One Snowy Night

by Patience Griffin

“Okay.”

  Donovan stood back and Hope stepped inside.

  Rick came out of the kitchen carrying a pizza stone and set it on the dining room table. “Hope, join Donovan for lunch. I’m leaving in a moment and our boy here hates to eat alone. Especially since he went to all the trouble to make this marvelous pizza.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from angling to the side to get a better look. It really was a masterpiece: sausage, pepperoni, and black olives piled high with oozing strips of mozzarella layered on top, and spinach leaves perched around the circumference of the pan. The man should open a pizza parlor in Sweet Home.

  “There’s plenty,” Donovan offered.

  Hope stopped staring at the pizza and held up the moose fabric, trying to ignore her stomach’s rumblings. “I brought fabric from home for Wandering Moose Cabin. That is, if you want it. I don’t know if you noticed, but the curtains have outlived their usefulness. I can make the curtains tonight and bring them back tomorrow. With your approval, of course.”

  Rick beamed. “See! What did I tell you? Hope is our girl!”

  Hope wanted to say she hadn’t been anyone’s girl in a long, long time.

  Donovan touched the fabric. He was probably thinking of the accident, too, and gave her a sad sort of smile. “I think it would be great. You don’t mind using your own fabric for the curtains?”

  “Not at all.”

  “You can’t make them on your own time, though,” Donovan decreed. “I bet one of the sewing machines in Nan’s studio still works. If not, run home and bring your sewing machine back here. You sew on my time.”

  Donovan fingered the fabric. “I really love the idea of decorating each cabin according to its name. Do you have any more of the moose fabric, enough for a quilt?”

  She shook her head.

  Rick was standing at the table, cutting up the pizza. “Don, you should take Hope to Anchorage or Fairbanks to pick out fabric. Get the lodge fixed up right.”

  “No,” Hope said. She couldn’t believe Rick had put Donovan in that situation. He wouldn’t want to take her anywhere. “Really, I don’t mind making the curtains at home tonight with what I have.”

  “If it’s for the lodge, you do it here during working hours,” Donovan said firmly.

  “Well, I’m outta here,” said Rick as he put two pieces of pizza on a paper plate and laid foil over the top. “My lady is waiting.”

  “Bye,” said Hope. “Have a good time.”

  “Text when you get there,” Donovan added.

  “Will do.” Rick picked up the duffel bag at the door with his free hand. “Hope, we’ll get all your paperwork squared away when I get back.” With that he was gone, leaving Hope and Donovan alone.

  * * *

  • • •

  “WE NEED TO talk.” With Rick gone, Donovan felt awkward, but there were things he and Hope needed to discuss. Not about the lodge, but more important things.

  He took the moose fabric from her and set it on the arm of the couch.

  “Talk about what?” Hope seemed as cautious as a mother deer.

  “Come get a plate. And tell me what you’d like to drink,” Donovan said.

  “Water.” Hope followed him into the kitchen.

  He pulled two of his grandmother’s stoneware plates from the cabinet, handing them to her, and then poured two glasses of filtered water for them.

  In the dining room, he took his seat, deciding to start the conversation with something benign. “I know you said that you wouldn’t clean up after me, but I was wondering if you could fix up Nan’s studio this afternoon, since you refused to take the rest of the day off. Or at least start on it?”

  “You’re the boss,” she muttered.

  Donovan nodded to the food. “Dig in. I can’t eat it all myself.” Which wasn’t true. Cold pizza for breakfast was one of his favorites. He took two slices and set them on his plate. “While you’re cleaning up the studio, can you make a list of things that might spruce up the space?”

  She stared him down. “I doubt the new owners will want to have a large sewing room.”

  True. “Well, I’d like to make the studio into something that Nan would be proud of.” Ugh, he was being sentimental. “Courtney has some ideas about what to turn the space into.”

  Hope didn’t look happy about the prospect of involving Courtney. The truth was that he didn’t want Courtney involved either.

  “Eat up,” Donovan said, before he took his first bite.

  Hope covered her unhappiness by taking a piece of pizza.

  He wanted her to take a few bites before he delved into the other reason he needed to talk to her.

  They both ate in silence. He wished Rick had started some music before he left. The air was heavy with unsaid words. Disjointed thoughts weighed heavy on his mind. But he chose to focus on the tangible. Boomer was lying by the fire. The sky clouded up outside. And the grandfather clock had just chimed two.

  Donovan looked down at the envelope that Rick had left on the table. When Hope had nearly finished her slice of pizza, Donovan picked up the envelope and set it beside her.

  “I know this won’t make up for not being in Ella’s life,” he said, “but here’s a check for back child support. Rick did some research and came up with a fair number.”

  Hope looked horrified . . . and speechless. Finally, she said, “I don’t want your money!” and pushed the envelope back to him. “I just need the job here. Until I can find another one.”

  “Take the money, Hope. It’s for Ella, anyway, not for you.”

  “No. And don’t even think about trying to give it to Ella. I’ve raised her to take care of herself. You flashing a bunch of cash in front of my daughter will only confuse her.”

