by Judy Baer
“The people at the courthouse say he’s very quiet, not friendly at all. I can’t get anything out of the receptionist at his lawyer’s office, but I know something is going on. Penny at the bank told me . . .”
“Regina, Penny likes to talk. Sometimes she speaks before she has her facts straight. I’m sure when the time is right you will hear about anything that affects you.”
None of this likely pertained to Regina. She was simply making it her business, as she did most everything in Frost. Maybe she’d meet her match in Jack Frost, who seemed very capable of keeping private things private.
After a few more probing questions, which had disappointing results, Regina stuffed a handful of free peppermints into her purse and, without a good-bye, sailed out of the shop.
“That was interesting,” Abby commented.
“I’m glad there were no other customers in here.” Merry sank down on the stool behind the counter. “No one needs to hear speculation about my B-and-B guest.”
“What do you think he’s up to?”
“Who says he’s up to something? He’s inherited some land from his family. The Frost family. Seems to me he has a right to what’s his.”
“I don’t know, Merry. I’ve heard some grumbling too. I hope there’s no trouble.”
Merry chewed worriedly on her lower lip. The residents of Frost might be up in arms if Jack’s suspicions about his great-grandfather’s property were true.
* * * * *
The store was so busy that Merry didn’t even see Kipley Carson enter. Nor did she notice that he was carrying a single red rose.
“Kip!” She jumped when he put his hand on her shoulder and thrust the flower beneath her nose.
“Busy day?”
“Crazy.” Merry pushed away an errant curl and smiled at him. “You, obviously, are not busy enough or you wouldn’t be hanging around here. Is something wrong with the telephone company’s business?” She gestured to the tools hanging on his belt.
“Who cares about business when I’m in Frost and I know you’re in the store?” Kip’s green eyes sparkled, and he ran his fingers through his rusty red hair.
“You’re adorable, as usual, but you’ll have to leave. I’m too busy to chat now. Can’t you see?”
“You’re in luck. I have work to do right here in town, and when I’m done I’ll come back.” He surprised her by kissing her on the forehead before handing her the rose. “See you soon.”
As soon as the door shut behind him, the woman waiting at the counter said, “He’s darling. Your boyfriend?”
“Kipley? No. We’re just friends.”
“Yeah. Right,” Abby rejoined. “He’s crazy in love with her and she can’t see it.”
“He is not,” Merry said. “He’s a friend.”
“Every single man in a thirty-mile radius would like to be Merry’s friend,” Abby said in an aside to the woman.
“I heard that!” Merry shooed Abby toward some new customers who’d entered.
“Never mind her,” she advised her customer.
“I saw the look that fellow gave you. He’s infatuated with you.”
Merry didn’t have to respond to the comment because another group of shoppers came to the door, creating a commotion. She was thoughtful as she rang up gifts and decorations. Wearied from both thinking and working, when there was a lull in the store, she went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea.
Was she really so naïve that she didn’t notice Kip’s feelings? No, that wasn’t it. She simply didn’t want that complication in her life. She took the scripture very seriously that advised Christians not to be unequally yoked. She didn’t date men who didn’t have faith. What was the point? The relationship would go nowhere anyway.
Once, in college, she’d allowed that to happen and had fallen in love with an unbeliever. She’d regretted the pain it had caused ever since. Kip was fun and funny, but he wasn’t the church-going type. Therefore, he wasn’t her type either.
As if thinking about him could make him materialize, Kip appeared in the doorway, grinning.
“I’m done with work. What do you have to eat, Merry? Something good?” He sauntered in and settled himself at the table across from her. “You did invite me in, didn’t you?”
“I must have.” Merry smiled at him and reached for a container of cookies. “Here, help yourself.”
“Want to go to a movie later?” he asked after four sugar cookies and a glass of milk. “You pick it. I’ll even go to one of those stupid girlfriend movies if you want.”
