Snowfall on Haven Point

by RaeAnne Thayne

  Christopher didn’t answer for a long moment, until Marshall thought maybe he was going to ignore him. Finally he spoke. “Why would any idiot be stupid enough to shave while he’s on a boat?”

  Marshall let out his breath and managed a smile. “That’s what you call hyperbole. I just meant it’s easy sailing, no matter the conditions out on the water. The Killies are legendary in these parts. They were built right here on the lake by Ben Kilpatrick’s family, up until about five or six years ago when Ben closed up shop. That particular boat probably goes for six figures, easy.”

  “No way.”

  “True story. They’re highly prized by collectors. One went up for auction back East a few months ago and sold for nearly half a million dollars.”

  “For a boat?” Christopher did a double take. “I could see paying that for a yacht or something, but that’s just a glorified dinghy. For that kind of money, you could buy a freaking Lamborghini and have change left over!”

  When the weather warmed up, he ought to see if Ben would take them out on his beautiful restored Delphine. It was a nice thought—until he remembered he didn’t have the right to take Christopher anywhere.

  “I’ve been lucky enough to drive both, and I can tell you with complete honesty, a Killy is more fun—but just by a hair.”

  “Right. You want me to believe a cop in the middle of frigging nowhere Idaho drives a Lamborghini?”

  He shrugged. “I never said I drive one on a regular basis. But when I was a rookie deputy just out of the Marines and back from Iraq, I worked undercover on a drug case. As part of my cover, I drove a Lamborghini Gallardo that had been confiscated from another case.”

  “No shit?” As soon as he swore, Christopher sent a guilty look in the direction of his grandmother, who didn’t seem to be paying them any attention.

  “True story. It was only a weeklong operation, but it was absolutely unforgettable. When you drive a Lambo, you can feel the engine rumbling in your bones. When you accelerate, you’re sucked into the back of your seat and you feel like you own the world.”

  If he wasn’t mistaken, Christopher seemed to look at him with awe and respect, all annoyance forgotten. Apparently fast cars were the way to his son’s heart.

  “What color was it?” he asked.

  “Ice blue.”

  “Sweet.”

  He had pictures somewhere of him behind the wheel. He’d have to dig them out for the kid so he could prove it.

  “Look, Mama,” Will suddenly exclaimed, breaking into the conversation. “There he is! Look! Santa’s riding on a boat!”

  “I see it. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  In that moment, the whole evening felt wonderful, even with the throbbing of his leg. Marshall wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

  “I never went to a parade at night before. That was fun,” Chloe declared when all they could see was the long line of lights heading toward Shelter Springs with the Santa Claus boat in the rear.

  “The best parade I ever went to,” Will agreed.

  “I agree.” Andrea smiled at her children.

  As everyone stood up and started gathering up their belongings, a couple of boys around Christopher’s age approached their group. Marshall recognized one as being the son of a friend of his who owned one of several art galleries in Haven Point. He didn’t know the other one.

  Christopher headed over to talk to them, with much gesturing and pointing. Marshall couldn’t hear the conversation, but he did hear when Christopher approached his grandparents.

  “Can I go with Cody and Jonas? They want to walk around and look at stuff.”

  Herm and Louise looked at each other, then back at their grandson. “I’m inclined to say no,” Herm said sternly. “You haven’t demonstrated much reason why we should trust you today.”

  Christopher’s jaw jutted out and it took Marshall a moment to realize why the expression looked familiar—because he did the same thing.

  “I was a jerk, okay? I’m sorry.” The boy glanced at Marshall and he had to hope something he said might have made an impact. “It’s just... Cody is pretty good at art. His mom and dad have a booth selling pottery and paintings and stuff and he wanted us to see a couple bowls he made.”

  The Jacobs conferred for a moment, then turned back to their grandson. “Meet us back here in forty-five minutes,” Herm said. He reached into the pocket of his coat and handed over a black cell phone. “Take your phone so we can reach you and answer us when we call this time. If you don’t—or if we have to come find you—the phone and the Wi-Fi password at home will both be gone until after Christmas.”

  The boy’s smile made him look even younger than his thirteen years.

  “Thanks, Grandpa,” he said, then jerked his head in a nod that encompassed the rest of them. “See you.”

  He and the two other boys hurried away as if afraid his grandparents would change their minds.

  After he left, Marshall released his breath, aware of a soft, fragile optimism that hadn’t been there earlier in the day.

  “You and Christopher seemed to have a lot to talk about,” Andie said in a low voice.

  He looked around, noting the boy’s grandparents were busy talking to Eliza and Aidan Caine. “I guess you could say we bonded a little, talking about fast cars.”

  “He was more animated, speaking with you, than I’ve ever seen him. Maybe he feels a connection.”

  He wasn’t sure about that, but it was nice to think about. “Maybe,” he said in a noncommittal voice.

  She was quiet for a long moment, then gave him a searching look. “Have you thought more about telling his grandparents the truth?”

  Instantly, the warm feelings from before seemed to take a running leap into the lake. “No. The timing isn’t right. They have enough to deal with at the moment.”

