When the Snow Falls

by Fern Michaels

  It didn’t surprise Veda to see that Lucy took to Sutton immediately, not even barking at him as he let himself into the house. Sutton had always possessed a way with creatures and been intuitive about animals and people. Little got by him, and although Veda might fool Rita Jean in some matters, Sutton had always picked up on the truth, giving her a look or a raised eyebrow until she confessed all.

  Veda wandered into the kitchen to wait for him to return, following the scent of something warm and fragrant on the air. Sutton let himself into the kitchen door a few minutes later, handing her back her car keys. He went to the whiteboard hanging on the wall by the landline phone and picked up a pen to write her a note: I’ve started a pot of beef stew for our supper later, he wrote. And brought back one of Mary Connor’s pies from The Last Deli.

  He opened the refrigerator to gesture toward some containers of pimento cheese and chicken salad. Pointing to her, he made an eating motion, asking if she’d had lunch.

  “I ate up the road,” she told him. “But I would like some of that lemonade.”

  He smiled and got down two ancient, colorful aluminum glasses from the shelf, dropped ice into them, and poured out lemonade. From the top of the refrigerator, he brought down a tin with a faded covered bridge scene on the top and popped it open to reveal homemade cookies.

  Veda sat down in a white kitchen chair at his direction to drink lemonade and munch cookies, as she’d done so often with Sutton as a girl. It felt comforting to sit with him again in the old kitchen. Guessing her thoughts, he patted his heart, crossed his hands to touch both shoulders, and signed the words I love you, almost bringing tears to Veda’s eyes.

  He pulled out the little notebook and pen he always carried in his shirt pocket, tucked into one of those old-time, vinyl pocket protectors, and scribbled her another note. Did you get the store closed out and everything taken care of?

  “Yes.” She shook her head sadly. “And it broke my heart to sell out my stock and then let the auction company come and carry everything else away. I loved my little store, Sutton. I wish I hadn’t been forced to close it.”

  Sutton patted her hand.

  “I put everything I’d saved after college into that store, plus the inheritance I got from Mother. I felt so sure a vintage collectibles store would go well in downtown St. Augustine. After all, I’d lived there, worked part-time in stores much like that all during college at Flagler, and then worked for the Hargreaves in their store after graduation. I did well for the Hargreaves and got promoted. I really felt it was my time to strike out on my own when I saw that old shop come up for sale.” She sighed. “It even had a little apartment in the back so I could keep my expenses down. But every year I seemed to slide further into the red and finally had no choice but to shut down.”

  Sutton’s kind eyes watched her. Everything will work out, he wrote on his notepad.

  “I hope so.” The tears threatened at the backs of her eyes again. “I’m sorry I had to come back here and be a burden.”

  He looked annoyed at those words, shaking his head and even making a fist at her. Didn’t Reese tell you we needed you? He wrote the words in agitation.

  “Yes.” She tried to smile at him, seeing she’d upset him. “He called me and said you had no one to manage the Co-op since Aunt Rita Jean died; he explained the store was having trouble and dissension with only the volunteer workers trying to keep it going.”

  You know I can’t run it, Sutton scribbled, touching his mouth. But you have good skills and a good education in business management. You can run it well. I know you can. And you worked in it as a girl.

  “Thanks for your confidence in me. I appreciate that right now.”

  Catching her eyes with his, he pointed his index finger first to his chin and then toward her, signing, I missed you, Veda.

  Veda reached across the table to take his hand. “I missed you, too.”

  Not wanting him to get the wrong idea, she added, “I’ll stay for a while, until I figure out what I’m supposed to do next. Okay? I don’t think I’m meant to stay here always.” She hesitated, wanting to be honest. “As I told Reese, I can stay until things are stable and until the right person can be found to manage the Co-op. I want to help, Uncle Sutton. You and Rita Jean were always so good to me.”

  He nodded, seeming content with her words. Thank you, he wrote. You know it’s always busy here at Christmas.

  “How could it not be?” She smiled at him. “The O’Neill Farm is a Christmas tree farm.”

