“Now you’ll have a great story to tell all your friends back home about your Christmas in Colorado.” Officer Kates stopped beside a snowmobile. “If you’ll just climb on back here, I’ll take you to your temporary home away from home.”
Trying to look as if she did this sort of thing every day, Barb swung her leg over the snowmobile and straddled the leather seat. Jimmy slid in behind her and put his arm around her. The trooper climbed on in front of them. “Ready?” He called over his shoulder. He revved the engine. “Hang on!”
With a roar, the snowmobile surged ahead. Barb grabbed hold of the trooper with both hands. If he had any objections to her holding on, he’d have to stop to make them, but the snowmobile surged forward, flying over drifts and bouncing through ditches. Some other time, the ride might have been fun. But the swirling snow made it impossible to tell anything about the landscape around them and the icy wind froze Barb’s cheeks and ears. She buried her face against the cold leather of the trooper’s coat.
The machine sputtered to a stop. “You can let go now, Mrs. Stanowski. We’re here.” The trooper gently pried her hands from around his waist.
She sat up straighter and studied the pair of gas pumps to her left. Not new gas pumps, but old metal boxy contraptions, the green and white Sinclair logo faded and flecked with rust. “A gas station?” she asked.
“There are some cabins.” The trooper helped her off the snowmobile. “Technically, the place is closed for the winter, but you’ll be more comfortable here than bedding down on the floor in some makeshift shelter.”
Looking around, Barbara saw other snowmobiles unloading other passengers. She recognized Reuben, the trucker who’d been in front of them. Next to him stood a family—mother, father and two small boys, everyone looking puffy and awkward in layers of parkas, scarves and extra clothing.
“Everyone, this is Mae Harper.” An older trooper addressed them. He indicated a tall wisp of a woman in a man’s long overcoat and green Wellington boots. A gray, black and white dog with upright ears and a plumed tail stood at her side, quietly surveying the visitors. “This is her fishing camp and she’s agreed to open it up for you to stay.”
Mrs. Harper scowled at them, clearly not happy about this intrusion. Barb wondered what kind of threat or bribe the troopers had made in order to persuade her to take in the refugees. “Don’t expect nothing fancy,” she said. The wind whipped a cap of straw-colored hair around her pale face. She looked anywhere between fifty and seventy, her skin leathery and lined, as if she’d spent a lot of time in the sun and wind. But her eyes were a brilliant, piercing blue; she regarded the travelers without sympathy. “These are summer cabins, not properly set up for winter use, but I suppose it’s better than spending the night in your cars.” She fumbled through a handful of keys and thrust one at Barb. “Number three, next to the last toward the far end of the row.” Then she turned toward the family and Reuben and distributed the keys to cabins one and two.
“Come on. Let’s get out of this wind.” Jimmy took Barb’s elbow and led her toward the end of the row of cabins. The structures had all been painted a dark green once, though much of the paint had flaked off, leaving bare, gray boards. Snow drifted on the windowsills and across the threshold. Jimmy fit the key in the lock and shoved open the door.
It was almost as cold inside the cabin as it had been outside. Jimmy flipped the light switch and a single bare bulb suspended from the ceiling cast a jaundiced glow over bare floors, a pitted brass bedstead with a sagging mattress, a wooden table carved with graffiti and three ladder backed chairs. A kitchen with a two-burner stove, half-sized refrigerator and rusty sink filled the corner of the space, and a door next to that led to what Barb supposed was the bathroom.
“It’s horrible.” She started to touch the table and drew back her hand. A thin layer of grime covered everything, and the room smelled of mouse.
Jimmy set down the suitcase and crossed to the thermostat by the bed. “It has heat—that’s something.”
Barb stared at him as he adjusted the thermostat. “Where is my husband and what have you done with him?” she asked.
He stepped back from the thermostat, rubbing his hands together. “What do you mean?”
“You hate the cold. You hate snow. You hate being inconvenienced. Yet you’re acting like this is all a big adventure.”
He shrugged. “Might as well make the best of the situation. It’ll be fine.”
“How can you say that? We’re supposed to be spending Christmas with Maggie and Jameso in Eureka, a perfect postcard of a town. Instead, we’re stuck in a hovel in the middle of nowhere.”
“It’ll be okay.” He moved to her side and patted her shoulder. “This reminds me of our honeymoon.”
Truly, the man had lost it. “We honeymooned in Paris.” Her voice rose at the end of the sentence, tinged with hysteria.
He laughed. “True. But don’t you remember how the hotel lost our reservation and we ended up staying at that pension at the end of the tube line? The room had two twin beds and we ended up squeezed together in one of them.”
Barb had a sudden flash of memory of the thin woman in the black skirt and sweater who had shown them to their room and pretended not to understand Barb’s halting French. There was a certain resemblance to Mae, in attitude, if not appearance. “Then I hope this works out like our honeymoon—the hotel found our reservation the next day and upgraded us to a suite.”
“We’ll be all right.” He gave her a quick hug. “Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Not waiting for her answer to the question, he headed toward the door. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“Back to the car to get the rest of the things we need.”
