Snow Furries (An Alpine Grove Romantic Comedy Book 4)

by Susan C. Daffron

  “Sure.” Maybe if they looked busy, Cindy would shut up.

  Cindy waved her glass of wine at Joel. “Remember when you pulled Mabel out of the ditch two years ago? You said you’d be more careful in the winter.”

  Joel stood in stony silence, chopping onions. Apparently, he was done talking.

  Kat pointed her knife toward the window. Time to change the subject. “I don’t think I’m ready for winter. And looking at the snow outside, I’m sure my car isn’t.”

  “We can take the truck wherever you need to go,” Joel said.

  “I know. I’ll miss driving my Toyota, though. I think it’s done for the season.” Kat leaned over the counter to peek out the window. “At this rate, I may never find my car again. The snow is really coming down out there.”

  Johnny, who had moved under the table for his coloring project, emerged and announced, “I’m bored. I don’t want to color anymore. And you guys talking all the time is boring. Can’t we do something? I want to build a snowman. I want it to be a space man snowman!”

  Cindy bent down and rubbed his upper arm, “It’s almost dark, honey. We can do it tomorrow. Mommy wants some more wine now. Let me get that and then we can read your fireman book, okay? Go sit on the sofa and I’ll be right over.”

  “That’s a baby book! I want something different! I want to be the fireman, not read pretend baby stories about a fireman. Can we make a fire?”

  Joel and Kat both said, “No!” simultaneously.

  “But your stove has a fire,” Johnny said. “How does it work? Our stove at home has metal things, but I’m not allowed to touch them.”

  Kat said, “No fires. And you need to stay away from the stove. We do not want any other fires here. None. I mean it.” The poor stove had seen enough fires in its day. Kat’s aunt Abigail had apparently had a few cooking issues when she’d lived here. It was a miracle the house hadn’t burned down.

  Johnny stood up and walked into the kitchen. “I want a flamethrower for Christmas, but Mommy says I can’t have one. Santa doesn’t care what Mommy says, though. I sent him a letter and asked.”

  Cindy gulped down the last of her wine and followed him. “Santa doesn’t always give you what you ask for, honey.”

  Johnny whined, “But he has to. That’s why he’s Santa.”

  Cindy walked into the kitchen and got the wine bottle out of the refrigerator. She tilted the tip of it at Kat and said in a stern voice, “Don’t you let Joel do anything stupid again.” Joel thwacked the cutting board loudly with the knife.

  Kat shrugged. “I’ll, uh, see what I can do.” It was beyond time to find out what had happened to Joel’s leg. They were going to have such a conversation after Cindy left tomorrow.

  Cindy took Johnny’s hand and walked him back to the sofa in the living room. She sat down and started reading the book out loud to him. Unimpressed, Johnny sat and glared at her with an irritated expression, his arms firmly crossed over his chest.

  The celery, carrots, and onions were simmering in the pot and the scent of sage and thyme wafted through the kitchen. Joel threw some more spices into the pot. Kat touched his arm and whispered, “Please don’t kill your sister on a national holiday, okay?”

  The stern expression on his face relaxed and a corner of his mouth turned up, “I’ll try.”

  Kat leaned her head on his arm and rubbed his back. “She’ll be gone tomorrow. Look at the bright side—at least my mother isn’t here.”

  He put down the knife and wrapped his arms around her. “You have no idea how thankful I am for that.”

  Kat stood on her tiptoes, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him. “Me too.”

  Johnny bellowed from the living room, “Eww, stop that! No kissing! Gross.”

  Kat jumped away from Joel and whispered. “Wow, that’s a mood killer if ever there was one.”

  Joel picked up the knife again and began chopping some leafy herbs. “Six-year olds are like that. As a girl, you have cooties, you know.”

  Johnny called out from the living room. “You guys are boring. There’s nothing to do here.”

  As she threw the bread cubes into the pot, Kat could hear Cindy giggling quietly. Turning to Joel, she said, “Is it bedtime yet?”

  “I think it’s still a little early.”

