by Carol Ross
Instead of driving the short distance to her house, she turned down the hill toward town. She needed to think.
An idea formed in her mind and she pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. By the time she left with two packages of comfort cookies and a sack of oranges, flakes were falling in earnest, but she didn’t even consider aborting her plan. At this point her only real comfort seemed to be the thought that at least there was one thing Tate Addison couldn’t take from her.
* * *
TATE PULLED HIS pickup into the heated garage of his rented home. Home. He took a moment to relish that thought; funny how the big house was already feeling exactly that way. When he’d signed the lease, he’d only viewed photos online.
The custom-built structure had turned out to be even more incredible than he’d imagined and yet somehow managed to maintain a cozy feel. He thought the log-cabin design and the amount of warm Alaskan cedarwood accents probably played a big part in accomplishing this atmosphere. Every time he walked through the door he counted his blessings that the house had become available.
Viktor was in the spacious kitchen preparing lunch. He enjoyed cooking and the skill was one of many domestic tasks that he’d insisted Tate learn so that he’d know how to take care of himself. Luckily for him, Viktor liked to cook more than he did, so often he did the shopping while Viktor prepared the meals.
He looked up as Tate walked in; his pale blue eyes alight with curiosity. “How did it go?”
“Good, I think.” He set a box of doughnuts on the counter and handed over the brown paper bag. “Look what I found at the bakery in town. You’re going to love that place if you haven’t been there already.”
Viktor peeked inside and then dipped his nose into the bag for a sniff. He reached in a hand and brought out a small chunk which he popped into his mouth.
“This is rye bread,” he stated and then mumbled happily in his native Ukrainian. “Thank you, Tate. We will have some with our lunch.”
Tate took a seat at one of the stools behind the bar directly across the black granite countertop from Viktor.
“Great reception from the board.” He thought about Hannah and amended the statement, “Most of the board.”
Viktor grinned. “Let me guess—your skier—she was not so pleased?”
My skier? He thought about how Adele had called him Hannah’s snowboarder. He’d liked that. Now he realized that he’d likely annihilated any chance of that. The thought depressed him to a surprising degree.
Despite her brave face at the meeting, he could see that she’d been upset. How upset? He wasn’t sure. She’d left too soon after the meeting for him to find out.
He snagged a piece of roast beef from the platter Viktor was assembling.
“No, she was not so pleased.” He repeated Viktor’s words with a grin of his own.
Viktor began slicing the deliciously pungent rye bread. After slathering a chunk with butter, he took a healthy bite, reminding Tate of Hannah’s comment at the board meeting about skiers being the “bread and butter” of Snowy Sky. A niggle of guilt poked him. He reminded himself that guilt had no place in this scenario. He was doing this for Lucas.
“What will you do?” Viktor asked between mouthfuls.
Tate shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do. She will eventually see that my recommendations make sense. She can’t just ignore snowboarders. Well, maybe she can, but the board won’t—not now. And if she doesn’t like that, then I’ll have to make her understand how much this venture means to me—to us. This is more than a business deal. This is my life. Lucas’s life. Your life.”
Tate could tell Viktor wanted to comment further, so he brought up a hand in a scooping motion, gesturing for his friend to say what was on his mind.
“I am thinking...wondering is it possible it means much to her, as well?”
He considered the question. “I haven’t seen any evidence of that, nor has she mentioned as much or even alluded to it. She’s dedicated, for sure, but not connected to Snowy Sky in the way that I am now.”
Hannah might not take life quite as seriously as Tate did, but he thought she’d make an excellent resort manager, if she could see reason where the snowboarding accommodations were concerned. If not, then maybe Snowy Sky wasn’t the place for her. It wouldn’t be the first time the project manager of a company was outvoted by her or his own board. For some reason that thought bothered him, too. He comforted himself again with the notion that she would come around in time.
Lucas strolled in from the next room with a remote control in his hands. A flash of red and silver zoomed past them and into the kitchen where a radio-controlled car spun a fast circle and skidded to a stop.
“Hi, Uncle Tate.” Lucas skipped over and held his arms up so Tate could lift him for a hug. As he did, he felt that now-familiar burst of love unfurl in his chest.
“Hey, buddy.”
Soon, Tate set him back on the floor.
Lucas stayed put. “Can you come to the fish room with me?”
“Sure, do you think the fairy woman might be there?”
His face brightened at the idea and then just as quickly dimmed. “She usually comes pretty early in the mornings, so I don’t think so, but I want to tell you the names of all the kois.”
“Sounds fun. I should probably know their names since we live with them, right?” He turned to Viktor. “How long till lunch?”
Viktor was chopping fruit for a salad and informed them they had a half hour. Tate checked the time on his watch and he and Lucas headed for the atrium.
CHAPTER SIX
HANNAH INHALED THE tangy scent of citrus as she quartered an orange, tossed it into the pond, and watched the happy koi pounce on the treat. A growl from her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since her very early breakfast that morning. There had been doughnuts at the board meeting, but she’d been too edgy to eat. Turned out, her anxiety had been well placed.