  As if that reminded him of something, Sutton glanced at his watch. In annoyance, he swept his hand across his forehead with the I-forgot sign and then wrote a quick note: I need to make a tree delivery in Maryville before supper. Can you watch the stew on the stove and make some corn bread later?

  “Oh course. Don’t worry.” Veda smiled at him.

  He grabbed his jacket off the coatrack and then, before heading out the door, he stopped again to write on the whiteboard beside the phone: Be careful and keep the doors locked. We’ve had some thieves sneaking around, stealing our trees.

  “Stealing Christmas trees?” Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

  He nodded, making a few signs to remind her that Christmas trees sold for a high price in today’s market, once grown and cut.

  “Well, I guess it’s quick, easy money at Christmas for someone who is dishonest.”

  He added to his note. If you ever have any trouble when I’m not here, or if you ever see anyone sneaking around, call Sheriff Swofford. He pointed to a phone number on a list hanging by the phone.

  “All right. I will.” She gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Go deliver your trees. I’ll be fine here, and I’ll unpack while you’re gone, watch the stew, and make some corn bread.” She glanced down at the little corgi on the floor at her feet. “And don’t worry. Lucy will bark if anyone comes around.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  Veda laughed. “Well, you’re the exception, Uncle Sutton, and I can tell Lucy is crazy about you already. She even slept on your shoes while you drank your lemonade.”

  He reached down to scratch the little dog’s head, muttering a soft, guttural noise at her, and then turned to let himself out the door. She heard him whistling as he made his way to his truck. It always seemed odd to Veda that Sutton could whistle so well when he couldn’t speak, but whistling didn’t involve the vocal cords, only the lips.

  Veda unpacked, took the dog out for another walk, puttered in the kitchen, and then settled down in the front parlor to drink a second glass of lemonade and flip through the local newspapers she’d found on the kitchen table. Time to catch up on the news.

  The long drive from St. Augustine and the warmth from the fire Sutton had built earlier in the big fireplace soon almost lulled her to sleep. But a sound from outside and a low growl from Lucy woke her, rousing her to alertness. She put a calming hand on the little dog beside her and then cocked an ear to listen in the quiet. Glancing out the window, she could see it was nearly dark now. Darkness fell early in the mountains this time of year.

  She heard another noise, then a rustling sound. It made Veda mad to think anyone would drive up the quiet back roads into the O’Neill Farm to pilfer the cedar trees Sutton worked so hard to plant, tend, and grow all year long for his Christmas sales. She decided to slip around to the back of the house, not turning on any lights, to see if she could see anyone outside. It might only be a possum or a deer snooping around the garbage area.

  Getting up from her chair, she gave a warning command to Lucy not to bark, and then, on impulse, picked up the big shovel leaning against the side of the fireplace as a potential weapon. “Sutton told us to be careful,” she whispered to the dog, as if in explanation.

  Veda slipped out the back door onto the screened porch and crept across it toward the noise she still heard coming from outside. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she could see a truck parked by the cantilever barn a short distance behind the house. A man emerged from
under the side of the barn, carrying a tree. She watched him stow it in the back of his pickup and then return for another. He was apparently working alone, loading up the freshly cut cedars that Sutton probably planned to deliver to some of his client locations in the morning.

  How evil. Her anger flared and she crept through the dark, keeping behind the shrubs and outbuildings until she could get closer to the barn. Dang thief! She clutched the shovel tighter, slipping behind a bush by the open-sided barn. She’d teach him to sneak up on O’Neill property and try to steal their trees!

  As he leaned over to get the next tree, Veda stepped out from behind the shrub and whacked him on the back of the head. He fell to the ground with a groan, and Veda hurried over to the barn shelf to grab a loop of rope to tie him up before she called the sheriff.

  Rolling him over as she dropped into a squat beside him, she looked straight into Reese McNally’s face.

  “Reese!” The words wheezed out of her. “Oh my gosh, Reese.” She tried patting his cheek, but he seemed unconscious.

