Let It Snow Page 2

  Rick pushed up from his desk and clenched his fists until the stubs of his nails bit into the palms of his hands. “What did you do? Get a degree in psychoanalysis while I wasn’t looking?” Anger flashed through Noreen’s eyes. He knew he’d offended her, but he didn’t care. “Do me a favor,” he said sharply. “Use your armchair psychiatry on someone else. I have work to do.”

  “Fine.” Noreen’s face had turned an angry shade of red, but she had enough sense not to argue with him. “I’ll have a couple of clerks bring a cart to pick up these files.”

  “Good.”

  “And I hope you have a great time—wherever you’re going.”

  “Thank you, I will.”

  He waited until she’d closed the door behind her, then sank into his chair again. Only then did he realize how badly the conversation had shaken him. His knees wobbled, his hands shook and he had trouble catching his breath. He took a minute to pull himself together, then found Bix Mason’s business card in his Rolodex, lifted the receiver and punched in the number. Might as well get this part over with now. Then he could forget about Gunnison and the cabins for the rest of the month.

  The phone rang five times before Rick got an answer.

  “Mason Realty.” It was Bix’s familiar tenor. “What can I do for you?”

  “Bix? Rick Dennehy here. Just checking in before I leave town for a month.”

  “Well, imagine that,” Bix said with a laugh. “I was just looking up your number when the telephone rang.”

  “You were? Why? Have we finally got an offer?”

  “No-o-o.” Bix dragged the word out for an eternity. “Matter of fact, I was fixing to tell you I don’t think you’re going to get one, the shape the property’s in right now. At least not one that’ll clear up your loan, much less give you a little profit.”

  “I don’t need a profit,” Rick assured him. “I just want to come out even.”

  “Well, see, that’s the thing. I don’t think you’re going to. Not unless you fix the cabins up some: Last winter was a harsh one, and you’ve got some damage to several of the cabins already. If they sit through another winter as they are, you might as well bulldoze ’em.”

  Rick swore under his breath and rubbed his forehead with one hand. Couldn’t Bix have waited to give him this news until after his vacation? “Fine,” he said. “Let’s fix them up.”

  “Are you going to come down here and do it?”

  “No, I’ll hire someone.”

  “I thought you might say that,” Bix said, rattling papers near the telephone, “so I asked a couple of local guys for estimates.”

  Rick relaxed slightly. “How much?”

  Bix quoted two bids, one far too high, the other astronomical.

  “There’s no way it could possibly cost that much.”

  “Actually—”

  “No way,” Rick interrupted. “They’re brand-new.”

  “They’ve been vacant for two years.”

  “Well, what in the hell—”

  “Two years of harsh weather,” Bix added. “You’re looking at a substantial amount in material plus labor to get those things habitable again.”

  Rick couldn’t afford to do that unless he took out another loan. “What about another contractor?”

  Bix snorted a soft laugh. “How many do you think we have around here? You want to bring somebody in, you’ll be looking at more than that. Trouble is, both these guys work other jobs, so you’re looking at spring before you’d be ready to sell.”

  Rick didn’t want to wait until spring. He’d expected to sell off the cabins long before now. And he sure as hell didn’t want to end up owing more money than he already did. He kneaded his forehead and tried to think.

  “You could save yourself a bundle if you did the work yourself,” Bix said. “I mean, it’s not as if you can’t do it. And if you really punched it, you could probably get it done in a month. Six weeks, tops.”

  Not for the first time, Rick wished he’d never talked Jocelyn into buying the land and building the eight cabins. The personal price he’d paid had been far too high. He’d lost his dream and his wife and now he couldn’t even get rid of the stupid things without taking another month to six weeks off work.

  Unbidden, the solution presented itself to him, but he shoved it away. He would not give up his vacation in Monterey. He’d earned this time away and he looked forward to spending the whole month of December walking the beaches, watching basketball on television and pretending that Christmas didn’t exist.

