Snowed in with the Single Dad

by Melinda Curtis

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A VIOLENT DOOR slam shook the Lodgepole Inn.

  That, combined with a gust of icy wind, woke Shane. He swung his legs around and nearly fell off the couch in the common room.

  A table lamp next to him came on, blinding him.

  “You.”

  “Dr. Carlisle.” Shane turned to keep a wary eye on the purse-wielding doctor and rubbed his face with both hands. “I lost track of you. What time is it?”

  “Five o’clock in the morning.” She was dusted with snow from head to toe, and her dark slacks looked wet as if she’d fallen into a snowdrift. “I dozed off talking to your cousin, who’s still sound asleep by the way.” She assumed the position of a batter, only her bat was that big black bag. “You had better give me a ride back to Ketchum right now or I’ll press charges!”

  “Don’t hit me.” Shane got to his feet. “I’m up. I’m moving.”

  “Where’s the fire?” The door to one of the downstairs guest rooms opened and Zeke hobbled into view. He squinted in the light, bumped his injured leg against the wall and howled.

  “What’s the emergency?” Mitch opened the door to his apartment.

  “Mr. Monroe?” Dr. Carlisle seemed confused. She was staring at Mitch, not Shane.

  There’s a question to ask later.

  “Dad, is everything okay?” Gabby appeared behind her father, wearing a blue flannel nightgown and reddish-green shiners.

  There was a moment of silence where everyone looked at everyone else.

  “Oh, for the love of bicycles!” Dr. Carlisle dropped her bag, shrugged out of her jacket and rushed to Zeke’s side. “You should be in bed. Come on.”

  “Dr. Carlisle.” The cowboy opened his eyes wider. “I’ve been waiting my entire life for a woman to say that to me.”

  “I’m not the woman you’ve been waiting for.” She set one of his crutches against the wall and coached him on the one-crutch hobble around his folded wheelchair. “You may have graduated to a walking cast, but you’d do best to keep to that wheelchair for a few more weeks.”

  “You really know how to crush a man’s ego, Doc.” But the cowboy didn’t sound as if he was complaining.

  Dr. Carlisle shut the bedroom door behind them.

  “I need coffee and a toothbrush.” Shane hurried to the stairs.

  “And a good lawyer.” Mitch grabbed hold of Shane’s arm before he’d reached the first step. “Don’t forget, the passes are closed.”

  Shane looked up, not heavenward but to where his room was, wondering if he could hide from Dr. Carlisle for twenty-four hours or until one of the three mountain passes opened again.

  “I’m not going to tell her,” Mitch said in that firm voice of his.

  “Since you’re the mayor and my defense attorney,” Shane countered, jerking from his hold. “I think you should give her the news.”

  “As owner of the town and the originator of this cockamamy plan,” Mitch said, “you should tell her.”

  Shane flirted with the idea of getting Holden to tell the doctor the news. Where was he anyway? “I say we have Gabby tell her.”

  “Tell her what?” Gabby asked, clearly not following the nuances of the conversation.

  “Nothing.” Mitch scowled.

  “She’s in doctor mode, Mitch.” Shane smiled at Gabby. “And the next person she’s going to treat is your daughter. Your beautiful, sweet, innocent daughter.”

  Dr. Carlisle would never hit Gabby with a brick-loaded purse.

  Gabby put her hands on her slim hips. “Is there something the adults in the room forgot to tell me?”

  “Okay, change of plan. Even I can’t do that to you.” Shane’s brain moved on to plan B. “Get the good doctor a room, preferably with a view of the Sawtooth Mountains. I’ll text my lothario cousin her whereabouts in case he wakes up and worries about her.”

  Forgoing a toothbrush, Shane darted into the small kitchen alcove at the bottom of the stairs and set the coffee brewing.

  Mitch lingered. “About Laurel.”

  “What about her?” Shane spared a glance at the innkeeper’s face. “Oh, don’t tell me you dumped her.”

  The man gave Shane the weakest of smiles. “She beat me to it.”

