by Dani Collins
“Oh, uh—” Comb hair? Freshen lip balm?
“Over here by the tree, maybe.” He caught her elbow and drew her across, then moved behind her right shoulder. He lowered his chin so their ears were almost touching.
“Silly or serious?”
“For Carson?” They crossed their eyes and curled their lips, poking out their tongues. Then they took a nice one for their parents.
He straightened and showed her the results. She thought there was a betraying glow in her expression in the smiling ones, but he flicked over to the goofy one and that had her groaning so hard she wanted him to delete the whole idea.
“No, this is good. He’ll love it. What’s the Wi-Fi here?” he asked.
She gave it to him and he set it up, then looked to the rafters in thought.
“How about, ‘I was taken in by strangers after my car was stolen. Moose tracks at the scene?’” he suggested.
“Now I’m picturing a moose trying to drive a car.”
“If I could draw, I’d make a whole book of moose doing normal human stuff like roasting weenies.” He nodded toward the fireplace, which had been closed in again, the stools taken upstairs for the kids who were doing the jigsaw puzzle. “Skiing… Snow boarding would be even funnier, especially if they were in some slouchy pants with suspenders. A moose with suspenders hooked on their antlers is all I need in my life.”
“What about hip waders?” she suggested. “While they’re fly-fishing? They’d get the line all tangled in their antlers.”
“See? It never gets old.”
Kristen suspected there were a dozen children’s books with moose doing people stuff and wondered if she’d be able to find one in time for Christmas.
Not that Finn would still be here on Christmas morning, but she could get it to him belatedly. Which might be a lot of effort for a laugh she wouldn’t even witness.
In fact, it might come across as trying too hard to rekindle something that had died a natural death. She dismissed the idea.
“Kristen,” Sarah’s excited face appeared over the rail of the loft. “Is it time?”
“For Pictionary?” She looked to Finn, biting her lip.
“I haven’t played since that summer in your parents’ living room,” he warned.
They helped bring down easels and whiteboards along with the box of clues and the dry-erase markers. Some guests were still enjoying the dart game downstairs. Others had retired to their cabins or were putting their youngest children to bed.
The Entwhistles wanted to play, though, as did a couple visiting from California.
“You and me, Sarah,” Ted said. “Wendy went to bed.”
“Is she okay? Did you give her a checkup?” Sarah asked Finn worriedly.
“I chatted with her, yes. She’s a little run-down because it’s a busy time of year. I told her to get plenty of rest so she’ll have lots of energy for Christmas.”
“Kristen’s here to help now,” Ted said. “Wendy doesn’t have a fever or a cough. She’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Sarah said, taking her father and Finn at their word. She directed her attention to the board. “What color do you want to be?” she asked the Entwhistles.
After a few rounds where Kristen and Finn guessed within seconds, Sarah cried in astonishment, “How are you doing that?”
While everyone else had been yelling ‘tornado’ and ‘thunderstorm,’ Finn had looked at Kristen’s spiral with a very scribbly crown and said, ‘Mattress coil. King-size bed.’
“The timer wasn’t even halfway through,” Sarah grumbled.
They were the only two who had actually made it out of the starting square and were already miles ahead of everyone else.
“I warned you our families never let us team up,” Kristen reminded Sarah.
“Your families are right. It’s not fair to anyone else,” Sarah decided.
Amid laughter, Finn and Kristen became team captains. They switched to two teams of four to make the game go faster and played until the darts finished. Sarah was on Finn’s team and they won, but the teams were tied until the very last minute.
As the last guests trickled to bed, Ted went to clean up downstairs. Finn helped Kristen put away the last of the food.
“You have to walk out to the shed,” she realized as he checked his pockets for his phone and what she assumed was a key to the shed.
“Ted showed me how to run the plow. It’s like a ride-on lawnmower. I’ll be fine.”
“Do I sound like our mothers? Text me when you get there so I know you arrived safely.”