  She looked as if she wanted to press him, but Chloe and Will both came back from comparing notes with Cole Barrett’s kids.

  “Mom, can we go look at the fair?” Chloe asked. She clasped her hands together in the same sort of pleading gesture she might use when asking a wicked queen to spare her family from the guillotine. “Jazmyn said they have kettle corn. You know I love kettle corn.”

  Andrea’s gaze darted from her daughter to Marshall and back. “I do know that. Probably not this year. We’ll have a chance for kettle corn again.”

  She was refraining from taking them to the fair because of him and his stupid broken leg. She didn’t think him capable of moving through the crowded booths and displays.

  He stood up, intent on showing her she was wrong.

  “Come on. It will be fun,” he said. “I wanted to see some of the booths myself. And kettle corn would really hit the spot right now.”

  “Yay!” Chloe exclaimed with delight, beaming at him as if she were a teenage boy and he had just handed her the keys to a Lamborghini Gallardo.

  Andie, on the other hand, frowned at him with a worried look. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  She apparently thought he had all the strength and endurance of a ninety-year-old man with emphysema.

  “If I need to stop for a break, I’m sure I can find a spot to sit down.”

  “We’re happy to take your blankets home for you, if you’d like,” Charlene offered. “That way you don’t have to come back here for them. I can drop them off at your house tomorrow.”

  “Why don’t we take them?” Louise offered. “Christopher can run them to you in the morning.”

  Andie apparently decided she was overruled. “Fine. All right. Charlene and Mike, thank you for inviting us to share your prime spot here. It was truly lovely.”

  “You are so welcome. And I mean that, Andie. I couldn’t be happier to have you and your children here. I’m so thrilled we’ll be seeing more of each other
now.”

  His mother squeezed her hands, then kissed her cheek. Andie flashed Marshall a telling look and he sighed.

  He was going to have to tell his mother not to expect anything between him and Andie. It would break her heart, but it was probably better to do it now, before anyone’s messy feelings were involved.

  * * *

  THEY SLOWLY MADE their way through the series of booths set up in the park with the children again walking in front of Marshall to help him manage through the crowd.

  At least the tents and booths were set up along paved paths in the park so he didn’t have to tackle more of the uneven ground. The crowds of people had to be difficult enough.

  “Don’t worry,” she told him. “The kids will lose interest as soon as they realize the booths mostly have arts and crafts and not toys. We’ll grab the kettle corn first so that’s out of the way, then just stop at a few booths and call it good.”

  “I’m doing fine,” he answered. “Feel free to look as long as you’d like. If I need to, I can go into the main food tent to sit down and warm up.”

  He did seem to be doing okay, much to her relief. His color was good and she could see no sign of those pain lines etched too often at the edges of his mouth. He was only a week out of surgery and she knew his leg had to be hurting, but she had a feeling he would never admit it, even if it felt like rats were gnawing on his ankle bone.

  In only a few moments, she was reminded again that he appeared to be well liked and well respected. He greeted many of the people they passed by name and stopped to chat with a few.

  She was interested to see he nodded to—but didn’t stop to chat with—a couple of his deputies who were wearing uniforms but didn’t seem to be doing anything official other than talking to each other and a man in a fancy Stetson. All three of the men greeted him cordially, but she sensed the enmity simmering in them.

  “Do you know everyone from Shelter Springs and Haven Point?” she asked in wonder, when they finally made their way to the concessions tents.

  He gave a gruff laugh. “Not even close. It’s good to see so many new people moving in—especially now that the Caine Tech facility is up and running. New blood is good for a town. You keep things fresh and interesting.”

  He wasn’t talking about her specifically, she reminded herself. Just her status as a newcomer to town.

  She had to wonder how long it might take for the transition from newcomer to old-timer. Probably a few decades, at least.

  “Something smells so good,” Will exclaimed.

  “You got that right, kid,” Marshall said.

  Andie had to agree with them. Kettle corn just might be one of the more addictive smells in the universe.

  The kettle corn was a hit, of course. Sugar and popcorn. What was there not to like in that particular pairing? Chloe and Will both begged for their own small bag and she relented, even though she knew neither would be able to finish. They could always take it home. Remembering Marshall’s sweet tooth, she bought another medium-sized bag for him. After the cashier handed it to her, she held it out to the sheriff. “This one’s yours. I’ll carry it until we’re back in the car, but do you want some now?”

  He gave her a “hell yeah” kind of look that made her smile.

  “Unlike the rest of us, you’re not going to be able to walk and eat. This looks like a good place to stop for a minute.”

  They paused beside one of the convenient kerosene heaters and she opened the bag and held it out to him. He leaned on one of the crutches and ate a few kernels from the bag.

  It was a strangely intimate moment. He had to be close enough to reach the popcorn and she could feel the heat emanating from him, smell the woodsy, outdoorsy scent of his aftershave.

  These were the sort of memories that stuck with a person for a long time—the delectable scents drifting around, the magical Christmas lights twinkling along with the stars overhead and the lake gleaming in the background. The sounds of holiday music and conversation and children’s laughter.

