s more like turning play into work. So I definitely prefer the former.”

  He handed her a set of poles and donned a backpack.

  “What’s in the pack?” she asked.

  “A project. You can help me with it.”

  “What kind of project?”

  “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  They stepped outside together. The cold air and snowflakes touched her face, and she welcomed the freshness, tilting back her head.

  “When it’s clear, you can count the stars,” said Logan.

  “I feel a million miles away from the city.”

  To the right and down a snow-covered track was a cluster of lights, the center of the resort. A couple of vehicles were just leaving the parking lot, their taillights making a cautious red line down the road.

  “Last call at the Powder Room is at nine o’clock,” Logan said. “It gets pretty quiet after that. Let’s go this way.” They set off in the opposite direction of the resort. The lantern beam shone on a forest glade of striated birch trees. There was a moon, though it was a weak one, its glow diffused by snowfall.

  “I love this,” she said. “I love the silence and the peace.”

  “No regrets about not going to my folks’ place in Florida?”

  “I’m kind of a fan of winter.” The snowshoes rode atop the featherlight snow. She savored the cold on her cheeks, the pumping of her heart as they hiked through the shadows.

  “I noticed. You were fantastic in that video.”

  “All in a day’s work.” She looked over at him. “Kidding. I have a day like that once in a blue moon. Most days, I’m stuck in meetings or in my cubicle like anybody else.”

  “No cubicles here,” he said.

  “You’re living the dream,” she said. “Maybe that’s why your father is so suspicious.”

  “Yeah, according to him, it’s only worth doing if it makes you miserable.”

  She wondered about his relationship with his father, and why things were strained. She wanted to hear more. She wanted to know everything about him.

  The birch grove led to a perfect, unmarked field of white with a tall evergreen. “In the summer,” he said, “this is a bird meadow, and there’s a sports court over there.”

  “You’d never know it. This is just beautiful, Logan. It looks like a Christmas card.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he said.

  A shadow fluttered past. Startled, she clutched his arm. “Hey, look!” It was an owl
, swooping through the trees with wings spread wide. She watched, mesmerized, until it disappeared into darkness. “That was amazing,” she said.

  He nodded. “An owl in winter. First time I ever saw something like that.”

  “Really?”

  “The dolphins were a first for me, too. I have really good luck with wildlife when I’m with you.”

  For no good reason, she felt ridiculously gratified to hear him say so.

  “Warm enough?” he asked her.

  “Plenty, thanks.”

  “So, here’s my idea for the project. We’re going to string lights all over that big evergreen over there. The one standing all by itself.” He pointed out the tree in the middle of the clearing.

  “I like it. There’s electricity?”

  “Yes. In the summer, there are lights for the sports court. There’s an outlet at the base of the tree.”

  “Cool.”

  “Thought I’d surprise the kids. We could tell them it’s Santa’s landing strip.”

  “What else would it be?”

  They crossed the meadow, making plate-sized tracks across the powder. Logan left his snowshoes at the base of the tree. “Did you bring a ladder?” Darcy asked. “This thing is, like, twenty feet tall.”

  “I can climb it.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  He grinned, unzipping his backpack, and donned a headlamp. “Watch me.”

  “You are serious. Also crazy.”

  “The good kind of crazy. I’ll climb up and string the lights on the way down. You stand by and keep things untangled and shine the light.”

  He cleared the lower branches with ease. The upper ones were closer together, bowing with his weight. “Do me a favor and don’t fall,” she said.

  “Not planning on it. Although there’s so much new snow, it would be a soft landing.”

  She positioned herself beneath him, aiming the flashlight beam at the top. He disturbed a snow-laden branch, creating an avalanche that fell on her before she could move out of the way.

  “Lovely,” she said, rubbing the fresh snow out of her face.

  “Sorry,” he replied. “Almost there.” He climbed until the branches thinned, and reached up to clip the light string close to the top. Then he began his descent, paying out the string of lights from his backpack. “This is what’s known as extreme decorating.”

  “I must say, stringing lights on a tree in the wilderness was not the first thing I thought of when you invited me for a walk.”

  “You don’t mind.” It wasn’t a question.

  “You barely know me. How do you know whether or not I mind?”

  “Another one of my superpowers.” He worked methodically while she held the beam steady, lighting the way for him. At one point, he went too far out on a limb and it bowed ominously. “Watch it,” she said. “That one won’t hold you.”

  There was a loud cracking sound, and he came down like a sack of coal. Her heart leaped to her throat. “Oh my gosh, Logan.” She waded through the snow and dropped to her knees beside him. “Are you okay?”

  He was practically drowned in the deep snow of the tree well. She could tell he was assessing himself—back, neck, extremities.

  “Not a scratch,” he informed her, lifting his head. “Superpowers did the trick.”

  She rose from her knees and held out her hand. “I think there are enough lights on the tree. Let’s plug them in and see if they work.”

  “Sure, they work. I tested them before we came out.” He took her hand, but his weight and the soft deep snow unbalanced her, and she fell forward against him, the snow caving in around them.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “Damn. This is not going well.”

  She climbed out of the hole and fetched his snowshoes so he could do the same. If not for the tight cuffs of her sleeves and the muffler around her neck, she would be extremely uncomfortable at this moment.

