Sweet Winter

by Reina M. Williams

  They walked in, greeted by Mrs. G, who was at her usual position in the front of her café. “Irene and Wade Davis! What a treat! Is it true what I’m hearing, that love is in the air for Valentine’s Day?”

  “Good to see you, Mrs. Gallagher,” Wade said, returning the petite seventy-something’s hug.

  “It’s been too long. But we’ll catch up another time. Seems like you have a different play to make just now.” Though she glanced at Mrs. D, Irene’s stomach clenched at the possible double meaning of Mrs. G’s last statement. Surely, she couldn’t have guessed that they were faking.

  “Hope to talk tomorrow. Irene is taking me as her plus one.” He glanced at Irene, and her core melted again, all worry gone, at least for that moment. The way his eyes pooled, tender and almost adoring, even she was taken in for an instant. No one else could possibly guess their secret. Unless...there was no secret and what had started as a lie was becoming wonderfully true. She touched the necklace Wade had given her and let in some of the wonder, the possibility of them together.

  “Fantastic! It’ll be a fun time. Save me a dance, young man.” Mrs. G squeezed his arm, then Irene’s, as she led them to the table.

  “Will do.”

  Mrs. G faded away, and Wade looked at his aunt. Irene glanced between them, the tension palpable. Mrs. D looked her nephew over, while he studied her face, as if trying to parse what she was about.

  “Irene, Wade, thanks for joining us,” Ken said, rising for a moment.

  “Thanks for including me,” she said.

  “Of course. Sit down, sit down,” he said as he did.

  She and Wade placed their coats onto their chair backs and joined the older couple. Wade cleared his throat and his hand brushed Irene’s as they both shifted in their seats. Irene squeezed Wade’s fingers under the table, to show he had her support in whatever he was feeling.

  “Aunt Betty, good to see you. You haven’t changed.” His tone seemed almost even, but for a croak of emotion.

  “What brings you here?” Mrs. D said in a wary tone.

  “Ken asked me to come, and I thought it was past time to talk.”

  “What’s there to talk about? You won’t forgive me, and I’m not inclined to apologize for acting in your best interests.” Mrs. D edged her finger along the red napkin on the table, her tone as hesitant as her movement.

  Wade must not have heard what Irene had in Mrs. D’s tone, because he stiffened. She touched his hand again, trying to signal that all would be well.

  Ken placed a hand on Mrs. D’s arm. “Now, Betty—”

  “Don’t you ‘now, Betty’ me.” She brushed off his touch.

  “How’s business?” Irene asked the older man, whose crestfallen frown pushed an edge of sympathy into her voice, one she usually wouldn’t have with the loud, brash mayor.

  “Fine,” he said.

  “Ken was only acting in your best interests,” Wade said almost at the same time, his tone tongue-in-cheek. But Irene heard the underpinning love and regret in it.

  Mrs. D narrowed her eyes for a beat then let out a low laugh. She chuckled until a tear escaped. Probably the clever, acerbic woman appreciated her nephew’s humor. “Come here, you big lug,” she said, rising and holding out her arms.

  Wade scooted his chair back and enfolded his aunt’s thin body to his. They rocked together, Mrs. D patting his broad back. Irene exchanged a teary glance with Ken, both of them probably thinking of Mrs. D’s brush with cancer around the same time as Connie Carey-George’s, and how Mrs. D had kept her illness nearly secret, not telling any of her family. Her laughter faded and she cupped his cheeks.

  “I’ve missed you, you troublemaker.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, you meddler.” His voice was rough, as if tears grated in his throat.

  Mrs. D patted his cheek then pushed him with a gentle motion back to Irene. “Now, what’s going on? How did you two meet?”

  “Give them a few minutes,” Ken said, now smiling.

  Irene mirrored his expression, and he winked at her. She winked back. Seeing the family reunion of sorts gave her a happy glow, especially knowing the tenuousness of life, and how close Mrs. D had been to not being on this earth anymore.

  “I’ll be talking to you later,” Mrs. D said to Ken, giving him a wicked side-eye, but Irene saw from his expression that he wasn’t worried.

