When Snowflakes Never Cease (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  Once she’d removed the outer suit, Hank whisked it away as if he hadn’t been beaten and blasted by the snowy howl, too. Had she been capable of speech, Ronni would have asked for coffee. Hank then proved himself a mind reader because he promised to return with a steaming cup to warm her hands. And I’ll be expected to remove these gloves then, I suppose.

  Left alone, she gave the room a closer glance. The home had been decorated by a woman. That was obvious. However, despite unexpected fussy touches here and there, it wasn’t overworked. A collection of mismatched but complementary frames had been arranged on the mantel. One seemed a bit out of place. A picture of Hank with a woman—soft. The only word that came to mind as Ronni gazed at her was “soft.”

  She wore a fuzzy sweater that begged to be stroked. Her gaze at Hank—also soft. The smile, the way her ample curves hugged him, even just standing nearby… Soft.

  A second look showed Hank’s expression. That one said something more—something deeper. Love. It must be his wife.

  If calling out to ask wouldn’t have been painful, she’d have done it. Instead, she gave it one last look before putting the frame back and adjusting it so that it looked nestled in with the rest instead of cockeyed. Just in time, too.

  Hank appeared with two mugs of steaming coffee. The supposition that he’d serve her some kind of freeze-dried instant garbage proved false. Ronni had a nose for coffee blends and roasts that wine connoisseurs could only dream of. This was Peet’s Big Bang Coffee—medium roast if her nose didn’t deceive her.

  “That’s my Peg and me about six years ago—before the cancer reduced her to a wisp of a thing.”

  Great. I just intruded on pain and privacy.

  As Hank handed her the mug, he smiled. “You married?”

  Ronni shook her head. It didn’t hurt too bad. She tried a single word answer just to test it out. “No.”

  After a sip or two, Hank tried another question. Apparently, he figured her vocal response meant that her moratorium on questions had ended. “Divorced?”

  She shook her head again.

  He stared for a moment before taking another sip. And another. “Widowed?”

  Time for a more drastic approach. “Never married.”

  Surprise lit his eyes. “Around here, a woman doesn’t get anywhere near forty without having been married at least once. That single thing must be a big city thing.”

  For all the man’s savior-like qualities, he didn’t take hints well.

  Thank you for saying forty.

  “I’m fifty, but thanks. And no… it’s more of an ‘I know what I want’ thing. I’m not settling.”

  An odd look crossed his face. He sat down in one corner of the couch, and out of nowhere, a tabby hopped up onto his lap and glared at her. Hank stroked her and didn’t seem to mind when the cat rubbed its face against the side of his mug. “This here’s Piston. She’ll warm up to you—probably about the time you warm up yourself. She’s not fond of the cold.”

  Ronni had never been much of an animal person, so currying the cat’s favor didn’t even make her third-tier to-do list. Still, she tried to smile at the creature before turning back to face the fire. “I won’t be here long enough to make it worth its trouble. Thanks for this, by the way.”

  When Hank asked, “You said you know what you want. What does that mean?” she sighed. He hadn’t taken the hint.

  As much as she preferred the short version, Ronni decided he’d just ask again. “I watched friend after friend marry the wrong person and decided I wanted a better chance at success. So, I came up with a list of qualities and values that I’d look for to ensure that even if a relationship didn’t remain romantic, there would still be points of compatibility. If someone doesn’t meet all points, I move them into the ‘friend’ category and keep things strictly platonic.”

  The guy had been almost chatty compared to some men of her acquaintance, but after that, he kept his mouth shut. Bet you thought you had a chance at a cabin romance while we’re stranded here. Rude awakening may commence. A glance at the photo of Hank and his “Peg” prompted a near-silent scolding from her mother again. “Ronni Marie, stop being so cynical. The guy probably got put off by your brusqueness.”

  Mom would have said it. Aloud. And without bothering to keep her voice low. Hank just sipped at his coffee from his spot on the couch, the cat draped across his legs in a most proprietary manner.