Chapter Two
As soon as Jimmy was out the door, Barb pulled out her phone and hit the speed dial for Maggie’s number. If nothing else, her friend would offer sympathy, and maybe some advice for getting away from here as soon as possible. She worked at the newspaper in Eureka—maybe she had connections who could tell her when the highway would be open.
The phone was silent. Not even a dial tone. Barb stared at the message on the screen. No Service.
“Of course,” she said out loud. “Why would I expect a place like this to have modern conveniences like phone service?”
A knock on the door made her jump. Expecting the grouchy landlord, Barb hurried to give the woman a piece of her mind about the filthy state of this place. Instead, she stared down into the soft brown eyes of the mother of the two little boys. “Hi. I’m Elena Ramirez. We’re in the cabin next door.” She pointed at the next cabin over. “I came to see if you have an extra chair. We only have three and there’s four of us.”
“Uh, sure. Come in.” Barb stepped out of the doorway and ushered the woman in.
Elena spotted the three chairs at the table. “Three must be what everyone gets,” she said. “Could we use your extra? Otherwise, one of us will have to stand to eat.”
“Help yourself.” She snugged the coat more tightly around herself, though she could feel the first waves of warmth from the cabin’s baseboard heaters. “Is your place as filthy as this one?”
“For sure.” Elena picked up the chair. “But cleaning it will give us something to do. Better than sitting around twiddling our thumbs.” She paused in the doorway and looked Barb up and down, no doubt taking in the pricey fur and designer boots. “I can send my boys over to help if you want. They’re used to hard work.”
Barb didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what Elena was thinking. The helpless rich woman wouldn’t want to risk breaking a nail scrubbing floors. “Oh. That won’t be necessary. Thank you.” She wasn’t completely incompetent. It had been a few years since she’d had to clean her own house, but it wasn’t as if plying soap and water was beneath her.
On her way out the door, Elena almost collided with Mae Harper. “Where are you going with that chair?” Mae demanded.
“Our cabin.” Elena ke
pt walking.
“You put it back before you leave,” Mae called after her.
“Every cabin is supposed to have three chairs,” she grumbled as she moved into Barb’s cabin. The dog squeezed through the door behind her. Mae set a black plastic garbage bag on the table. “There’s sheets, blankets, and towels in there,” she said. “Nothing fancy, and don’t expect maid service. You’ll have to do for yourself.”
“I can see you weren’t expecting company,” Barb said, deciding diplomacy might be more effective than demands.
“You’re not company. The state is paying me to put you people up.” She looked around the cabin, perhaps noting the grime for the first time. “I shut the place after Labor Day and the college girl who cleans for me goes back to school. I’ve got no cause to touch the place until May. I’ve got some buckets and rags and stuff you can use to clean up. Come up to the house and I’ll give them to you.”
“Thank you.” What else could she say? She couldn’t very well ask this old woman to scrub down the cabin for her. “What’s your dog’s name?”
“This is Pearl. You don’t have to worry about her. She’s friendly.”
As if to demonstrate, Pearl walked over and nudged Barb’s hand, and looked up at her with one blue and one brown eye. Barb patted the soft fur between the dog’s ears. “She’s beautiful. What breed is she?”
“Australian Shepherd. They’re herding dogs, but she seems content to herd me.”
“Do you run this place all by yourself? Except for the college girl, that is.”
“The fishermen who rent these cabins aren’t much trouble,” Mae said. “Most of them have been coming here for years, since my daddy opened the place when I was a little girl.”
“So you inherited the family business.”
“I guess that’s what you could call it. My dad needed help and I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so here I am still.”
“It must be a pretty spot in the summer.” Barbara had no idea if this was true; she merely wanted to keep the woman here, talking. She didn’t want to be alone right now, when thoughts of all she was missing by being stranded here would crowd in on her.
“Some people think so. Mostly it’s just the lake and the highway. Not that scenic in my book.”
“It was snowing so hard I had no idea there was even a lake here,” Barb said.
“The largest lake in Colorado.”
“I don’t know much about the state. This is only my second time to visit. We’re on the way to Eureka, to spend Christmas with a friend who lives there.”
“Never been there.” Mae shook her head. “One of the old gold mining towns, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. My friend even owns a gold mine that she inherited from her father.” The French Mistress hadn’t yielded any gold, but just the idea of owning a gold mine made for good conversation.
Except that Mae wasn’t interested in conversation. “Come get the cleaning supplies when you’re ready,” she said, and turned away.
Mae and Pearl left, and Barb stared in dismay at the bag of linens. The prospect of a night, perhaps even several days, in this dreary place was too depressing to contemplate.
The roar of a snowmobile announced Jimmy’s return. Barb raced to the door and opened it to see him climbing off the back of the still-running machine. He carried the rest of their luggage—a large suitcase and a matching duffle. Barb ran to stand beside Officer Kates. She put a hand out to stop him from racing away. “How long do you think we’ll have to stay here?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the idling engine.
“The road’s completely blocked and it’s still snowing. Could be a few days.”
“A few days?” Christmas was a little over two days away. “Through Christmas?”
