Let It Snow

by Sherry Lewis

  Guilt immediately took the place of Marti’s misplaced resentment. “Oh, Rick. I’m sorry. I had no idea. No wonder you hate it.”

  “Yeah. Well.” He shrugged and tried to smile, but the effort fell flat. “To tell the truth, I didn’t like the holiday all that much before she died, either. But the music, the lights, the decorations... They always bring everything back as if it happened yesterday.”

  She clutched her own coffee cup, but she didn’t speak.

  He broke the silence after a few seconds. “I try not to think about it, though. Life goes on, doesn’t it? After two years, you’d think I could put some of it behind me.”

  “Why?” The word escaped before she had a chance to consider its impact.

  His eyes flashed to her face again. “What?”

  She regretted the impulsive question, but now that she’d asked it she couldn’t very well pretend she hadn’t. “Why should you be able to put it behind you? You loved her. You still do.”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  “I see. And there’s some law I don’t know about that says you can only grieve for a certain number of months?”

  His lips curved into a smile. “No.”

  “Okay, then. If you’re still grieving, for heaven’s sake, let yourself do it.”

  He fell silent again and studied his cup, his fingers, even the rolled silverware. The song on the loudspeaker changed, and a chorus of bells pealed into the room. Rick remained silent for so long, Marti kicked herself mentally for saying the wrong thing. But when he met her gaze again, she saw something different in his eyes.

  “It’s not that I’m still grieving,” he said softly. “It’s more like—” But before he could finish the thought, he broke off and smiled up at a waitress who materialized out of nowhere beside their table. “Two cups of coffee,” he said, “and two bowls of your chicken noodle soup.”

  Marti struggled to be patient while he ordered and willed the waitress to hurry so he could finish what he’d been about to say. Instead, the waitress seemed to take forever to write the order on her notepad. Marti could feel the woman’s eyes on her. Some friend of Gil’s, no doubt, taking stock of the situation so she could tell him all about it.

  With a scowl, she looked up at the woman. But instead of censure, she saw a sparkle in the woman’s blue eyes, and the familiar broad smile of her childhood friend. “Cherryl? Is that you?”

  Cherryl dropped onto the seat beside Marti and wrapped her in a warm hug. “It’s about time you came in. I’ve been worried that you’d leave town again before we had a chance to even see each other.”

  “So have I.” Marti returned her friend’s embrace and caught Rick’s curious gaze. “Do you know Rick?”

  Cherryl shook her head and offered him her hand. “Rick Dennehy? I’ve seen you around.”

  “Cherryl’s been my best friend since we were young,” Marti explained. “She and her husband own this place now.”

  Rick smiled and shook Cherryl’s hand. “So you’re the one responsible for the world-famous chicken soup.”

  “World-famous?” Cherryl said with a laugh. “Hardly. Besides, it’s my mother-in-law’s recipe.”

  Marti worked up a mock scowl and said playfully, “Don’t encourage her, Rick. This place already keeps her far too busy.”

  “You think I’m busy?” Cherryl protested. “Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

  “Don’t try to pin the blame on me. You’re the one who hasn’t returned my phone calls.”

  Cherryl released her and pulled back a little. “But I have. Didn’t Gil give you my messages?”

  Marti stared at her. “You talked to Gil? When?”

  Cherryl frowned. “I’ve called a couple of times but, just my luck, Gil answered both times. He said the two of you are getting back together. Is that true?”

  Marti shook her head quickly. “No,” she said firmly. “No, we’re not.”

  Relief flashed across Cherryl’s face. “I have to admit, I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been worried about you. I remember how miserable you were before the divorce.” She checked the room for new customers and settled more comfortably in her seat. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he didn’t tell you I’d called. He never did like us hanging out together.”

  No, he hadn’t. For some reason, their friendship had threatened him. And this was one more piece of evidence that he hadn’t changed at all. Everything he’d said and done since she came back had been a lie. But why? What did he want? To get Cameron back? He hadn’t shown much interest in the boy to date. Why now?

  When the front door opened, Cherryl glanced at the man who came inside, and relaxed slightly when he chose a seat at the counter. “If you’re not getting back together, why is he at your place all the time?”

  Marti glanced quickly at Rick before she answered. “He’s helping Dad. Dad’s decided he needs to do something with the place again, but I’m not sure I understand why.”

  “Maybe it’s because of that ski-equipment company that’s been trying to buy property in the area. They’re talking about building a plant here. After they made Henry that offer—”

  “Offer?” Marti’s voice came out sharp and a little too loud. She tempered it and asked again. “What offer?”

  Cherryl looked confused. “Your dad didn’t tell you about it?”

  “No. He hasn’t said a word.”

  Cherryl glanced at Rick, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Do you know about this?” Marti asked him.

  “Not about an offer to your dad,” he said. “But they made me an offer last week.”

  “Are you selling to them?” The thought made her ill.

  He shook his head quickly. “No. I turned them down.”

  “So did your dad,” Cherryl said. “In spite of Gil.”

  “Gil?” Marti reared back in her seat. “What does Gil have to do with it?”

  Cherryl averted her gaze for a second. “Some of us think he plans to get his hands on the Lazy M and sell it to them.”