  She’d unzipped the snowsuit before he spoke again. “What’s on this list of yours?”

  So much for dodging that one. She ached to tell him to mind his own business, but at that moment, the wood crackled, and the scent of burning wood mingled with steaming coffee. The arrangement of whitewashed and black frames stood out against the stone of the mantel, and for the first time, she saw pillar candles behind them. To the right of the fireplace, vinyl word art proclaimed that the Wright family would serve the Lord.

  Ronni turned. “You’re a Christian?”

  “Yes, ma’am—for almost thirty years now. Peg went to a gospel meeting just after we got married and came home with dripping hair and a glow on her that I hadn’t seen since her sophomore year. Said she got saved and baptized and wanted me to listen to the preacher just once. She’d never say anything again if I did. So, I went. Took three meetings for me, but that man knew how to make you believe the Bible really is God’s Word.”

  “That was enough for you?”

  “Well, isn’t it enough for anybody?” He took yet another sip of coffee before continuing. “If you validate the Bible as God’s Word, then whatever it says is enough, isn’t it?”

  She couldn’t argue that. It had been what convinced her not four months earlier. Maybe a Christian would understand her determination not to become another divorce statistic. After all, didn’t that guy in the New Testament say that it was better to be single?

  “Won’t be offended if you tell me to mind my own business, Ms. Carlisle. Just curious.”

  As usual, once someone offered her an out, Ronni refused to take it. “I’m looking for a professional and intellectual equal. Someone who enjoys an active life. I think a significant imbalance in financial portfolios would be unwise, as would someone with children since I have no experience with them.” It wasn’t something she admitted often, but something in the way Hank didn’t balk at that prompted her to explain. “I’m not sure about that one. It would be nice to have a built-in family, but I’ve seen so many issues when people blend families.”

  “Are you in charge of hiring at your job?”

  “Hiring?” Ronni shook her head and shrugged out of the upper part of the snowsuit. The rest dropped to the floor almost before she could tug her skirt into place. “No… acquisitions, sure. But not personnel.” Everything in her told her she shouldn’t ask, but the word flew from her mouth before she could prevent it. “Why?”

  Hank leaned forward, and the cat shot him a nasty look before stalking off to the other end of the couch and curling up again. With hands wrapped around the mug, he stared off into space for a moment before raising his gaze to her. “Just sounds like filling a resume.” Before she had a chance to think about that, he added, “Is that all?”

  “Well, now that I’m a Christian, that’s a non-negotiable. I’d prefer someone who is a little farther in his faith, but I wouldn’t want to feel ignorant all the time with a Bible scholar or anything.”

  That he pounced on. “Christian. That’s good. So, as a Christian, have you prayed about your list? What did God show you about it in His Word?”

  All the words sounded logical and reasonable. They just made no sense to her. God was supposed to show her words? Where were those words? Probably the Bible, but if she told him she didn’t know, he probably wouldn’t believe she was even a Christian. Could she blame him?”

  “You said ‘now’ that you’re a Christian. How long’ve you been saved?”

  As much as she tried, Ronni found it hard not to insert a wince into her voice. “Almost four months.
”

  “Aaah… and I just piled a bunch of church talk on you. Sorry about that. I just wondered if you’d gone looking to see what the Bible said about your list. Have you prayed about it and compared it with the Bible?”

  When the fire felt over warm, she moved to the chair across from Hank and sank into the wide seat. It took nothing to tuck her feet under her and lean on one arm—comfortable until the memory of why she’d been on that plane in the first place returned.

  “Do you have a phone? I have to try to salvage this deal. One this good doesn’t come up very often. It’ll probably take me another five years to come up with the money this one would give me.”

  “That’s a problem?”

  Ronni just stared. Could he have really just said that? So much for him being reasonably intelligent.

  Seeing that Ronni wouldn’t relax without talking to someone about her “deal,” Hank led her through the house and to the garage door. They shivered through the unheated garage to the mother-in-law suite on the other side. Warmth wrapped them in a cocoon of comfort as he pushed open the door. Glad I took a moment to turn it on when we got back.