“Looks like it, ma’am.” He touched his hat brim. “I’ll check back with you in a day or two. Stay warm.”
He sped off, a rooster tail of snow marking his path, until even that was gone. Barb felt colder than ever, like a child who realized that, no matter how good she was or how hard she wished, she wasn’t getting the one thing she really wanted for Christmas.
“Come inside and get warm.” Jimmy put his hand on her shoulder and she let him lead her into the cabin. He’d piled the luggage on the table and the unmade bed. “I brought everything,” he said. “I figured if I left anything in the car, it would be the one thing we needed.” He dug through the pile of boxes and bags and pulled out a gift-wrapped package. “This is for you. Might as well open it now.”
She turned the box over and over in her hand. The paper was crooked—a sure sign Jimmy had wrapped it himself.
“Go on. Open it,” he urged.
She tore the paper and lifted the lid on a pair of fur lined boots with ridged rubber soles. “The clerk said they were really warm,” he said. “I thought you’d need them here in the snow.”
“Thank you. They’re beautiful.” She sat and began to remove the thin-soled, high-heeled leather boots from her freezing feet. The fur lining of the new pair was soft and yes, warm. Not something she’d ever have needed in Houston, but perfect for here. She forced a smile. “Do you want your gift now?” She looked at the jumble of bags and boxes on the table. “I’m not sure where it is.”
“That’s okay. It can wait.” He began opening and closing cupboard doors until he found a kettle, and filled it with water from the tap. “We’ve got those tea bags you were bringing Maggie. She won’t mind if we take a couple.”
“I tried to call her, but we don’t have phone service. I hope she doesn’t worry.”
“She’ll get the report the road’s are closed. Hopefully, she’ll figure out we’re somewhere safe.”
Barb looked around the cabin. “I guess this is what I get for wanting a white Christmas.” She swallowed a knot of tears and reminded herself once more that crying wouldn’t solve anything.
“We can have Christmas here.” Jimmy found the box of tea bags and opened it. “There are plenty of evergreens around. We can cut a tree, make decorations. It could be fun.”
“I can’t believe you’re so ready to play rugged outdoorsman.” After twenty-one years, he could still surprise her.
“Hey! I’m more than some office drone.”
“At least you’ll have a good story to tell when you go back to the office.”
He dropped the tea bags into two mugs. “I’m not going back.”
She laughed. “You’ll just stay here in the woods and play Paul Bunyan?”
“I’m serious.” Indeed, his expression was grim. Barb’s stomach clenched. “I turned in my notice last week.”
The words floated between them, refusing to penetrate her brain. “You did what?”
“I quit. I’m not going back to work there.”
Jimmy had been Chief Financial Officer for Edmunds Oil for ten years. He’d held various other positions in the company for twelve years before that. He worked hard and put in long hours, but she’d never heard him complain. “When were you going to tell me?” she asked.
“I told you last month that I thought I could make a business out of that golf ball washer Michael and I invented.”
She had a vague recollection of him talking about his latest project; as long as she’d known him, Jimmy had created things at a work bench in the garage. Michael had inherited the interest. “I didn’t know you were serious.”
“I was serious. Serious enough to resign.”
She sank into a chair, suddenly too shaky to stand. “What are you going to do?”
“Michael and I are going into business together. Recycling golf balls. That washer we invented works great and he’s already approached half a dozen courses in Houston about diving in their water hazards. We’ll wash the balls, repackage them in egg cartons and resell them. It’s green, it saves golfers money—the timing for this is perfect.”
He grinned, as delighted as any kid. He looked ten years younger, while she felt at least that much older. She knew he and Michae
l had been spending a lot of time in the garage working on this latest creation, but she’d never dreamed it would come to this. “Are you serious? Do you really think you can make a living washing golf balls?”
“Absolutely. It’s the perfect job, centered around two things I love—golf and my son.”
“But . . . Michael drives you crazy.” Michael was a dreamer, completely unmotivated, while Jimmy had always been so practical and dedicated. Jimmy said Michael was lazy. Irresponsible. He and his son clashed all the time over what Jimmy called foolish choices. Yes, they enjoyed tinkering with machinery together, but was that really enough to build a business on? “How are you going to work with him?”
“We’ve been working together on this for months. This is just what he needs to get his life together. It’ll be great.”
“So you’re actually making money at this?”
“Not yet, but we will.”
The sick feeling returned to her stomach. “What are we going to live on in the meantime?”
“I thought you could go out and get a job.”
He laughed at what must have been a horrified expression. Barb had not held a paid job since she was eighteen, when she’d quit a part-time gig as a waitress to enroll at Southern Methodist University in Dallas. She’d put in plenty of hours organizing and fund-raising for various charities, but she wasn’t delusional enough to think anyone would pay her for that—not in this economy.
“I’m just kidding,” he said. “I have money put aside. Everything will be fine.”
She stared at him. How could he be so calm? “You didn’t think maybe this was something you should have discussed with me before you made such a drastic change?”
“I tried to talk to you about it, but you clearly weren’t interested. You’re always telling me I work too hard. I thought you’d be pleased.”
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