“You wanna go first?” Harris adjusted his goggles. “Kinda lead the way since you know this run.”
“Good idea.” West patted Harris on the shoulder. “Just take it easy, man, stay focused—and it doesn’t hurt to pray.” He grinned. “That helped get me down the first time.”
“And you wanted to do it again?”
“Sure. I mean, you have to be in the right frame of mind. But every once in a while, I like the challenge.”
“Uh-huh.” Harris pulled his stocking hat down over his ears and nodded.
“And if your legs get tired or shaky, just holler down at me and we’ll take a break.”
“Okay.” Harris stared down the steep slope. “Oh, man, oh, man.”
“Here goes nothing.” West took off and, blocking out all else, focused on the run.
After a lot of breaks and pep talks, they finally made it down. Harris was so tired, he could hardly walk. “My legs feel like rubber,” he admitted as they paused outside the lodge.
“Looks like Emma texted me—in fact, a few times.” West read her first message. “Uh-oh.”
“What happened?”
“Grant broke his arm.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Emma says he had a bad fall.” He read the next text. “He was taken by ambulance to the hospital, and she and Gillian followed.”
“That must’ve been fun.” Harris pulled off his stocking hat, running his hand through his damp, messy hair.
“This last text says they just left the emergency room.” He checked the time. “They’re probably home by now. So I guess you’ll have to ride back with me.”
“As long as I don’t have to walk.” Harris shook his head. “How far away are you parked anyway?”
West laughed. “You can do it, buddy. Just think, you just made one of the steepest runs in Colorado—and you didn’t break anything but a good sweat.”
“And then Grant goes and breaks his arm on the bunny slope. Figures.”
As West drove them home, he felt sorry for Grant and slightly amazed that it hadn’t been Harris to suffer an injury. It had been obvious early on that Nine Lives was too much for him, but West had to give him credit for not giving up. Oh, he’d wanted to and had even asked about being rescued. But eventually they made it down, taking much longer than West would’ve on his own. At least they made it down before the sun set. That could’ve presented a serious problem.
But now West had a different problem. He needed to think of a way to tell his mother he wasn’t leaving for Arizona until tomorrow. And he wasn’t even sure about that. He still hadn’t gotten enough time with Emma.
eleven
Emma got a blanket from the linen closet and laid it over Grant. He was comfortably resting on the big leather sectional in the main living room with his arm propped up and a football game playing on TV. Meanwhile, Mr. Landers, in an effort to appease his wife, who was still in a foul mood, was fixing dinner. Gillian was unwinding in the hot tub. What she needed to unwind from was a mystery to Emma.
“I just can’t believe it.” Mrs. Landers was pacing again. “I knew it was a mistake to come to snow country. And on the very first day Grant nearly kills himself skiing.”
“A broken arm is not life-threatening,” Mr. Landers yelled from the kitchen.
“Yeah, Mom, don’t worry so much,” Grant said. “I’m not in any real pain. It’s no big deal. Besides, Emma has been taking good care of me.”
“But if we’d spent Christmas at home, this never would’ve happened.” Mrs. Landers was literally wringing her hands—making Emma feel even more guilty.
“I’m so sorry this happened,” she told Mrs. Landers. “If Grant hadn’t been—”
“It’s not your fault, Emma,” Grant interrupted. “I made a stupid mistake.”
“Yes, but you were trying to help me.”
“Which was ridiculous. You didn’t need any help.” He chuckled as he muted a commercial. “I did.”
“That’s just my point,” his mother declared. “We are not a skiing family. Your father had no business doing this home exchange.”
“Hey, I was having a good time skiing. And I think when my arm heals up and I get a bit more practice, I will become a fairly decent skier. So, Mom, if I’m not complaining, why are you?”
“Why am I?” Mrs. Landers blew out a frustrated sigh, then marched off toward her bedroom, muttering to herself about what a waste this trip had been.
“How about a fire?” Emma asked Grant, hoping to distract him from his mom’s negativity. “That one last night was so cozy and warm.”