  Autumn came over to take their orders. The kind, outgoing redhead would be the perfect assistant at the shop. She just had to convince Autumn, who, though she’d expressed interest in the job, didn’t want to let Mrs. G down, a feeling Irene could relate to. Irene would find time to talk to Autumn on Monday, her day off, which was also Irene’s free day, since the shop was closed.

  Once they’d ordered dinner, they each sipped their drinks. The chatter floated around, dishes and silverware clinking, some couples sitting close together. She fingered the necklace Wade had given her.

  “New necklace, Irene?” Mrs. D asked. “I don’t recall seeing you wearing it before. It suits you.”

  Irene gazed at Wade, who returned the look. His gaze held tenderness and sincerity. She swallowed the tingling urge to kiss him and faced Mrs. D. “Wade gave it to me.”

  Mrs. D scrutinized her, then Wade. “Good choice, Wade. But, why haven’t you mentioned meeting my nephew?” Her laser focus was back on Irene.

  “At first, I didn’t know you were related. Then we figured we’d wait until he could get to town. Plus, we haven’t been dating long.”

  “You went to Coeur d’ Alene on your weekend away? I thought you were going camping?” Mrs. D made it her business to know other people’s business. She must’ve kept tabs on Wade through his sister, or maybe even Tim Raines, who was a former student of Mrs. D’s. A lot of her former pupils seemed to carry the awe, even fear, of the formidable woman, who could be as sharp and acerbic as the persona of the actress whose name she shared.

  “I did both. Met Wade at his store when my old sleeping bag tore and I went in to get a new one.” She and Wade had discussed their “story” earlier.

  “I see. And did I hear you’re going to Maura and Nathan’s wedding together?”

  “Yes,” Wade said. “Will you be there with Ken?”

  “Maybe. I’ll be there, but we’ll see if I give the honor of escorting me to this old buzzard.”

  Irene hid her smile at the teasing, and that Mrs. D was seven years older than her companion, yet he was the old one. Mrs. D patted her greying crop of loose curls.

  “How long are you in town?”

  “Tuesday. I have a meeting in Missoula Wednesday morning.”

  “You’ll come for Sunday supper.” It wasn’t a question. “And bring Irene.”

  Irene rubbed the back of her neck. She was supposed to go out to Manning Ranch with Minnie for dinner. She hadn’t thought clearly about how this might affect Minnie. Maybe she should let her niece in on the secret? She could trust her. Hers and Minnie’s relationship had been supportive and loving, not ever adversarial like the one between Mrs. D and Wade seemed.

  Autumn brought their food, and Irene dug into her salmon, rice, and vegetables. She lost herself to the lemony zing and rich flavors for a moment, broken when she turned to find Wade watching her from hooded eyes. His gaze made her hungry for more than her dinner, and he seemed to feel the same. There was no lie in his eyes. She shifted in her seat. Mrs. D shot her a knowing look, and Irene’s cheeks flamed. This whole game of make-believe was becoming all too real.

  “How have you been, Aunt Betty?” Wade asked between bites of his steak. “Still matchmaking?”

  “Hush, now, Wade.” Mrs. D scanned the room without turning her head. Her gaze landed on Irene. It was the first time she’d seen Mrs. D look abashed, but it only lasted a moment before her sly smile returned. “Will we be seeing more of you now that you and Irene are an item?”

  Wade caught Irene’s gaze and she tried to parse what he wanted from his raised brows and slight frown. She shrugged slightly.


  “Well now, Aunt Betty, I don’t know. We’ve just started seeing each other. In any case, I hope to come home more, if you’d like to see me.”

  “I’ve always wanted to see you, young man. I tried to respect that you didn’t want to see me.”

  Wade chuckled. “All right, we’re two stubborn for our own goods. Truce?”

  “A peace for the ages, with no more interference in your love life.” Mrs. D held Irene’s gaze a moment, implying the non-interference was because of Irene and Wade being together. Which had been their intent with this plan.

  But now, it rubbed Irene rough. She both wanted the lie to end, and to really be with Wade. This called for mint tea, which soothed aches, physical or emotional.

  “Thanks for respecting my boundaries.” Wade pushed his plate forward an inch. “Let’s see how things go.”

