Montana Christmas Magic

by Casey Dawes

  She lost track of time as she immersed herself in the task.

  The sun had grown close to the craggy mountain summits when she packed up her stuff and put it in the car. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  Even better, she’d seen glimmers of the flow she’d experienced when she’d first begun painting. There was hope, but to hit the deadline Diane had given her, she was going to have to concentrate on the work at hand, with no time or energy for anything—or anyone—new.

  Like Logan.

  But she still wanted to do something to help him. He was amid strangers—friendly strangers—but he still had to feel lonely. She’d call him from the chocolate shop tomorrow. Just a friendly call.

  After all, she still had a boyfriend. The last few times Tony had called to arrange a date, she’d put him off. Maybe now was the time to break up with him. She needed to focus on her career.

  Her life was rapidly changing direction.

  • • •

  “I’m afraid, Mr. Collins, the terms of your uncle’s will are unbreakable,” Douglas Crowley told Logan the next morning. “I drew it up myself to make sure it was ironclad.”

  Nothing to do but let the wildlife people have it.

  He sank farther into the chair.

  “Why did he put these restrictions on the sale? I don’t live here. I don’t want to live here. And I’m not looking to get married to anyone, much less a girl from Montana.”

  “He’s not asking you to marry the girl.” Douglas chuckled. “Just take her to a Griz game.”

  “You don’t know my uncle. He’s got more up his sleeve than that.”

  “Oh, I know Willy quite well. We’ve been playing chess together for years.”

  Willy played chess?

  Who cared? All he had to do was sign the papers relinquishing the ranch and head back to his life.

  The lawyer straightened out in his chair and folded his hands on the desk. “It’s a beautiful time to be here. Why don’t you enjoy it for a little while? Papers will be here next month, too. You look like you could use some time to heal.”

  Logan grunted. He didn’t want to get into his personal life with this stranger. What was it with this place? Everyone had an opinion on other people’s business.

  “Do you know anything about the horse in Willy’s barn?”

  “A horse? No.”

  “I got some food for it—she looked hungry. Uncle Willy didn’t mention anything about it in his note, and it’s not in the will.”

  “Nope.” Crowley shook his head. “But I guess it’s your horse from the way the will is drawn up. If you decide to turn everything over to the federation, it will then be their horse.”

  Great. Another responsibility. What would a federation do with a horse?

  Same thing he would do—sell it.

  “Sarah might know about it,” the lawyer added.

  When he stopped by Does Brothers, the lady at the counter told him Sarah had taken a few days off but gave him her number.

  Should he call her now? She was still dealing with things. Although he did have to tell her the service logistics.

  He took out the phone and stared at it. His mother had called, probably when he was out of range. His finger hovered over “Call back.”

  The damn thing rang.

  Not his mother’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “This is Julie. Sweets Montana Julie.”

  “Yes, I remember you.” Much better than Mother. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine, but how are you? I guess ... I guess I wanted to find out how you did with Sarah.”

  “I told her. I think she kind of expected it.”

  “Yeah.”

  What else was there to say? He wanted to talk to her.

  Hmmm. More than talk, he wanted to see her.

  “Hey,” he said. “Willy has a strange request. Can I stop in later today?”

  “Sure, I’d like that.”

  “Me, too.”

  A ray of sunshine broke through the gloom of Willy’s death.

  As he drove to Missoula, the day remained beautiful. Blue skies and vibrant sun sparkled off the patches of snow and emerging grass. He sang along with the music, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

  At the hospital, he signed a number of forms, confirmed the name of the funeral home, and went through Willy’s things as they were placed in a paper bag: a dog-eared mystery novel, a wallet with the usual cards, and a jeweler’s box that contained a small diamond ring.

  His mood dipped. Sarah would never get her engagement ring from Willy, although Logan was sure his uncle would want her to have it.

  As he waited for the elevator, he tried to think if there was anything else he needed from stores that weren’t in Phillipsburg—which was almost everything. He was sure there was something—staples if nothing else, but he had no clue what they were or even how long he’d be here.

  It would take a few weeks to settle all of Willy’s affairs. Maybe he should stay a few weeks after that. He’d never been in Montana in the spring.

  And he should return his mother’s call. Hell, he should have done it already.

  He pulled out of the garage and headed down Orange Street, threaded his way through downtown, and continued down Higgins.

  The shop was empty when he walked in, but the bell jangled cheerfully.

  “Be right there!” someone sang out from the back.

  His pulse quickened.

  Julie emerged from the back, wiping her hands on a towel.

  “Cute,” he said, pointing to the black satin apron with frilly lace. Not his usual style, but she pulled off the look.

  What would she look like with only the apron on?

  Heat flushed his neck. Once again, he was a teenager wanting a girl to like him.

  • • •

  He was back.

  Her skin developed goose bumps, even though the shop was warm.

  “Hello, there,” she finally said, tossing the towel she was holding on the shelf below the display cases. “I’m sorry about your uncle.”

  He didn’t move.

