by Dani Collins
Wendy was putting enchiladas into the oven.
“That smells so good. I love Mexican.”
“Thanks. How was your trip into town with Sarah?”
“Great. We put your parcels in the office.”
“Some of that is going to need wrapping.” Wendy blew out a breath, gaze hitting the ceiling as if she was mentally searching her timetable for an opening. “I had all kinds of time today, but the gifts weren’t here yet. Isn’t that always the way? Tomorrow is turning into a clown show.”
“I saw.” Eight cabins would be checking out along with all the chalet suites. “But you booked your housekeeper to come out and help, right?”
“Her husband called while you were in town!” she recalled with exasperation. “She has the flu.”
“Oh. That’s too bad. But we can handle it. I’m sure Sarah will be happy to help.”
“I don’t like to lean too hard on her. I mean, this is our work, but it’s her home.”
“I understand. We’ll make it happen. That’s what I’ve learned over the years. Somehow everything gets done.”
“I know, but I really didn’t expect to feel so listless. This isn’t my normal speed at all,” Wendy said with a scowl of frustration. “Once family arrives, they won’t care if they have to change their own towels, but I still wanted everything to be perfect for their arrival. They’re silent partners. I like them to be confident we’re running things well.”
“And you’ll want time to visit with them, rather than run around playing inn keeper. We’ll get everything squared away, I promise.”
“Thank you, Kristen.” Wendy looped her arm around Kristen’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “I’d be a wreck if you weren’t here with all this reassurance and support.”
“Well, I am here, so chin up.” Kristen hugged Wendy arm around her waist. “Want to ruin our dinner with some shortbread?”
“See? You know exactly how to handle a crisis.”
Snickering, they raided the tin.
*
“I brought all the boxes labeled ‘Christmas decorations’ into the house,” Ted told Sarah when she jumped aboard the cat before Ted closed the doors.
“I just want to see for myself if there’s something else out there,” she said, plopping down beside Finn and giving him a friendly grin.
She reminded him of Kristen at that age. Kristen hadn’t had glasses, but she’d had braces. She’d had the same subtle streak of independence and persistence, too. One that wasn’t immediately obvious since it was disguised behind her cheerful, good-natured personality.
“What are you looking for exactly? I’ll tell you if I saw it,” Ted said, rambling the cat toward the shed.
“It’s just something I remembered we had. I thought it would make a nice decoration.”
“For where? What is it?”
“Daaad.” She drew out the word with vexation. “It’s Christmas. Quit being so nosy.”
“Saaaraaah,” he said with the same exasperation. “It’s Christmas. Don’t peek in places you shouldn’t.”
She gasped. “Really? Is that why you wouldn’t let me get the Christmas decorations from the flat? Why did you even move them from my old playroom over the garage anyway?”
“I decline to answer on the grounds I may incriminate myself.”
“Well—Now what am I supposed to do?” She threw up her hands.
Finn scratched his upper lip, enjoying her flummoxed annoyance.
She tilted her head and gave Finn a side-eye. “How long are you staying?”
“I was going to ask your dad about that.”
“I was going to ask you,” Ted said. “Is there any chance you could stick around through the morning? Most of the guests are checking out, but I have a group from town going up the hill. It’s supposed to get icy overnight. If there was any chance you could throw some extra sand down for me—”
“Done,” Finn said firmly.
“You didn’t let me finish. I want to pay you.”
“You already did. Today was A-plus, five-star boarding. I’m going to tell everyone I know to come here.”
“I feel like I’m taking advantage,” Ted argued.
“Dad.” Sarah popped out of her seat to hit the button for the door before Ted could. While she was hovering beside her dad, she said in a whisper that Finn heard clearly, “Maybe he wants to spend more time with Kristen.”
Was he that obvious? Finn looked out the side window to avoid Ted’s questioning gaze in the rearview mirror.
Ted pulled into the shed and cut the engine. They disembarked. Ted’s beard didn’t entirely disguise his amusement at Finn’s expense, but he only asked Finn to take the other side of a table saw. They moved it to another corner while Sarah ducked into the storage space behind it.
