Lucy McConnell's Snow Valley Box Set

by Lucy McConnell

  Chet ran around to open Mercedes’s door. She slid off the seat and swayed a bit, so he offered her his arm. She walked without difficulty, if a little slow. Perhaps she was getting drowsy again.

  A bell dinged as they entered the diner. Soft music played in the background and the smell of Sunday pot roast made Chet’s mouth water., Maddie, the under twenty-something server who liked talk when Chet came in greeted the two of them. She wiggled her eyebrows at Chet. “Well, this is new.”

  Chet’s cheeks grew warm. He ate here a couple times a month—on those nights when he didn’t feel like cooking or being surrounded by family. Sometimes it was just nice to eat a good meal in quiet. Maddie was a regular here at Granny’s. She was a good waitress and she kept track of her customers. He should have thought she’d notice if he brought someone in.

  Mercedes nudged him.

  “Maddie, this is my, er, date, Mercedes.”

  “Hey! Welcome to Granny’s.” Maddie’s face was open and friendly.

  Mercedes grinned. “Thanks. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Follow me.” Maddie grabbed a couple menus from the counter and led the way into the dining area. “Where you from?”

  “Boston,” answered Mercedes.

  Maddie motioned to a table. “Your accent is adorable.”

  “What accent?” Mercedes looked at Chet, her eyebrows raised.

  Chet pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

  Maddie looked back and forth between the two of them. “You hear it, don’t you?” she asked Chet.

  Mercedes eyes went wide, as if she had worn her shirt inside out and just realized it. Chet reached for her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ve heard it.” He turned to Maddie. “And you’re absolutely right, it’s adorable.”

  Maddie grinned. “I’ll get you two some water and be right back.”

  Mercedes leaned forward. “I do not have an accent.”

  Chet raised one eyebrow. “Say ‘swerving’.”

  “Swurveen,” said Mercedes.

  Chet tipped his forehead. “You don’t hear that?”

  Mercedes shook her head. “All I hear was you mispronouncing ‘swurveen’.”

  Chet laughed.

  Mercedes opened the menu with a smile. “What’s good here?”

  Chet allowed himself to relax as he looked over the menu. He pretty much had it memorized. Not much changed around here. The cook focused on the basics of comfort food: fried steak, meatloaf, pot roast. There had to be something on here that a refined girl from Boston would like. “My sister likes the cobb salad.”

  Mercedes dropped her hand to the table and gave him a glare. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Um, they have soups …” He really hadn’t thought this through much. Maybe she was a vegetarian. Oh man, that could be a deal killer—even if she was Miss America, he couldn’t date a vegetarian. They’d be the ultimate odd couple.

  Maddie was back with a pad of paper and a pen.

  “How’s the cat?” Chet asked, to buy Mercedes some time to look over the menu.

  “I traded up.” Maddie grinned. “The superintendent said I had to get rid of Fluffy so I decided to get a boyfriend instead.”

  Mercedes grinned. “And how’s that working out for you?”

  Maddie clicked her pen. “It’s not bad. He doesn’t use the litter box, but he buys me dinner.”

  They laughed.

  “What did you do with Fluffy?”

  “My friend took him. She’s got a little girl that just loves the poor darling to death. Last time I was over there, Fluffy was dressed in Cabbage Patch clothes and content to be carried around like a baby.”

  “Sounds like he’s in good hands,” said Mercedes.

  “He is.” The bell over the door rang. Maddie motioned to the small family that she’d be just a moment and then asked, “Have you had a chance to look things over?”

  Mercedes folded her menu. “I’ll have the pot roast and mashed potatoes—extra gravy.”

  Chet grinned. This was his kind of girl. “I’ll have the fish and chips.”

  Maddie took their menus, put in their order, and hurried back with a basket of rolls.

  “Fish and chips?” Mercedes asked as she reached for some bread.

  Chet also took a roll and opened a butter patty. “I eat a lot of beef.” He shrugged.