  She wanted to move closer to him, but what would happen if she stepped into his space? Instead, she smiled encouragingly. At least she hoped it was encouraging. She didn’t want to scare him off. Not this man.

  “I ... um ... need a box of chocolates for a coffin.”

  This was certainly a first. Willy had had a strange sense of humor.

  “Did you have something in particular in mind, or do you want me to choose?” she asked. If she kept the transaction businesslike and efficient, maybe there would be air to breathe again.

  “You choose. You know what he liked.”

  She picked up one of the small white boxes they used for samples. What would Willy like in heaven? She was sure he was there; she’d never encountered a nicer man.

  Her gaze met Logan’s over the top of the display cabinet. Why was he staring at her? It should bother her, but it didn’t.

  She smiled at him. Not an innocent smile.

  Their gazes broke at the tap of Sue Anne’s heels.

  “Oh, hello,” Sue Anne said. “Is Julie taking care of you?” She looked from one to the other, her eyebrows narrowing slightly.

  “Very well,” Logan said, more than one layer of meaning in his tone.

  “Sue Anne, this is Logan, Willy’s nephew from New York.”

  “How nice to meet you, Logan,” she said. “How is our favorite customer, Willy?”

  “Dead,” Julie and Logan said at the same time, sharing a gallows humor grin.

  “Oh, no! What happened? Did his cancer return?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  The lightheartedness disappeared. Logan swallowed, his Adam’s apple rising and falling.

  She wanted to kiss him and make it better.

  Oops. No. She wanted to kiss him to find out what it was like. Her gaze rose to look at his lips.

  Sue Anne cleared her throat, and Ju
lie snapped her head around to find her staring at the two of them.

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” Sue Anne asked. “Do you need anything?”

  “Julie’s handling it,” Logan said.

  “Okay, then.” Sue Anne’s voice didn’t sound like his statement reassured her. “I guess I’ll go back to making fudge.”

  Please do.

  As soon as she left, Julie pulled a dark-chocolate-covered truffle from the case and walked to him.

  “Here. Chocolate makes everything better—at least, that’s what I’ve been told.”

  “Thank you.” He slipped it from her hand, leaving behind currents of electricity, like thin strands of static.

  They stood, caught in the moment, staring at each other. She lost herself in the depth of his movie-star-blue eyes. She’d never known anyone in real life to have eyes that color.

  He lifted his hand as if to stroke her cheek.

  Something in the kitchen clanged.

  “When is the service?” she asked, scurrying back to the counter. She shouldn’t be flirting. She already had a boyfriend.

  “Saturday.”

  “Packing them up this early is no good. They’ll go stale.” She put the box back on the counter.

  “It’s a coffin ... Julie. He’s not going to eat them. I have a freezer.”

  “No. Sweets Montana chocolates do not go in a freezer.”

  “What is it you expect?” Logan asked. “I can’t come back here between now and then. It’s a long drive. Things to do.”

  “I’ll bring them to you closer to the service.”

  “To Phillipsburg?”

  “Why not?” Her breath quickened at the image of him at his uncle’s ranch. Would Logan actually wear worn clothes, or would he be still stuck in stuff that looked like he’d pulled it from department store packaging as the image of what a Montana cowboy should look like?

  In spite of the cane and the scars, his physique made her pulse quicken. And there was that moment only a few minutes ago ...

  Logan cleared his throat, and she dragged her gaze back to his eyes.

  “Phillipsburg?” he asked, a slight tinge of red in his cheeks. “Why would you come all that way?”

  “I liked Willy.” She leaned against the display case. Sue Anne would have a fit if she saw her. “In fact, I’d like to go to the service if you wouldn’t mind, and put the chocolates in myself.”

  Expressions on his face changed—a tightening of the jaw and lips before switching back to a neutral look.

  “Sure,” he said. “But that’s even farther—Anaconda.”

  “You’re not really going to have a service in Anaconda, are you?”

  “What is it with you? First chocolates for a dead man can’t go in the freezer; now I can’t have the service in the only place that has a funeral home—a funeral home Willy picked out by the way. He’s my uncle.”

  They glared at each other for a few seconds before she took a deep breath.

  She wasn’t being fair. The man had just lost a relative—a close one, given all of Willy’s conversation about his nephew.

  “Sorry. I know this is a tough time, but it’s just ...” How could she explain distances, mountain passes, and old people in one of the country’s physically largest yet least populous states? “Have you considered doing an additional service in Phillipsburg? Willy was in his seventies or so. A lot of his friends are going to be elderly. A closer service—one that doesn’t require driving the road over the pass by Georgetown Lake—would allow them to honor their friend without putting their lives in danger.”

  “Oh.”

  Yes. Indeed. Oh.

  She tried to tame her snark. Logan had just been through a terrible ordeal.

  “What are you going to do now?” Damn. She’d put her foot in it.

  “Meaning?” His lips tightened again.

  “I’m probably not supposed to talk about this,” she said and pushed herself away from the display case to touch his arm.