“Such sacrifice!” She poked his arm. “You know I can’t. I don’t take time off during December. There’s too much going on here.”
“All work and no play makes Merry a dull girl,” he retorted with his most engaging smile. He put his hand over hers as it lay on the table. “Come on, Merry. For me?”
Jack chose that awkward moment to walk into the kitchen and see the couple holding hands. Merry withdrew hers, but it was too late. There was a guarded expression in Jack’s eyes, one she hadn’t seen before. He almost looked . . . angry.
She felt Kip stiffen at the sight of Jack, obviously not approving of a strange man walking into her kitchen.
“Kip, this is Jack,” she said quickly. “He’s my B-and-B guest.”
“And who is Kip?” Jack inquired a little testily.
“He works for the telephone company.”
“Very personal service, I see.” Jack’s voice was cool, insinuating, and Kip apparently didn’t like it very much.
Kip half rose from his chair. He liked nothing better than a fight, and she could tell he didn’t like Jack’s tone. Merry jumped to her feet and dragged Kip with her.
“He was just going, weren’t you, Kip?” She held onto his arm as she walked him to the door.
“I could clean his clock for you,” Kip whispered. “I don’t like this guy.”
“You don’t even know him,” she hissed. “Now go home. And thanks for the rose.”
“Just saying. Call me if he needs an attitude adjustment. I’d be happy to help.”
She practically pushed Kip into the snow and slammed the door behind him. “Don’t mind him. He’s . . .” Merry stopped talking. Jack held the rose in his hand. He was studying the velvety petals ready to unfold.
“I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend, Merry. I’m sorry I walked in like that.” He seemed annoyed.
“He’s not my boyfriend. Whatever Kip thinks or says, he’s got it wrong.”
“You should give the guy a break, Merry. It would be a privilege to date a woman like you.”
He left her standing there, gaping after him.
Chapter Nine
• • • • • • • • • • • •
Jack paced back and forth across the floor of his room asking himself why he said what he did.
Because she had gotten under his skin, that’s why. She was smart, happy, content. She wasn’t needy or dependent but completely self-sufficient. And she was one of the loveliest women he’d ever met. With that blonde hair and those wide green eyes she was . . . angelic.
But where was she when he’d really needed an angel? Jack wondered. All those years of guilt and regret . . . and now she appears?
Nothing had made sense to him since he was twelve years old. Why start now? he thought bitterly.
Restless and not knowing what to do with himself, he flopped onto the bed and stared at the ornate ceiling fan light. For a man who’d cultivated a dispassionate, wary, guarded life, he was certainly letting his feelings run away with him. His long-gone relatives were driving him crazy. In fact, all of Frost was driving him insane. Frost and the woman downstairs . . .
When he’d seen her sitting at the table holding hands with that Kip fellow, he’d felt a surge of possessiveness he’d never before experienced. He was actually jealous! That was an emotion he’d left behind years ago—hadn’t he?
Hours later, he awoke from a dream sweating. He sat straight u
p in bed, blinking back the saltiness that had slid into his eyes. He swung his legs over the bed, went to the bathroom sink, and threw cold water on his face until he was fully awake and the nightmare slithered back into his subconscious. It would raise its ugly head again later, no doubt, but not tonight.
It took him a long time to get back to sleep. It was the first time since he’d been in Frost that he’d had the recurrent dream that haunted him.
At 6:00 AM he could stay in bed no longer, even on a Sunday morning. Between his reaction to Merry and to the dream, he needed to move around, to erase thought and turn it into action.
Merry was at the kitchen table when he entered. Jack could tell she’d been crying. She rubbed at her eyes and gave him a watery smile.
“Coffee’s ready,” she volunteered.
He poured his own and sat down. “What’s wrong?” He was surprised at how it hurt to see her this way.
“Don’t mind me. I just get . . . sad . . . sometimes.”
“Sad at Christmas? I thought it was your favorite time of year.”