  “Maybe I should go find some sheets for the guest bed in my office. I’d like to be really, really prepared for bedtime when it arrives.”

  He smiled. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  Becca was sick of walking. She couldn’t remember ever being this tired. Exhaustion was even trumping the cold. This had to be the longest driveway in the world. And whoever owned it certainly wasn’t out here plowing. She could practically see the snow piling up deeper and deeper as they trudged on. Her feet and ankles no longer felt connected to her body. But Jack kept dragging her along. What a grumpy taskmaster he was.

  Finally a small log cabin appeared out of the whiteness. It was the only thing that wasn’t white. The sky was white, the ground was white. Even the dog was covered with white now, the snow swirling around him as he leaped forward. Thank goodness for Frank. What did Jack say he was? A Saint Bernard? Maybe he had one of those kegs of cognac around his neck. She could really use a drink.

  Becca tugged against Jack’s sleeve. “Can’t we stop and rest?”

  “Nope. Almost there.”

  The only sound in the clearing was the rustle of Jack’s huge coat as they approached the house and the sound of her own breathing into the scarf. The dwelling was dark and looked abandoned. Becca wanted to cry in frustration and despair, except that she was too tired to even muster up a tear. They got up to the entry and Jack finally let go of her so he could pound on the door. Not surprisingly, the knocking was greeted with nothing but silence. He yanked at the knob, but the door was locked.

  Becca pulled at the arm of his coat. “Please, can I sit down now?”

  “No. I need to break this glass so we can get in.”

  She shook his sleeve again. “Wait! You can’t break into this place! It’s not yours.” Who was this guy?

  He turned and gave her a hard look. “Remember what I said about hypothermia? You’re not looking too good. I’m breaking in.” He looked up at the sky. “This storm is not going to get better for a while.”

  The hard look in those icy blue eyes indicated he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Fine. Becca let go of his coat and waved weakly. “Do whatever you want.” She was way too tired to argue anymore.

  Jack pulled a roll of duct tape out of one of the many pockets in his coat. “I’m going to put tape on this pane to see if I can keep it from shattering too badly. Don’t sit down.”

  “I’m leaning, not sitting. You carry tape in your coat? How many pockets does that thing have?” Who needed that many pockets?

  “A lot.”

  “It’s good to be out of the snow anyway.” She looked up. “Thank you to whoever put up this little overhang over the door. I love you, wherever you are.” Maybe Jack was right. The idea of being indoors was blissful.

  Jack busied himself with trying to tape over the pane of glass at the bottom right corner of the door. The tape didn’t want to stick very well, but once he was satisfied, he started digging around in the snow near the doorway.

  Becca turned her head to look at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for a rock. This area has extremely rocky soil, so there’s bound to be a piece of granite nearby, if these folks have ever planted anything at all in the yard.” He pawed at the ground, “C’mon Frank, do some digging.”

  Frank was enthusiastic about the new game and started pawing the snow. His rear was in the air and snow started flying everywhere. He hit bottom and pulled his head out of the hole, looking proud of himself.

  Jack bent down and pulled a rock out of the hole. “Good boy.” He went back to the door and smashed the pane of glass with the rock. Carefully reaching in through the opening, he felt around and flipped the deadbolt.
He opened the door and turned to Becca. Grabbing her sleeve, he shoved her through the doorway. “Watch out for the glass.” Following her inside, he pushed the glass aside with his boot. “Okay Frank, let’s go.”

  Frank bounded into the dwelling and stood in front of an old mission-style sofa, sniffing the air and looking somewhat confused. He snuffled at the rug a few times, and apparently determining it was okay, he spun around and laid down. Grabbing a back paw in his mouth, he began chewing at the ice chunks that had collected between his toes.

  Becca looked up at the ceiling. “What’s wrong with this place? It smells like smoke.” They certainly hadn’t broken into the Ritz. If the place was filled with toxic chemicals, that might be a problem.

  Jack closed the front door, walked into the small kitchen area, and started opening cabinet doors. “I don’t care. It’s not outside, which is an improvement. Get out of those wet clothes. I’m going to look for blankets and something to cover up the hole in the door.”