  Hank never entered Ma Meers’ intended abode without wincing. After her death, Peg had brought in her Hummel figurine collection and decorated the whole place around them. Browns, near blacks, rusts, and a muted mustard here and there. Those wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the hundreds of beady little eyes staring from every surface in the place.

  He’d also found a way to shock the woman into silence. Ronni swept the room with her jaw agape and her eyes wide. “I…”

  “They were my mother-in-law’s. Peg thought they might be worth something, so she decorated around them.”

  “They’re…” She swallowed hard enough that he could see her neck muscles move. “Um… ubiquitous.”

  “I’ve never known what that word means, but if it’s creepy and ugly, that’d be about right.”

  Relief melted from her and pooled at her feet. “Oh, thank goodness.” She winced. “Still breaking irreverent habits. Sorry. Anyway, if you hate them, too, then can I put them in those cupboards? I don’t know how I’ll sleep with all the eyes…”

  Hank walked over and began opening cupboard doors. In every cupboard, every closet—every place that could hide a small box, there was one. For each figurine in the little apartment. “I could do it for you if you like. Wouldn’t be a bit of trouble.” He hoped she’d say yes. This deal of hers sounded interesting, and an excuse to stay in the room meant he’d get a better idea of what was going on.

  “Sure… that’d be great. I’ll help as soon as I call the developer.”

  Before Hank could gesture to where the handset sat in the charger, she’d snatched it up and looked up a number on her phone. A minute later, the conversation began. Hank just began playing match up with the figurines.

  “Mr. Sasaki! I’m so glad I managed to catch you. I should have arrived in Tahoe by now, but a storm forced my plane down. I’m stranded in Juniper Springs right now, but I’ll be there as soon as I can. Hopefully, tomorrow.”

  Hank couldn’t help himself. He cleared his throat, and when she looked at him, he shook his head. “Day after Christmas at earliest.”

  Frustration became palpable as she tried to keep her tone professional while looking ready to flay cats. “Correction, it appears that the airport here isn’t equipped to get us off the ground until the day after Christmas.”

  Mouthing “at least” earned him a scowl that rivaled his daughter’s face with peas put before it. While she assured her client that she’d send a proposal as soon as possible, Hank scooped a bunch of boxes from the first cupboard and began searching for the figurine that fit it.

  Ronni to the rescue. Between talking of “units” and “occupation rates,” she’d point. “Exactly, Mr. Sasaki. We already have interested, qualified buyers who, while not aware of the specifics, are looking for properties in that area. I believe I can reasonably assure you that you’d have twenty-five to thirty percent of units sold before you break ground—especially if you’d consider first-tier upgrade incentives—countertops, fixtures, flooring. While you’d lose a little in the upgrades, you could make it up…”

  Just listening to her made Hank want to put an offer in on a property he’d never seen, that was too far from home, and that he knew he’d never be able to afford. She had that confidence that made people want a piece of the action. A tap on his shoulder startled him. She reached for the box in his hand and shook her head. “Leave that one out,” she mouthed.

  The printed picture that had been taped to the front showed four little girls holding hands in a circle. Peg’s writing read, “Ring Around the Rosie.” A glance up at Ronni showed a softer side. She winked before turning back to her conversation and spewing numbers that made him dizzy.

  That wink nearly undid him. For the first time in over thirty years, someone other than Peg made his heart skip a beat. She’s just an attractive woman who appreciated something Peg loved. Don’t read into it. She’s leaving soon and going back to units, occupation rates, and millions of dollars.

  “—think you’ll see that while other development realtors have experience in commercial properties, Veritas offers a portfolio of both commercial and residential experience to rival the best. We come to the table with clients ready to purchase and contacts in residential real estate.”