  Of course, he could ignore Christmas in a remote cabin in Gunnison as easily as he could in Monterey. He could catch up on his reading in the evenings. And he could prove to Noreen—and himself—just how off base she’d been to suggest he was running away from his memories.

  “Well?” Bix prodded. “What do you want me to do? You want me to hire one of these guys?”

  Rick hesitated another minute. Then asked, “What about the main cabin? What kind of shape is it in?”

  “Your house? It’s all right. I took a couple through it just last week. You must have built it sturdier than the guest cabins.”

  Of course he had. He’d planned to live in it year-round, and he’d wanted it nice enough to keep Jocelyn happy. “Can you arrange to have the phone turned on for me? And the other utilities as well?”

  “Consider it done.” Relief tinged Bix’s voice. “How soon do you need them?”

  “How soon can you do it?”

  “Is tomorrow soon enough?”

  “Perfect.”

  “You’re making the right choice,” Bix assured him.

  Rick hoped so. “I’ll call you when I get there,” and disconnected before he could change his mind.

  RICK TRUDGED through the snow from the main cabin to his truck in the parking area outside. Late-morning sun streamed through the trees and glistened off the snow. A brisk wind ruffled the bare branches of the aspen trees and teased the exposed skin on the nape of his neck. Shivering, he unlocked the truck and climbed inside.

  He’d stopped in Gunnison on his way to the cabins the day before, checked in with Bix Mason and picked up supplies for a few days. But he hadn’t figured on needing to cut firewood so soon. When he’d left two years before, there had been a generous stack of wood near the kitchen door. Unfortunately it had all disappeared. With the radio calling for a serious winter storm, he couldn’t put off gathering more.

  And after a cursory inspection of the toolshed that morning, he’d realized the cabins weren’t the only things that had suffered from neglect. Most of his tools had rusted beyond repair.

  At least he didn’t have to drive all the way into Gunnison today. He should be able to find what he needed at Greta’s Groceries, a tiny all-purpose store a couple of miles up the highway. Greta stocked a little of everything from hunting equipment to milk.

  After letting the truck’s engine warm up for a minute, he followed the short tree-lined lane from the cabins to the access road he shared with Henry Maddock across the river. Once, all this land had been Maddock’s property. But Maddock had run into financial trouble a few years earlier, and his misfortune had opened the door for Rick’s dream. Or so Rick had believed at the time.

  He’d counted himself lucky to pick up the land at a fair price. But the old man hadn’t considered the sale lucky at all. He’d resented having to sell even an inch of his ranch. In fact, Maddock had acted as if Rick was responsible for his financial problems.

  As he drove Rick wondered idly whether time had mellowed the old man. They were neighbors, and Rick didn’t want trouble. The instant the thought came, he laughed at himself. He wasn’t staying so didn’t need to worry about Maddock. The new owners would have to deal with him.

  Checking the bridge to Maddock’s property for traffic, he pulled onto the dirt access road, but he accelerated a little too fast and the truck fishtailed on the ice and snow. Too late, he realized a car had turned onto the dirt road from the highway just in front of him
.

  Cursing under his breath, he pumped his brakes and struggled to bring the truck under control. The driver of the other car slammed on the brakes and sent the vehicle into a skid. While Rick watched, helpless, it turned sideways and slid, out of control, straight toward his truck.

  The driver fought the steering wheel, which only made the situation worse. Bracing himself for impact, Rick watched the occupants of the car do the same. And he tried to force away the images of Jocelyn spinning out of control in her tiny car.

  Somehow, miraculously, the car slid to a stop just inches from Rick’s front bumper. With his heart racing, he threw open the truck’s door, and jumped out. “What in the hell?”

  Obviously shaken, the driver climbed out of the car. She drew the collar of her coat tight around her neck and sent him an unsteady smile. A kid of about fifteen or sixteen slid across from the passenger side and climbed out of the car behind her. His thin blond hair, the same shade as the woman’s, hung over the shaved sides of his head. He frowned at the woman and turned a distinctly hostile glare on Rick. Even with the difference in their ages and expressions, their features were strikingly similar. Probably mother and son.