  Yeah, he didn’t like how Hope kept saying my daughter. He’d have to make her see reason. “What about incidentals for Ella? A little walking-around money?” As Nan used to call it. He had to do something. He just couldn’t sit around while his daughter lived in poverty. “What about clothes? A car?”

  “No! Ella doesn’t need a car.” Hope looked infuriated. After a minute she sighed and said, “Okay, I will accept child support going forward. You could pay for her phone and her school clothes.”

  “I will absolutely take care of those. What about groceries?” he asked.

  “We’re fine.”

  He could tell he’d better back off.

  “I just want to be clear, I’m talking about going forward,” she said. “No back support. I mean it. What’s done is done.”

  The way she said it made him think that was her mantra. Well, he’d give in now, but maybe he could provide support for her and Ella without Hope knowing. “What about a college fund?” he asked. “Does Ella have one?”

  Hope sighed heavily. “There’s no fund.”

  “Does Ella want to go to college?”

  “I would love her to go.”

  He could almost hear what Hope didn’t say: I would love for Ella to have the college experience that I never had.

  “Would you let me set up a college fund? I’ll make sure it’s fully funded—books, tuition, room, and board.” He wanted to invest in Ella’s future because he hadn’t been part of her past.

  Hope shook her head and looked up as if she were complaining to the ceiling.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Ella’s my responsibility!”

  “It took both of us to make her.”

  “Yeah, except . . .” She sighed. “I can’t lie, you helping with college takes a huge load off my shoulders.” But she didn’t look happy about it.

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t take charity.”

  “It’s not charity, Hope. She’s my daughter, too.” To him, his voice sounded like stone. He hoped Hope heard it, that he wasn’t budging.
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br />   “Fine. Help with college, then.” She still seemed conflicted, but he didn’t care. If nothing else, his money would buy Ella a future.

  Hope looked as if her brain were spinning. “But let’s not say anything to Ella yet.”

  “Why?” Was Hope trying to keep him and Ella apart? “While I’m here, I want to get to know my daughter.” And after he left, he would make sure that he came back often to see her. And she could come to Florida and visit him and her grandfather, too. “What’s your reasoning behind not letting Ella know that I’m going to be part of her life going forward?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Good grief, Donovan, it’s not personal. Ella is trying to come to grips with having a living father. I want to be the one to talk to her about college and everything.” Her frown deepened. “And she’s not necessarily speaking to me at the moment,” Hope said, almost to herself.

  “Can I do anything to help?” Donovan asked.

  Hope scooted back her chair. “No. All I wanted was my assignment for this afternoon and you’ve given it to me.”

  * * *

  • • •

  HOPE SNATCHED THE moose fabric from the couch and headed down the hall to Elsie’s sewing studio, feeling even more humiliated than she had this morning, when she’d been forced to take this job. How was that even possible?

  Donovan and his damn envelope had caught her off guard. And then on the opposite end of the spectrum, she was still reeling from the kiss this morning. She swore her lips were still tingling.

  Someone was following her down the hall. Girding herself, she spun around, but it was only Boomer. She scooped him up and held him close. “I’m glad you’re here, cutie. Your owner is driving me crazy!”

  She walked into the studio and scanned the room, which she hadn’t seen since she brought in the firewood. A new wave of nostalgia hit her. It was as if the Sisterhood of the Quilt had just stepped out to have a bite to eat at the dining room table and would be right back to their cutting and sewing. She could almost feel the love—the love they poured into their quilting projects and the love they had for one another. The love seemed to overflow from the studio to the lodge and into Sweet Home itself. The studio made Hope remember everything good, everything right with the world. Now there was just a void, an emptiness that had never been filled, keeping her from feeling whole. She quashed the sadness. Now wasn’t the time to feel sorry for herself; now was the time to work.

  Hope took a critical eye to everything she saw. The room was large, bigger than the expansive living room. But instead of bear rugs covering a wood floor, this one had worn linoleum with spent threads everywhere, as if Elsie had been sewing only this morning. Design walls were hung on three sides with pins still stuck in them. Bolts of fabric stood upright on a specialty shelf, and there was fabric stretched across the long island in the center of the room, where irons were evenly spaced along the homemade ironing board.

  “The first thing to do is to sweep the floor.” Hope set Boomer in the chair in the corner and grabbed a broom. “I’ll let you roam as soon as I get these threads up. Otherwise, you’d track them all over the house.”

  “Are you talking to me?” Donovan said, startling her. He was leaning in the doorway.

  “I’m talking to your dog,” she said.

  “Listen, Hope, I didn’t mean to upset you by trying to give you money. Never my intent. I just thought I should—”

  “Be the big man and point out how I haven’t made anything of myself?” she finished for him.

  “No. That’s not it at all. Ella is entitled to her father’s help.” He walked farther into the room and picked up a rotary cutter from the cutting mat. He stared directly at the tool but clearly wasn’t seeing it. “I hate that I’ve been a deadbeat dad.”

  Do not feel sorry for Donovan, she told herself. She forced a roll of her eyes. “Please. You had no idea that Ella existed.” What made her want to lay a hand on his arm to soothe the hurt expression on his face? She stayed rooted to the spot, not trusting herself to move closer to him.