  She sagged a little—droopy and wilted. Then as if watered on fast-forward, she perked up again. “I don’t have a fax—”

  Hank cleared his throat. When she looked at him, he jerked his thumb at the house. “There’s one in the office if you need it.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Sasaki! I was wrong. I have a fax machine ready to go. I’ll send you the proposal we offer and will look forward to that conference call tomorrow morning. Thank you for being willing to work with me in this frustrating situation.”

  That wilted look had begun again, but something the man on the other end brightened her again. “Well, thank you, sir. It’s a pleasure to talk with you.”

  He grinned at her as she set the phone back in the cradle. “Sounds promising…”

  “Promising isn’t enough. I need signed.”

  “What’s so important about this one contract?”

  Ronni lowered herself onto the chaise section of the grayish-brown couch Peg had picked out just for the room. Taupe, she’d called it. He still hadn’t convinced himself to look up whether that was the color or the style of furniture.

  “This is a nice couch,” she said as one hand slid over the surface. “I like the fabric. Your wife had good taste in furniture.”

  “Just not decorations.” Hank winked and added, “My words, now. Not yours.”

  The momentary relaxation evaporated faster than a drop of water in the Sahara. “Okay, where’s that fax machine? Oh, and you asked about the contract. My commission on the account will push my retirement account into viability. I can quit. Travel. Move out of the L.A. Basin!”

  “You want to move?” He beckoned her to follow and led her back through the garage to the house. “I thought people from L.A. loved it there.”

  Inside ten minutes, she’d told him her retirement dreams, why she’d stayed in Los Angeles as long as she had, and had effectively taken over his office. Paperwork sat spread out before her. A laptop spat one thing after another into the printer. The fax machine whirred and did its thing. She had her cellphone hooked up to his Wi-Fi and Ma Meers’ old handset tucked between her shoulder and her chin.

  Someone in her office got an earful about the time that Hank decided he should get back to the Hummel eradication project. She’s got to sleep tonight, or else neither of us will make it through tomorrow or the next day.

  Not one person in her office could be bribed into driving up to get her and going over to Tahoe. According to the map, she was only fifty-four miles away. With every paper she faxed to Sasaki, Ronni’s ire rose. “Incompetent idiots. They’re going to lose their bonuses
this year if I have anything to say about it.”

  Text messages pinged through on her laptop. Setting that up had been the best decision she’d ever made, she decided. Just knowing she had contact with the outside world gave her the confidence to keep going.

  The moment the last paper had been sent, an idea that had been germinating burst through the surface. Ronni left everything in the office and rushed through the house and freezing garage to the little apartment. Already, even with boxes stacked all over the ground, the place looked better. “Wow!”

  Hank reached for another one. “I’ve tried to talk myself into doing this for ages, but there didn’t seem to be a point. The layers of dust on these things—that’s the point.”

  “I need to hire you.”

  A glance her way showed Hank curious… but was that interest or amusement mingled with it? “Hire me to do what, exactly?”

  “Did a Google search. You’re only fifty-four miles from South Tahoe.”

  “That we are—sixty to my daughter’s house.”

  “Let’s get you to her house for Christmas and me to Mr. Sasaki’s for tomorrow’s meeting.”

  He shook his head. “You’d freeze. Recall how cold you were when you got in here? You’d be a popsicle if you rode for three hours or so on the snowmobile.”

  “I already thought of that. We’ll pile blankets all in your trailer. I’ll ride in that.” Desperation never looked good on her, but Ronni didn’t care anymore. She stepped closer and grabbed his arm. “Please, Hank. I’ll Venmo you five thousand dollars the minute we leave if you’ll just try.”

  To his credit, he didn’t laugh at her. He just patted her hand and tried to sound sympathetic—at least that’s what she assumed he was doing. Maybe he was trying to surreptitiously check for fever. “Ronni, I’d like to say yes. I can see how important this is to you. But risking your life isn’t worth five-thousand dollars to me. If either of us made it without frostbite or worse, it’d be a miracle or near to it.”

  A dozen insults vied for a chance to fly, but Ronni managed to thank him for considering it and rushed from the room. Time to make the airlines do their job and get her to her destination. First call—Yolanda.