“You said the compressor wasn’t working,” she said.
“It’s not. It’s still at the shop. You’re going to have to use the bicycle pump.”
Sarah said, “Hmmph,” as she carried a half-flat inner tube out of the space. “Can I put them in the cat and you drive them over in the morning? When all the cousins are here, they’ll help me pump them up.”
“That’s fine,” Ted agreed.
“Need anything else?” Finn asked. “If not, I’ll have a quick shower.”
“Go ahead. I’ll do my checks. We’ll wait for you. I want to show you where the ice builds up the worst.”
“Ten-four.” Finn was still thinking about Sarah’s remark when he came back down the stairs fifteen minutes later.
When he had driven up here, he had quite honestly wanted to invite Kristen to Christmas. There hadn’t been any romantic inclinations in his head. Sure, he’d always found her attractive—physically and intellectually—but through the years, he’d convinced himself he’d firmly lost his chance with her. Now wasn’t the time to start thinking they could begin afresh.
Stay the course. Wait for the marching band.
But there was a part of him that wanted to stop the clock and break from his game and see what he might have with her if he made them the priority this time, instead of focusing on what each of them was trying to achieve independently.
He re-entered the shed to find Ted and Sarah thumping a half-inflated beach ball back and forth at each other.
“Eyes, hair, smile,” Ted said.
“Not physical. Like what three things do you love most about her personality?” Sarah asked.
“Her laugh?”
“How about her sense of humor?” Sarah said.
“Yes. She’s always cheerful.”
“Dad, that’s boring,” Sarah protested.
“No, it’s not. It’s nice.”
“It’s boring, isn’t it, Finn? Would you say Kristen’s best feature is she’s ‘cheerful’?”
“Why does this feel like a trick question?” He leaned forward when the ball headed his direction. He got his fist under it and bopped it back toward Sarah. “I would call Kristen cheerful. To her face even.” He sidestepped to return the ball again. “She always finds the bright side of things. Rather than complain, she finds a way to solve whatever is bugging her. How is that a bad thing?”
“That’s what I’m wondering,” Ted said, punching the underside of the ball as it lobbed toward him.
“It’s not romantic. What do you love about her?” Sarah asked Ted.
Her independence.
Finn wasn’t sure where that voice in his head came from, but he knew it to be bang on. He did admire Kristen’s self-reliance. None of his subsequent relationships had withstood the demands of his vocation. It wasn’t as if he had prioritized going to the bar or hanging with poker buddies over spending time with a woman, but all his breakups had left him with a lingering sense of responsibility, as though it was his fault things hadn’t worked out. Because of who and what he wanted to be.
Of course, none of his relationships had been terribly serious and that might have been his fault, too. He had let go of someone he
was crazy about. It had never felt right to let someone else get that close.
Not for the first time, he wondered if breaking up with Kristen had been the right thing to do. His brain had been rattled, but he’d seen the excitement in her eyes that summer. She’d been eager to start her college years. All summer, he had fought the temptation to let her change schools, knowing she deserved exactly what he had already enjoyed—a new environment where she could discover who she was away from the influences of home.
But who was to say they wouldn’t have survived all this time if she had changed schools? Maybe—
Plop.
“Finn, that was yours,” Sarah said.
“Sorry. I was thinking about something.”
Ted’s mouth twitched. “Let’s head back to the chalet. I’m starving.”
Ted showed him the small garden shed that held the sand spreader and bags of sand. Then they walked a circuitous route so Ted could throw down a fresh layer. He pointed out where it was likely to need more after traffic went over it in the morning.
Bonzo appeared wearing dreadlocks of snow. Sarah moved out of earshot with the dog, throwing snowballs for him to chase.
“Once my family is here, they’ll pitch in and we’ll get caught up, but if you need an excuse to stay through Christmas…” Ted began.
“Thanks.” Finn gave Ted a sideways, self-deprecating grin. “That’s a really kind offer. But I haven’t spent Christmas with my family in years. I’d be breaking a blood oath if I don’t show up.”
