by Susan Hatler
“Should be,” Connor muttered.
I stepped up next to Adam, so he wouldn’t sense my plan. “Our SUVs are equipped with four-wheel drive. They carry emergency medical kits, and all of the other things we might need. The guides are trained to react to emergency situations, no matter what may have caused them.”
Adam looked relieved.
“Good to know,” Connor said, and then went back to reading his magazine.
Adam mustered up a big smile. “Let’s move on to a different section of the store.”
They followed us toward the shoe wall.
“What’s this?” Miles asked.
Adam looked at the snow on the floor. “Oh, someone must have tracked that in . . .”
“Nope.” I sighed, shaking my head. “It’s the roof.”
Adam’s head jerked and he drilled a hard gaze at me. “What?”
I pointed upward and shrugged. “The roof leaks every now and then.”
“It leaks snow?” Miles asked.
Gulp! I hadn’t thought that the snow should’ve melted by now if it dropped down from the roof, so I nodded. “Yes, unless it’s raining.”
“What happens then?” Mrs. Johnson asked.
“It leaks rain.” I gave her a wide-eyed look.
Adam choked a little.
“But it’s not a terrible problem,” I said, glancing over at Adam, who had turned pale. “I’ve been trapped in here during a blizzard and it only made puddles.”
Miles squeaked out, “Blizzards?”
Mrs. Johnson murmured, “Trapped? In the store?”
“Oh it was fine.” I clapped my hands together. “Really. I had plenty of pastries and coffee. We keep them on hand. Being trapped in a blizzard isn’t that bad, unless the power goes out. We do have back up power sources here in the building, though. Everyone in town does. You have to be prepared. It is Montana, you know. The grid is pretty far-flung and if it goes out in one spot, well it sort of spreads the outages. The mountains make it hard for crews to fix things very fast.” I paused. “But it all does get fixed eventually.”
Mrs. Johnson let out a sort of whimper. Connor wandered our way holding the magazine. Adam’s eyes widened. Mr. Johnson’s eyebrows rose to his hairline.
Miles gestured to another spot of strategically placed snow. “Is that also a leak?”
I studied the snow. “Maybe.”
Adam shook his head. “Snow would not leak through a roof in that form. Must’ve been tracked in on boots. Customers have been in and out all day. We should get that up before we have an accident.”
“Slips and falls will jack up your insurance,” Connor said in a mournful voice.
“Yes, let me grab a mop.” I hurried off to get the mop and when I came back I found Connor peppering Adam with questions about a tent ridgepole we used. Adam was surprisingly knowledgeable.
I was mopping up the snow from my failed roof-hole idea when Connor came up and put an arm around me. “You must be the best employee ever,” he said.
A line formed between Adam’s eyebrows and his gaze moved from Connor back to me. Uh-oh, was he suspecting we were in cahoots?
“Sir, I hope you plan to book a tour with Silver Bells today,” I said, feeling very pleased with turning this around to a sales pitch.
“Let me think about it,” he said, dropping his arm from my waist and going back to his chair in the camping area.
Miles followed him, checking out the tent ridgepoles.
Mrs. Johnson stepped toward me. “You have a great blowout, Faith. May I ask where you had it done?”
“The C.M. Salon on Main Street,” I said, and told her all about Morgan’s business.
“That salon wasn’t here the last time we visited Christmas Mountain,” Mrs. Johnson said, turning to her husband. “What a great addition.”
He stroked his chin. “I’d heard the town had been failing, but seems like things are turning around.”
Mrs. Johnson smiled at her husband. “I think we need to consider putting in an offer, dear.”
With those words, my heart dropped all the way to my stomach and stayed there. Where was an avalanche when you needed one?
Chapter Eight
By Wednesday evening, an offer still hadn’t come in from the Johnsons, so I came to work and convinced Adam to take one more Silver Bells Luxury Tour. This time I would pull out all of the stops by taking him on Mr. Kline’s favorite tour and mine, too.