  Marti didn’t want to believe it-not even about Gil. But suddenly everything fell into place.

  Rick leaned back in his seat and ran one hand along his chin. “That would certainly put my cabins out of business.”

  “Yes,” Marti admitted. “It would.” Bile rose in her throat when she remembered the conversation she’d interrupted between her dad and Gil about doing just that. She tried to force away the sick feeling along with the niggling sense of guilt that accompanied it. She wasn’t responsible for Gil. She had to stop thinking she was. “Who else knows about this?”

  Cherryl shrugged. “Just everybody, I guess. Except you.”

  “And Dad,” Marti whispered. “He can’t know about it, or he wouldn’t even consider letting Gil have the ranch. He cares more about keeping the area natural than anyone I know.”

  “I think you’re right,” Cherryl said with a nod. “I don’t think he knows. After all, he turned down their original offer.”

  She sighed again. “Maybe I should have said something in my letters, but I figured your dad had told you about the factory, and I didn’t hear anything about Gil’s plans until a couple of weeks ago.”

  She started to say something else, but the door opened again and a large group came inside. She groaned aloud and slid out of the booth. “I wish I could stay, but I’ve got to get back to work. But promise me we’ll get together before you leave.”

  “We will,” Marti vowed. Nothing would stop her from keeping her word.

  Cherryl touched Marti’s shoulder with a gentle hand. “Are you going to be okay?”

  Marti nodded. She’d be fine. But she was furious. Furious with Gil and very concerned about her dad. Gil had been playing him for a fool. He’d probably spent the past three years convincing Henry his children had deserted him. If her father believed Gil was the only one who truly cared about him, no wonder he was so determined to get Gil back into the family.

  The one thing s
he didn’t understand was how marrying her fit into Gil’s plans. Surely he knew she’d resist selling the Lazy M. Wouldn’t it have been better to let her go back to California after Christmas?

  Like a bolt of lightning, another realization hit her. Gil didn’t care about her, and he didn’t really want to marry her again. Otherwise why hadn’t he made some effort to win her back while she was still in California? He’d only started courting her again after she came back to town. Maybe her father had given Gil some indication that he intended to give the ranch to them after they were married. Did Gil really believe that even if she remarried him she’d agree to part with the ranch?

  The idea disgusted her, but worse, the realization that she’d come so close to going along with his plan, angered her. She put one hand to her forehead and gulped air in an attempt to calm her rolling stomach.

  As if he’d read her thoughts, Rick reached across the table and touched her arm. “You didn’t know,” he said softly.

  “No,” she admitted, “but I should have.”

  “Just be glad you know now.”

  “I am, but—”

  “And now that you know, you can do something about it.”

  The knot in her stomach loosened a little and her heart stopped thumping so wildly in her chest. “Yes,” she said, “I can, can’t I?”

  “Will you tell your dad?”

  She shook her head. “Not right away. I think I’ll hear what Gil has to say first.”

  “Do you think he’ll tell you?”

  She laughed bitterly. “Gil? You don’t know him very well, do you? My only worry is what this will do to Cameron and Dad. I don’t want them hurt.”

  “They’ll be more hurt if Gil gets his way,” Rick said.

  He was right, of course. She met his gaze steadily. “He won’t get his way. Not now that I know the truth. But I don’t want to ruin Christmas for everyone by telling them what Gil’s been up to. I’ll just have to think of some way to convince him to back off.”

  Rick smiled slowly and covered her hand with one of his. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you look like that?”

  His words caught her off guard. She ducked her head and flushed. “Like what?”

  “Determined. Strong.” He traced the curve of her cheek with one finger. “Ready to stand up for yourself and do battle.”

  Her heart raced again, but for a different reason entirely this time. “Gil wouldn’t think so. He doesn’t like women who stand up for themselves.”

  Rick shrugged. “I guess the weak ones don’t. They’re afraid a strong woman will somehow diminish them.”

  Marti could only stare at him. She’d never considered Gil a weak man before. In fact, his bluster and bravado had always made her think just the opposite. But the idea freed something inside her. And for the first time in more years than she could remember, she felt a measure of control.

  CHAPTER TEN

  RICK WATCHED the smile cross Marti’s face and the light in her eyes grow. Yes, he thought with satisfaction. This was how he’d always imagined she should look. Strong and fierce. Confident and capable. And ready to kick her ex-husband’s sneaking, conniving butt.

  He glanced away quickly, suddenly aware of his unexpected physical reaction to her. Why here? Why now? And why did a man’s desire have to be so damn obvious to everyone around?

  He tried thinking of something else—car engines, chopping wood—anything but Marti. But her scent drifted toward him across the table. Her leg brushed his when she moved. And her voice... She might only be asking for cream for the coffee, but it felt like a caress to him.

  “How about you, Rick?” Cherryl was back and leaning in front of him to fill his cup. “Do you take cream?”

  He shook his head and met her gaze, but his face burned with embarrassment. To his relief, embarrassment worked as car engines and woodpiles hadn’t. He let out a sigh and allowed himself one tiny peek at Marti. He couldn’t help wishing that women displayed their desire as obviously as men did. It would let him know whether he was just chasing rainbows.