He grinned. “Do you actually know how to make a fire in an old-fashioned fireplace? I mean, I’m used to gas fireplaces where you push a button, and presto—flames.”
“Who made the fire yesterday?”
“I don’t know. It was going when we got here. Probably our caretaker.”
She nodded. “Well, my parents’ house happens to have an old-fashioned fireplace. It looks like there’s enough wood right here to get one going. And I saw more firewood out by the garage.”
“Great. I’d like to see a real Girl Scout in action.”
Emma quickly got a fire started, then went outside to fetch more wood. She’d fully loaded the wood carrier when the Jeep pulled up. She waited as West and Harris got out, noticing that Harris seemed to be moving slowly.
“Are you okay?” she asked him. “Break any bones?”
“Just sore,” he muttered. “Need hot tub.”
She laughed. “Well, Gillian will be happy for some company. And afterward, you and Grant can commiserate over your battle wounds.”
“Let me get that for you.” West took the log carrier from her.
“Thanks.” She noticed he still had some spring in his step as they all went into the house. Meanwhile Harris barely spoke to anyone and headed straight for the hot tub. West paused to stoke the fire, then loaded the rest of the wood into the heavy metal holder before going back for a second load and stacking it neatly as well. “This should keep you going for a while.” He turned to Grant. “I hear you bailed.”
“Huh?”
“Your wipeout. You know, when you fell and broke your arm.”
“Oh, yeah.” Grant nodded.
“So how you feeling?”
“Not too bad considering. But I’m bummed that I won’t get to ski anymore this week. I was just getting the hang of it too.”
“Yeah, you’d improved so much after our last lesson. I’m surprised you had such a bad fall.”
“It was my fault,” Emma confessed. “I was about to take a tumble when Grant tried to help me.”
“Pretty dumb considering she remained upright and I totally ate it.”
“It wasn’t pretty.” Emma cringed, remembering the awkward angle of his broken arm. “And I know it was painful.”
“Tell me about it.” He shook his head.
Emma frowned. “Yeah, but you held it together, Grant.”
“You didn’t hear me crying like a little girl when the paramedics loaded me into the ambulance.” Grant slapped his forehead. “Crud! That reminds me.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I totally forgot about the car—the Prius that belongs to the house.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out keys. “I used it to drive Harris and me to the lodge this morning. It’s still parked over there.”
West frowned. “Well, I guess I can take someone over there to get it.”
Grant pointed to his cast. “Not me with this thing. And Gillian and Harris are in the hot tub. Dad’s in the middle of—”
“I’ll help you get it,” Emma offered. She was eager to get out of the house. “Wait while I get my coat and boots.”
“Right . . . and if no one minds, I need to get something from the master suite—for my boss. He, uh, forgot something up there.”
“Oh?” Emma studied him, noticing he seemed uneasy. “But aren’t the homeowners in Arizona? How will you get it there?”
“Next day air. No big deal.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, I’m the one using that bedroom, but come on up.” As she led the way upstairs, she warned him the room might be messy.
“That’s okay. The homeowner isn’t real tidy either.” He entered the room with an amused expression. “The place looks pretty neat to me. Better than usual in fact.” He pulled out a key ring and unlocked what appeared to be a walk-in closet. “My boss locked this up since it’s got his personal stuff inside. I’ll just be a minute or two.” He went in and closed the door behind him.
As Emma pulled on her jacket, she wondered what his boss had forgotten that was important enough to go to this much trouble. Obviously, the homeowners trusted West since they’d given him a key to that closet.
West emerged with a large Nike duffel bag, then relocked the door. “All set.”
“Your boss must’ve forgotten a lot,” she said as they went downstairs.
“He’s never been a very efficient packer.” West chuckled as they went outside. “One summer he went to London and realized he’d forgotten to pack any shoes and all he had was the flip-flops he’d worn on the flight.”
“So did you send him shoes?”
