Lucy McConnell's Snow Valley Box Set

by Lucy McConnell

  “All right. Well, thank you.”

  “Happy holidays.”

  “You, too.” Paisley hung up the phone and almost threw it at the wall. Instead of giving into the tantrum, she buckled down and got to work. She had options. At least, she did several months ago. She spent the next couple hours making contact with each group or band on her list and getting rejected right and left. If they did play on Christmas, which not all of them did, they were already booked.

  Paisley buried her face in her hands. This was not happening. She crumpled up the paper she’d been using to take notes.

  She shouldn’t have taken the bet. Letting loose wasn’t worth the havoc hangover. Losing the band had to be punishment for throwing caution to the wind Saturday night at the carnival.

  She was so worried about the ball, it didn’t occur to her Clay hadn’t called until she flopped onto her pillow. Exhausted from pacing the floor and leaving messages with random people listed on the Web who may or may not be able to help, Paisley fell into a restless sleep.

  Chapter 9

  PAISLEY VICIOUSLY RIPPED UP A sheet of paper and growled as she stuffed it in the garbage can.

  Tom breezed into her cubicle and stopped short. “Trouble?” he asked

  Paisley swallowed. She’d hoped to tell Tom there’d been a change in bands, not that there wasn’t one. “The band cancelled. They’ve got strep.” She crumpled two more papers into a ball and aimed for the trash. “I’ve called every group within a two-hour drive. They’re all booked.”

  Tom snapped his fingers a couple of times. “What about the band Clay mentioned at the cookie party?”

  Paisley’s jaw dropped. “The Iron Stix? You’ve got to be kidding?”

  Tom shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Paisley wanted to cry. She stared at the papers filled with painstaking details for the Ball scattered over her desk. All her work to create an evening of elegance and gentile dignity, for nothing!

  Tom tapped his finger twice on her desk bringing her attention back to him. “You’d better book them before someone else does.”

  Paisley snorted. Like anyone was going to book the Iron Stix for a Christmas party.

  “We need live music, Paisley. It’s the icing on the cake.”

  He was right. The main draw for the event was a quartet, orchestra, or band to lift the evening from small-town to spectacular.

  “I’m not sure the Iron Stix will bring the right feeling.” Paisley sat up and arranged the scattered papers.

  “Clay said they did old time Christmas.” He rubbed his chin. “Rock and Roll Christmas – that was the theme.”

  “But, all the decorations are for an elegant-”

  Tom cut her off. “We’ll have to adjust.”

  Paisley tried once more to save the Ball she’d pictured along with her pride. It would have been one thing to eat crow and ask Clay to play at the Ball if things were peachy between them; but, with the huge, uncomfortable chasm they faced – because he kissed her, promised to see her, and then dogged her – approaching him would be humiliation galore. There was no way around working with Clay either. Since Amber hadn’t said a word about the possible gig, Paisley knew Clay worked the deal on his own.

  “What about the money?” she asked.

  “Clay said they’d perform for free, so we can take the money we would have used on the band to buy new decorations.”

  Which would mean Paisley would have to brave the holiday shoppers and traffic in Billings tomorrow. Ugh! She hated strep throat with a passion and she didn’t even have it.

  She tapped her pen against the desk. “We can still use the fake trees and lights. I bet there’s some fun guitars and musical notes I could find,” said Paisley thinking of Amber’s tree. “The cupcake display will need edible glitter and we should switch to punch cups instead of champagne flutes for the cider.”

  Tom leaned against the wall. “You’re on the right track. We just need the band. Do you have Clay’s number?”

  Paisley started. “No.” Which meant he didn’t have hers. She hadn’t even thought of that! Maybe he had wanted to call her. She shook out her hands as if she could shake off the negativity that followed her throughout the night.

  “I know how to reach him.” She checked the clock. She had plenty of time to get over to Sawyer’s, the band would be there for a few more hours. Her hands flitted across her desk. Suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to see the Iron Stix – they were going to be thrilled about performing, Paisley stood up and threw her coat on.