  She was crossing all kinds of barriers.

  “But your uncle talked a lot about you. He was proud of you.” She let her hand stay on his arm and looked into up into his eyes. “I know you’re a professional tennis player and you were in an accident.” She tried to lighten what she was saying with a grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tennis player dashing around the court with a cane.”

  She held her breath and waited for his reaction.

  His lips remained tight for a few more seconds before they began a slow release to a smile. His head arched back, and he let out a rich laugh that sounded like it came from the pit of his belly.

  She let go of his arm and took a step back.

  “I’ve got to ... got to ...” He stumbled to one of the cafe chairs and sank into it, still doubled over with laughter.

  Country music rose from the kitchen, accompanied by Sue Anne’s enthusiastic, if off-key, voice.

  Logan laughed harder.

  It was a better reaction than anger. Had her remark really been that funny?

  Long gasps indicated the laughter was subsiding.

  Now what would he do?

  He finally looked up and wiped his eyes.

  “I haven’t laughed that hard since ... well, since ...” His wave encompassed his leg, cane, and face. “It was wonderful. Thank you.”

  Using the cane, he pulled himself to his feet and took a few steps in her direction before he held up his hands in the gesture for surrender.

  “You win. You can bring the chocolates for the coffin to the funeral. That way they’ll be safely stowed before we get to the cemetery. That’s where we’ll hold the service.” He glanced to the sky. “That is, if the weather will cooperate.”

  “Too early in the season to tell,” she said. “Don’t believe the weather people. They might be right for the next five minutes, but after that, it’s all guesswork.” She paused. “As far as I know, the town doesn’t really have a community center. Maybe one of the churches has a big room you could use after the burial for the service. Some of these folks won’t be able to handle the rough ground. Sarah might know.”

  “What was the relationship between them? Do you know?” he asked.

  “Willy liked to talk when he came here.” She shrugged. “He would sit in a corner, have a hot chocolate or chocolate soda, and we’d talk with him for a bit if we could. He mentioned Sarah for the first time last year. I ... uh ... got the impression they were quite close.”

  “Hmmm” was all he said as he took something from his pocket. “That would explain this. I found it with Willy’s things.” He handed her the box.

  Inside was a modest but pretty diamond ring.

  “What are you going to do with it?” She handed it back.

  “I’ll give it to her. I’m just not sure when. Probably after the funeral and service sometime. Give her a chance to get her bearings.”

  “How long are you staying?” Maybe they could see each other. Have lunch or something.

  “I’m not sure. Montana hasn’t always been my favorite place.”

  “Oh? Why is that?” She stepped closer.

  “Kid stuff. You know. City boy in a country town. I had to prove myself every summer. Never did learn to shoot a rifle.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the bad guys.” Light danced in her eyes.

  “You shoot?”

  She nodded.

  “Amazing.” He crossed the remaining distance between them. “You are pretty different from any girl I’ve ever known.”

  “City girls.” She put a tease in her voice.

  “Can’t hold a match to country girls.”

  The remaining air left the room as he lowered his head to kiss her.

  His lips were firm and lit a fire in her. Totally different from how Tony kissed.

  Tony.

  She pulled back.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.

  Yes, you should have.

&
nbsp; More. She wanted more.

  But she’d never cheated on anyone before, and she wasn’t going to start now.

  “Service at the funeral home is at ten. I’ll find out when the cemetery service will be. Give me a call on Friday.” He seemed to force a smile back on his face. “Thanks for everything—the chocolate, the sympathy”—he grinned for a second—“the laugh.”

  “You’re welcome.” She returned to the area behind the counter.

  “See you Saturday.” He paused at the doorway and turned to her. “You don’t happen to be a Griz fan, do you?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m a graduate. What else would I be? A Bobcat fan?”

  “Probably not.” He grinned again. “Then consider yourself invited to a game.”

  She stared at the doorway long after the bell stopped ringing.

  Chapter 4

  Logan dragged the bag of horse chow he’d picked up at Murdocks into the barn. The mare greeted him with an appreciative nicker.

  She was bored. Being outside might make her feel better.

  He checked the corral, which seemed in good shape, then snapped a lead on the halter and brought her outside. Once he released her, she kicked up her heels and dashed around the perimeter.

  Leaning on the rail, he took in the bright skies with rapidly changing clouds and smudges of pines on the mountains in the distance. The air invigorated his lungs, and the dashing horse made him want to slap a saddle on her back and ride off into the sunset.

  He laughed loudly.

  For the second time that day.

  Pushing away from the rail, he took a good look around the barn, examining it with a seller’s eye. What did someone look for in a barn? He had no idea, but it would probably be best if he made sure there was no dry rot or other deterioration. Fortunately, Montana didn’t have many termites, but carpenter ants were still a threat.

  That was, if he stayed long enough to be able to sell it. Living in Montana for six months would throw a serious crimp in his plans. But working on the place would distract his mind from the funeral, his injuries, and ... Julie.