  Everyone seemed finished with their meals now. The brief vision of a teary and sentimental reunion between aunt and nephew that Irene had pictured almost made her laugh now. Clearly, she’d forgotten to reckon with Mrs. D’s real personality, and Wade’s, which she was still figuring out. It was probably that the two were so similar: two of a kind might flock together, but they’d also just as likely peck at each other like two ornery birds.

  “Desserts, anyone?” Autumn asked in her congenial tone, her gaze landing first on Mrs. D.

  “I’m still thinking. You ask Irene first, young lady.” Mrs. D seemed to study the dessert case by the counter from afar.

  Irene gave Autumn a smile. “Mint tea and one of those vanilla cookies.” Maya at the bakery, which supplied most of the café’s desserts, had come up with some real gems for the Valentine’s Day season, including those airy cookies.

  “Coffee and I’ll try a cookie too.” Wade scooted his chair closer to Irene and wrapped his arm casually around her shoulder.

  The weight of his arm on her sank a deep sensation of rightness and safety into her core and heart. She really needed that mint tea to settle her confused state, lying yet feeling nothing had been truer.

  Mrs. D and Ken ordered coffees and a shared slice of custard cream pie. Autumn let them know she’d be back in a few minutes and went to get their orders.

  Irene had to shut her eyes a moment to contain the wash of warmth, the tingling, that coursed through her at Wade’s touch. The sensation reminded her of a time she’d stood under a gentle tropical waterfall, the balmy waters sluicing over her bare skin. When she opened her eyes, she realized she’d moved her hand to the bottom of Wade’s substantial thigh, just above his knee. She removed her hand as fast as she could without seeming awkward. His gaze briefly glazed then shifted to neutral. The fire that had been in her cheeks earlier moved to some areas she preferred to keep fire-safe, but her perimeter had been breached. Now she struggled with whether to maintain her defensive zone or give in to the possible engulfment.

  You just need to pretend for the weekend, she reminded herself. She glanced out the window at the snowy, darkened landscape. But instead of starkness, she witnessed undulating mounds and strong tree trunks, soft clouds against the plane of sky. These juxtapositions only increased her desire to return Wade’s gesture, to be closer to him, to surrender to the sensations waving through her. None of that was pretend.

  “Irene?” Mrs. D asked in a concerned tone.

  She shook her head and faced the group again. She’d been absent from the conversation, so tuned into her own body and Wade’s that she wasn’t paying attention to much else. His body had released some of its former tension, though now his jaw twinged.

  “Sorry, what were you saying?” Irene replied.

  “Is Wade staying with you? Can you come with him to supper on Sunday?”

  That first invasive question was probably what had Wade’s jaw ticking. “What do you think, Wade?”

  He caressed her shoulder briefly. “I’m at Tim’s, Aunt Betty. And I’d like Irene to join us, if she can.”

  “I’d love to join you for supper. Can I bring anything?” Irene tried to keep her expression serene. The prospect of an entire weekend of pretending something that had become all too present and alluring made her stomach contract. She was grateful when Autumn showed up, delivering her tea along with the coffees and desserts.

  “I’ll invite Tim too, then, and his family. We’ll have a nice gathering to welcome you to town, Wade. And introduce you and Irene as a couple.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Wade said, his tone seeming to reflect the hesitation she felt. Was he not wanting to make this real, or was he just concerned about lying? “Supper will be good, though. I’ve missed your dinners, Aunt Betty. You’ll play for us?”

  “Only if you sing along. He’s got a baritone the likes of Howard Keel, Irene. You’ll harmonize beautifully with your sweet soprano.”

  Another unexpected twist to Wade Davis. She wouldn’t have thought him a singer. “I look forward to it.”

  Irene sipped her tea and nibbled the lacy cookie. Mrs. D and Ken kept up the conversation, Mrs. D sometimes asking Wade questions about his life and business. Irene stayed silent. She was going to need a heap of mental energy to get through playing this out tomorrow. It was one thing to fool Mrs. D and Ken, quite another to inhabit this role in front of a crowd, including Minnie.

  She’d have to think about that later. Right now, she needed to focus on her part. Which wasn’t difficult, since she liked Wade. Really, really, really liked him.

