Snowed in with the Single Dad

by Melinda Curtis

There was the Holden she knew and loved.

  Ivy refilled Holden’s coffee cup. “I’ll be right back for your lunch order.”

  “She’s taking a deal and leaving us. What a sellout,” Odette said in a loud voice. “And she showed so much promise.”

  Holden leaned to one side to look at the elderly eavesdroppers. “Is that woman referring to you?”

  Laurel nodded and kicked her voice up a notch as she said, “But she’s mistaken. Sophie and I are opening retail shops here. I’m going to feature artisan textiles—local paintings, quilts, knit items.”

  “Don’t ask me to invest.” Holden slurped his steaming coffee. “In fact, we should probably talk about your portfolio.” He managed Laurel’s savings.

  Laurel closed her eyes and tried to recall how she’d felt in the mercantile. Joyful. Certain.

  “Sign the contract, Laurel, and we’ll devise a new way to protect your assets.”

  “I’ve found a place here, Holden. No financial plan can protect my heart.” Her chest constricted. Truer words were never spoken.

  “Putting your heart in a business?” He sipped his coffee. “That’s old-school.”

  “It’s how Grandpa Harlan made his fortune.” Multiple times over.

  “And how hundreds of thousands of entrepreneurs go bankrupt every year.” Holden held her gaze. “Second Chance isn’t for Monroes.”

  He was so wrong.

  “I’m not hungry.” Laurel got up.

  She needed to find Mitch. But she couldn’t pass Odette and Flip without saying something.

  “You are both strong, talented women. And if you’re too afraid to put your work on display and put a price on it, so be it. The joy you create will go unnoticed.”

  “Well...the nerve,” Odette harrumphed.

  “Yep.” Flip laughed. “The nerve.”

  * * *

  “WHAT ARE YOU going to do, Dad?” Gabby asked as she changed the sheets on Laurel’s bed. “How are you going to fight for Laurel?”

  “I’m not. In not so many words, we broke up.” He scrubbed Laurel’s toilet harder. “She’s going to be a fancy dress designer in Hollywood, make lots of money and forget us.”

  “You barked at her, didn’t you?” The mattress squeaked as Gabby sat on the bed. “Because of the sexiest man alive? Dad, you’re almost as attractive as Wyatt Halford.”

  “This has nothing to do with that actor.” He’d never be able to watch one of his movies or shows again. “And everything to do with the choices Laurel made.”

  “Her choices?” Gabby’s voice sounded small. “You think she’d pretend to be Ashley again and get pregnant by another famous hottie?”

  “No.” Mitch scowled, grateful he was in the bathroom and Gabby couldn’t see his face. His cheeks were heating. This was practically a discussion about the birds and the bees. “Laurel isn’t like that.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Mitch’s chest squeezed.

  What’s the problem?

  He stopped scrubbing and leaned against the door frame, removing his plastic gloves and tossing them into his supply bucket. “Have I told you lately how brilliant you are?”

  “No?”

  He sat on the bed next to her and gave her a hug. “Why don’t you go downstairs and call your mother? She hasn’t heard from you in days.”

  Gabby didn’t wait for him to think twice. She hightailed it out of there.

  Outside the window, the day was as gray as his mood. The clouds were thick and low, and snow fell hurriedly to earth, guaranteeing another day of the passes being closed.

  Facts were facts. Laurel was having the babies of the sexiest man alive. Mitch didn’t have any problem imagining what Wyatt could give those girls. Private school. Tuition to a prestigious college. A ski lodge in Aspen. A gap year in Europe. Mitch didn’t even know where he’d be next year. Much as he wanted to trust Shane, Second Chance might not earn historical significance, and even so, the Monroes might sell the town off anyway.

  Mitch stared at his hands.

  What kind of man couldn’t promise a stable future for his little girl?

  He got to his feet, intending to finish Laurel’s bathroom, but his leg brushed a clipped stack of papers on the bedside table. They fell to the carpet.

  The stack had been turned upside down. He righted them.

  It was a contract.