“Nah. He just asked the hotel concierge to shop for some for him.”
“Well, he’s obviously rich enough to do that.”
She watched him toss the duffel into the back of the Jeep, and before long, they were driving through the charming downtown area. The quaint buildings were now glowing with strings of Christmas lights, and the old-fashioned golden streetlights reflected on the twilight-tinged snow. “It’s so incredibly pretty here.” She sighed as he stopped for a red light. “It’s like driving through a beautiful Christmas card. Or a Hallmark Christmas movie.”
He laughed. “Never heard that before.”
“You’re lucky to live here, West.”
“I feel pretty blessed.”
“Yes, blessed is a much better word for it. Seeing those mountains today . . . it made me think about God’s creativity—to make such a beautiful world. And with so much diversity. I’ll admit I haven’t seen much of it—not in person—but I love watching travel shows . . . and imagining going someday.”
“If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?”
“Anywhere?” She considered this. “Money’s no object?”
“Sure. You just won the lottery. Where would you go?”
“I’d love to go to Switzerland . . . to see the Swiss Alps.”
“Ah, good choice. The Matterhorn is magnificent.”
“You’ve seen it?”
“Well, uh, obviously I’ve seen it in photos. Who hasn’t?”
“But being here in Colorado—it must be nearly as good as the Swiss Alps, don’t you think? So I’m not complaining.”
“Do you think you’ll still be into skiing? Even though Grant got hurt?”
“Of course. In fact, I didn’t tell Grant, but I was sort of frustrated at him for getting hurt because I wanted to keep skiing. Pretty selfish, since it was sort of my fault.”
“That’s silly to blame yourself, Emma. Grant already admitted he’d blown it by trying to help you.”
“Yeah, and then I had to lose the last couple hours of skiing.”
West laughed. “You sound like a true-blue skier.”
“I wish.” She wondered how many Arizonans were serious skiers. Well, besides Harris. “So how did it go on Nine Lives?” she asked. “Harris looked pretty worn out.”
He laughed even louder now. “I think old Harris bit off more than he could chew. I felt a little guilty for allowing him to take on the backcountry.”
“Well, he asked for it.”
West described some of their run. “Besides being worried that he could get injured, I actually felt sorry for him.”
“Well, I’m glad he didn’t get hurt, but I think it serves him right for being so hard on Grant and me. Now he knows how we felt.”
West pointed to a brightly lit restaurant. “Hey, if you guys ever need a great place to eat—that’s the spot.”
“Bullwinkle’s Dinner Club. Looks like fun.”
“Want to go grab a bite?”
“Seriously? Now?”
“Why not? I know I’m starving after my last run.”
“I’m pretty hungry too.” She considered Mr. Landers making their dinner. He wasn’t the greatest cook . . . but still. “I don’t know.”
“Bullwinkle’s usually has some decent music going on. Especially during holidays.”
“What kind of music?”
“Oh, something along the lines of folksy-country-bluesy.” He chuckled. “That’s probably not very descriptive.”
“I actually get it. In fact, you’re speaking my language. I like folksy-country-bluesy music myself.”
“So how about it? Hey, there’s a parking spot right in front. It’s calling to us.”
“Okay! I’ll text Gillian that I won’t be home for dinner. I doubt they’ll miss me anyway.”
“Well, you’re probably wrong about that. But I won’t let you back out now.”
Just like that they were going into a rustically charming restaurant that instantly felt familiar to Emma. Maybe it was the music. West hadn’t exaggerated—it was very good. The food was even better. But West’s company was the best. He was interesting and well versed on music—and just plain fun.
It would’ve been nice to linger longer, but Emma remembered the abandoned car at the lodge. “Shouldn’t we go get it?” she asked West.
“I guess so.” He sounded reluctant but motioned to the waiter to bring their bill.
“Dutch treat.” Emma reached for her purse.