  “I guess you would.” She took a bite and then started to giggle.

  Chet shook his head. “What?” he asked with a half grin.

  “I guess you could say—you beefed up.”

  Chet chuckled. “Okay, that one was kind of funny.”

  “Or I could say you’re a beefcake.”

  Chet’s cheeks grew warm as he laughed with her. He liked that Mercedes felt free enough to compliment him, but he wasn’t used to this much attention. Sure, he’d gotten looks from girls growing up, but so did all his brothers. It wasn’t a big deal. Still, hearing that Mercedes found him attractive gave him a satisfied feeling.

  Their food arrived, and they tucked in. Mercedes ate quickly, and he realized she must have been telling the truth when she said she hadn’t eaten all day. After a few minutes of silence, Mercedes said, “Tell me about your farm.”

  Chet chewed thoughtfully. “It’s really more of a ranch.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “A farmer produces a cash crop, like corn or wheat. A rancher works with cattle.”

  “But you have hay fields and corn fields.”

  “The hay is for the horses and longhorn. The corn is a special type for cattle. I’ll bale it and feed it to them over the winter.”

  “Oh. What else? I had a whole list of questions …” She dipped her roll in the gravy as she thought. “How many cows do you have?”

  “Around four hundred.”

  Mercedes let out a low whistle. “I had a hard time keeping track of my hamster. He kept finding ways to get out of his cage.”

  Chet smiled. “Cows do that too.” The more Mercedes ate, the more rational she seemed. He’d have to remember to keep her fed. Maybe he should stock his glove box with granola bars or something.

  “Where are your parents? I was going to ask Whitney the other day and I forgot. She said you live in their house.”

  Chet set down his drink. “I bought the house and the ranch from them last year.” He shook his head. Leaning forward, his arms resting on the edge of the table, he said, “They promised each of us boys could have a cut of the ranch. I’m the youngest and they were antsy to retire, so it was kind of a do-it-now-or-lose-your-chance situation.”

  “Where’d they go?”

  “See, that’s the crazy thing. They went everywhere.”

  “Everywhere?”

  “Yeah, they bought a motor home, packed up a few things, and took off on this hippie adventure. They live like nomads, driving from state to state, and chasing whatever whim strikes their fancy.” He dropped his gaze to his nearly empty plate. “Last I heard they were in Maine.”

  “That sounds nice. It must be exciting for them.”

  “I guess.” Chet pushed his plate away.

  “You don’t agree with their decision?” Mercedes placed her arms on the table and leaned forward. Her eyes were bright, at least the eye he could see. The other one was still hidden behind a curtain of heavy bangs. He tried to see if the swelling was going down without staring too hard.

  Mercedes ducked her head as if she had read his thoughts, so he said the first thing that came to mind. “I thought they were ranchers, not hippies.”

  “That’s the trouble with parents. We only see them from a child’s perspective. It’s hard to picture them as regular people.”

  “Regular people don’t abandon their family.”

  “You think that’s what they did?”

  Chet hooked his hand behind his neck. “I don’t know.”

  “Liar. Anytime someone says they ‘don’t know’ it really means they are afraid of the answer.
Do you think your parents abandoned their family?”

  “No,” was Chet’s automatic reply.

  Mercedes raised one eyebrow.

  “Okay, maybe.”

  She folded her arms across her chest.

  “All right—yes, I feel like they abandoned their family.” Now that the truth was out there, Chet couldn’t stop himself from spilling the rest. Mercedes was easy to talk to, and he didn’t feel like she was judging him for judging his parents. What would Pastor John have to say about a woman like that? “They are missing out on amazing things every day. Not big things like new grandkids. But the small things. Like my niece, Andy, losing her first tooth, or Aiden running in his first touchdown. It’s those little moments of celebration that make up a family, and my parents opted out of all of it.”

  “How many years did they work the ranch?”

  “It was my grandpa’s before it was my dad’s, so he’s been there his whole life.”

