Let It Snow Read online

  “My mom and dad are probably getting together again.”

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Copyright

  “My mom and dad are probably getting together again.”

  “Really?” Rick forced back a shaft of disappointment and concentrated on putting the tools away.

  “Yeah.” The teenager shrugged casually. “They never shoulda gotten divorced in the first place, and I think Mom’s finally starting to realize it. He’s been having dinner with us almost every night, and they’re getting along great.”

  Rick told himself the concern he felt was for Marti’s sake, not his own, and it was his discomfort over discussing her behind her back that caused this sudden uneasiness. Whatever the reason, he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

  Unfortunately, Cameron did. “Dad says if things keep going this well, he’s gonna buy her a diamond for Christmas.”

  “Does your mom know?”

  “Nope. Dad’s gonna surprise her. Cool, huh?”

  Cameron flashed a smile so like his mother’s that Rick’s stomach knotted.

  “Cool,” he replied, hoping the boy wouldn’t notice the sarcasm in his voice.

  Dear Reader,

  Usually, getting to know the characters I write is a long, involved process. But every once in a while, one comes to me in a flash—fully formed and completely alive.

  Rick Dennehy is such a character. Several years ago, while driving through the mountains outside Gunnison, Colorado, I passed the entrance to a group of guest cabins. There, among the towering pines and quaking aspen, I saw Rick in my imagination. I knew almost everything about him in that second.

  It took longer to find the right heroine. Rick had been so hurt by life, I knew he needed a woman who could understand his pain and embrace it as part of him. When I finally found Marti, I knew it was time to start writing their story.

  Let It Snow is a story about the healing quality of love. About that special something that happens between two people when love finds them at the most unexpected time and in the most unexpected place.

  When my editors suggested I set the story during the Christmas season, everything else fell into place. The enchantment of the holidays combines with the magic of love to bring healing to these very special people.

  I hope you’ll grow to love them as I have, and that this story will work magic on your heart as it has on mine.

  Sherry Lewis

  P.S. I’d love to hear from you. You can write to me at

  P.O. Box 540542, North Salt Lake City, Utah 84054-0542

  LET IT SNOW

  Sherry Lewis

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  To my nephew,

  Matthew Lewis Preysz,

  for helping me understand all things “boy.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  MARTI JOHANSSON lifted the last of the clean dishes from the dishwasher and stacked the plates in the cupboard. Behind her at the kitchen table, her son, Cameron, let out a heavy sigh. She could see him reflected in the window, the sour expression, the slumped shoulders, the blond hair hanging into his face. He’d been surly all through dinner, and her own temper had almost reached the boiling point.

  “Give me one good reason why I can’t get a car,” Cameron demanded.

  “One?” Marti glared at him over her shoulder. “I can give you half a dozen. Let’s start with the fact that you’re only fifteen.”

  Red blotches dotted Cameron’s pale cheeks. “I’ll be sixteen in three months.”

  “Here’s another, you’re still on probation.”

  “Like that matters.” These days he stood a full head taller than Marti, and his voice had dropped low enough to match his father’s. Both things made him think of himself as an adult.

  Marti just wished he’d begin acting like one. “It matters, Cameron.” She closed the cupboard and crossed the room to the table. “You’re the one who decided it would be cool to borrow a car and go joyriding with your friends. You’re the one who didn’t think it was important to turn in your homework last semester. Now you’re the one who gets to pay the price.”

  Cameron rolled his eyes and ticked his tongue in disgust. “It wouldn’t have made any difference if I had turned in my homework. I still would have gotten an F.”

  “That’s not true,” Marti insisted. “You’re smart enough, you just don’t try.”

  “I do try.”

  “Maybe in woodshop and auto mechanics, but you don’t even bother in the rest of your classes.”

  “I don’t know what that has to do with me getting a car,” he muttered.

  “In that case,” Marti snapped, “I’ll spell it out for you. Until you get your grades up and keep out of trouble, I’m not likely to shower you with rewards.”

  Cameron planted his elbows on the table and propped up his chin with both hands. He looked so dejected, Marti felt herself weakening.

  She sat where she could look into his eyes. Immediately, he averted his gaze. “You’re a smart kid, Cameron. You could get good grades if you’d only try.”

  “That’s what you always say. You and those stupid counselors you’re always dragging me to see.” He flicked a contemptuous glance at her out of eyes so clear and blue they made her heart ache. “I’m not smart, I’m stupid.”

  “I take you to counseling because I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”

  Another glance, this one even more venomous. “Yes, you do. I’ve told you a million times.”

  For three years he’d complained about everything from the divorce, to moving to California, to the teachers he’d been assigned. She didn’t know which topped his list today. “Tell me again.”

  He kicked his feet onto an empty chair and glared at his fingernails. “I hate this place, that’s what’s wrong with me. I want to go home.”

