by Liz Isaacson
“California’s great. I thought you were going to come.” Eli stepped back and looked at Andrew, dozens of questions and implications in his eyes.
“I was. I am. Maybe in January when we’ve got ten feet of snow on the ground.”
Meg laughed, and Andrew gave her a hug too. “You guys should come see the horses while you’re here.” They’d just gotten in last night, Andrew knew that. They’d driven to their mother’s where they were staying.
“Yeah!” Stockton cheered. “Do you still have the snowshoes at the lodge, Uncle Andrew?”
“We sure do, bud.” He glanced out the window. “And there will probably be enough snow by tomorrow to go.”
“Can we, Dad?” Stockton turned to Eli, who smiled down at his son.
“We’ll see, Stocky. We have plans with Grandma for something.”
“Movie,” Meg said softly. “Double date.” She put her finger to her lips like the date was a secret and glanced over her shoulder to where Andrew’s mother worked in the kitchen with Celia.
“Who’s she going out with this time?” Andrew asked.
“You’re still upset about it?” Eli asked.
“I’m not upset.” He just didn’t understand. “Who is it?”
“Dave Dirkle.”
Andrew rolled his eyes and moved away to ask Bailey if she wanted to come snowshoeing tomorrow too.
“Sure,” Laney said. “Stockton will be with us all afternoon, and he loves snowshoeing.”
At least Andrew wasn’t the only Whittaker who didn’t always know what was going on. He wondered if he got married, if Becca would keep track of things like who his mother was dating and when they were babysitting a niece or nephew.
Like lightning had struck him, he realized he’d just pictured himself married to Becca. His heart wailed, but Celia said, “Time to eat,” and everyone gathered over by the bar to say grace.
Andrew felt incomplete during the meal, even when he expressed his gratitude for his family, the food, and the great year they’d had at Springside. Everyone else at the table had someone, and he didn’t.
Even if Beau’s guest was a client, and his mother’s was an old friend they now employed. He still felt all alone amidst the people he loved most, and that was because there was someone who he loved who wasn’t there.
After dinner, while his mom started a pot of coffee and the pies were set on the counter to come to room temperature, he sat down beside Graham and said, “I need to get Becca back. Tell me what to do.”
Eli immediately put his phone down and leaned forward. “Becca?”
“I need to get her back.” Andrew flicked a glance in Eli’s direction. “You guys managed to get women to marry you. Help me.” He obviously wasn’t above begging, and Graham gave him a big smile.
“Okay, here’s what you do….”
Twenty
Becca spent an hour each day before work looking for a new job. She thought she wanted to work at the mayor’s office, maybe get more involved in the political side of things, as she enjoyed public policy and fighting for what she believed in.
But she was wrong. This job was boring, didn’t fulfill her, and she wanted to leave two minutes after she arrived.
But a few weeks before Christmas didn’t seem to be a great time to find a job, as there didn’t seem to be much going on locally besides food service.
At this point, she was almost willing to don an apron and take orders, because the thought of sitting at her desk for another day was almost enough to drive her insane. She’d avoided going to church, because she knew Andrew went. She’d been praying for a solution to her problem, but there seemed to be a lot of doors open, and she wasn’t even sure which one she should approach.
By the Wednesday after Thanksgiving, she couldn’t take it anymore. With no answers from on high, she knocked lightly on the mayor’s door, knowing he was inside the office as she’d seen him arrive an hour ago.
“Mayor Berry?” she asked, pushing the door open a few inches.
He glanced up, and said, “Becca? Come on in.” He sounded pleasant, but he didn’t add a smile to his statement. In the past, before Andrew had forgotten to inform the mayor about the SonarBot, he would’ve smiled. Maybe jumped from his desk to shake her hand.
Now, he leaned onto his arms as she approached. She sat down and smoothed her palms down her thighs. “This isn’t a good fit for me,” she said. “I’m looking for another job, and I wanted to give notice here in case you need to replace me.” Why he was paying her to read articles and make lists, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t an election year, and she really did nothing for him.
He slid his glasses from his nose. “That’s fine. When would you like to be done?”
“How much longer do you need me?”
“Honestly, Becca, I don’t need you. I offered you the job, because I think you’re a great public speaker and press secretary, and if you wanted to be on my team, I wanted you.”
Becca’s pride swelled with the compliment. “Thank you, sir. I think maybe today would be a good day to be done.”
He stood, nodded, and shook her hand. She left his office lighter than she’d felt for a month. Pausing at her desk, she looked around for any personal items. She had her coffee mug and a picture of Otto…and not much else.
Since she didn’t really have anything to do, she started cruising the job boards, deciding on the spot to apply for a waitressing position. She could deliver bacon and eggs, make small talk, and probably do well in tips.
She walked out of the mayor’s office by noon, with an interview at the steakhouse that afternoon. Maybe it wasn’t what someone with two college degrees should be doing. But it was better than doing nothing, and better than going back to Andrew and begging for her job back.
She’d thought for a few moments a few weeks ago, that she and Andrew might have another shot at a relationship. She’d listened to his message and heard him say he missed her and wondered if they could get together when he got back to Coral Canyon.