“It is now, but it wasn’t always so. Some of my loneliest times were the holidays. I can’t get Greta out of my mind. Poor little kid. Homeless at Christmas? How sad!”
“Then why don’t you invite her family to spend Christmas here? I thought that’s what you liked to do.” He reached for a scone and began to munch on it. He was startled when Merry bolted out of her chair and flung her arms around his neck. She smelled of peppermint and sugar cookies.
“Of course! It certainly has to be better than a shelter.” A frown creased her features. “You wouldn’t mind, would you? I do have more than one room I use for the B-and-B. I doubt they’d bother you.”
“I hope I’ll be out of here by then.”
“You have to stay through Christmas!” she insisted, her eyes bright with anticipation, tears gone. “You don’t have other plans. What’s a day or two more this time of year? Besides, it will be fun.”
Then, as Merry was sometimes given to do, she changed subjects midstream.
“Do you want to go to church with me? It starts at nine.”
“I don’t usually go to church during December,” he admitted. “Too much . . .”
“. . . Christmas?”
“Sounds bad, doesn’t it?”
“You must have your reasons.” She eyed him steadily. “But I’d like company this morning. Will you break your rule just this once?”
Saying no to Merry was almost impossible, he’d learned. He didn’t know how she managed it and hadn’t seen it coming, but he heard himself say, “Just this once.”
It was worth it to sit through Christmas carols just to see her face light up.
The church was a short walk from Merry’s house. As they entered, it seemed that everyone there knew her. They probably did, Jack thought. There were less than two hundred people in this town—he’d read it on the sign when he’d driven in.
She greeted or hugged every person she met, and people seemed to gravitate to her like the sun. Merry was a people magnet, Jack decided. That was the last thing he’d ever wanted to be.
It felt like old times sitting in the pew, listening to Pastor Ed speak. The music from the organ, the old songs, the wavering voices of the elderly women in the congregation, the smell of coffee brewing in the basement—it all brought Jack back to his childhood.
He and Jamie had never been very well behaved in church, much to their parents’ chagrin. Fortunately it seemed to amuse those sitting around them, which only encouraged their misbehaving. More than once, one of them was forced to sit in the back pew by himself. Both couldn’t be sent back there. They’d have far too much fun. In spite of himself, Jack smiled.
* * * * *
“Let’s think of something entertaining,” Merry suggested when they returned from church. “Since neither of us works on Sundays, we might as well do something interesting.”
Jack helped her out of her coat and hung it in the closet. “What did you have in mind?”
Things were getting rather chummy, Merry thought. They were acting like old marrieds this morning. She wasn’t unhappy with the thought.
“We can go through the attic. I opened the heat registers so it will be warm up there. What’s better on a snowy afternoon than going through old trunks and attic treasures? Today we’re eating leftovers, so I don’t even have to cook.” She glanced at him. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
“Leftovers here are a gourmet dinner elsewhere,” Jack said graciously. “But the attic is yours, you don’t have to share it with me.”
“It’s your family’s history. I’m sure there are things you’ll want once you see them. Besides, I’ll need you to interpret for me. Perhaps we’ll find photographs of your ancestors. Come on, it will be fun!”
That’s how they found themselves a half hour later, in jeans, bending low over a large antique steamer trunk in a warm, dusty attic, intent on breaking their way into the first of many chests and crates the room had to offer.
“Are you sure you want to break the lock? Maybe there’s a key around here somewhere. I could look for it,” Merry offered.
“That might take all day. Besides, I think I can do it without damaging the lock.” Jack leaned his ear close to the padlock and began to move the dial to the right and then the left. In a matter of moments, the lock fell open in his hands.
“How did you do that?” Merry gasped.
“I learned it in my former life as a cat burglar.”
She punched his arm and registered the strong, bunched muscles beneath his shirt.
“Actually, it was a skill Jamie and I perfected so that we’d have the run of the entire house—ours and everyone else’s, for that matter.”