  “I should probably get Irene home. She’s had a long day, and it’s another one tomorrow.” He squeezed her hand and she turned him a genuine look of gratitude, or at least that’s what she hoped her gaze said.

  “Good to see you treating her right,” Mrs. D said. “She works hard, always doing for others.”

  Irene curbed the urge to shake her head and instead thanked Mrs. D for the compliment. “I am tired, so I’ll say goodnight. Sure you don’t want to stay and spend more time with Mrs. D?” she asked Wade.

  “He can come for breakfast tomorrow and we’ll chat then. Wouldn’t want to deprive him of saying a private goodnight to you.”

  Irene waited for Wade’s opinion, as it was his time too. He nodded. “Sounds good. See you in the morning, Aunt Betty.” He rose and waited for Irene, pushing their chairs in as she passed.

  Hugs were exchanged with Mrs. D and handshakes with Ken. Mrs. D patted Wade’s arm. “See you at nine, all right?”

  He nodded. “I’ll text you in the morning.”

  Mrs. D and Ken sat back down and Irene and Wade said goodbye to Autumn and Mrs. G. Wade held the door for Irene and they walked out into the nippy night, holding hands. She wanted to lean into him, to keep walking hand in hand. But it was cold, and the weekend was a busy one. Maybe, just maybe, there would be more chances to be close to him, even after the wedding. In silence, they made it to Irene’s door. She kept her mouth sealed, for fear of saying too much, or the wrong thing. The crux, for now, was this weekend, and she didn’t want to mess that up.

  Wade gazed at her a moment then kissed her mittened hand. Her palm registered the touch as if he’d left an imprint on her bare skin.

  “Having you there made it easier.”

  Emotion welled in her throat. “I’m glad. See you tomorrow.” She got out her keys.

  He let go of her hand and nodded. “Text me the time and I’ll be here.”

  “Wedding starts at two, early dinner after, so one-thirty?”

  “One-thirty it is.” He put up a hand.

  She pressed her lips together again and opened her door, glancing back at him. His tall, solid frame took up space in the darkness, a safe, warm presence. She waved and shut her door. He walked away.

  Whether he was just that good of an actor or not—she didn’t think so—whether she could trust these new, unwavering feelings or not, what she and Wade had begun was a lie. Lies never ended well.

  Shoulders stooped, she plodded up the stairs to decide what to do about tomorrow.

  Chapter Four


  Wade’s breakfast with Aunt Betty had gone surprisingly well. It’d just been the two of them, though they’d called Kim for a video chat after they’d eaten. It was a morning of memories, of family. He regretted staying away this long.

  He didn’t regret meeting Irene, or even this ridiculous plan they’d hatched. But he did wish he’d realized sooner that maybe they could’ve still spent time together without the lie of their “relationship.” He pushed out a breath, the fog of it dissipating at Irene’s door. He rang the bell and stamped his feet slightly to keep himself warmer against the icy day. The sun spangled against the white landscape, creating a sparkle that was dimmed when Irene opened the door, because she shone brighter.

  Never one for big sentiment, his brain scrambled to come up with another reason for his stopped breath. Maybe he was having another panic attack. But no other symptoms were there. What—who—was there was Irene, beautiful in a dark red dress with some sort of leafy, whimsical pattern that hugged her curves, and evoked her special elfin charms. Her dark auburn brown hair seemed to capture the rays of the winter sun, along with his heart. This may have started with a lie, but the way he felt about Irene was true.

  He hung his head a moment, if only to catch his breath. Her sturdy but elegant boots completed the picture of this woman he’d formed: practical, beautiful, caring, hard-working, magical, and so much more. Part of this community that he still called home.

  “Hi,” she said. “How was breakfast?” The door shut and clicked locked.

  He met her smile with one of his own, pushing down the well of emotion to draw up another time. It was still too shallow; they hadn’t dug deep enough to be certain anything real could be established between them. He wanted to be friends, somehow, as he wanted to be able to visit Aunt Betty without squashing through the mud of a failed...what? They weren’t in a relationship. But by God, he wished they were, he and this warm, inviting woman.