  “Huh, that’s a long time to be tied to something. I’m guessing there weren’t many vacations.”

  “No. We went camping here and there …” Chet caught Mercedes’s eye. “I get what you’re trying to say. They deserve a break.”

  “I don’t know that anyone deserves anything in this life. But I’m pretty sure they earned it.”

  Chet thought of the long hours he spent working the ranch “You’re right. Ranching is physically demanding and emotionally draining.”

  Mercedes nodded for him to continue.

  “Like getting that steer out of the fence the other night. I worried the darn thing would hurt itself more than it did, or hurt me or Wade. Not because I’d lose money if the steer died, but because I care about the animals. I feel as though the Lord has entrusted me with a stewardship over the land and livestock. I take that sacred trust seriously and assumed my father had walked away from it without a thought.”

  Mercedes put her hand over his. “He didn’t just walk away; he passed it on. There’s a difference.”

  Chet wondered if the warmth spreading through his body was because of what Mercedes said, or if it was because her hand was on his. Running his thumb over her fingers, Chet decided it was probably both. “You know, you’re pretty smart for a girl who wants to paint of picture of me.”

  Mercedes ducked her head. “I was hoping you’d forget about that.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Chet held back his grin.

  Mercedes tucked her hair behind her ear on the side that didn’t have the bee sting. Chet tried to see if it looked any better, and she caught him scrutinizing her. Rolling her eyes, she pulled her hair back away from her face. “Well?”

  It didn’t. “A little.”

  She let her hair back down and fidgeted with her napkin.

  “It’s not fair, you know.”

  “What’s not?”

  “That you can swell up and still be that pretty. It can really intimidate a guy.”

  “Please. You wrestle cows. Is it wrestle or wrangle? I guess it could be either because you do both, but wrestle is more the physical word—grabbing their horns and pulling them to the ground—while wrangle is like rounding them up. Where was I? Oh, you have arms like tree trunks—there’s no way I could intimidate you.”

  Chet brushed his thumb over her fingers again, and Mercedes gasped. The air around their table grew thick and blocked out the sounds from the rest of the restaurant. “This is the intimidating part. How could a country guy like me ever compete with the men you’re used to in Boston, who wear business suites and take a girl to fancy restaurants?”

  Mercedes swallowed. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job. You beat out half of those guys just by opening my door.”

  “What do I have to do to beat the rest?”

  Mercedes leaned forward. If it hadn’t been drilled into Chet that you don’t kiss a girl on the first date, he would have stood up and pulled her into his arms right then and there.

  “Are we splitting dessert, or do I get my own?” she asked, as intent as ever.

  Chet paused, considering his options. “We order two different desserts and split those.”

  Mercedes broke into a wide grin. “You win, hands down.” She winked at him and leaned back.

  They ordered dessert, a chocolate lava cake and bread pudding. They couldn’t finish either, and Mercedes insisted Chet take the leftovers home.

  “I’ll have them for breakfast.”

  Mercedes shook her head. “Cookies and now Lava Cake for breakfast? Your metabolism must be off the charts.”

  Chet paid the bill and left a good tip on the table. Mercedes was glad: not only was Maddie a great server, but Mercedes had waitressed for a year in college and still judged guys by how well they tipped. Some dropped money just because they had it, making sure they flashed the cash her way before leaving it on the table. Others counted every cent or made comments about docking a tip if their drinks ran low. Then there were the good guys. The ones who didn’t make a show but wanted to show appreciation. Chet fell into the third category.

  When Chet took her hand on their way out the door, chills went up her arm. She loved the strength in his hand, the calluses. They were as much a part of him as his ranch was. Musing over how his hands could be so tough and yet hold her gently, Mercedes tipped her head back and looked at the stars. “You don’t get to see this many stars in the city. There’s too many lights. But out here, you can see the shadows in the sky.”

  “Shadows?” Chet looked up. He probably thought she was talking loopy again. When she thought of the things she’d said on the ride to Granny’s, she wanted to crawl into the bed of the truck for the ride home. But with a full stomach, her head had cleared, and though she knew it sounded strange, she wanted Chet to understand.