But then he’d never called. She’d gone to Crystal Lake for the Thanksgiving holidays, and while her mom had asked her if she was seeing anyone, Becca hadn’t told them about Andrew.
Because she and Andrew weren’t together. She wasn’t seeing him, not anymore. And the thought of going through the Christmas season alone was enough to make her want to hibernate until the snow melted.
She was hired on the spot for a waitressing position at Lonestar’s Steakhouse, and she started that evening as a shadow to another waiter.
John taught her how to put in orders, make the frozen lemonades, and bounce from table to table. She refilled drinks and took checks, learned how to process cards, and forgot to eat she was so busy. And it was a Wednesday night.
She couldn’t imagine what a weekend would be like. “Insane,” John said as they wiped down the tables, refilled salt shakers, and arranged the condiments on the table. “But great tips.”
The next day, she went into the steakhouse in the morning and shadowed another waitress on the lunch crowd. Apparently that was a harder shift to staff for her manager, Lisa, and Becca said she’d be glad to fill it.
By Friday, she was on her own, waiting on the lunch crowd solo and loving it. Sure, she made a few mistakes, but they weren’t so important she couldn’t recover. She liked the busyness of it, while the job remained low stress. After all, if she said the wrong thing, there were no cameras recording it.
When she returned home at night, she was tired, something that hadn’t happened since the tour. She laid her head back against the couch and sighed as Otto jumped up beside her.
“Hey, bud. What did you do today?” She scrubbed along his jaw and neck. “Let me guess. You took a nap.” She grinned at the dog, who seemed to smile back.
She pushed herself back off the couch, her aching feet protesting. But the Friday lunch crowd had been thick and they left great tips. “We’ve got to check the bowls in the back.” She didn’t let Otto out with he
r, because he tended to go right for the muddy spots against the fence.
Instead, she stepped into her big snow boots and gathered all the bowls at once. No wasted time outside in the frigid Wyoming winter. She washed out the ice and debris inside, filled some with food and some with water and dashed back outside to deliver the bowls to whichever animals needed them.
Her stomach grumbled, but she didn’t have the energy to make herself something to eat. “Should we get pizza or Chinese?” she asked her dog. It hadn’t snowed that day, so the delivery drivers would still be out, and she opened the drawer beside her microwave to check her take-out menus.
“Chinese,” she said, because pizza reminded her too much of Andrew.
She picked up the phone to place her order, but she couldn’t decide between the beef and broccoli and the tiny spicy chicken.
“Can’t get tiny spicy,” she muttered to herself, as that was when she and Andrew had enjoyed their first kiss. Maybe she should call Andrew and he could bring her the Chinese food. Before she could decide what to do, a knock sounded on her front door.
Otto barked once, and she shushed him. She approached the door slowly as the wind whistled around the corners of her house. Whoever was out there had to be slightly insane or in serious trouble.
She opened the door partway, expecting to see a neighbor.
“Andrew.” The outside air stuck in her lungs, and he looked positively frozen.
He lifted a plastic sack with a few containers in it. “I brought Chinese food.”
She had no idea what to say. How had he known she was about to order Chinese?
“I can’t keep living like this,” he said. “I miss you.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry about what I said in…wherever we were. It was all a lie, just to get Dwight’s focus off of us. You have never annoyed me, and I’m in love with you.”
He shifted his weight, his eyes hopeful but worried too. “That’s it,” he said. “That’s all I have prepared to say.”
Becca’s face stretched into a smile, and her eyes felt so hot. She realized she was crying when the first tear splashed on her cheek. “Come in,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “It’s freezing out here.”
She stepped back and he came in. With the door closed behind him, he filled the space with the scent of his cologne and tiny spicy chicken. He went all the way into the kitchen and turned around to face her, tucking his hands in his pockets and stalling at the edge of the living room.
“So you work at the steakhouse now,” he finally said.
That same spark and electricity that had always been between them arced across the room. Becca took a step forward, having imagined him here in her house but unsure what to do now that it was a reality.
“You really didn’t mean any of those things?” She disliked that she seemed to be leaking from every hole in her face.
“Becca,” he spoke with complete tenderness in his voice. In that moment, she realized he was wearing his cowboy jeans. Those boots. And a denim jacket that made him more country than business. All he was missing was the hat, but he’d still come to her as his authentic self.
“I’m so miserable without you,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry for what I said. None of it was true. Please.” His voice broke, and he looked away while he composed himself. “I didn’t mean any of it.”
“I’d told you how men weren’t attracted to me for long.” She wiped her tears. “That really hurt.”
“I know.” He took another step toward her. “I suppose I’m not like most men, because I’m hopelessly attracted to you.” Another step. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
Becca wasn’t sure what to tell him. He’d showed up with food. He’d apologized. And he kept saying all the right things.
I’m in love with you.
He’d said hard, heart-felt things. Becca said, “I love you too.”
Andrew’s face burst into a smile and he hurried to close the space between them. He cradled her face, his eyes so bright and so beautiful. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said it a bunch of times.” She traced one fingertip along his eyebrow. “I believe you.”
He kissed her then, and Becca felt all the wounds in her soul heal with that simple touch of his lips to hers.