  Becca sat down on the sofa and shook her pumps off her feet. She curled her toes in agony as the movement caused her circulation to move blood back into her feet. It was like 700 straight pins were being jammed under her toenails and into the skin on her feet. She shook her hands and the pins started jabbing her fingers too.

  Flexing her hands first, she tried to remove the scarf, but her clumsy pain-riddled fingers had other ideas. Finally, she pulled enough on the wool fabric that she was able to shake her head and get it off. Her teeth started chattering and she tucked her hands under her armpits again.

  At a thump from above, Becca looked up. Jack was climbing the ladder up to a loft that jutted out above the kitchen area. He threw a blanket over the railing, which landed on the floor behind the sofa.

  He called down to her, “Take off your coat and wrap that around you.”

  Becca stood up and squealed like a little girl. She almost fell down as her feet hit the floor. It felt like the thousands of pins were jabbing into her sole. She plopped back onto the sofa. “My feet hurt!”

  Jack came back down the ladder, picked up the blanket, and handed it to her. “Take off that coat. It’s soaked.”

  Becca flexed her fingers in front of her face and cringed. “My fingers hurt too. Could you just stop for a minute? I can’t undo the buttons.”

  He turned and their gazes locked. “Are you okay?”

  “Stop asking me that! Thawing out really hurts.”

  Sitting down on the couch next to her, Jack pulled off his gloves and unbuttoned her coat. He said in a softer voice, “You really didn’t dress for this weather. Don’t you have gloves?”

  “When I got up this morning, I didn’t think I’d have to dress like an Eskimo to go take pictures of houses.”

  “Take pictures?”

  “I have an appraisal assignment. It’s a home appraisal for a bank.” She sighed heavily. “But then I got lost.”

  He pulled the wet coat off, dumped it on the floor, and grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders. “Better?”

  Becca gripped the edge of the blanket in her hand. “Yes. Thanks.”

  “I need to find something to cover that hole in the door. Tuck your feet up under the blanket too.”

  Becca curled up into a fetal ball on the sofa. “That does feel better. I think I love this blanket now too.” She looked up at the ceiling. “Thank you, whoever owns this stinky place.”

  Jack continued rummaging around the house while Becca tried to warm herself on the sofa. She pulled a hand out from under the blanket and examined it. The skin was beet red. It looked strange, but her fingers were finally feeling better.

  Jack leaned over the back of the couch. “Are there any white areas on your hands?”

  “No. They’re red.” She popped a hand out from under the blanket again. “See?”

  “Good. Check your feet too.” He continued toward the doorway.

  “Did you find something for the hole in the door?” Becca tried to covertly remove her pantyhose under the blanket without letting any cold air into her cocoon of warmth or giving Jack a free peep show. It was a complicated maneuver, but finally she yanked off the shredded L’eggs and threw them on the floor. She looked up and noticed that Jack appeared to be amused by her under-blanket machinations. The twinkle in his deep blue eyes was unmistakably humor.

  He said, “There was a case of Twinkies in the cabinet. I’m going to use the cardboard for the time being. Soon I won’t be able to see what I’m doing, and this is better than nothing.”

  “Twinkies?”

  He waved the orange cardboard toward the kitchen area. “I know Twinkies last for thousands of years, so maybe they’re some type of experiment. It’s almost the only food here that I can find. Twinkies and a few cans of soup.”

  “That sounds appetizing.” Becca snuggled down into the sofa and her stomach growled. “It’s getting dark—could you turn on a light?”

  Jack ripped a piece of duct tape off the roll. “The power has been turned off. And the water has been drained from the pipes.”

  “You mean no water in the bathroom? No toilet?” Becca’s dreams of indoor plumbing vaporized into nasty potty nightmares. She still needed to pee badly. Her feet were almost at the point where she could consider walking on them again and her bladder was not going to wait around forever.

  “There is a toilet. But it won’t flush without water.”

  Becca curled herself up more tightly in the blanket. “I can’t tell you how depressing that is.”