  Shane shook his head. “I know you know what my grandfather would say about that.”

  Mitch nodded. “Everybody deserves a second chance.” To his credit, he looked miserable.

  At any other time, Shane would’ve reveled in his pain. But Mitch had broken Laurel’s heart because he couldn’t see honest regret staring him in the face. “She deserves better than you.”

  Mitch didn’t argue.

  The coffee finished and footsteps heralded the doctor’s return.

  “I thought you could use a cup to get your day started.” Turning his back on Mitch, Shane held out his peace offering. “The teen with the black eyes is Gabby.”

  Dr. Carlisle scowled at Shane but accepted the mug. “What happened to you, kiddo?”

  Gabby patted the door frame. “I was texting and bumped into this wall.”

  Dr. Carlisle’s slender blond eyebrows shot up. “You have a cell phone.”

  “Not anymore.” Gabby’s shoulders drooped. “I suppose this is life’s way of telling me I was too young to have one in the first place.”

  “That’s my girl,” Mitch said with pride.

  Dr. Carlisle spotted the sink in the alcove and washed her hands. “Can I take a closer look at your colorful life lesson, Gabby?”

  The teen brightened. “Dad said I didn’t break my nose, but I’d like a second opinion.” She added in a whisper, “I didn’t realize how much I like my nose until it became a schnoz.”

  Dr. Carlisle cradled Gabby’s face and gently turned it to and fro, peering at her bruises and staring into her eyes. “And you can breathe all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And afterward, you never passed out or dozed off when you shouldn’t have?”

  “No.”

  “Your father is correct about it not being broken.” She smoothed Gabby’s strawberry blond hair over her shoulders. “I don’t want to alarm you, but some of that excess fluid may drop to your jawline in the next day or so before it dissipates completely from your face. It’ll look like you have bruises on either side of your mouth.”

  “Fantastic,” Gabby said, yawning. “My dad would say this is the punishment fitting the crime.”

  Mitch enfolded his daughter into a gentle hug. “The hardest of life’s lessons always leave a painful mark.”

  Dr. Carlisle’s pleasant bedside manner disappeared. “I’m ready to leave now.” Her eyes sought to burn holes in Shane’s face.

  “Ah, yeah. Here’s the unfortunate news about that.” Shane didn’t know how to soften the blow. “We’ve just learned we’re snowed in. No one can get in or out of the valley.”

  “No one?” Her gaze drifted toward the window. She’d walked through the snow to get to the inn. She’d know he wasn’t lying about that.

  “No one,” Shane said firmly.

  “Can I get you a complimentary room?” Mitch came to Shane’s aid. “We have plenty of hot water for a bath or a shower. Will a queen bed do?”

  Her shoulders drooped. “Can I put a hold on my calls and a do-not-disturb sign on my door?”

  “We’ll put you in the Ponderosa Room.” Gabby handed her a key attached to a four-inch piece of wood into which the word Ponderosa had been carved. “Give me a few minutes to get some fresh towels up there.” She hurried into her and Mitch’s apartment and banged around in cupboards.

  “If you need anything, the general store and the Bent Nickel Diner open at seven.” Mitch smiled kindly at her, but then again, he’d had no part in the kidnapping so he could manage a tranquil smile.

  “Charge anything y
ou want to my account,” Shane added.

  “You’d be amazed what a woman needs in the mountains,” Dr. Carlisle deadpanned.

  Arms filled with towels, Gabby scampered up the steps to the second floor.

  Mitch moved at a much slower pace to the stairs. “While you’re here, I’d appreciate it if you could examine Laurel.”

  “Oh, yes. She fell the other day.” It was a little scary how Dr. Carlisle could swing easily from angry, kidnapped woman to caring physician. She followed Mitch upstairs. “How’s she been feeling?”

  “Good. But it would ease my mind if you’d take a look.”

  “Of course.” She glanced over her shoulder at Shane, eyes narrowing even if her tone was cheerful. “It seems I have an abundance of time on my hands.”

  The moment they disappeared, Shane pulled out his cell phone to check the weather report. If luck was with him, the storm would blow through today.