He chuckled. “Or you could watch for me to turn out the lights.”
“I will.” She made it sound like a threat.
They were both smiling as he hovered at the top of the stairs. She ran out of counters to wipe.
“Okay, well, good night,” he said.
“Thanks for coming, Finn,” she blurted. “This was fun. It’s good to see you again.” Her heart felt all stumbly as she said it. Gauche and transparent. But he had driven out of his way because he was concerned she would be alone through the holidays. He was still the very thoughtful man she had fallen for.
“It’s good to see you, too,” he said with quiet sincerity. “I should have made time to do this sooner.”
“We have lives.”
“You do,” he said ruefully. “I’m getting there. I’ll be around for a while in the morning. Ted doesn’t want to charge me for the room so I’ll pay for my keep in snow removal.”
“Okay.” Why that pleased her so darned much, she couldn’t say. “See you in the morning, then.”
He went downstairs and she heard him exchange a few words with Ted. She moved through the lower floor, ensuring the chalet was buttoned up for the night, then went to her room.
She arrived in time to peek out her little window and watch the dim light that she presumed was the cat shed in the distance. It went on and off, once, twice, three times. Then it stayed off.
She sighed with contentment. “Sleep tight, neighbor.”
Chapter Seven
The snow had lightened to pinpoint flakes in a thickly overcast sky by morning, mostly because the temperature dropped. Finn showed up as they started the breakfast preparations and joined them as they sat down to eat.
“I can get the areas around the cabins and parking lot cleared if you want to get up the hill with the guests,” Finn offered to Ted.
“Normally I would say I could manage, but normally I’d have an operator who would take the guests up and leave me here to get it done myself,” Ted said. “With all this fresh powder, and missing yesterday, I want to give them as much time on the slopes as I can.”
Kristen caught the concerned glance Ted sent Wendy and quickly said, “I’ll help Finn with the shoveling. I’m sure we can take care of it.”
“We can,” Finn assured him. “I’m happy to do it. You gave me a bed and you’re feeding me the best meals I’ve had in ages. That lasagna last night was fantastic. So was the hot dog.” Finn sent a wink to Sarah.
Sarah grinned. “Sometimes, when my cousins are here, we put potato chips in a sandwich.”
“Sometimes, when I’m out of croutons, I put potato chips on a salad,” Finn confided.
“Ew, you do not,” Kristen protested. “I’m telling your mom.”
“She’s always been a tattletale,” Finn told Sarah. “One time, when Carson and I started talking about jumping off the roof, she told on us.”
“That sounds really dangerous,” Sarah said with a horrified frown.
“It was the dumbest idea ever,” Finn agreed. “She probably kept us from breaking our necks.”
“I probably should have let natural selection take care of itself,” Kristen said into her coffee cup.
“I probably should thank you,” Finn said dryly. “You know, when I was sitting around waiting for the doctor to tell me I could play again, I kept hearing your voice in my head. ‘You have a brain. Use it.’ We heard that one pret
ty often,” he told Sarah in an aside. “I decided maybe I would.”
“Really?” Kristen asked, skeptical.
He shrugged. “I had had other injuries, but they weren’t anything that slowed me down. I could still do weights and train in other ways, study plays. But the concussion pulled me right out of football. I couldn’t watch TV without getting a headache. It forced me to really take stock. Giving up that scholarship was a huge decision. It wasn’t just your voice telling me to use some sense, but I did worry my brain wouldn’t be as sharp if I wanted to study medicine in the future.”
“Are you okay now?” Wendy asked with concern.
“Totally.”
“Good.” She smiled.
Kristen was relieved, too. Finn had been great on the field. The whole town had been proud of him winning that full-ride scholarship, but she was just as impressed—maybe more—of how hard he was working to get what he really wanted.
“Are you coming up with us today, Sugar Bear?” Ted asked Sarah.
Sarah slid her gaze to Kristen. “I think Kristen and I are going into town.”