  He hadn’t seen it when he came in. It might have been under Laurel’s pillow or beneath the blankets.

  He read the first page.

  It was the contract Laurel’s mother had brought.

  He read the last page.

  Laurel hadn’t signed it.

  His heart soared with hope.

  Mitch sat back down and began to read the contract from the beginning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “LAUREL.” MITCH SAT on the couch in the common room opposite her mother. He had a serious expression on his face and her design contract in his hands. “Come join us.”

  Chilled, Laurel removed her jacket but put up her guard.

  Her mother didn’t look happy and neither did Mitch.

  “You hired a lawyer?” Mom scowled. Her clothes were as rumpled as her temper. “Does this mean you don’t trust me? Your own mother?”

  “What do you think?” Laurel asked vaguely because she had no clue what was going on. She sat on the hearth and glanced at Mitch, at stern features and square shoulders. He gave nothing away. “Counselor.”

  Mitch allowed the briefest of nods. “I looked at the contract as a favor to Laurel.” His words were as stiff as his backbone. “She doesn’t have to take my advice.”

  “Good.” Her mother slapped her hands on her thighs. “I don’t need to hear anything from you, then.”

  “But I’d like to hear what Mitch has to say.” Laurel’s fingers knotted in her lap.

  Mitch dropped the thick contract on the coffee table. It landed with a resounding thud. “I wouldn’t sign it. This deal leaves the door open for Ashley to fire Laurel and hire another designer. Any other designer at any time.”

  Despite the fire nearby, Laurel didn’t feel warm.

  “It’s a good deal,” Mom said through gritted teeth. “She should be grateful.”

  “It goes without saying that agents usually take fifteen percent,” Mitch continued.

  “This is a very complicated situation.” Mom snatched up the contract, hugging it to her chest.

  “You could design a dozen dresses and if this Xuri person isn’t happy, she doesn’t have to pay you any more than the initial signing bonus.” Mitch tsk-tsked. “If you sign this, you should go into the deal thinking you won’t see a dime more than your advance.” He leaned toward Laurel, his gaze serious and yet nonjudgmental. “Or rather seven cents more since your mom and sister are entitled to part of the pot.”

  “Thank you for your opinion.” Mom stood, making it easier to look down her nose at Mitch and Laurel. “But this is between my daughters and me, and—”

  “What would you suggest as an alternative?” Laurel asked Mitch.

  “We can’t present an alternative,” Mom sputtered. “This contract was approved by Xuri herself!”

  “But it wasn’t approved by me.” Laurel didn’t look at her mother. She was more interested in the guarded kindness in Mitch’s eyes.

  Above them, the floor creaked. Behind Laurel, the fire crackled and a log fell apart.

  “You know what I’d suggest,” Mitch said slowly.

  Laurel nodded. She knew. He wasn’t suggesting marriage to him. “Protect my happiness.” Protect my heart.

  Too late on the latter.

  “Of all the foolish notions.” Her mother came to stand in front of Laurel, came to stare down on her with a look designed to defeat dissent. “Happiness? A million dol
lars won’t make you happy?”

  A million dollars wouldn’t make her happy if she couldn’t be with Mitch.

  “Mom, the only way I’ll sign that deal is if Ashley’s name isn’t attached and your take is fifteen percent.” And even then, Laurel wasn’t sure she wanted to sign the deal. She had no dress design ideas lingering at the back of her brain. Although ideas for baby quilts? Of those, she had plenty.

  Mom glared at Mitch. Mitch bared his teeth at Mom.

  No one seemed interested in Laurel. She stood, thanking Mitch for his input.

  “Not so fast.” Mom caught her arm. “We need to talk about something else.” She shooed Mitch away, or perhaps she hoped he’d budge at her sweeping hand motion. “In private.”

  He didn’t make a move to stand.

  Her mother huffed. “Tell your guard dog that we need to discuss Wyatt in private.”

  Mitch’s gaze darted to Laurel.

  “I’ll be fine.” Laurel shook off her mother’s hold and gave Mitch the reprieve he was no doubt looking for.

