Summer in Snow Valley (Snow Valley Romance Anthologies Book 2)

by Cindy Roland Anderson

  “Hi, I’m Whitney, Chet’s sister-in-law, and this is my son, Aiden.”

  Mercy tipped her head to the side. “Chet?”

  Whitney’s brow crinkled. “The man who owns the cows that made your front yard look like this.” She transferred the loaf to one hand and waved her other one around.

  Mercy thought her front yard looked awful. The flowerbeds and gravel drive were overrun with dandelions and the grass had more crab in it than a sampler platter at The Atlantic Seafood Restaurant and Grill. At least the cattle ate down a bunch of the weeds. “Come in, come in. I’m sorry it’s such a mess, we just got here and haven’t had time to do much.”

  She stepped back to let them enter. Aiden tripped over the threshold and turned bright red.

  Mercy hid her smile. “I’m Mercedes, and this is my sister, Catrina.”

  Cat hurriedly set the cleaner down and stepped out to meet their guests.

  “Mercedes, like the car?” asked Aiden.

  “No, but people often make that mistake,” said Mercy. She loved her name, but no one ever got where it actually came from. She was sure that if her father, a gentleman through and through, had any indication of the way men used her name as a pickup line, he would have nixed the whole idea. But he didn’t, and she was stuck with it. “Please, call me Mercy.”

  “You got it.” Aiden ran his hand through his hair; a move Mercy was sure worked on the girls at his high school. It made her want to pat him on the head like a little boy who was trying really hard. What a cutie!

  “Well, I just stopped by to bring you some bread and welcome you to the area.”

  “Thanks—it smells wonderful.”

  “Did you make it?” asked Cat.

  “I did.”

  “Is it hard to do?”

  “Not really. I use my grandma’s recipe and it turns out every time. If you’d like, I can make a copy for you.”

  Cat relaxed. “Wicked pissa! Thanks.”

  Whitney and Aiden exchanged a look at Cat’s word choice, and Mercy grinned. They’d have to get used to things here. At the last hotel, the clerk had given her that same look when she said she needed to get back in the room after they’d checked out because she forgot her bobos.

  “There’s no rush,” continued Cat. “We won’t have a working kitchen for at least a month.”

  “Oh! Well, in that case, why don’t you two plan on coming to our picnic tonight? School just got out and the whole family’s getting together as a kickoff to summer.”

  Mercy exchanged a look with Cat. “We don’t want to impose.”

  “Please.” Whitney waved away their worries as she pressed the bread into Cat’s hands. “We’ll have more than enough food, and it will give you a chance to meet everyone.” She motioned to Aiden and he opened the door for them. “It’s at Chet’s place. If you head straight up this road, you can’t miss it. Five o’clock or thereabouts.”

  “I’m going to find a clean spot to put this bread,” said Cat as she made her way toward the kitchen.

  “Thanks!” Mercy called as she watched them climb down the steps.

  There was a loud crack, and the banister fell away under Aiden’s hand. He twisted to avoid hitting his mom and landed in the dirt.

  “Are you all right?” Mercy ran down the steps and knelt beside him. “Are you hurt?”

  Aiden gave her a brave smile and groaned. “Yeah—all over.”

  “What can I do?” Mercy felt awful. She should have warned him about the railing. She brushed his hair off his forehead before checking his head for a bump.

  “I am so sorry.” Whitney put her hands on Mercy’s shoulders and pulled her up before turning on her son. “Get up, ya big faker.” She nudged him with her foot.

  Mercy bristled at a mother acting so callous toward her son. “But he’s hurt.”

  “No, he’s not, but he’s going to be if he doesn’t stop teasing you.” She gave Aiden another nudge.

  “Aw.” Aiden got to his feet as gracefully as a teenaged boy could. Other than a little dust on his shoulder, he appeared the picture of health.

  “He’s just looking to get some attention from a pretty girl. Go start the car.” She hip-bumped Aiden as he went by.

  He pretended to be offended and wasn’t at all chagrined.

  Mercy realized she’d been played. She chuckled. “You’d better watch out for that one.”

  “Ever since he made the football team, he thinks he’s all that and a batch of peanut butter cookies.” Whitney rolled her eyes. She watched Aiden with fondness. “He comes by it honestly.”

  “His dad was like that?” asked Mercy.

  “A carbon copy. But he’s a good man. All the men in the family are. So I have hope Aiden will turn out. He spends a lot of time with his uncle Chet, and I couldn’t ask for a better influence on the kid.”