I stood out front and smiled as Adam rounded the corner, his long capable legs making short work of the snow, which had fallen overnight. My belly did a little flip as he approached in the first casual outfit I’d seen him in. He wore fitted jeans and although they looked well worn, I would bet my bottom dollar that some designer had made them that way. His red ski jacket was unzipped, showing off the black sweater he wore that stretched across his broad chest, and tapered down to his trim waist.
Angels literally started singing as he approached and I seriously couldn’t blame them, the man was hot. Sing-sing-sing they rang, with tinkling music to boot. My head went into the clouds and his gaze met mine.
He stopped in front of me. “Faith? Is that your phone?”
“My phone?” I asked, realizing the sounds were not angels singing but the ringing of my cell phone. This realization did nothing to calm the butterflies in my stomach, as I excused myself to answer my phone (and get my head out of the clouds).
“Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m very well, thank you. How are you? Something wrong with your dialing finger, I assume, since I haven’t heard from you all month.”
“It’s only the second week of December, Mom,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But listen, I’m just about to do a tour. Can I call you later?”
“Surely you have a few minutes to give to your mother, Faith? I gave birth to you and twenty-two hours of pain certainly deserves two minutes of phone time. Don’t you think?”
I sighed. Getting my mom off the phone was never easy “Two minutes, Mom. What’s up?”
“Your stepfather and I would like you to come home for Christmas, Faith,” she said, as if this were a fabulous idea and not an extremely inconvenient last-minute invitation given the shaky status of my job. “We’ll pay for the plane ticket. You come to Florida and top up your tan and get some vitamin D in you.”
I sighed. “I love the snow at Christmas, Mom. You know that. But even if I wanted to come back to the heat, I can’t. I’m singing in The Christmas Extravaganza again this year to honor Ms. King? And I have . . .” I looked at Adam from under my lashes. “Work commitments going on. Look, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? I love you.”
She relented and said goodbye, so I hung up. Adam raised his eyebrows as I turned and faced him.
“You’ve got me here,” he said, smiling and showing off the dimple in his cheek. “Now what are you going to do with me?”
Oh, there was so much I wanted to do with him that had nothing to do with work.
I shook my head, my cheeks heating. “You moved away before Silver Bells Luxury Tours opened, right?”
He nodded. “Dad was just starting to pull it all together when we moved. But what’s your point? I don’t mean to be rude, Faith, but I have a lot to do before I can wrap things up here and head back to New York.”
Every time he alluded to selling the business it struck me like a blow to the stomach. I had to pull out all of the stops this time. “The least you can do before selling is take a real look at the place in action. You’ve lived in Manhattan for years, Adam. Now it’s time to see Christmas Mountain in all of its holiday prime.”
He paused for a moment. “Okay, show me what Silver Bells has to offer. But, Faith, it’s precisely because I’ve lived in Manhattan for so long that I know exactly what Christmas is all about. Have you ever been to the city in December? It’s wall-to-wall Santa. The Rockefeller Center tree and skating rink, Bryant Park Winter Village, not to mention Macy’s. Seriously, Faith, nobody does Christmas like
New Yorkers.”
I leaned forward and put my mouth close to his ear. “Ah, but they don’t have the magic of Christmas Mountain, Montana.” I pulled back and placed my finger on my lips in a shhh gesture, smiling broadly because I really did get that excited about this tour.
He laughed. “Fine, you’ve got me for the day, but this evening I need to work.”
I nodded, hoping that a day would be enough.
A dog barked behind us and Adam turned around as a whole pack of huskies appeared, yapping excitedly. I took Adam’s arm and gently pulled him after them.
“Welcome to the Magic of Christmas Safari tour! Now, before we begin, there are a few things we need to run through with you . . . ”
I let the tour guide run through the instructions. I’d gone on this tour countless times, so I knew the drill, but I was busy watching Adam’s face as he took in the scene before him. Huskies were tethered to two-person sleds that Adam and I would ride in.