  Of course. With the Christmas holidays approaching, she should have guessed he’d miss Colorado more than usual. But they didn’t live in Gunnison anymore, and after three years, he should be able to accept that. “You are home,” she reminded him.

  “No, I’m not. This isn’t home. It’ll never be home.”

  “I know you miss Colorado—”

  “It’s not just that,” Cameron interrupted. “I miss Dad. I never get to see him anymore.”

  Marti knew he blamed her for the nonexistent visits with Gil. If she hadn’t decided to leave Gunnison after the divorce... If she wasn’t so mean to Gil... She’d heard the accusations so many times, she didn’t even bother to defend herself anymore. No matter what she said, Cameron steadfastly refused to believe that Gil was responsible for anything Cameron didn’t like.

  “Maybe he’ll let you visit when you’re off probation.”

  “Maybe I won’t ever be off probation.”

  Another piece of her thinning patience evaporated. “Maybe you won’t. Especially if you keep hanging around with Jared and Tim.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Cameron snarled. “Blame Jared and Tim. You divorced Dad, jerked me out of my school and took me away from all of my family an
d friends. And now that I’ve finally made a few new friends here, you’re trying to take them away, too.”

  “Only because Jared and Tim are always in trouble.”

  “So?”

  “So, I don’t want you doing the things they do. I don’t want you to screw up your life by making stupid choices.”

  “I’m not making stupid choices,” he shouted. “And I’m not screwing up my life. You’re the one who’s doing that.”

  “I’m not screwing up your life,” Marti insisted. She tried to keep her voice steady, but she could feel the heat of anger creeping up her neck into her face and she knew that she was in danger of losing the battle. Again. “Moving from Gunnison was the best thing I ever did for you.”

  “You mean it was the best thing you ever did for yourself.”

  “I’m not going to talk about this now,” she told him. “I want you to go to your room until you’ve calmed down. When you can discuss things rationally, I’ll be glad to talk to you again.”

  Swearing, Cameron jumped up to face her. He leaned both fists on the table in a pose she knew he meant to intimidate her. “I’m not going to my room.”

  She stood to face him, forcing herself to hold his gaze, to meet the challenge in his eyes. “Yes, you are.”

  “Go to hell.”

  She started toward him, but Cameron spun on his heel and jackrabbited out the back door before she could reach him. She raced after him, but he jumped down the back steps and ran down the driveway before she could even make it out the door.

  Gripping the doorframe, she shouted after him, but she knew it was a waste of energy. He wouldn’t come back now. He’d hook up with Jared and Tim, and probably get himself into more trouble before the end of the night.

  Somehow, she’d lost control of him, and she had no idea how to get it back. Their relationship seemed to get worse with every passing day. She’d tried everything to reach him. She’d talked to counselors, read books and attended parenting seminars, but he only grew more angry, bitter and hateful. Lately, she’d begun to despair of him ever making a turnaround without a miracle.

  Sadly, she stared at the night sky and remembered the days, long gone now, when Cameron had climbed into her lap, wrapped his arms around her neck and pressed soft kisses to her cheek. He’d loved sitting in the rocking chair with her and curling his fingers through her hair while they watched television. He’d been her companion during Gil’s absences and her only solace during that horrible time after the stillborn birth of her second child. Gil certainly hadn’t been there for her. He’d been too busy drinking his nights away at the Lucky Jack and chasing around with other women.

  But Cameron had been there. And Marti had done her best to put her grief over losing Chelsea behind her and get on with her life—for Cameron’s sake. But Cameron couldn’t see how hard she’d tried. Marti suspected he didn’t want to see.

  Trying not to panic, she closed the door behind her and walked back to the kitchen table. Almost mindlessly, she sat down and sorted through the day’s mail, scowling at the inevitable pile of bills, junk mail and flyers. Nothing interesting there. Maybe she could find something on TV. Or she could finish the novel she’d started last week.

  As she tossed the mail back onto the table, an envelope fell out of a folded advertising circular. Hoping it wasn’t another letter from Cameron’s school, she picked it up. When she recognized her father’s bold scrawl, she sighed with relief, ripped open the envelope and scanned the single page.

  Just like her dad, she thought. No chatty details, just straight to the point. An invitation to bring Cameron home to Gunnison over the Christmas holidays and one terse sentence telling her that neither of her brothers nor her sister could make it this year.

  She started to set the letter aside, then stopped and stared at it for several long seconds. True, her father hadn’t approved of her divorcing Gil. True, he hadn’t been exactly warm and loving since she’d moved away. But maybe he was ready to put all that behind them. He had taken time to write, which meant he must want to see her.

  She lowered the letter to the table and gave her dad’s suggestion serious thought. Maybe—just maybe—taking Cameron back to the Lazy M Ranch for a few weeks would help her fix their relationship.