  With a farewell grin, Cherryl took the coffeepot and disappeared. Marti sighed and looked through the painted window at the stores across the street. “I guess I should at least try to do some shopping before I go home again, but I really have no idea what to get Cameron or my dad.”

  “Cameron’s good with his hands and he seems to like the work he’s been doing on the cabins. Maybe a tool belt with a few tools to put in it—unless he already has one in California.”

  She shook her head. “No, he doesn’t. I’ve never...” She glanced away again. “I haven’t exactly encouraged him to work with his hands. I’ve told him he has to get his grades up before I’ll let him take woodshop again.”

  “Does he have a hard time in school?”

  She sighed softly. “Yes, but I don’t know why. He’s a smart kid, but he’s so incredibly stubborn. Sometimes I think he lets his grades in the important things go just to spite me.”

  Rick laced his fingers around the mug. “The important things? What would those be?”

  “Math, English, science, history. The basics.”

  Rick knew he should keep his mouth shut and his nose out of her business, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Did he get good grades when he lived here?”

  “No, but they’ve gotten much worse over the past few years.”

  “Have you ever thought that those subjects may be difficult for him?”

  “He’s a bright kid, Rick. And he’s fifteen years old. If he doesn’t shape up soon, he won’t get into a good college and he’ll wind up working at menial jobs the rest of his life.”

  His father’s words, so achingly similar, echoed in his mind. Rick had worked hard to please his father, but he’d never measured up to the old man’s expectations. Even his job at the court hadn’t been good enough. The old man had died wishing Rick had gone further, climbed higher, done better.

  “Does he want to go to college?”

  She shook her head. “He says he doesn’t, but—”

  “But you want him to go.”

  “I want him to do well.”

  “Isn’t it more important that he be happy?” He knew the instant he asked the question he’d gone too far.

  Marti’s eyes clouded and her cheeks flushed. “Of course I want him to be happy. That’s why I’m pushing him to do well in school. How happy can he be working minimum-wage jobs or doing something—”

  “Menial?” he finished for her, then added more softly, “Like his father?”

  Her eyes widened, then narrowed immediately and she pulled back as if he’d slapped her.

  “Do him a favor,” he said as gently as he could. “Don’t judge him by his father.”

  “I don’t.”

  “And don’t judge his success by your own yardstick. Not everyone enjoys school. Not everyone does well in the basic subjects. The way the schools are set up, you’re considered a failure unless you have one of a very few talents. Believe me, I know. But Cameron has a real talent for working with his hands. Maybe if you let him spend some time doing what he likes, he won’t resent having to spend time working on things he doesn’t like quite so much.”

  Her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed even further. “Is it wrong for me to want my son to succeed?”

  The words pricked him, but he didn’t let her see that. Nor did he tell her how many times in his own life his success had been measured by that same yardstick. “No, but it just might be wrong to expect him to live up to someone else’s definition of success.”

  She shook her head quickly, and for a moment he thought she’d say something more. Instead, she pushed away her coffee mug, gathered her coat and purse, and slid out of the booth. “Thanks for the coffee, Rick, but I think I’d better go.”

  He’d gone too far. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything—”

  “You’re entitled to your opinion,” she said. “But I don’t have to share it.” Pivoting away,
she hurried across the restaurant and out the door.

  WELL, Rick told himself with a bitter laugh, you certainly screwed that up. He wouldn’t have to worry about taking their relationship too far any longer. In fact, he’d probably just destroyed their friendship.

  He watched through the window as she crossed the street and ducked inside Morrison’s Department Store. Then he pulled out his wallet, tossed enough to cover the bill and a tip onto the table, and followed her outside. He told himself to walk straight to his truck and drive away. But his heart didn’t want to listen to his head, and his feet wouldn’t listen, either.

  Arguing with himself the entire way, he dashed across the street and followed her into Morrison’s. He had no idea what he’d say if he found her, or whether he could even convince her to listen to him. He only knew he had to try.

  A small crowd of shoppers outside Morrison’s blocked his path for a few seconds. He battled frustration and kept a smile pasted on his face while he made his way through the glass doors.

  He could see almost to the back of the store’s first floor, but so many shoppers filled the aisles, he doubted he’d ever find her. Mannheim Steamroller’s version of “Joy to the World” blared from a speaker near his ear. Somewhere nearby, a bell jingled with annoying regularity. And the. voices of excited shoppers rose and fell, at times nearly drowning out the music.

  He searched the crowd for a glimpse of Marti’s honey-colored hair or the deep blue of her jacket, and found her near the back of the store standing beside a rack of mens’ sweaters.

  Without giving himself a chance to change his mind, he worked his way around dozens of shoppers and giant plywood candy canes at the end of several aisles to reach her. He tried not to let frustration take over as he lost sight of her in the crowd. He kept going until he finally reached the mens’ department. To his relief, she hadn’t moved. She pulled a forest green sweater from the rack and held it up for inspection, tilting her head to one side as she studied it.

  With his heart thundering in his ears, he made his way through the last few shoppers and came to a stop behind her. “That would look great on Cameron.”