Her spirits sank further as she realized how much Tate’s ownership share and accompanying seat on the board would weaken her own position.
But why would he invest in Snowy Sky? Why would he want to be on the board of directors? He had tons of other business interests and plenty of money of his own.
Tossing in another wedge of fruit, she forced herself to take a deep breath. Leaning back on the bench, she began peeling an orange for herself and tried to think about something else. The ficus tree across the pond caught her eye and she thought of Lucas.
An absolutely adorable child, although there was something about him. Something not quite right. He seemed anxious and too serious for a six-year-old. Hearing the swoosh of the door, she turned, hoping to see Lucas’s eager grin, which she did along with...
Tate?
Thoughts and questions tumbled through her brain; Lucas was Tate’s son? She realized now how the resemblance had been skirting around in her brain—those eyes, the dark hair and the shape of their faces. Why hadn’t she seen it sooner? Lucas had said his mom was dead, but that would make Tate a widower? She was sure she would have remembered if he’d ever been married.
Wait. Tate had leased Edith’s home? This atrium, this house? Her sanctuary and refuge temporarily belonged to Tate? Did this also mean he intended to remain in Rankins for an entire year? No, that couldn’t be. Hadn’t he disrupted her plans—her life, enough already?
Lucas released Tate’s hand and continued forward; Tate appeared to be frozen in place. Lucas galloped toward her and that seemed to snap him out of his shock, but he looked about as pleased as she felt.
“Careful, little man, I don’t want you to slip and fall.”
She was unhappily surprised, too, to put it mildly, but she pasted on a smile for Lucas’s sake.
“Lucas, hey! How’s my assistant koi keeper today?”
/> He replied, “I’m good. This is my uncle Tate. We were wondering if you could babysit me?” He gestured at Tate and then dipped his chin toward the oranges. “What are you doing with those?”
“Hello, Uncle Tate.” Hannah quirked a brow at him. “Babysit?”
“I didn’t realize who...that you were... Lucas said...”
She hoped her stare served to further stir his obvious discomfort. She adopted a bright, more genuine smile for Lucas. “I’m feeding the koi a nice healthy snack. These guys love oranges and other fruit, too.”
He grinned, clearly not sure whether to believe her. “No way.”
“Yes way, do you want to do me a favor and feed them some?”
“Sure,” he answered. He picked up an orange. She quartered another, and handed it over. He tossed a portion into the pond and let out a giggle of delight as several fish glided through the water and set about nibbling on it. He slowly skirted around the pond, keeping an eye on the fish as he went. He slipped the whole orange he was carrying into a pocket.
Tate’s voice held a note of wonder. “I had no idea you were the fish fairy.”
“The what?”
He ran a hand through his trim black hair, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Pre–board meeting the embarrassment would have been cute, but now it was just grating.
“The first time Lucas saw you he thought you were a fairy of some sort.” His mouth formed a tentative smile. “So we’ve been calling you the fish fairy.”
“That’s sweet. He’s a doll. Your nephew, huh?”
“Yes, he also, somehow, led me to believe, or I guess I assumed that you were a teenager, which is how the babysitting thing came to be.” He added a tentative smile.
“I’d be happy to babysit Lucas anytime.”
He looked surprised. “Oh, well, I don’t really...”
A cynical chuckle slipped from her, but she kept her voice low and even when she spoke. “You don’t really what? It’s not enough of an insult that you don’t think I can run a ski resort, but now you’re saying that you don’t trust me with a six-year-old either?”
He narrowed his eyes, undoubtedly trying to gauge her level of sincerity. “No, I didn’t say that.”
She shot him a dry, questioning look.
“Okay, I can see you’re upset about the board meeting. But, you need to understand something. First, all I am trying to do—”
“I understand perfectly,” she interrupted, maintaining an overly cheerful pitch for Lucas’s sake. “You’re trying to steal my resort. The part I don’t understand is why? And why didn’t you tell me you were staying in Rankins? You’ve moved here?”
“Wait a minute. I’m not trying to steal Snowy Sky and I thought you knew I’d moved here. It’s not like it’s a secret.”
Hannah didn’t like talking about this in front of Lucas in spite of their civility.
“This isn’t the time or place to discuss your attempted theft. We need to have this conversation later or I don’t know—maybe we don’t. I think I have a pretty good idea of what has transpired between you and Park.”
“Hannah...”
She turned toward Lucas. “Lucas, thanks for helping me out with these guys.”
He nodded. “It’s neat how they like oranges.”
“It is.”
“Can I keep this one?” He pointed at the pocket of the hoodie he was wearing where he’d stuffed an orange.
“Sure. They’re yummy. I just ate one. You can eat as many as you want.”
“Thanks.” His face evolved into a relieved grin.
“You’re welcome. It was fun to hang out with you, kiddo. I need to get going, but maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His shoulders slumped. “Do you have to leave already? Uncle Tate said I could show you my room.” The mix of hope and disappointment got to her. There was something about this kid. How could she resist?