  Standing on tiptoe, the woman looked at the space between the two vehicles. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to be on this road. I guess I’ve forgotten how to drive in weather like this.”

  The kid sneered as if she’d said something stupid. “You forgot to watch where you were going.”

  For some reason, his blatant hostility tempered Rick’s own anger. After all, he’d been partially to blame. “You can watch like a hawk,” he said with a smile, “but it won’t make much difference on an icy road.”

  The boy flipped hair out of his eyes and snarled, “Yeah. Right.” He walked to the front of the car, stopped when he realized he’d have to step into the drainage ditch to get around it and flipped his hair again. “I don’t know what he’s doing on this road, anyway. It’s private property.”

  The woman mumbled something Rick couldn’t hear. She studied the car for a moment, then turned a disconcerted glance on Rick. “I’m not sure how to get myself out of this.”

  “I can back up,” Rick offered, “but I don’t know how we’ll get you turned around so you don’t slide into the ditch.”

  She frowned at the car again. This time when she looked up at him, her blue eyes caught the faint rays of sunshine and reflected back at him, as clear as the lakes in the high mountains, as light as Jocelyn’s had been dark, and nearly as compelling.

  Suddenly uncomfortable, Rick forced himself to look away. “I suppose we could use the truck to pull you around.”

  The kid sent another disgusted frown at his mother and reached for the door handle. “Maybe you can’t move the car, but I can.”

  “Don’t even try it, Cameron,” she warned. “The way it’s sitting, you’ll only get us stuck in the ditch. Besides, you’re not old enough to drive.”

  “So? I’ve driven plenty of times.”

  Her eyes rounded in surprise, and Rick could tell she didn’t like what she’d heard.

  Rick knew he should ignore the kid, but something tugged a response from him. “Your mother’s right. It wouldn’t matter if you had years of driving experience, you could still get the car stuck.”

  The kid swore and kicked at a chunk of ice. The woman sent Rick a grateful smile—nothing more than a gentle curve of her lips, but the transformation caught him off guard. He hadn’t realized how young she was until she stopped scowling.

  He pushed aside an unexpected twinge of something he thought must be sympathy and started toward the truck’s bed for a length of rope. “Let’s get your car tied to the truck.”

  She nodded and released her grip on the collar of her coat. “That sounds great. Thank you. By the way, I’m Marti Johansson and this is my son, Cameron.”

  “Rick Dennehy,” he said, then turned to Cameron. “If you’ll push from behind while your mom steers, we should be able to keep the car out of the ditch.”

  Cameron looked as if he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He gave one curt nod and inched toward the back of the car. Rick dropped to the ground and slid under the truck. His jacket did little to keep the cold away, and the denim of his jeans did even less. Shivering, he tugged off his gloves with his teeth and secured one end of the rope to the truck’s frame.

  He could hear Marti and Cameron whispering, but he couldn’t make out what they said until Cameron’s voice rose slightly as Rick came out from beneath the truck. “If you don’t ask him what he’s doing here, I will.”

  Brushing snow from his jeans, Rick scowled. The kid’s attitude was beginning to grate on him. “Maybe you ought to tell me what you’re doing here.”

  “We belong here.” The words snapped from the kid’s mouth. “My grandpa owns the Lazy M Ranch.”

  That explained a lot. Cameron had obviously inherited his grandpa’s sunny personality. “Well, then,” Rick said with a forced smile. “It looks as if we’re neighbors. I bought this stretch of land from your grandfather a few years back.”

  Marti’s blue eyes widened slightly. “You’re the one who built the cabins?”

  “I am,” he said. “Obviously, you’ve heard about them.”

  She nodded, but she looked slightly uncomfortable. “Dad’s mentioned them.”

  In spite of the cold and his growing irritation with Cameron, Rick laughed at her tactful phrasing. “I’ll bet he has.”

  Mischief tweaked the corners of her mouth, but she didn’t elaborate. “Cameron and I flew in from California this morning. We’ll be staying with Dad for the holidays.”