  In that moment, she couldn’t imagine anywhere she would rather be.

  “Sheriff Bailey! What are you doing here?”

  At the shocked exclamation, Andie turned to find a woman in her forties staring at Marshall as if he had just dropped in out of nowhere by parachute.

  He flashed the woman a warmer smile than anything he’d yet to give Andie. “Hi, Jackie. Right now, I’m eating some excellent kettle corn. Really excellent. You should try some.”

  The other woman looked aghast. “I mean, what are you doing here at the festival? These crowds can’t be good for you. You should be home with your leg up where it’s warm and safe.”

  He didn’t look very excited about that suggestion.

  “Jackie, this is my neighbor Andie Montgomery. These are her kids, Chloe and Will. Andie, this is my administrative assistant, Jackie Scott.”

  Andie smiled, but Jackie barely paid her any attention as she looked at Marshall like a mother cat wanting to pick up one of her kittens by the scruff of the neck. “I can’t imagine your doctors would agree a crowded festival is a safe place for you. It’s wall-to-wall people and nobody is watching where he’s going. You’re still trying to heal. You should be home in bed with your leg up.”

  That was exactly the wrong thing to say to Marshall, as Andie had quickly discovered.

  “Thanks for your concern, Jackie, but I’m really fine. Yes, it’s a challenge to get through the crowd, but nothing I can’t handle, especially with Andrea and her kids watching out for me.”

  Mouth tight, Jackie slanted a dismissive look at her before shifting her gaze back to Marshall. “I don’t like this,” the woman said, all but wringing her hands. “Until they catch the person who did this, I think you’re better off staying home, where you’re safe.”

  “That’s not going to happen. In fact, I’m hoping to return to work next week, at least part-time. If I don’t try to stay on top of things, we’ll both be drowning in work next month.”

  The assistant looked horrified. “I would rather work thirty hours a week in overtime all through January than have you push yourself too hard and end up doing permanent damage to yourself,” she said in an impassioned voice.

  Jackie’s concern was beginning to annoy him. Andie had enough experience annoying him herself to recognize the signs.

  “You’re sweet to worry about me,” he said, “but you really don’t need to. Especially not tonight, when we’re all here to enjoy ourselves. Have a good evening.”

  It was a clear dismissal and Marshall punctuated it by hobbling away, leaving Andie and her kids to scramble after him.

  “She’s very protective of you,” Andie observed as they moved to the next booth.

  “She and my mother ought to form a club. I’m sure you could join, too.”

  She refused to feel guilty for her concern over him, though she did wonder why all the women in his life felt compelled to look out for him. He was tough and hard and perfectly capable of taking care of himself, yet he still managed to bring out her protective instincts—maybe because that hard shell concealed that gooey core of sweetness he would probably deny to his dying breath.

  “I inherited Jackie from the previous sheriff when I took over a year ago. She’s extremely efficient and keeps the department running, really, but she can be a bit of a worrier.”

  She didn’t have a chance to respond before they reached the white tent with the Haven Point Helping Hands sign hanging on the front. The smell of cinnamon and cloves poured through the doorway, along with an enticing warmth that drew passersby inside.

  Megan Hamilton and Samantha Fremont were working inside the tent, Andie saw at a glance. Samantha was helping a customer, but Megan greeted her and the children with enthusiasm.

  “Why, look who’s here! My favorite boy nam
ed Will and my favorite girl named Chloe!” she exclaimed, in such a cheerful, over-the-top voice that the children giggled. “How did you like your first Lights on the Lake parade?”

  “I didn’t like it, I loved it!” Chloe said. “The boats were awesome.”

  “Especially the one with Santa Claus on it,” Will said.

  “That’s my favorite, too,” the innkeeper said with an affectionate smile for him.

  “Have you ever been on one of the boats in the parade?” Chloe asked. “I think it would be so fun!”

  Will’s eyes widened at the novel idea. “Yeah! Hey, Mom, we should get a boat, then we can ride in the parade next year!”

  “Maybe we could ask Santa Claus for one,” Chloe suggested.

  She had heard Marshall talking to Christopher about the astronomical price tag of one of the wooden Killies, which was a little far out of her budget.

  The idea of owning any boat was way out of her comfort zone—though it was a shame, really, since one of the most beautiful lakes in the country was right in her backyard.

  “Are there any ornaments here that might work on my tree?” Marshall asked. “Since you two are my master decorators, maybe you could help me pick out a couple.”

  The kids jumped at the chance to help him with anything. Grateful for the diversion, she headed over to talk to Sam and Megan about how sales were going. The proceeds from selling the crafts they made throughout the year helped fund some of the group’s charitable work.

  The two women apparently didn’t want to talk about the Helping Hands.

  “Marshall Bailey!” Megan said in an undertone, giving the tall sheriff a sideways look at the other end of the booth. “Seriously? Are you two a thing?”

  The memory of that delicious kiss suddenly surged to the front of her brain and Andie shivered but quickly pushed it back. “If by thing you mean neighbors, then yes. But that’s all. Wyn asked me to keep an eye on him after he broke his leg, since I’m the closest one to him.”