  He took the broom from her and began sweeping the threads into a pile. She watched for a second—maybe longer than that, actually—then left the room to find the Windex and the paper towels from under the kitchen sink.

  When she got back, Donovan was scooping the threads into a dustpan. Hope went to the first window without a word.

  They proceeded to work in silence, doing a strange dance as they straightened and cleaned his grandmother’s beloved room. It was almost hypnotic, and for once, the nagging voice inside Hope’s head quieted.

  At four thirty, she received a text from Ella.

  When are you coming home?

  Hope looked over at Donovan, who was dusting one of the tabletops, and found that he was staring back.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.” Hope hated to do this. “Do you mind if I leave now? I’ll work extra tomorrow. The text was from Ella.”

  “Not tomorrow; it’s Sunday.”

  “Right.”

  “Go on home.” He gave a little scoot gesture. “Let me know if you come up with ideas for updating this room or any of the other rooms on the property.”

  “I will.” Hope scratched Boomer behind the ears and stepped outside, where she texted Ella that she was on her way. Hope’s heart was racing and for a change it had nothing to do with Donovan. Ella is looking for me! Maybe Ella had forgiven her.

  But Ella only wanted to borrow the car.

  “Lacy and I are going to Tyler’s house to decorate for his Halloween party.”

  Hope gestured at the calendar hanging by a nail on the kitchen wall. “It’s a little early, isn’t it?”

  “Geesh, Mom. The party is next weekend. We have a lot of exams next week so we thought we’d get started on it now,” Ella said.

  “Is there going to be a keg at Tyler’s party?” Hope knew this direct question would certainly provoke Ella’s anger.

  Sure enough, Ella glared. “Can I have the car or not? Lacy’s mom has theirs. Apparently, Aberdeen’s date tonight isn’t able to drive.”

  Hope didn’t ask Ella what that meant but instead handed her the keys. “Don’t have a drop of alcohol or your driving privileges will be revoked. Forever.”

  Ella rolled her eyes and walked toward the door without a word.

  “I want you home before midnight,” Hope said. Sober, unharmed, safe.

  Ella only grunted before slamming the door behind her.

  Hope walked into the living room, feeling defeated. She was too tired to make dinner and wished she’d nabbed some of Donovan’s pizza before leaving the lodge. If she’d known why Ella wanted her home, she could’ve made a pit stop at the Hungry Bear first. They needed milk, canned tuna, and bread, at the very least. She shoved her stocking cap back on her head and headed off for the store on foot. If she hurried, she should make it before it closed. But if not, she still had the key in her coat pocket and she would use it this one last time.

  Ten minutes later and a bit winded, Hope got close enough to the store to see Piney locking up for the night. But the weird thing was she was outside the store, instead of in, and holding several bulging Hungry Bear shopping bags.

  Hope hurried across the street. “Closing up a few minutes early?”

  Startled, Piney spun around. “Oh, it’s you. I was just coming to your place.”

  “To see Bill?” Hope asked. Piney never came to see her, so she must mean Bill.

  Piney held up the bags. “A grocery delivery for you.”

  Oh, heck no. Hope didn’t want charity. “You don’t need to give me groceries. I came to buy my own.”

  “They’re not from me, buttercup. I got a telephone order to send groceries to your house.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know,” Piney said.

  “How c
an you not know? You know everyone in town.” But Hope had a sneaking suspicion of who it might be. “Male or female?”

  “Um, female.” Piney seemed a little rattled.

  “How did this woman pay? With a credit card?”

  Piney looked downright agitated. “Stop asking so many questions and help me get these bags into Betsy.” Betsy was Piney’s Volkswagen Beetle. “The milk is heavy.”

  Hope took the bags from her. They really were stuffed. “What’s in here?”

  “Milk, bread, meat. Just everyday items,” Piney said.

  Hope waited while Piney opened the car door. “Oh, fine, but tell Donovan not to do it again.” He’d certainly worked fast. He must’ve called Piney before her car was out of the lodge’s driveway.

  “No one said it was him,” Piney said stubbornly. “I don’t know who it was.”

  Hope put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the key to the Hungry Bear. “Here. I also came to return this. I don’t need it anymore.”

  Piney gaped as if Hope were handing her a beating heart. “K-keep it,” the older woman said, fairly choked up. “In case of emergency.”

  Hope continued to hold it out to her.

  Piney clasped Hope’s hand, closing her fingers around the key. “You’re still my backup, buttercup. What if I have to rush Sparkle to the hospital again?” Piney gave her a sad smile. “What if you have a hankering for mint chocolate chip ice cream in the middle of the night?”

  “I won’t—” Hope began.

  “Keep the key,” Piney said firmly.

  Piney was family when Hope didn’t have any. She couldn’t let this one thing with the Hungry Bear ruin their relationship. “Fine.” Hope felt like she was doing a lot of giving in tonight.

  “That’s my girl,” Piney cooed. “Now get in Betsy and let me give you and your groceries a lift home.”

  When they got to Hope’s house, Bill came out onto his porch and waved.

  Hope said good night and trudged to the house with her groceries in tow. When she got inside her empty cottage, she wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch and close her eyes. But she had food to put away.