  “Oh, man, surely I haven’t killed Reese.” She felt his wrist, finding a pulse, and then leaned over his face to see if she could feel his breath. Veda rubbed his hands and patted his cheeks, trying to wake him up.

  Then her temper flared. “What in the devil are you doing over here in the dark at our place, skulking around and stealing Christmas trees?” She kept patting his hand as she fussed. “That isn’t like you at all, Reese. You used to be such a big chicken I had to fight your fights for you growing up. And you were never a match for me when we got into it over anything, either. I could always get you down on your face and make you holler ‘Uncle.’ ”

  Standing, she kicked at him with her foot. “You need to wake up. You know you’re too big for me to get you into the house.” She studied him on the ground, her voice dropping. “And look how you’ve grown—filled out that skinny frame you used to have. Filled it out rather well, in fact.” Her voice softened as her eyes roved over him, noting the muscles under his T-shirt and lined flannel jacket, the strong, firm legs.

  She crossed her arms, trying to steady her emotions. “I see you still have those black geeky glasses. Hope I didn’t break those again when I whacked you.” It had happened before. Veda leaned down to feel for the glasses, adjusting them on Reese’s face, letting her fingers linger over his cheek.

  “You know I hate you, Reese McNally.” Her words dropped to a whisper now. “You’re the main reason I never wanted to come back here, you cheating snake.”

  She kicked at him again for good measure, and then, resigned, went into the barn to get the old wheelbarrow. Coming back, she hauled Reese up and into it, before trundling the wheelbarrow down the hillside toward the house.

  At the door to the kitchen, she propped it open and pushed the barrow right through the door, around the corner, through the broad hallway, and back into the parlor, where she unceremoniously dumped him on the sofa.

  Sure that he was settled, she took the barrow back outside and leaned it against the side of the house. Then she stopped in the kitchen, shed her coat, and got out the first aid kit from under the sink. She wet a dish towel, filled a saucepan with warm water, and headed back into the living room to tend to the knot on Reese’s head and the scratches on his face and hands from the fall.

  Veda sat down beside him on the couch. “There’s no way I’m calling the sheriff and admitting to him that I hit my own neighbor over the head with a fireplace shovel. At least not until I get you awake enough to tell me what in the heck you were doing skulking around our barn in the dark.”

  Chapter 2

  Reese woke, his head throbbing and his mind dizzy, to hear Veda Trent’s voice fussing at him. He’d have smiled at her words except he didn’t want her to know he was awake yet. He loved the feel of her hands moving over his face—feeling for scratches, he supposed—and then cleaning areas on his cheeks, forehead, and hands. He inhaled softly as she leaned over him. She still smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. Years ago, she’d told him the name of her perfume, something her mother bought for her that she liked and kept using, but Reese couldn’t remember the name. He always forgot girl stuff like that.

  While she leaned over to re-wet her cloth, he let his eyes slit open to catch a glimpse of her. Of course, he’d seen her again at the funeral this summer, dressed in a slim black sheath with a jacket over it, her hair pinned up primly. But other than cordially shaking his hand at one point, she’d kept her distance from him, stayed close to Sutton, talked to old friends and neighbors, greeted the hordes of relatives and valley friends of Rita Jean’s who came to pay their respects. It had come as such a shock to everyone that a vibrant, strong woman like Rita Jean O’Neill could contract a sickness and not recover from it, develop complications, and actually die. No one was prepared for the grief and pain of losing her. She held a place in the Townsend community and in the hearts of its people no one else could fill.

  Reese had always felt angry at Veda that she’d traveled so far away to college and left Rita Jean after she’d been like a mother to her all through the years, loved and raised her. Didn’t she owe her better? And him? And then to hardly ever come back to see anyone, either.

  He groaned as Veda hit a tender spot with her ministrations and sucked in his breath. She leaned down toward his face. “Reese McNally, are you awake?”

  “What do you think?” he asked in reply, pulling her down on top of him before he thought and kissing her full on the mouth.

  She all but bit his lip pulling away, the little cat, but he got a taste of her again—one he hadn’t had since the night of that awful fight they’d had when they were only seventeen.