In addition, a group of younger children were being helped up into a magnificent, gleaming sleigh ahead of us, which was large enough to comfortably seat ten kids. The cherry red sleigh had soft curves, which were edged in gold, and deep green leather seats with soft fleece-lined blankets, which the children were draping over their legs. The horses, which stood patiently waiting in front of the sleigh, had tinsel plaited into their tails and manes, and tiny silver bells hanging from their reins.
Adam turned to me. “C’mon, Faith. I’m a grown man. You don’t seriously expect me to buy into this? This tour is for kids.”
I led Adam to one of the two-man sleds, ignoring his protests. “If you fall, do not let go of the reins, or you’ll be chasing your dogs for hours. Keep an eye on the instructor and when he signals to you to stop, you stop. When he tells you to slow down, you slow down. And when he tells you to go, you—”
“Don’t tell me, I go?” he said, the corner of his mouth hitching up.
I nudged his shoulder as we climbed into the sled. “You got it. And Adam . . .”
He pulled the green velvet blanket up over our laps. “Yes, Faith?”
“Believe,” I said, smiling.
There was no more time for discussion as the sleigh took off, next the first team of dogs set off with other guests, and then our sled followed close behind. Up ahead we could hear the excited chatter of the children in the sleigh. I absolutely adored this tour, and I usually tagged along at least once a week throughout the holiday season. This magical joy was what Silver Bells was all about and I hoped I could make Adam feel it, too.
As the teams spread out, we left the glow of the Silver Bells buildings far behind us. There was little light pollution out here, so the tiny golden lights, which were strung through the trees twinkled and glowed, like fireflies above our heads. As we headed deeper into the forest, we came upon the first sign—the sign Adam had told me needed to be repainted. But this time he smiled as he glided past and his eyes lit up. I took that as a good sign.
The cold wind bit our faces as we went and more signs appeared, noting the way to Santa’s Grotto, Santa’s Village, Elf Quarters, and other magical places. From the horse-drawn sleigh up ahead, we heard the children’s collective gasps, and we caught a glimpse of red and green as an elf darted between trees, carrying a lantern to light their way.
Adam was looking this way and that, and every time he heard the children shriek he was on the lookout, as we spotted an elf here, a reindeer there, and through the trees a glimpse of a gingerbread house.
We brought the dogs to a stop, and the door of the gingerbread house opened, a pretty elf standing in the doorway with a tray of steaming hot cocoa and soft-looking cookies. Tree trunks had been fashioned into toadstool seats all around the cottage, and we sat, gratefully holding the cocoa as we drank, the warmth chasing the cold away.
Out of the woods strode Santa, a mountain of a man who had taken over for Mr. Kline this year, making my eyes water, even as he made kids’ dreams come true. As the children clamored to tell him their wishes, Adam turned to me.
His eyes twinkled. “Tell me, Faith. What’s your Christmas wish?”
“I’d have to sit on your knee to tell you,” I blurted, my cheeks immediately heating. Had I really said that out loud? Well, who really cared at this point? “I mean, if you were Santa . . .”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Of course.”
With the children satisfied that Santa had their orders, we began the journey back. Thousands of lights now led the way, some in the form of lanterns to mark the path, and others dotted around the expanses of snow, which lay between the trees. If after having been on the tour a million times I was still affected by the magic, then surely Adam would be, too.
As we pulled into the front of the Silver Bells Luxury Tours building where we’d started, I noticed Dallas Parker’s car outside. Dallas was Morgan’s boyfriend and also the owner of Parker’s Furniture store on Main Street. He often did carpentry jobs around the place for us, often free of charge because he knew the business was struggling.
“Hey, Faith, how’s it going?” He gave me a hug after I’d climbed out of the sled. “I know you didn’t call, but maintenance needs help with—”
I blinked, waiting for him to go on since he’d stopped talking abruptly. My gaze slid sideways toward Adam, after Dallas had done the same.