  He found the end of the light string amid the lower branches. “You all right?” he asked as he worked.

  “I’ve survived worse in the snow.”

  “You’ll have to tell me about it one day.” He worked quickly, brushing the snow away from a pipe running up the tree trunk with an outlet at the top. “All right. Ready for the lighting?”

  “Do you want to do the honors or shall I?”

  “You’ve earned it, putting up with my antics.”

  “Is that what these are?” she asked. “Antics?”

  “I’m good at antics. I excel at antics.”

  “Okay, I’m connecting the power,” she said. She plugged it in and the tree came to life with color. “Success,” she exclaimed.

  “Hey, how about that?” In the glow of the lights, he looked boyish and wildly attractive. She wished he would tackle her in the snow right now and cover her face with kisses, but he kept his distance. “Glad it worked. Otherwise I risked life and limb for nothing.”

  “It’s been a productive evening,” she said, “but I think I need to drink some more.”

  “Let’s go back to the house. I’ll make you more of my famous hot chocolate.”

  “I was talking about a grown-up drink.”

  “I can put a shot of peppermint schnapps in it.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  They crossed the clearing and turned back to admire the tree. It was a winter masterpiece, the lights shimmering through the falling snow.

  “It looks like Christmas,” she said. “Exactly like a child’s dream of Christmas. Good job, Logan.”

  “Now Santa knows where to land. Let’s head back.” In a movement that seemed unstudied and natural, he placed his hand at the small of her back and steered her along the path they’d made.

  His touch felt good. Too good. She stopped and turned to him. “So, about that text you sent me. She’s not your girlfriend.”

  He hesitated. “Maya, you mean.”

  “Yes.” She hated herself for being the first to bring it up, but she had to know.

  “Yeah, I need to explain about her,” he stated. “Like I said, we’re not... It’s like I said in the text.”

  Oh boy. She wasn’t sure what to think of that. If he was involved with someone, then she had no dilemma. But if he was available, she would have to admit she was attracted to him. That she wanted to know more about him. That she liked it when he touched her. That she thought about his kiss all the time. That even after the misery of her divorce, she wanted to fall in love again.

  A long silence stretched out. It was so quiet she could hear individual snowflakes ever so gently striking the fabric of her parka.

  “And the text you sent me?” he prompted. “Does it mean you’re seeing someone?”

  She studied his face, painted in shadows and in the glow from the tree. “I’m seeing you,” she whispered, brushing back her hood and looking up at him.

  “And I guess I’m seeing you.”

  “What are we doing, Logan?”

  “Getting to know each other.”

  “Fair enough.” A part of her wanted to stay right here in this winter glade with him, kissing him, warming their lips and their bodies together. She forced herself to take a step back. “Let’s go inside. You promised me a hot chocolate.”

  “I’m a man of my word.”

  They made their way back to the house and took off their snowshoes, jackets and boots. Logan added a couple of logs to the fire and warmed up the hot chocolate. She stood at the window, cupping her hands on the glass to admire the newly lit tree outside. She felt in that moment that life was fresh and new. Coming here was a good idea. Good for her. But was it good for her family? She kept catching herself wondering what her sisters were doing now. Did they miss her? What were they saying about her?

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “My family.”

  “Ah. Families.” His tone conveyed a deep understanding of the concept. He carefully poured the cocoa into mugs and, true to his word, added a shot of schnapps to hers. “A
re you in trouble for ditching them at Christmas?”

  “A bit. They’ll get over it. It was one thing for me to ditch them at Thanksgiving,” she said. “That’s a low-stakes holiday. But Christmas is a different story.”

  “Come here. Have a seat by the fire.” They settled into a big cushy Chesterfield sofa with a deep seat and rolled armrests. In front of them, the logs crackled and glowed.

  She sank gratefully into its comfort, and he handed her a warm mug.

  “Cheers,” he said, touching the rim of his cup to hers. “Taste it. You’re going to love it so much you’ll never let me go.”

  “You are never serious,” she said, though she felt an undeniable thrill at his words. The chocolate was warm and creamy and rich, with just a touch of peppermint. “You’re right,” she said, savoring the deliciousness. “I want to keep you forever.”

  “You’re never serious, either,” he said. “I like that about you.”

  She took another sip. “I tried serious. It didn’t work out so well for me.”

  “Tell me about your family. What are you missing out on? What did my sister pull you away from?”

  “I’m going to miss being present for my sister Lydia’s big announcement. She’s the first Fitzgerald girl to be expecting a baby.”

  “Sounds like you already know about the announcement. Congrats to your sister, by the way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, what else will you miss?”

  “A generation of tradition. But after my divorce, those traditions didn’t really work so well for me. In a nutshell, my parents and the parents of my ex are best friends.”

  “Yeah, but blood is thicker than water.”

  “It gets complicated. My parents and the Collinses considered it one of the great achievements of their life that the two Collins boys married two of the Fitzgerald girls—me and Huntley, and Lydia and Badgley. The marriages were meant to knit our clans together forever.”

  “And then you and Huntley split up.”

  “Yes.”

  “He cheated?”

  She did a double take. “How did you know?”

  “A hunch,” he said. “It’s always my first guess. Here’s another guess—you didn’t tell your family about the cheating.”

  “And how did you know that?”