  “I hate you, Reese McNally.” She hissed the words, rubbing her mouth as if to rub his taste away. “And what were you doing skulking around our barn tonight, stealing trees? I ought to call the sheriff and have you arrested.”

  A guttural sound of surprise from the doorway alerted Reese and Veda to Sutton’s presence. He held the fireplace shovel, with blood on it, in his hands, his face white as a sheet.

  “Oh, we’re both fine, Uncle Sutton. Don’t panic.” Veda glared at Reese. “I just caught Reese skulking around our barn out back, stealing trees. I thought he was one of those thieves you warned me about and knocked him over the head.” She said it all in a rush.

  Sutton frowned and came over to examine Reese, making angry motions with his hands. He pointed at Veda and made a telephone sign.

  “I know, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “You told me to call the sheriff if I saw anyone, but I wasn’t sure until I went out back if it was a person or just a possum or a deer or something. Then, when I saw it was only one man loading up our trees . . . well, I got mad.”

  Sutton made some signs about her temper, pointing to her hair, and shook his finger at her.

  Veda Trent had fiery red hair—a lot like her temperament sometimes. She liked to call it russet or copper, but it had never been a subtle tone. You could see that red hair in a crowd a mile away. Reese smiled at the thought. With Indian ancestry in her bloodline, Veda missed out on the pale skin and freckles common to most pure redheads, her skin tone more olive. But her eyes echoed the dark, rich brown characteristic of the Cherokee and the O’Neills. They all had dark hair and dark eyes, except for Veda and her mother, Skyler, who’d pulled a recessive blond gene from the family DNA pool—and a rare beauty as well.

  Veda always hated being teased about her mother’s stunning looks. Too bad you didn’t get your mother’s beauty, Veda. It made her fighting mad, set her off with a smart retort—but hurt her, too. Still, Reese knew Veda possessed more beauty, character, and depth than he’d ever glimpsed in Skyler Trent. He’d always felt glad Veda took more after the O’Neills in her looks and ways, even if she did get her daddy, Bobby Trent’s red hair.

  Sutton patted Reese to gain his attention, signing to ask him if he was okay, encouraging him to sit so he could examine the back of his head where Veda had whacked
him from behind. Sutton’s probing fingers hurt like the dickens, but his grunts and signs soon assured Reese no real harm had been done.

  Pulling out his little notepad, Sutton wrote, You’ll be okay. You’ll have a knot, but I don’t think there’s real damage. He stopped to sign, asking Reese if he wanted him to call his dad to come get him, or if he wanted Sutton to take him to Maryville to the hospital.

  “Nah, I’ll be okay.” Reese reached around with one hand to feel the back of his head. “If you’ll let me rest a little until my head quits swimming, I’ll drive on back down the hill and over to our farm.”

  Veda, encountering another of Sutton’s disapproving scowls, fluffed Reese’s sofa cushion so he could lie back on it. She crossed her arms after she did so. “I still want to know why you were sneaking around our barn and loading up trees.”

  Reese rolled his eyes. “Two trees, Veda. I bought two Christmas trees from Sutton—one for the house and one for my law office—and Sutton told me I could come pick them up any time tonight or tomorrow.”

  Sutton made a guttural sound, putting a hand to his forehead to sign I forgot and pointing to Veda.

  “You forgot to tell her.” Reese grinned. “Well, that explains a lot, I guess. But apparently you did remember to tell her to watch out for those thieves who have been sneaking onto your property to steal trees.”

  He nodded.

  Reese turned to Veda. “I didn’t think you were coming until tomorrow, Veda, so I didn’t think to come up to the house first when I saw Sutton’s truck gone. He’d told me he had deliveries to do this afternoon and if he wasn’t here to just drive up to the barn and pick out my trees.”

  “Fine, so now we know the whole story. Isn’t that nice?” She smiled sweetly at him.

  Sutton, overlooking her sarcasm, looked toward the kitchen and asked about the stew. He turned to make a sign inviting Reese to dinner, and Veda, happy or not about the invitation, headed off to the kitchen to heat up the corn bread and dish out their meal.