“Sarah has it wrong, then?”
“I can’t say she’s completely wrong,” Finn admitted, digging deeper into his feelings trunk than he usually did, especially with someone he didn’t know that well.
Ted was the kind of solid guy he couldn’t help trusting, though. And Ted was doing what Finn hoped he would ultimately accomplish. Ted’s work was different, but it was work he loved. The line between his work and family life was blurry, but he found a way to walk it. He was growing his family, supporting them, and satisfied.
Finn aspired to exactly that.
“Kristen and I have a lot of history. Most of it really good.” Finn pushed his hands into his pockets further as he contemplated how much he cherished her friendship, now that he had reconnected with her. “I’d hate to jeopardize where we are.”
“I hear you.” Ted nodded. “It’s pretty cool to spend your life with your best friend, though. Shoot, I should have told Sarah that.” He looked for his daughter. “Why is she asking me, out of the blue, why I love Wendy? Makes me nervous.”
Finn knew Ted was still concerned about Sarah’s reaction to the expected baby.
“She’s probably writing a poem or something for Christmas. Now I’ve gone and ruined your surprise.”
“Maybe,” Ted agreed. He pointed out the entrance to the parking lot as the last vital spot to be generous with the sand before they headed inside.
Sarah was already there, straddling Bonzo like a pony as she rubbed a towel over his shaggy fur.
“She’s my best friend,” Ted informed her. “That’s what I love most about Wendy.”
“Aww.” Sarah paused to give him a nod of approval. “That’s really nice, Dad.”
She glanced at Finn and something in her expression felt like an inquiry, making him feel put on the spot.
Finn wanted to blurt out that he had always considered Kristen’s brother, Carson, to be his best friend. There was no way he wanted to date him. As for Kristen being his best friend? How did that feel like putting on a crisp new shirt that fit perfectly against his skin?
“I’m going to check out the rest of your games,” Finn said, mind so blown he needed a moment to himself. “If you allow medical terms, I might have a chance at winning Scrabble.”
*
Along with pitching in on the dinner rush, Kristen made sure all the laundry was caught up and prepped all the supplies for turning over the rooms that were checking out tomorrow.
Through it all, someone was playing Christmas carols on the piano in the lounge.
“Kristen, you’re making me dizzy. You have to sit down,” Wendy said.
“Literally the kettle holder calling the pot black.” Kristen pointed at the kettle Wendy was filling at the sink.
“I had a nap this afternoon,” Wendy said. “You’ve been scrambling around all evening.”
“I like to be organized.”
“Well, it’s time to knock off. Sarah just took my guitar into the lounge. Apparently Finn plays? I’m going to boil water for anyone who wants to make a tea or cocoa then sit down myself. I want you to do the same.”
“Okay, okay.” Drawn by curiosity, Kristen moved into the great room where Finn was tuning the guitar.
Mrs. Entwhistle was on the piano bench, her husband on the sectional next to the woman with the strained ankle, her husband on her other side. Sarah was on the floor with Bonzo. The Scrabble game was still open on the coffee table and Finn sat on a dining room chair he’d carried closer to the fire. Ted had the armchair and patted the armrest when Wendy appeared.
Kristen drew the hassock to the end of the sofa and sat on that, listening as Finn tuned the guitar and told Sarah, “Most of the songs I know by heart are golden oldies. I broke my finger playing Frisbee my first year of med school and rehabbed it by running scales and playing along with whatever was coming through the speakers in the extended care clinic where I worked part-time.”
“What do you mean, ‘running scales’?” Sarah asked.
Finn demonstrated by picking out notes on each string, starting with a low bass note and climbing methodically to a sharp high one before he stepped his way back to end on the low one again.
“But I didn’t have time to practice guitar and study so I did them at the same time.” He picked out the notes again, but this time he sang as he climbed the scale. “Bone types are…flat, long, short…sesamoid…and ir-reg-u-lar.” He held the last syllable for a few high notes. Then repeated as he went down, “Flat, long, short, flat, long short, sesamoid, ir-reg-u…lar…” The last was long and super low.