“No way.” He waved his hand. “This one’s on me.” Before she could stop him, he handed the waiter his card—without even looking at the bill. She was tempted to point out that wasn’t too smart but didn’t want to be bossy. Instead, she thanked him and hoped he hadn’t been overcharged.
“This place is great, and I totally loved the music,” she said as they left. Although she hadn’t meant to, she started telling him about her own pursuit of music. “I actually gave up a couple of paying gigs to come to Colorado,” she said as they got in the Jeep. “But I don’t regret it.”
“Seriously? You’re a professional musician?”
She grinned. “Well, that would be stretching the truth. I’m a substitute teacher who aspires to be a musician, and once in a while I get paid to perform.”
“So do you sing? Play an instrument? What?”
“I sing and accompany myself, primarily on guitar. Although I’ve been learning ukulele.”
“Are you any good?”
She laughed. “My mommy and daddy think I’m very talented.”
“Well, they’re probably right. As soon as I met you, I could hear a melodic quality to your voice.”
She laughed again. “Well, thank you . . . I guess.” For a while they talked about music, realizing that they had similar tastes.
“So who are your favorite female performers?” he asked.
“Well, for old school, I like Emmy Lou Harris.”
“Good choice.”
“And Lucinda Williams. And I recently discovered Amanda Shires. Somebody told me I sound like her.”
“Very cool. And how about your favorite male performers?”
“Hmm . . . well, I like Ed Sheeran. And Robert Ellis is good. And, of course, I love Gunner Price.”
“Interesting.” He turned into the mostly vacant ski lodge parking lot.
She heard her phone signaling a text. It was Gillian—demanding to know why Emma wasn’t home yet.
“Everything okay?” he asked as he parked by the lonely blue Prius now dusted with snow.
“Gillian’s irritated that I’m not back by now. Sounds like she and Harris want to use the Prius tonight.” They both got out of the Jeep.
West dug a snow scraper from the trunk and began clearing the windows. “Why don’t they use
the SUV?” he asked her.
“I guess her dad said no. Gillian’s not the best driver. Especially after dark.”
“Great.” West put the scraper in the back, then handed her the keys. “So Gil gets to drive the, uh, the homeowner’s car?”
“I guess.” Emma got into the driver’s side. “Thanks so much for dinner, West. I had a super evening.” Even as she smiled, she felt sad underneath. She hadn’t wanted it to end so abruptly. Especially since people had just started hitting the dance floor at Bullwinkle’s. She would’ve liked a chance to dance with West.
twelve
West wasn’t thrilled to hear that the Ice Princess—a bad driver—would be driving his Prius tonight. But what could he say? If she totaled it, at least it was covered. And the car was six years old anyway. Still, it was aggravating. Instead of going straight home, he decided to stop by the grocery store to replenish the basic necessities he kept in the studio’s kitchenette. Unless his mother really insisted, West was determined to stick around throughout Christmas. He had to get better acquainted with Emma.
After putting the bags in the Jeep, he called his mother. He knew she’d be fretting over his absence and wasn’t even sure what to tell her. Relieved that it went straight to voice mail, he left an apologetic message, insinuating that something regarding his house made it mandatory for him to remain there longer—which was true. Then he promised to get back to her by midday tomorrow. He knew she’d be disappointed. But if she understood the real reason for this delay, she would probably encourage him to stick around. Mom was always nagging him to find the right girl. From what he’d seen so far, Emma had all the right ingredients. Besides being beautiful, she was kind and gentle and sincere . . . and they shared many of the same interests. He felt certain his mom would approve.
When West got home, Gillian, Harris, and Emma were standing outside in front of the Prius. He parked his Jeep off to one side, leaving plenty of room for everyone to come and go then got out.
“Evening, folks,” he called as he retrieved his grocery bags.
“Hey, West,” Emma called back. “I was just telling these guys about Bullwinkle’s Dinner Club—and the good food and music and dancing.”
“And I was telling Emma she needs to go back there with us,” Harris said. “But she’s being very stubborn and refusing.”
The Christmas Swap Page 7