  When he’d shut his apartment door behind him, Mom leaned forward. “I need you to return to Hollywood with me and face the music. We’ll tell Wyatt first and see how it shakes out with his people. Then you and Ashley can do an interview together, one where you admit this was the first and only time you pretended to be your sister.”

  Laurel dug her heels into the hardwood. “I can’t lie.” Not anymore.

  Mom’s head bobbled around, although not a red hair on her head moved. “I don’t care about your recently rediscovered morals. We have Ashley’s career to think about.”

  Laurel’s throat threatened to close. “A lie put me into this situation. I’m not going to get out of it with another one.”

  “Are you saying Wyatt isn’t the father of those babies?”

  “No. I’m talking about saying this was the first and only time—” air quotes “—I did the Twin Switch.”

  Mom’s eyes narrowed. “You’re making this impossible to pull off without hurting Ashley’s career.”

  “And I’m sorry about that.” It made her sick to her stomach. “But if you talk to Ashley, I know she’d feel the same way. No more lies.”

  “Let me get this straight.” Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “You think having Wyatt Halford’s babies is going to be something people won’t care about? That there will be no need for interviews to explain it away? That you’ll write his name on their birth certificates and it won’t be seen and leaked to the press?” Mom fell back on the couch and laughed in brittle chunks. “Even if I allowed you to hide out here, do you think reporters won’t find you? Do you think your lawyer friend can protect you from people who get paid thousands of dollars for photographs? You have a famous face. You can’t hide from this in some boutique in the boonies.”

  Laurel swallowed thickly. “No more lies.”

  Her mother was a master manipulator. She recognized the dead end they’d come to and took on a new attack as smoothly as a shark circled back for the kill. “Okay. What about your lawyer friend?”

  Laurel glanced toward Mitch’s apartment.

  “You care about him.” Her mother got up and sat next to Laurel on the hearth. “Him and that spark plug of a little girl.” She rubbed Laurel’s forearm. “Don’t do this to them. They’ll resent you for it. Those two and all the people in this sleepy little town.”

  Odette, who eyed strangers suspiciously. She’d never emerge from her cabin.

  Ivy, whose diner hosted schoolkids most of the day. Where would they go when the paparazzi descended?

  Mack, the entrepreneur, would probably create and sell maps of places Laurel had been in town, assuming it was more by then.

  And Mitch? He’d lock up the inn and refrain from telling Laurel she’d ruined the town. But it would be there in his eyes.

  What about Gabby? She’d rebel against her loss of independence. Mitch would be forced to leave Second Chance. And it would all be because of Laurel.

  She couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t do that to anyone in town.

  Laurel stood on shaky legs. “If I do this your way...”

  “I’ll make adjustments to the contract.” Mom nodded, eyes glittering with triumph.

  The thought of signing any design deal sent the fear of failure churning in Laurel’s stomach, but it wasn’t as sickening as the pain her obstinance would cause. “I won’t promise to sign anything.”

  “Oh, you’ll sign. You can’t have Wyatt Halford’s babies without some financial leverage.” She brushed Laurel’s hair from her shoulders as if she was the most caring mother in Second Chance. “You need money in case Wyatt decides a woman who’d pretend to be someone else in order to sleep with him isn’t good enough to raise his kids.”

  Laurel cringed in fear, turning away.

  He can’t have my babies.

  “We’ll talk more about this on the way back to California.”

  * * *

  IT WAS SATURDAY. And Saturday meant Mitch was making tuna casserole.

  He’d expected Laurel to come talk with him after her mother chased him off, but she hadn’t shown up.

  He boiled water and opened cans of tuna, mushrooms and peas.

  Still no Laurel.

  He put the noodles in the boiling pot and got out milk and cheese from the refrigerator.

  Still no Laurel.

  He drained the noodles, mixed everything together, topped it with bread crumbs and put it in the oven.

  He heard voices in the common room and ventured out to see if it was the Dragon Lady, aka Laurel’s mother, or anyone else staying at his inn—anyone else being much preferable to talk to than Mrs. Monroe.