  “It’s better than being outside. Have you looked out the window? I haven’t seen a storm like this in years.” He tore another piece of duct tape and placed it across the cardboard. “We’ve got a wood stove here, but I’ve gotta go outside and see if there’s any wood.”

  “What about all the trees? There’s wood everywhere.”

  “It isn’t dry.”

  “Oh.” Wood covered with snow probably was more difficult to burn.

  “I’ll be back.” Jack grabbed his coat. “C’mon, Frank. Let’s go.”

  The dog eagerly leaped up from his nap. Jack opened the door with a whoosh and they were gone. Becca clutched the blanket. She was alone. Without the large man and dog, it was like all the life had been sapped from the little cabin. The last bit of twilight coming through the windows gave the house an antique patina, like an old sepia-tone photograph.

  She sat up and tentatively touched her feet to the floor. The scuffed wooden floorboards were freezing. But at least it didn’t feel like she was walking on a bed of nails anymore. She might not die of hypothermia, but she could die of dehydration and malnutrition. They had no water and the only things to eat were Twinkies and soup? This trip just got worse and worse. If she lived through this experience, she was going to kill Uncle Pat for making her come here.

  The door opened and a blast of frigid air entered the room along with Jack and Frank. The dog returned to his spot on the rug and began the snow-removal process on his toes again. Jack had found a few sticks of wood that definitely were not completely dry, since they were covered with snow. He whacked the wood on the floor to shake the snow off and then began examining the wood stove.

  “Is the wood okay?”

  He brushed the snow off his shoulders and removed his coat. “It’s almost the bottom row of what was obviously once a huge wood pile. Apparently, someone took the rest of it away or used it up at some point. I guess they left these because they were close to the ground.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Well, it’s not great, but the wood will probably burn.” He opened the door of the stove and looked inside. “At least I don’t think that smoky smell came from the stove. It looks okay.”

  “I didn’t think about that. We’re not going to die in a fire now, are we? Or get carbon-monoxide poisoning?”

  “No. I examined the chimney. It looks like it was cleaned before they shut this place down for the winter. I don’t think it has been used in quite a while.”
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  Becca sat up straighter on the sofa. Her brain was returning. “Wait! This is a summer cabin. That makes sense. That’s why they drained the water.” Of course, knowing this didn’t make the whole potty situation any less bleak.

  Jack looked over his shoulder. “You seem to be feeling better.”

  “I was supposed to appraise a summer house. There are lots of summer houses in the Alpine Grove area. But I know it wasn’t this one. I don’t know how I ended up on Misty Meadow Lane. I was going to go to town then to the place I was supposed to look at, which is on Edgewater Road.”

  “That’s down by the lake. You were about 30 miles off.” He started ripping pages out of an old magazine and crumpling them up. He turned the magazine over and looked the cover. “Computers? Humph.”

  Becca bent her head and rested her forehead on her knees. “I missed it by 30 miles? That’s pathetic.” Her map-reading skills had reached a new low.

  “I don’t know where you thought you were going. Misty Meadow Lane dead-ends into a private quarter section of land that connects to national forest.”

  “I was supposed to be going back to town.” Becca gripped the blanket more tightly.

  “Not that way, you weren’t.” Jack struck a match and the flame lit the room, casting shadows on his face, emphasizing his angular features.

  “But that’s what the map said. I needed to turn, then connect to the road with the mailboxes and get back to the kennel place. From there I had directions to get back to town. Well, if I reversed them, anyway.” Except it didn’t work.

  “I think I know why you didn’t make it.”

  “Why?”

  “Those are the worst directions I’ve ever heard.” He held his hands in front of the flame. “It should be warmer in here soon.”

  “Good. The floor is freezing. I don’t suppose you have any socks in those pockets of yours.”

  Jack grinned at her, which completely transformed the serious expression he’d had on his face. “Sorry, no socks. There is a dresser in the loft. I’ll go look.” He stood and Becca noted that underneath all the Eskimo attire was a startlingly attractive male form. Who would have guessed?