  Silently, he swore.

  Luck wasn’t with him.

  * * *

  AS SOON AS the Bent Nickel was open, Shane took up residence at a booth near the front windows.

  He wanted Holden to see him when he descended from the clinic. He wanted to interrogate his cousin on what had happened.

  Not that he wanted details. An overview would do. Starting with: What did you talk about all night? And ending with: Can you work a little more of your magic on Dr. Carlisle and convince her to stay?

  Aunt Genevieve entered the diner, wearing the same clothes from yesterday and the same sour expression. She paused inside the door to finger comb her short red hair, which allowed her time to spot Shane.

  “Where is Holden?” she demanded, taking a seat across from him. “His vehicle is out in front, but he didn’t check into the motel.”

  Shane cradled his coffee cup. “He’s around.”

  “Is he?” His aunt craned her neck and waved at Ivy. “It’s like I’m in a horror movie and he’s the first to disappear.”

  Well, this was an unexpected bright spot in the morning. Shane grinned, grateful for the distracting opportunity to tease. “You know the first person to die in a horror movie is always the most clueless.” He rather liked that adjective attached to Holden.

  Order for coffee given, she settled back in her seat. “I haven’t seen Holden since he went looking for you, Shane. If my son was writing the script, he’d list you as a suspect.”

  “I haven’t slashed Holden to ribbons and stuffed him in someone’s basement, if that’s what you mean.” It was tough to drink his coffee around his widening grin.

  Ivy appeared with a coffee mug and a pot of coffee.

  “So glib,” his aunt muttered. “I may have married into the Hollywood branch of the Monroe family, but I’ve always admired Holden and his siblings. You never catch any of them making a scandal.”

  Shane nearly spit out his coffee.

  Poor Aunt Genevieve and her selective memory.

  Shane glanced across the road to the dim glow of the window at the medical cabin. He couldn’t wait for Holden and Dr. Carlisle to be in the same room as his aunt.

  “Shane, Roy mentioned you...brought a doctor home last night.” Ivy set a water glass and menu for Genevieve on the table. She put her hand on her hip. “Where is she?”

  “Is someone else missing?” Aunt Genevieve demanded, holding true to her difficult nature. “Does someone need to send out a search party?”

  “No,” Shane said quickly. A partial explanation was in order. “We’re in contract negotiations with a doctor for our clinic. And Holden is—”

  “An expert when it comes to money.” His aunt finished Shane’s sentence. She beamed up at Ivy. “I’m sure they’re off somewhere negotiating.”

  “They were negotiating something.” Shane tried hard not to smile. “I’m waiting on an update.” He hoped Holden wasn’t a deal breaker as well as a heartbreaker.

  Ivy gave Shane a dubious look.

  “I’ll have an egg-white omelet with quinoa, tomato and kale.” Aunt Genevieve hadn’t looked at the menu.

  “We don’t have quinoa or kale.” Ivy looked at Genevieve the way she used to look at Shane.

  “I passed a store on my way here.” Genevieve gestured toward it.

  Ivy’s forehead crinkled. “Mack doesn’t stock quinoa or kale.”

  Before his aunt could say something completely insensitive, Shane said, “She’ll have oatmeal.”

  Now it was Aunt Genevieve who frowned. After a moment she nodded. “Steel cut, of course.”

  “Oatmeal,” Shane said again when Ivy might have mentioned her oatmeal came in a small pouch she added hot water to. “You’ll like the oatmeal.”

  It was practically guaranteed his aunt wouldn’t like much else in Second Chance.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE SNOW MIGHT have trapped them in the valley, but life in Second Chance always went on despite the nonstop precipitation.

  Wrapped in a jacket, her teal scarf swathed about her face, Laurel entered the Bent Nickel. It was lunchtime. It hadn’t stopped snowing all morning. But nearly every booth and table was full. The second wave of Monroes had bought them out.

  Hunched over, nursing a broken heart, Laurel considered a hasty retreat.

  What if they know the truth about me?