“I doubt they’ll get our road plowed until evening,” Ted said. “It’s still snowing and they’ll be working to keep the highway clear. Then they’ll do the side streets around town. We’re always last on the list.”
Kristen glanced at Finn. He must be anxious to get on the road.
He gave her a shrug that said, No big deal.
A thrum of secretive pleasure tugged in her chest that he was stranded here a little longer.
“What happens to the two cabins that are supposed to check out today?” Kristen asked Wendy.
“They might have to stay,” Wendy said. “We won’t charge them if they do. And we have an arrangement with the hotel in town for guests who can’t get in. We provide the hotel vouchers to ski in exchange for accommodating our guests. That doesn’t happen often. Most of the time we wind up with a chaotic dinner hour, with guests checking in and out while I’m trying to get food on the table.”
“I’ll be back from skiing by then to help,” Sarah said.
“And I’m here,” Kristen reminded her.
“And Finn, since we seem to have taken him hostage.” Wendy grinned at him.
“You’ll make sure she rests?” Sarah said to Finn.
“You bet I will,” he promised.
Wendy bit back a smile and rose to take some dishes to the sink. “It should be a pretty quiet day. I’ll get some fresh baking into the oven and maybe wrap a few gifts.”
“For who?” Sarah perked up with curiosity.
“I don’t know.” Wendy played innocent. “Your grandma, maybe. Your dad.”
Kristen rose and shared a glance of amusement with Finn as she began collecting the rest of the dishes. The men headed outside moments later and Sarah ran upstairs to change into her ski gear, returning in time to help take food and other day-lodge supplies to the cat.
Guests started trickling in soon after, eager for an early start to enjoy the fresh powder. As the cat rolled away with a low, lumbering growl, a steady drone stayed in the air—Finn was running the snowplow between the cabins.
Kristen helped Wendy clean up breakfast, then Wendy tackled the upstairs rooms while Kristen went outside to help with the shoveling so she could get to the cabins. By then, Finn had gone around to the front with the plow and was clearing the parking lot.
Two hours later, the cloud cover was thinning, the drone of the plow had stopped, she had finished her housekeeping chores, and they met at the back door where they stood their shovels against the side of the chalet. They were both panting out clouds.
“Coffee?” she offered. “Water?”
“I’m going to take the plow back to the shed and shower. Then I’d love one of each.”
She nodded and went inside, checking with Wendy who was putting a fresh batch of cookies into the oven.
“I’m all sweaty. I’m going to shower, then I can take over in here if you have something else to do.”
“I would love to lie down, if you don’t mind. I can’t believe how tired I am.”
She looked so befuddled by her own body, Kristen was compelled to ask, “Did you speak to Finn?”
“I did, yes. And I have to say…” She cocked her head in thought. “He has a comforting way of inspiring confidence. He really listened. I love my current doctor, but if Finn lived here, I would consider switching.”
“Oh.” Kristen didn’t mean to sound so taken aback. “I mean, I’m not surprised. He always had that you-can-count-on-me, star-athlete confidence. I didn’t really think about what kind of doctor he’d be, though. Like, whether he’d have a good bedside manner.”
“You never wondered about that?” Wendy blinked with innocence. “Sarah told me you two had dated.”
Kristen sputtered with laughter, blushing because okay, she had thought of Finn romantically. In the past. Obviously. But she bit her lip, wishing this didn’t feel so tremendously personal.
“I’m trying not to do it now. He’s here as a friend.”
“That’s how Ted and I started. That’s all I’m saying.” Wendy held up her hands to end the conversation. “You go shower.”
Kristen did and came downstairs as Wendy was changing out another tray in the oven, filling the kitchen with the aroma of molasses and nutmeg.
Kristen relieved her and Wendy went upstairs to rest.
It was almost lunch so Kristen set some of yesterday’s leftovers to warm in the microwave then started a fresh pot of coffee. She left the basement door open so she would hear Finn come in.