  “I’ll text you if there’s a problem.”

  “Thanks.” Tom went back to his office.

  Paisley bolted for the door, then had to turn around and go back for her purse. She found her keys and slid behind the wheel. “Please start,” she begged the motor. Her car wasn’t that old, but sitting in a parking lot in the cold Montana winter could kill a battery. The engine fired up on the first try. “Yes!”

  Never had the drive to her brother’s house taken so long. She parked across the street and left the motor running as she worked up her courage to beg them for a favor. Sawyer’s drums sounded over the front lawn and filtered into her car. She counted trucks. They were all there, even Clay.

  “Here goes nothin’,” she mumbled as she climbed out.

  Halfway up the walk, Sawyer sounded off a 1-2 beat and then the band broke into Run, Run Rudolf.

  Paisley paused on the porch to listen. They were actually good. Way better than their high school counterparts. She knocked on the door, but the music was so loud no one heard. She sucked in a lungful of cold air and courage and opened the door.

  Sawyer, with his drums next to the door, was the only one who noticed her arrival. He tipped his chin in her direction, but didn’t lose the beat. Amber sang to the fireplace, her hips bopping to the beat. The whole room pulsed with energy and Paisley closed her eyes just to feel it.

  The bass drum reverberated in her chest like a second heartbeat. Amber’s voice, deeper now and with a bluesy quality she didn’t have before, slid over her skin. Bill’s lead guitar and Jeb’s keyboard made her bob her head. Clay’s bass guitar filled her from her toes to the top of her head with melted chocolate.

  Her eyes flew open. She knew what she’d been missing all these years. It wasn’t a lackluster passion for life or spontaneity; it was being a part of the Iron Stix. She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. She dropped her coat by the door and stepped behind Sawyer to the soundboard. She adjusted the mic balance and toned down the keyboard for an overall rounder effect to compliment, blues element Clay created in his rift.

  She didn’t think anyone would notice, but Clay’s head jerked around the second his sound changed. When he saw her, he grinned as bright as the Griswold’s Christmas light display. Winking, he turned back around to finish the verse with Amber. Paisley kept her head down until the last note, anticipating changes in the lead and accommodating them.

  They finished with a crash of cymbals and Paisley couldn’t stop smiling. This was where she felt the most alive.

  “Lookie what the cat dragged in,” said Bill.

  “It’s good to see you, too.” Paisley came around and accepted hugs from Bill and Jeb.

  “I thought you weren’t coming,” Sawyer tapped his sticks against his legs. Paisley had forgotten his habit.

  “Did you bring cookies?” asked Jeb.

  Paisley pressed her lips together. “Sorry, no cookies. Actually,” she cleared her throat, it was now or never. No sense beating around the bush. “I wondered if you all would like to perform at the Christmas Ball.”

  Amber let out a squeal. “Are you kidding?”

  “I’m serious. Our quartet canceled.” She lifted her shoulders. “The gig is yours, if you want it.”

  An ear-piercing screech filled the air. Everyone ran to their speakers, but Paisley knew that sound. She clambered through music stands to get to Clay’s amp where she twisted the right dial and the noise died aw
ay.

  “I think they heard that clear down at Larson’s.” Bill opened and closed his mouth like he was trying to pop his ears.

  “It’s a good thing the kids are at your mom’s.” Sawyer smiled at Amber.

  Clay skimmed his fingers up Paisley’s arm. “What happened to elegant and refined?” he asked. The excitement in his eyes was hard to misinterpret. He wanted to perform.

  Paisley couldn’t blame him. She’d had a taste, a nibble, of being a part of the music again and it meant more to her than anything she’d done since Clay left town and the Iron Stix disbanded.

  His gaze went deeper and he took Paisley’s hand, here ... in front of the band. His openness told her more than Clay could have said if he spoke for a year straight. He wasn’t playing her and their kiss meant just as much to him as it did to her.