  The Dragon Lady sat next to Gabby. “That is a gorgeous nose.” She admired a framed photo of Gabby from last Christmas that had been sitting on the check-in desk.

  Mitch’s vision blurred.

  “I know, right?” Gabby gingerly touched her still-swollen nose. “Everybody says it’s going to look just the same when the bruises go away, but I’m not convinced.”

  Genevieve spotted Mitch, her nicey-nice smile hardening for a second before returning to nicey-nice. “Girls with noses like this land lots of television roles in Hollywood.”

  Hollywood? Mitch nearly vomited in his throat.

  “Really?” Gabby gushed.

  “Gabby.” It was the pink dress all over again. His vision cleared. He successfully swallowed bile.

  “Yeah, Dad?” She beamed at him with those raccoon eyes.

  “I need you to make a salad.”

  Gabby’s hand fluttered in Genevieve’s direction. “But—”

  “Now.” He didn’t apologize for his bark.

  His daughter flounced his way as if intent to make a dramatic exit. Instead, she stopped next to him and raised up on her toes to give him a kiss. “I know what she is, Dad. Give me some credit.”

  He slanted her a grin, cupping her cheek. “Have I told you lately how brilliant you are?”

  “Not nearly enough.” She skipped off.

  Mitch waited until Gabby went into their apartment and closed the door before he confronted the Dragon Lady verbally, without barking.

  “I suppose you don’t want me to put ideas in your daughter’s head.” Laurel’s mother was a shrewd operator, able to smile warmly as she read his mind.

  Mitch hadn’t survived years in the court system to back down at the first challenge. “I suppose you’d like to sleep in a bed tonight and not out in Holden’s car.”

  She kept smiling, the way opposing council sometimes did when they thought their next play overruled Mitch’s defense. “We can do a deal. I won’t put ideas into Gabby’s head if you won’t put ideas in Laurel’s.”

  He shook his finger at her. “You underestimate Laurel’s intelligence and her talent.”


  “And you underestimate her need to protect people, like Ashley...her children...and your sweet, sweet little girl.” Genevieve sighed. “Gabby would shine like a diamond on-screen.”

  Mitch couldn’t look at Mrs. Monroe. She didn’t get it and regrettably, never would. He stared out the window at the delicate snowflakes and the snow-covered pines. He had to remind himself that there was beauty in the world that power-hungry people like Genevieve Monroe couldn’t touch. Because if he didn’t remind himself, he might lose his cool and say things he didn’t want his daughter to hear.

  Mitch forced himself to face her. “I have a sleeping bag I can loan you, but you might want to buy a pair of snow pants from the general store before it closes.”

  “You’re bluffing.” She fidgeted, unsure.

  The door to Zeke’s bedroom opened and the cowboy hobbled out on one crutch. “He’s not bluffing. And after having to listen to you all afternoon, I’d be happy to escort you outside.”

  The Dragon Lady took in Zeke’s walking cast and his single cowboy boot, and shook her head. She stood and headed for the stairs.

  “Mark my words, gentlemen. When the roads are clear, I’m taking Laurel home to California. Don’t test me or I’ll make sure Holden sells this place to a developer who’ll make me look like Glinda the Good Witch.”

  Her footsteps receded.

  Mitch caught Zeke’s eye. “Tell me everything you heard.”

  * * *

  “YOU STOLE MY KEYS.” Mitch climbed the slope to reach Laurel midmorning on Valentine’s Day.

  Laurel had known she couldn’t leave town without talking to Mitch one more time, but she’d been avoiding him.

  He reached her, standing tall, his dark hair ruffling in the breeze. “Please tell me you didn’t shovel snow off this porch.”

  “I asked Roy first thing this morning.” And then Laurel had pulled a small bench onto the mercantile porch so she could stare out at the valley, enjoying the breathtaking beauty one last time.

  “You didn’t answer your door last night when I knocked.” Mitch settled onto the bench next to her.

  “I’m going home with my mother.” Leaving happiness and hotness behind.