  Of course, she did have obligations to consider: Her next magazine article was due before the new year, but using her laptop computer she could write anywhere. She’d done most of the research when she’d begun the series on family vacation resorts along the West coast. Besides, Cameron wasn’t the only one who could use a dose of crisp Colorado mountain air. She’d missed her childhood home more than she wanted to admit—even to herself.

  Leaning back in her chair, she locked her arms behind her head and smiled up at the ceiling. Her dad had offered the perfect solution to her problems. She could separate Cameron from Jared and Tim. She and her dad could patch things up. And, with luck, she just might be able to start mending her relationship with her son, as well.

  WITH A SIGH OF RELIEF, Rick Dennehy closed the last file on his desk and raked his fingers through his hair. It had already been a long day, and it wasn’t over yet. Afternoon sunlight streamed in through the wide window behind him, making it feel more like late autumn in Denver than the first of December. From the street two floors below, the persistent sound of a bell ringing nonstop irritated his already frayed nerves. Outside his office door, Christmas music echoed through the marbled corridors of the courthouse.

  Doing his best to ignore both, he forced a smile and handed the file to his assistant. “I guess that’s it, Noreen,” he said, rolling down his shirtsleeves and nodding toward the teetering stacks of files they’d created on the floor. “Think you can get case administration to close all those files before the end of the year?”

  Noreen shrugged lightly and added the file to one precarious-looking stack beside her chair. “I can as long as we don’t run into computer problems while you’re gone. If the system goes down, I’m not making any promises.”

  Rick scowled at her and tightened the knot in his tie. “If the system goes down or everyone suddenly develops a case of holiday fever.”

  Noreen scowled back. He never had been able to intimidate her. “We might put up a few Christmas decorations and listen to music,” she said, “but we still get the work done.”

  “Decorations and music aren’t the problem,” he reminded her. “It’s the long lunches shopping and leaving early and talking about Christmas presents and parties that slows everyone down.”

  “Some of us happen to like Christmas.”

  Not Rick. Losing his wife a week before Christmas two years earlier made him dread the season and the memories it evoked. He didn’t remind Noreen. She knew all about Jocelyn’s accident and, thankfully, she knew better than to discuss it with him.

  She leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and studied him for a long moment. “So? Are you going to leave me a number where I can reach you?”

  He let out a soft laugh. “Not on your life. I’m spending a month away from this place.” In the Monterey beach condo of an old friend. Warm sunshine, sand and all the free time a man could want. He didn’t intend to let anyone or anything interrupt his un-Christmas holiday.

  “What do I do if your Realtor calls?”

  Rick’s smile faded as it always did when he thought of the cabins he and Jocelyn had built in the southern Colorado mountains outside of Gunnison. “I’ll call Bix before I leave this afternoon.”

  Noreen shook her head slowly, but she didn’t look at him—a sure sign that she was about to say something Rick wouldn’t like. “You’re really going to sell the cabins?”

  “I am.”

  “But you love those cabins.”

  Correction. Rick had loved them. He didn’t now. In fact, he’d done his best to ignore their existence since he’d come back to Denver after Jocelyn’s death. Once he’d thought he might eventually go back. Now, he knew better. So, six months earlier, he’d listed the cabi
ns and the land with a Realtor based in Gunnison. Unfortunately, in spite of the confidently grinning picture on the man’s business card, Bix Mason hadn’t been able to pull in even one offer yet.

  Rick pushed away from his desk and scowled at Noreen. “They’re just a bunch of boards sitting on a pile of dirt.”

  She pursed her lips in disbelief. “Yeah. Right.”

  “I’m selling,” he insisted. “And don’t worry about Bix. I’ll give him a number where he can reach me.” He used his sternest voice--the one he usually used only on recalcitrant debtors and troublesome attorneys.

  It didn’t faze Noreen. She’d worked with him before he moved to Gunnison and again since he’d come back to his job as Chief Deputy Clerk at the bankruptcy court after Jocelyn’s death. They’d grown comfortable with their professional friendship over the years. She knew his boundaries, and she knew better than to overstep them.

  But for some reason, she seemed to forget today. She sent him a tight smile. “I still think you ought to change your mind. Give yourself more time to think about selling.”

  “I don’t need more time,” Rick assured her.

  “You haven’t been back there since Jocelyn’s accident—”

  “I don’t need to go back,” he snapped. “I know what I’m doing.” He leaned both fists on the desktop and glared at her. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I’ve got a lot to do before I leave today.”

  Noreen slowly uncrossed her legs and tucked her pen behind her ear. “I know you don’t want my opinion, but I’ll give it to you anyway. You’re running away, Rick. You’re afraid to go back and face the place where Jocelyn died.”