Her anger at Tate didn’t extend to his nephew, she reminded herself. “I suppose I can stay a little longer. And I’d love to see your room.”
His little leap of happiness strengthened her resolve.
In her periphery she saw Tate expel a breath as if he, too, was relieved she’d acquiesced, which seemed kind of odd considering the current state of tension between them.
As she followed Lucas through the house, she took note of the not-so-subtle masculine reminders that Edith did not currently reside there; a toy car, a worn football, boots and tennis shoes in the foyer. A man’s down ski jacket on the doorknob of a closet where Edith often hung her bag.
They ascended the wide, wooden staircase and traveled down the hall until Lucas stopped before a door to a room Edith had always kept ready for guests. He led the way inside. Hannah followed and could immediately see why he wanted to show it off.
“Awesome,” she exclaimed in a way that she knew a six-year-old boy would appreciate, and that the effort clearly deserved.
Finding herself in the middle of a jungle, she slowly turned a circle. Scenes had been painted on each of the walls—a towering green canopy of trees complete with monkeys peeking from the branches and a sloth clinging to one mossy trunk. A river teeming with caimans and hippos stretched along one wall as a tapir grazed along the banks. Monkeys, bats, elephants, orangutans...
She spotted a jaguar peering out from a grassy tuft while a troop of baboons perched on an outcropping of rock.
“Wow.”
“Viktor did it. He’s the best artist ever. He did it so I wouldn’t ever be alone in my room again. I like animals and I don’t like being by myself for a really long time.”
Tate placed a gentle hand on top of Lucas’s head. “Neither one of us will be lonely anymore. Will we, buddy?”
She watched Lucas wrap an arm around Tate’s leg. She wondered who this clever Viktor might be and noted she felt a raging curiosity regarding Tate and his nephew, too. What was the situation here? She pointed at a large, coiled and uncomfortably realistic, for her tastes anyway, rendition of a snake.
“Is that a green anaconda?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
“My cousin Janie is married to a scientist and he used to live in the jungle. He has a photo of one of these bad boys that would stretch clear across this room.”
Lucas peered at her, curiosity stamped upon his face. She could tell he was trying to decide if she was teasing him. “Honest?”
“Honest,” she assured him. “He lives in Rankins now, but he still visits the jungle sometimes.”
The look of longing on his face had her adding, “Maybe when I babysit you I can take you to his house and you can meet him? They have four boys you might like to meet, too.”
She watched the light of yearning flick on in his eyes. Then just as quickly the excitement faded and he executed a light shrug as if to convey that it didn’t really matter one way or the other. But Hannah knew it did. Because something about his demeanor reminded her of herself; it was the look of dashed hopes and broken dreams she’d been battling ever since her accident.
But precious Lucas was far too young to have experienced that kind of despair, which only made her more curious about what was going on here with this beautiful sad child and his beautiful sad uncle? Why was Lucas living with his uncle? And what could the wealthy and talented Tate Addison and his adorable nephew possibly have to feel sad and lonely about?
She opened her mouth to reassure Lucas that her word was good when a tall, pale man with sharp edges for cheekbones and dancing sky-blue eyes entered the room. A trim, muscled physique and close-cropped, thick blond hair belied his age, but she guessed him to be at least a decade older than Tate.
“She loves it, Viktor,” Lucas informed him proudly.
“Ah, the incredibly talented Viktor. This room is a masterpiece. I
t’s nice to meet you.”
She reached out a hand and he shook it. He seemed humble and a bit embarrassed as many artists did when you admired their work. She asked about his accent and the inspiration for the scene, and as he explained, she found herself utterly charmed by his crooked smile and amiable demeanor. Was he related to Tate and Lucas? she wondered.
“Ukraine,” he supplied when she asked about his origins. “I am from Ukraine. I was born in tiny village in Carpathian Mountains. Have you heard of these?”
“The Carpathian Mountains? Yes, there is a beautiful little ski resort there—Bukovel?”
His face broke into a huge grin. “I was born there—near Bukovel. Is where I learn to snowboard.”
“No! Really? That place is gorgeous. I skied there years ago with a friend of mine. I remember this little town nearby—Dobshky, Doshke, or something like that? Anyway, there’s a café there where they make pierogis that melt in your mouth. I still think about them sometimes.”
He laughed and repeated the name properly, making it sound as pretty as the town she remembered. “I know this place,” he said and added the name of the café that she knew. Then he went on to tell a funny story about how as a child he and a friend had stolen a cake from the woman who owned the café.
She would place the pastries near an open window to cool and it seemed like torture for him and his friend who would walk by and be assaulted by the rich, buttery, fruit-laden smells day after day. Finally, after much preparation, they formulated an elaborate plan and snitched one.
“What happened?” she asked, thoroughly entertained by the tale.
“Obviously, we get caught and then have to clean her shop for two weeks to pay for cake. But it turned out to be wonderful experience. She feeds us so much goodies and as bonus, I learn how to cook and make the pierogis.”
“No way,” she said.
He nodded proudly. “Yes, I make for you sometime. Lukie, he love pierogi, too. You come next week for dinner?”