  What if they do? That was her grandfather’s voice. Strong and confident. Won’t change who you are inside.

  He was right. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. She might not have been good enough for the likes of Mitch Kincaid, but she wasn’t a bad person.

  From a booth in the back, Holden gestured for her to join him.

  Holden wasn’t her first choice for a lunch partner, but she felt sorry for him since he was alone.

  “Laurel.” Odette grabbed the hem of her coat as she passed. She sat with Flip. “Is it true there’s a doctor in town?”

  She nodded. “But she’s sleeping.” Gabby had told her that.

  Odette’s features smoothed into a satisfied smile.

  “I can’t promise she’s staying,” Laurel added, rubbing Odette’s back when her smile fell into a mopey frown. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about the boutique I’m opening in the mercantile. Flip has agreed to allow me to sell some of her paintings. You want to be featured, too, don’t you?”

  “I don’t sell anything,” Odette growled.

  Flip laughed, but it lacked her usual spitefulness. She’d be disappointed if Laurel couldn’t convince Odette to participate.

  Laurel knelt near her mentor. “Imagine families with babies passing through, ones who didn’t pack warm clothes for their kids. They’ll stop to play in the snow and need a knit cap to keep their little ones warm. Or a thick, dry sweater for the car ride home.”

  “Not for sale.” Odette pulled her knit cap around her ears.

  “Speaking of car rides, perhaps now is the time to remind you of the Lee family motto.” Flip pointed to a yellowed map of Second Chance that was framed and hung above their table.

  “The only motto I know is to make money you have to be passionate about what you do.” Laurel tried to move on.

  But Flip caught her jacket in the same way Odette had. “The most difficult path is finding the truth in your heart.”

  Laurel squinted at the map. She couldn’t read the script on the bottom. “It says that?”

  “Yes.” Flip nodded.

  “Laurel!” Holden called impatiently from the back booth.

  With heavy steps, Laurel went to join him.

  “Will you be by later to sew?” Odette called after her.

  Laurel shrugged without turning.

  “I didn’t take you for a quitter.” Odette was in one of her moods.

  Laurel kept her mouth closed. If she’d learned anything from coming to Second Chance, it was how to hav
e the patience of a saint.

  Holden nodded a greeting as she approached. He was a natural-born leader, like Shane, but lacked Shane’s creativity and endearing wit. That made Holden seem like a wet blanket on some occasions and a stuck-up pain in the butt on others.

  This morning Laurel had some sympathy for him because he looked a bit green. “I recommend the soup, crackers and club soda.”

  “Thanks.” He laid his cell phone faceup on the table, the sure sign of a man who considered whatever might happen in the world more important than the person they were dining with. “What’s your take on this town?”

  “I love it,” Laurel said without thinking.

  Holden cleared his throat. “I hear they need a doctor.”

  “I hear you...interviewed one.” Holden might be intimidating on Wall Street, but he was just her cousin after all. Laurel remembered him when he had acne and braces.

  Holden straightened his flatware on the paper napkin. “She’s overqualified for the position.”

  “But not overqualified for you. Or vice versa.” Laurel reached across the table, placing her hand over his to stop his fidgeting. “This is Idaho, not New York. It’s a small world and relationship expectations are sometimes different here.”

  Case in point: Mitch.

  “It’s not like I plan to live here.” Holden worked his jaw.

  “You’d tell me if she never wants to hear your name again, though, right?” Laurel paused, but Holden said nothing. “She’s my doctor. You may not have to see her on a regular basis, but I have an appointment with her in three weeks.”

  Holden withdrew his hand. “She’s only your doctor if you stay here. Go home, Laurel. You’re having twins. You can get top-notch medical care in California.”

  Laurel sat back. He was right, of course. But California didn’t have Sophie and Shane. Or Odette and Flip. Or Gabby and...

  “Your mother negotiated a deal of a lifetime for you.”

  Laurel might not have been schooled in legalese, but she was sure that wasn’t true.

  “I’m not going to leave this town without you,” he said firmly, expecting no argument.