“Naughty boy.”
His smile was sad, as if there were no humor behind his thoughts. “I suppose you could say that.”
She didn’t pursue it because she didn’t want to sound critical. They were comfortable with each other right now, and that had been something of a rarity during his stay. She wanted to discover who this Jamie was but liked this easy companionship they shared for the moment, so she decided against it.
Jack lifted the trunk’s lid to reveal a wealth of newspaper-wrapped items within. He picked one up, unwrapped it, and held up a fragile blue-and-white teacup. The dark blue color seemed to bleed through the porcelain to reveal itself on both sides of the plate.
“My mother had flow blue china too. She inherited it from her grandmother.” Merry took the cup from Jack’s hands to examine it.
Uninterested in dishes, he turned to another chest, one that opened easily. “What’s this?” He withdrew a small body, the eyes of which were staring directly at him.
“She’s beautiful!” Merry tenderly took the doll and, with a motion born of instinct, cradled it in her arms.
“There have to be a dozen dolls in here.” Jack withdrew a marionette with tangled strings. “These must have belonged to my great-aunt. She didn’t have any children to pass them down to.”
“How sad,” Merry murmured. “These dolls would make some little girl very happy.”
The next words out of Jack’s mouth shocked her. “Why don’t you give them to Greta for Christmas?”
Tears welled in her eyes at the tender thought. “That’s a beautiful suggestion, but I couldn’t. Maybe someday you’ll have little girls of your own. They are the ones who should have them.”
Jack looked as if he’d never entertained such an idea. “Me? I . . . Then just pick one out for her if that worries you. She needs something nice.”
For the first time since they’d met, Merry was absolutely sure that beneath that icy exterior beat a heart of gold.
“Pay dirt!” Merry crowed when Jack opened the third trunk. She lifted an old photo album out of the depths and laid it on the floor between them. Carefully she opened the cover.
The photos inside had been pasted onto the pages with paper corners, the glue on which had disintegrat
ed long ago.
“Well, what do you know?” Jack picked up a photo of a somber-faced gentleman grimly staring at the camera. The Minneapolis Great Northern Depot loomed behind him. There was another of him at Navy Pier. “This is the man for whom Frost was named, and that’s some of his work.”
“He designed some very important buildings,” Merry said, impressed. “Frost should be proud.”
The next album she took from the trunk was considerably newer. She opened it and a familiar face stared back at her. “Jack, is this you?”
He leaned close, and his shoulder brushed hers. She was acutely aware of him. A pleasant little shiver flickered through Merry. Jack, however, seemed not to notice.
He studied the photo briefly. “That’s my father. He’s standing next to his aunt who owned this house.”
“You look just like him. What a gorgeous man he is!” Merry realized what she’d said only after it was too late to stop herself.
Jack looked amused. “So are you saying that I’m gorgeous too?”
Merry’s mouth worked but nothing came out. “I wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . . Well, yes, I guess I did. Please don’t take offense!”
“Offense? Hardly. I should kiss you for a compliment like that . . .” Now it was Jack’s voice that faded as they stared at each other.
He cleared his throat. “Now it’s your turn to be offended. I didn’t mean . . .”
Merry laughed. “Touché, now we’re even.”
“Awkward begets awkward, I guess.” His smile was genuine.
She returned to the album and flipped the page. There were more photos of Jack’s father and his aunt, then some with a slender, beautiful woman in a white dress. Her dark hair curled around her face, and she was laughing. Merry held out the album to Jack.
“My mother.” He said nothing more.
“She’s stunning. Was she a model or an actress?”
“No. Just a mother.”
It was odd, the way he said it. He obviously didn’t want to discuss her further.
The next page held a family photo. She immediately recognized Jack’s parents. With them were two young boys dressed in matching shorts and shirts. Their knees were scuffed but every hair on their heads was plastered into place. One grinned widely while the other looked somberly into the camera.