An hour later, she’d eaten, told him about the catastrophe that was the job at the mayor’s office, and confessed that yes, she did work at the steakhouse now. He sat on the couch, and she leaned against him, the feel of his arms around her and his solid chest behind her one of the most comforting things to her.
He hadn’t offered her the job at Springside, and she honestly wasn’t sure she’d even take it if he did. She rather liked being his girlfriend and not his co-worker. Well, she’d liked it all, but if she had to pick one, she’d take girlfriend.
“So I haven’t seen you at church,” he said, rubbing slow circles on her arm with his thumb.
“I was afraid of running into you.”
“I’m wondering if you’d go with me this weekend. I’m so tired of sitting by myself.”
Becca understood the feeling. “I’d like that,” she whispered. Peace flowed through her, and she knew Andrew was the right man for her. So he’d made a mistake. He’d apologized—finally. And he loved her. She’d felt the truth in those words as soon as he’d said them.
“I’d also like to invite you to come to the lodge for Christmas.” He tensed for a moment. “I’m not sure if you have plans with your family or not.”
“Not yet.” She ran her fingers along his knuckles, eventually clasping both of her hands around his one.
“My family does a big tree lighting on Christmas Eve,” he said. “It’s been a tradition since my dad died, and I’m wondering if you’d like to help me pick a tree, decorate it, and come to our friends and family dinner that night.”
“It sounds too good to be true.”
He chuckled. “Well, it’s not that. But we do have stockings for everyone, and everyone gets a little gift or two. The food is great. And someone special gets to light the tree.”
“Who’s doing it this year?” she asked.
“I am.”
“You think you’re something special, don’t you?”
He pressed his lips to her temple. “Not without you. I am not complete without you.”
They were perfect words, from the perfect man. Becca couldn’t help smiling, and she twisted as she said, “I’d love to come to your family tree lighting and dinner.”
“Great.” He kissed her again, and the love Becca had for him spiraled through her.
Twenty-One
Andrew shivered in the saddle, the chill of the wind snaking down his collar as Wolfgang clip-clopped through the snow toward the copse of pine trees on the hill.
Becca rode a few steps behind him, and he called, “You okay?”
“It’s freezing out here,” she said, and he chuckled.
“Yes, it is.” He’d already been out to this stand of trees and selected a large tree for the foyer at the lodge. “But this should be quick.”
The swooshing of the sleigh runners behind him soothed him, but not as much as having Becca with him. “See the one with the orange flag?” He pointed just up ahead. “It’s that one.”
“And you’re going to cut that thing down?” Becca sounded like such a feat was impossible. “It’s huge.”
“The foyer is huge.” Andrew was undeterred. He brought Wolfgang to a halt and swung off the horse’s back to collect the chainsaw from the sleigh. “And I’m not going to hack it down with an axe.” He positioned his sound-canceling earphones over his ears. “Put in your earplugs.”
When she was ready, she gave him a thumbs-up, and he pulled the ripcord on the chainsaw, and an earsplitting roar filled the air. He’d read a half-dozen articles on how to make a tree fall the way he wanted it to, and watched two videos. He made the notch on the side of the tree where it should fall—away from himself, Becca, and the horses—and rounded the tree to start
cutting.
Sixty seconds later, the tree trunk cracked and the tree fell exactly where he wanted it to. He waited for the chainsaw to stop vibrating in his hands. “Now’s the hard part.” Getting the tree onto the sleigh. That, and getting it into the house, but Graham said he’d come help with that.
Andrew tied the chainsaw back into place on the sleigh, and started uncoiling the rope he’d brought. “I’m going to loop it around one of the branches,” he said as he tromped through the snow. “And then use the stump like a pulley.” They weren’t the only ones who’d been up to this section of the mountain. It had been reserved for those who liked to go choose and chop their own tree, and as Andrew heaved, the sound of a motor met his ears.
Wolfgang shifted his feet, and Andrew darted over to grab the reins and hand them to Becca. He scanned the horizon to find a couple of ATVs headed their way. He went back to pulling, getting the tree closer and closer to the sleigh.
“Need a hand?” Two men climbed off their four-wheelers and came over to help him heave the tree onto the sleigh. With three of them, they had the tree tied down and ready in only a few minutes.
“Thanks.” Andrew grinned at them and shook their hands. “Do you two need help?”
“Nah, we’re taking one about a third that size.” They smiled back and returned to their ATVs.
“A third,” Becca said, giving him a told-you look as he took Wolfgang’s reins.
“Have you seen the lodge?” Andrew said. “I’m not putting some piddly tree in there on my year.” He shook his head. “Nope. Not gonna happen. The tree lighting is a big thing for us Whittakers.”
Becca wasn’t technically a Whittaker, and Andrew almost blurted that he’d bought her a diamond for Christmas. He barely caught the words on his tongue before they were spoken, and he swallowed until he felt like he wouldn’t spill his secret.
There was a gift exchange on Christmas Eve—only another week away—and she’d get the ring then. His stomach writhed just thinking about it. They’d talked a bit about marriage, but not much, and she’d never really given him a straightforward answer anyway.