Everyone laughed.
“Thank you, thank you very much,” he said in the way of a cheesy lounge singer. “My next number, on a blues scale, is a ditty I call, ‘causes of inflammation.’ Bet you know some of these words. Join in.” He nodded at the woman with the wrapped ankle, but he only played one note, then brushed away his silliness.
“Did you really do that?” Sarah asked with a skeptical tilt of her head.
“I really did. Sometimes, when a patient isn’t looking, I still go like this.” He picked out notes in the air with his left hand. “To make sure I’m considering all the possible causes for the symptoms they’re presenting.”
“You should have been playing Christmas carols with me,” Mrs. Entwhistle said. “Can you read sheet music?”
“I can follow along by ear if you play. I might get a few notes wrong, but this looks like a forgiving audience.” Finn glanced at Kristen.
Right in this moment, Kristen thought, she could forgive him anything.
Mrs. Entwhistle turned the page in the book and began playing “Deck the Halls.”
Everyone joined in singing and they moved straight into “Frosty the Snowman” and “Winter Wonderland.”
After that, Sarah wanted to play a guessing game where she put odd objects in a fuzzy stocking and passed it around for everyone to guess. The winner got to pick a candy cane from the tree.
Kristen won three in a row. She gave her second candy cane to the injured woman and thanked Mrs. Entwhistle for her music with the third.
“You didn’t like my song about inflammation?” Finn asked, pretending to be wounded at being overlooked.
Kristen rewarded him by snapping off the bottom of her rum and butter candy cane and giving it to him.
Looking at the jagged edge, he began to sing, “Types of fractures. Transverse, oblique…”
“Can we get some pretzels to go with this nu
t?” Kristen nudged his shoulder on her way by.
Their little party broke up soon after. Wendy was yawning and the young couple had to get on the road first thing.
The Entwhistles were leaving in the morning and Mrs. Entwhistle asked, “Will we see you tomorrow, Sarah? You wanted my help with a craft. Would you like to bring it to my room right now?”
Sarah nodded and ran to fetch the bag she had brought home from the bargain store.
Mr. Entwhistle had Ted locked into a conversation about the area’s history. Kristen followed to where Wendy began cleaning up the used teacups.
“I’ll do this. You go up.”
Wendy glanced at Ted.
“He might be caught for while,” Kristen said ruefully. “But if you’ve already gone up, he can make his excuses.”
“Gotcha.” Wendy slipped away.
“Ted said there’s quite a bit to do tomorrow,” Finn said as he brought the dining room chair back. He had left the guitar on the top of the piano. “You’ll let me know what you need me to help with?”
“You have to get on your way. Otherwise you’ll be driving home on Christmas Eve. Wendy said Ted’s family will start to arrive tomorrow afternoon. The pressure will ease off.”
“I’ll stick around until lunch. Ted and Wendy are great. I’m happy to help out.”
“Thanks, Finn. Make sure you flick the lights again, so I know you get home safe.” She was teasing, but serious. She cared about him. Which made her blush in mortification. She didn’t want her feelings to be so obvious.
He started to say something, then seemed to change his mind. “I will. Good night, Kristen.”
Chapter Nine
The morning passed in a blur. Sarah turned over laundry while Kristen cleaned cabins and Wendy ran the office. Finn appeared at odd moments, yet right in the nick of time, bringing out special welcome baskets that Wendy had prepared to leave in the cabins that families would occupy, then catching Kristen under her elbow when she moved too fast across an icy patch and almost lost her footing.
“I can’t believe how cold it’s gotten,” she said, wanting to hurry back to the chalet, but afraid to move any faster.
“I know.” Finn threw his arm around her and hugged her into the puffy quilting of his jacket. “Makes me think of that time when we had the ice storm at home. Do you remember? I saw you in the backyard the next morning. I came out to ask what you were doing. You pointed out how pretty the sun looked, sparkling through the branches that were all coated with ice and frost. It was freezing, but I stood out there with you because it was pretty. It was the first time I realized you were your own person.”