  Mercedes pointed. “Most people pay attention to the bright spots. The human eye is attracted to light. For some reason, I see the dark ones too. Like there.” She swept her hand across the sky, as if it were close enough for her to touch. “See how it’s darker? Or rather, it appears darker because of the cloudy haze next to it?”

  “Yeah.” Chet perused the night, looking for other dark spots. “I guess you have to have both light and dark to really appreciate either.”

  “What did you say?” Mercedes turned her gaze to Chet.

  “I said, I think you have to have both light and dark to appreciate them.”

  Mercedes’s head spun, and it had nothing to do with the medication. Both light and dark. “That’s all sorts of profound.”

  Chet opened her door and she climbed in. “How so?” He leaned against her door. The night air was comfortable and they were alone in the parking lot. Soft yellow light spilled from Granny’s front window, and a bright moon hung in the western sky.

  Mercedes took a minute to think before answering. “Before I came here, things were pretty dark. I guess dark would be a harsh word … discouraging, dismal, hopeless. Like those words are any better. The point is, the moment we arrived in Snow Valley, it all turned around, and, and, things are good, they’re brighter.”

  Chet nodded once. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Mercedes got the impression he took credit for some of that, and she was glad. Chet was definitely one of the reasons she could see just how destructive her relationship with Jeremey really was. Chet was the light to Jeremey’s dark.

  He bounced his shoulder off the door, shut it, and went around to the driver’s side. As he started the truck and flipped on the headlights, Mercedes held back a gasp.

  A light is best used to illuminate items, make them clearer. Mercedes turned in her seat so she could look at Chet. Light puts things in perspective. Being with Chet was like that. He shone light on her, and she, in turn, could see her worth reflected in his eyes.

  Mercedes wiped at the moisture that gathered on her lashes.

  Chet reached over and took her free hand. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Mercedes chuckled and sniffed. “Bee sting,” she ex
plained. But it wasn’t really the swelling that got to her. It was the overwhelming feeling of being guided by the Lord’s hand to be in this truck with this man at this very moment, so she could see that the darkness she’d passed through would make her time with Chet that much sweeter.

  She reached across the space between them and gave his hand a little squeeze. He smiled in return.

  “So, tell me more about these hidden chambers in the pyramids,” said Mercedes.

  Chet’s jaw dropped. “Are you mocking me?”

  “What? No. Why would you think that?”

  Chet shook his head. “It’s just something Vicky said today.” He looked over, still skeptical.

  “Why did they have to use a robot? Why not just open the room?”

  Chet shifted in his seat. “It has to do with exposing the stuff inside to fresh air …”

  Chet continued on, and Mercedes found herself entranced listening to him go on about oxygen content and the desert climate. He really had a broad knowledge base. Another point in the pro-Chet column. One date and he was racking up the RBI’s.

  When Chet pulled into Mercedes’s drive, he realized he’d talked all the way home. He’d almost made it through the night without “spouting off,” as his family would call it. So close …

  “Well, you’re still awake. I must not have bored you too much,” Chet joked.

  “Are you kidding? It was great. I can’t wait for the sequel.”

  Relieved, Chet took the hint. “How about next weekend? It’s the Founders’ Day Festival. We could watch the reenactment and cruise the food tables.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  Warmth spread through Chet’s chest. “I’ll get your door.” Chet took Mercedes’s hand to walk her up to the porch. He always hated the doorstep scene. There was so much pressure. Do you kiss her goodnight? Would she even want him to? Well, not on the first date. If the way his heart drummed in his chest was any indication, he might not be able to hold out much longer. He wanted to soak up every second with Mercedes, so his steps were slow.

  “Did you get your sink fixed?” he asked.

  “No. Between the doctor and our other projects, there just wasn’t time. Aiden said he’d come tomorrow though. Do you think you could stop by?”