“Hi, Dallas,” Adam said, looking the most uncomfortable I had seen him since he arrived.
Dallas nodded. “Adam.”
Well, this was awkward.
Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but neither man spoke as the rest of the dogs and the horses were given drinks and then led away. Dallas looked at Adam, and took his hands out of his pockets as he walked towards him. Oh, man. Don’t tell me there was going to be a fight. I vaguely remembered Dallas decking a boyfriend of Morgan’s years back and I hoped he wasn’t going for a repeat.
Instead, Adam shook Dallas’s hand, before Dallas pulled him into a bear hug.
“Dallas, man, it’s been too long,” Adam said.
“Yeah, it has.” Dallas then stood back, eyeing him warily. “You disappeared and never wrote. What happened to you?”
Adam turned to include me in the conversation. “Dallas and I were good friends before I moved to New York.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised I hadn’t known that. But then I hadn’t known Adam at all before he moved. I’d been in my own little world with my choir buddies.
“Sorry for never calling,” Adam said, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “When I moved away after the divorce, it was easier to forget all about home.”
Dallas nodded. “I get it.”
“Thanks,” Adam said, his expression showing visible relief. He stared at his old friend a moment. “I hope we can put things right. A few beers? Tonight?”
“You bet,” Dallas said, smiling.
I felt a flutter of hope. “So you don’t need to work tonight then, Adam?”
He shook his head. “Some things are more important.”
A burst of happiness radiated throughout my chest. Somehow, Christmas Mountain had worked its magic after all.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, I dashed through the front door of Prancer’s Pancake House, which sat on the opposite side of the town square from Main Street. I spotted Morgan at a table and hurried toward her. Suddenly, Addie Wilcox stepped in front of me and my feet skidded to a halt. Addie was the town gossip and many people attended her cocktail parties just to find out the backstory on the happenings in town.
Did I want to be part of her talk? Um, that would be a big no. But I didn’t see anyway to get around her and she was clearly on a mission since she’d blocked my path. I forced a smile and in response she held up a sleigh-shaped dog carrier that held her little blonde Pomeranian.
Cute dog aside, I glanced around for help, but everyone in the restaurant was either leaning in our direction to hear what was going to be said or they were avoiding eye co
ntact by practically face-diving into their plates of steaming, fluffy pancakes. Cowards.
“There you are, Faith.”
“Yup. Here I am.” I stuffed my hands into the deep pockets of my down-filled parka. “And I’m late meeting a friend. So, if you’ll please excuse me . . .”
She sidestepped quickly, blocking my escape. “I heard Larry Kline’s son is in town to take over running Silver Bells Luxury Tours. Is that true?”
My teeth gritted together. Addie had heard because she made it her business to hear, and tell, every bit of gossip that floated about Christmas Mountain. “That’s right. Oh, look at that. Morgan’s already ordered my coffee. I’m sorry, but I really have to go.”
In an impressive move, I shot to the right, scooted around her, and was already sliding into a chair before Addie could react. “Red alert,” I mouthed to Morgan.
“Are you talking about Addie or are you speaking of the fact that my fabulous sabotage idea finally got you a date with Mr. Hottie?” Morgan whispered, the corners of her mouth twitching as she surveyed me over the rim of her coffee cup.
“I meant Addie,” I said, glancing her way out of the corner of my eye and discovering she’d cornered someone else. Then I gave Morgan a meaningful look. “I suppose there’s also a red alert since he is still going to sell. And there’s no date.”
“You should’ve gone for the facial.”
My eyes rolled upward. “This is serious.”
The server approached us then and asked to take our order. I decided on a triple stack of blueberry walnut pancakes with extra butter and syrup on the side, bacon, and home fries.
“Whoa,” Morgan said, giving me a side eye.
I held up a finger. “Don’t even think of trying to deny me my indulgences today. They’re the only things I have right now.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, before ordering eggs and toast with a side of fruit. She waited until the server left and then turned to me. “There’s no hope he’ll keep the business?”