  “Things changed,” Paisley said quietly

  “Hey,” Clay said all low and rumbly-like, making Paisley’s stomach do flip-flops. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I had a call from an investor and things snowballed from there. I haven’t had a chance to breathe.” His brown eyes twinkled. “And, I didn’t get your number.”

  “It wasn’t a big deal.” It was at the time, but it wasn’t now.

  Clay ran his hand through his hair and Paisley bit her lip. He must have sensed the distance she’d spent two days putting between them, because he continued to explain.

  “I didn’t figure in the time difference when I made plans to come get you. If my phone alarm hadn’t gone off, I would have missed the call.”

  “Did you get the loan?” Paisley asked, hoping to keep the focus on the studio and off of them.

  “I don’t know yet. But, things went well. We should know in the next couple of days.”

  “We?” Paisley squeaked. So much for not talking about them.

  “Yeah,” Clay leaned forward. “I thought you were invested,” he said as she dropped his hand.

  “Oh, right.” Paisley’s heart sank. Clay wanted this studio, wanted it enough he’d scrimped for years to achieve his goal.

  She’d seen the paperwork, heard the intoxication in his voice, and understood his commitment to his dream.

  No matter how much she cared for him, she had to let him go, had to let him make this idea a success. After sharing in the magic tonight, even for one song, she understood what made Clay leave town in the first place. She couldn’t take his plans from him and feel good inside.

  Clay stepped forward and touched her waist. Paisley wanted nothing more than to slide into his arms and celebrate their gig. Coming together was so easy when he touched her. But, it wasn’t about what she wanted. She couldn’t leave Snow Valley and Clay couldn’t stay. No matter how much they wanted to be together, it would have to end one way or another.

  Paisley pushed away from the amp and moved behind his music stand, out of his reach. If she was going to let him go, there could be no more kisses that made her tremble, no more quiet moments together, no more possibilities.

  Clay furrowed his brow, but didn’t follow after her.

  “So, sound check, three o’clock on Christmas?” Paisley called out as she picked up her coat.

  “We’ll be there.” Amber replied.

  “You’re not leaving, are you? We need you on the board.” Jeb took a swig from his soda.

  Some things never change. Paisley chanced a quick look at Clay who held his guitar as if it could protect him from harm. Maybe it was in a way. Paisley couldn’t follow him out of Snow Valley. This was home, the place she wanted to raise her children, and his road was leaving town.

  “Sorry, guys. I have a ton to get done before the Ball. Rock and Roll doesn’t just happen.”

  She ducked out the door to a chorus of goodbyes and settled in the front seat before the tears spilled down her cheeks.

  Chapter 10

  BEFORE HEADING OUT TO BILLINGS to shop for rock and roll themed decorations, Paisley sent out a mass email letting attendees know the change in the theme for the Christmas Ball. Some attendees would be put-out, but the first three replies were positive. Paisley didn’t check her email as she drove, but when she parked the car, she had a couple people to call and appease. Killing two birds with one stone, she made her way into the party supply store and dialed Mrs. Bergen.

  It took a few minutes to find the right aisle, but once there, Paisley felt blessed the place was stocked well.

  “You can still wear the black dress, Mrs. Bergen. I’m sure you will look stunning.”

  “It just won’t be right. I’ll look ridiculous in velvet.”

  “Mrs. Bergen, you’ve never looked ridiculous in your life. I’ve always admired the way you put yourself together,” said Paisley as she put several boxes of miniature guitar ornaments in her cart.

  “Thank you, dear, but I’m going to go out right now and find something more appropriate.”

  “I’ll see you Christmas night.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  Paisley added no less than thirty vinyl record decorations to her cart before dialing the next number.

  She continued to multitask, making phone calls and shopping right alongside the last minute holiday shoppers. Soon, she had enough decorations to fill her trunk and the back seat, a punch bowl, and coordinating paper goods.