  “Then I imagine we’ll be bumping into each other from time to time.” To his surprise, he didn’t mind the possibility.

  She slanted a glance at the car and grinned up at him. “Yes, but hopefully not this way again.”

  Something—her eyes, her smile, her laugh—pulled an uncomfortable response from Rick. He didn’t take time to analyze it. Instead, he laughed softly. “No. Hopefully not.”

  She fell silent, and only the rush of wind through the treetops, the echo of Rick’s laugh and the almost palpable hostility from Cameron disturbed the tranquillity.

  Rick cleared his throat and shifted his weight. With Jocelyn’s memory so close, his laughter suddenly seemed like a betrayal. “I guess we’d better get to work,” he said, “or we’ll be here all day.”

  He tied the rope to the frame of Marti’s car, climbed back into the cab of his truck and started the engine. He watched Marti say something to Cameron. In response, the boy gestured angrily toward the bridge.

  Even from this distance Rick could tell Marti had to exert a great deal of self-control when she responded. He had no desire to step into the middle of a family argument, but he couldn’t help wondering why the kid was so angry with her. It might be the age, he thought. Other than his limited experience with Jocelyn’s nieces, Ashley and Kendra, he knew next to nothing about kids. Not that he hadn’t wanted children. They just hadn’t been in the cards.

  Jocelyn hadn’t wanted to get pregnant until her career was off and running. Every year, they’d pushed their estimated date for starting a family further away, until Rick had finally realized that Jocelyn would never feel secure enough in her career to start their family. He’d been disappointed for a while, but he’d eventually adjusted. And now, watching Cameron with Marti, he thought maybe he’d been lucky.

  When Marti finally slipped behind the wheel of the car and Cameron took up his position near the trunk, Rick backed the truck slowly along the ice. The rope snapped taut and jerked the front of the car toward him. Marti worked the steering wheel while Cameron used his legs and back to keep it from sliding any farther toward the ditch.

  Twice, Rick thought they’d lost the battle. He fought frustration, knowing he could do nothing but inch the truck backward and keep the rope taut. Somehow, Marti and Cameron managed to keep the car on the road and, after what felt like forever, it sl
id to the center of the road and out of danger.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Rick turned off the truck’s ignition and climbed down to untie the rope. But this time, Cameron beat him to the job. When he’d finished, Cameron flicked a surprisingly non-hostile glance at him and tossed him the rope. But when he turned to his mother, the anger roared to life again. “So? Are we going to Grandpa’s, or are you going to stay here and talk all day?”

  “We’re going.” Marti’s eyes clouded with embarrassment and her cheeks flamed, but she didn’t say a word to Cameron about his attitude. She just sent Rick one last sheepish smile. “Thanks again. I can’t thank you enough for all your help.”

  “No problem. Glad to do it.” That much was true, anyway. He couldn’t have left her car straddling the road. He climbed quickly into his truck, relishing the warmth from the heater, and backed out of her way.

  He watched as she drove slowly across the wooden bridge toward her father’s house. Even after she’d disappeared, the image of her clear blue eyes and warm, friendly smile stayed with him.

  Cameron might have inherited his attitude from his grandpa, but it had obviously skipped a generation.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SMILING SOFTLY, Marti drove away from the encounter by the bridge and started up the narrow snow-covered road toward the Lazy M Ranch. Rick Dennehy had surprised her. Her father had been so upset at having to sell part of the Lazy M, she’d pictured the man and his wife as evil incarnate. But Rick had actually been friendly, pleasant and more than a little helpful.

  Cameron scowled, as if he couldn’t stand seeing her smile. “Are you going to tell Grandpa about what happened back there?”

  She hesitated before answering. She didn’t know why she did. The rental car hadn’t been damaged, and nobody had been hurt. But knowing how her dad felt about Rick and his cabins made her apprehensive. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “Nothing actually happened, did it?”

  Cameron’s frown deepened. “No, but not because of anything you did.”

  Marti refused to let him goad her into another argument. “I never said it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t expect anyone else to be on the road.”