It was a rookie mistake. The door sounded below and, moments later, Bonzo scrambled up the stairs completely coated in snow.
“Oh, Bonzo! No.” Kristen tried to grab him, but he was in a frisky mood. He thought it was a game and shot through the swing door into the lounge, wet paws sliding on the hardwood. As she tried to catch him, he scooted around the sofa and across his mat by the fire. He wasn’t in the mood to settle there, either. She wound up chasing him around the dining room table and back into the kitchen where Finn was clutching a tray of very dark-brown cookies with an oven mitt.
“These smelled like they were scorching.” He looked to the floor where muddy footprints and bits of snow had fallen off Bonzo as he had tracked out one door and come in through the other.
“I was trying to…” She waved at the shaggy mutt who was sitting there with his tongue lolling, his busy wet tail painting a muddy fan across the slate tiles.
“I let the dog out,” Finn said, as if he was answering the question from the song. “Then I let him back in again.”
“Sarah has a stack of old towels she uses downstairs to dry him off before she lets him up. I’ll go find one. Come on, Bonzo.” Kristen used a treat to coax him to follow her into the basement.
When she came back upstairs, Finn had found the mop and was cleaning up the footprints. Kristen grabbed another dog treat and took it to the mat by the fire so Bonzo would hopefully stay out of the puddles until Finn had a chance to sponge them up.
By then, the leftovers needed another minute to rewarm. She plated their squares of lasagna with some fresh greens and set Wendy’s homemade dressing on the table along with the last of the sausage bites from breakfast and raw veggies with dip.
The final batch of cookies went in—gingersnaps, her favorite.
Finn put the mop away, washed his hands, and threw himself into the other side of the booth. “It’s worse than an emergency room around here.”
“Day in the life of a hotel. Stick to doctoring if you can’t hack real drama.” She stuck a sausage pastry into her cheeky smile.
“You love it, don’t you?” he accused good-naturedly. “You always did want to bring order to chaos. You’re the only person I know who got excited about being asked to help clean a garage.”
“I’ve already cleaned this garage. And the office. The loft is next,” she confided in a whisper.
He chuckled. �
�I bet you could do surgery in your housekeeping closets. At your real job, I mean. What’s that like? I should have asked you yesterday. I meant to, but we got talking about other things.”
History things. Yesterday at this table had been uncomfortable and she didn’t want to revisit it so she seized the chance to talk about something less volatile.
“I’m a manager at a mid-size hotel.” She mentioned the chain, which was a well-known brand. “It’s good. I like it.”
“But?” he prompted.
Oh. Had he heard that hint of reservation in her tone? Of course he had. This was Finn. Despite the years they’d been apart, he still knew her very well.
“It’s the title and level of responsibility I always wanted so it’s satisfying that I achieved it, but I’m not sure it’s what I want anymore,” she admitted. “The staff and location are great. I have a lot of options if I want to transfer, but this one has a nice clientele of families and business networking events. There’s no real downside.” She shrugged. “Which is why I’m not convinced I should make a change.”
“What kind of change? A new city? Or different work altogether?”
“I’m still figuring that out. I think I want something more like this. Smaller. That’s why I came here. To try it.”
“And?”
“I like it. In my current job, guests start to feel like numbers on a page. I want to be more hands-on and build relationships, work at a place that becomes part of the memory that people are making. People come to Mistletoe Chalet because they don’t want a generic room. They want it to feel like home away from home and they come back because they love it. I want to be part of that. I want to have a snow day that puts me to the test and I’m always working, but it doesn’t feel like work. Do you know what I mean?”
“I do. And that sounds exactly like everything I know about you.” The sparkle in his eye was amused, but admiring, too, which made her feel shy. It made her feel as though she was putting too much of herself on display and wanted his approval a little too much.
She looked to the tabletop.
“Hey.” His voice lowered and grew husky, making the moment really intimate, especially when he reached across and touched her hand to make her look at him. “You have a heart. Use it.”