  The last thing on her list was skinny ties for the guys in the band to wear. Amber had texted her that morning asking her to pick some up. Color didn’t matter, in fact, the uglier the better.

  Paisley found the ties at a small boutique on 2nd Avenue. The vintage dress and ornaments window display caught her eye. After some crafty maneuvering, she parked right out front.

  A spunky salesgirl and the smell of cinnamon greeted Paisley at the door. Well, if that’s not a sign … She made her way to the iron tree tie rack display. Ties in all shapes and colors hung from the branches. Separated out by decade, Paisley found the 50’s branch and dug through the selection with gusto.

  She picked a green checked one for Bill and a bright blue and orange striped bowtie for Jeb because she knew he would hate it. For Sawyer, she chose black with the silhouette of a dog because the puppy made her smile.

  Clay was much harder. She wanted something to reflect his style, as well as her faith in his abilities, a nice goodbye gift that would signify their short time together.

  In the end, she picked a solid red one that shone in the light. She ran the satin material through her fingers and realized with a start that it was the same color he’d complimented on her. The memory of Clay’s kiss washed over her, filling her with a sense of being cherished she’d never felt before. She pictured the two of them snuggled up on her couch watching a movie and ached for those quiet moments that, strung together like popcorn on a Christmas tree, make up a life together.

  Her text alert beeped, breaking her trance and reminding her she didn’t have time to stand around daydreaming about a man she couldn’t have.

  Amber: We need to know how many outlets are available in the city building.

  Paisley typed her reply and kept the phone in her hand as she browsed the store for decorations. Amber would look stunning in any of the 1950’s dresses on display. She clicked a picture of one and sent it off. Amber’s reply wasn’t long in coming.

  Amber: Thx but I’m all set. Do you still want to borrow my dress? You earned it.

  Paisley wasn’t surprised Amber had something appropriate to wear. That girl had a closet to envy. She put off answering the text. The shop had a beautiful selection and for once Paisley wanted to have something of her own to pull out on special occasions. One dress in particular tugged at Paisley no matter what part of the store she was in. She caved to the pressure and asked the salesgirl for help.

  “The Gladys is from our vintage collection entitled “Rockability.” It also comes in white with black polka dots and red.”

  Well, dang! Who could pass up trying on a red dress with a full skirt? Paisley took the dress to the changing room. As soon as she zipped it up, she
knew she was in trouble. The dress fit like it was made for her. The bust line came high enough she wouldn’t be tugging it up all night and the full skirt made her feel every bit the girl.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt around for the price tag, whispering a prayer it was in her price range. It was! Paisley hugged herself, well, hugged the dress, but she happened to be in it.

  Wait till Amber sees this!

  Paisley paused before slipping out of the dressing room. Who was she kidding? Clay was the one she wanted to see her in the dress. She wanted to be the knock-out he believed her to be. In this dress, she would leave him with a lasting impression of what he was leaving behind. Not because she wanted to take away his dream or force him to stay, but so she’d be the one that got away, and not the other way around.

  Chapter 11

  THE NEXT DAY, THE DAY BEFORE Christmas Eve, was blocked out for decorating the City Building.

  Paisley stopped in at work to check her email and her voicemail. She also accepted the keys to Tom’s hippie VW van. Unlike the soccer-mom vans Paisley’s friends had to drive to the Friday night football games in high school, this one didn’t have rows of seats. Instead, there was a small kitchenette along the side behind the driver and a bench across the back, which left a whole lot of floor space. She transferred the punch bowl and other decorations she’d picked up in Billings from her car to the van. Then, she slid the door shut, confident the supplies would fit in the mustard yellow monster.

  “I’ll be over around three to help with the final touches.” Small ice crystals formed on Tom’s mustache.

  Paisley eyed the vehicle. “Do you think the ol’ girl will make it today? It’s been awfully cold.”

  Tom shook his head. “An apocalypse couldn’t stop this baby. She fired right up this morning. I thought I’d have to hook up the cables for a jump; but she did just fine.”