  Mercy wasn’t sure what to say. She was relieved to have someone vouch for their neighbor. He’d seemed like a good guy, a little on the quiet side. But, he was so scrumptious his middle name could be ‘Cannoli.’ He’d taken his hat off like a gentleman when she approached, and that gesture had put her at ease. It was sweet gestures like pulling out her chair or holding a door that caused her to let her guard down.

  Aiden’s little stunt showed her she was still too trusting, and it bothered her. She’d thought she’d learned her lesson after Jeremey. Suddenly, going to a picnic full of handsome men didn’t seem like such a good idea.

  “Listen to me go on when I have so much to do.” Whitney crossed the yard. “We’ll see you later!”

  “Bye.” Mercy waved before heading back into the house, where she found Cat ripping off hunks of bread and stuffing them into her cheeks.

  “What? This is wicked pissa,” she said around a mouthful. She swallowed. “Besides, there’s no clean place to put it down.”

  “You seem happier,” said Mercy as she ripped off a good sized piece of bread. Oh, heaven, it was still warm.

  Cat sank to the edge of the couch they’d recently uncovered. “Things are falling into place. First the desk and then a neighbor who can teach me to make bread like this … I think this is all going to work out.”

  “Good.” At least one of us feels good about this. The more Mercy learned about her neighbors, the less she felt like spending an evening with them.

  Cat bumped her with her shoulder. “Go ahead and say it.”

  “No, there’s no need to rub it in.”

  “Say it—or you’ll burst.”

  Mercy laughed. “I told you so.”

  Cat shoved another piece of bread in her mouth. After a few minutes of eating in silence, and finishing three-quarters of the loaf, Cat said, “There’s so much to do.”

  “The front railing broke off.”

  “No biggie. That’s an easy fix.”

  “It’s just one more thing.”

  “It was loose anyway.” Cat handed the heel of the bread to Mercy and dug in her purse. She pulled out a notebook and a pen. “Three lists. One for things we know we can do, one for things we think we can learn or need to call Grandpa so he can walk us through it, and one we’ll have to hire out for.”

  They spent the next hour making lists. Then they finished cleaning the front room so they’d have one room they could sit in, and then they washed up to go to the picnic. Mercy pulled her hair up in a messy bun, figuring she wasn’t out to impress anyone. In fact, impressing someone was the last thing on her to-do list. She purposely stayed in her bobos instead of changing into her cute summer shoes and barely dusted off her shirt before climbing into Cat’s car.

  Chapter 4

  Chet was running late for the family picnic. He should have been there to help set up tables, but after repairing the fence, he rode into the far canyon to check the cattle. There were several reports of wolves in the area. If needed, he could bring the herd closer to the homestead.

  Aiden disappeared with his mom, and so Chet was left to ride out by himself. He didn’t mind too much—not w
hen he had his iPod tucked into his back pocket. His family thought he was always listening to music. If they knew he listened to audiobooks, they’d never stop teasing him.

  Tugging on a fence post to make sure it was sturdy, Chet grunted. It would hold. Barbed wire wouldn’t keep the wolves out, but it would keep the cattle in. He walked the line, checking for hair in the barbs that would indicate a wolf had skimmed under the line. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

  Satisfied his steers were safe, Chet climbed into his pickup and headed home.

  Even though he’d bought his parents’ house and they were off on their hippie tour of the U.S., the family still wanted to hold the picnic in his yard. It was fine with him. His three sisters and two sisters-in-law did a great job cleaning up, and they always sent the guys over to make sure the yard was ready. All he had to do was show up. With a glance at the clock on the dash, he realized he was doing a poor job of that.

  If he skipped the shower, he’d be able to grab some of Whitney’s fried chicken before it got cold. Pulling into the large circular driveway, Chet laughed as his nieces ran out to greet him.

  “Uncle Chet!” The youngest, Harley, threw herself into his arms as he slid out.

  “Whoa there. I almost dropped you.”

  She giggled. “You never drop me.” She patted his cheek. “You’re all prickly.”

  He widened his eyes. “Oh, no. You know what that means.”

  Harley squealed and wiggled out of his arms. “Tickle monster!”

  The other girls screamed and ran away as Chet roared and chased after them. He caught Harley and threw her over his shoulder. Her sister, Shelby, squealed when his fingers brushed her back. The group careened around the corner of the house, laughing so hard that their little legs could barely hold them up.

  Giving one giant roar, Chet plowed into the backyard, Harley laughing, her legs waving. He was met by the stunned faces of his family. He shrugged at their dumbfounded looks and flipped Harley into his arms where he tickled her.

  “Uncle! Uncle!” she gasped.

  Chet wilted to his knees as if her words had broken a spell. “You said the magic word and tamed the tickle monster. What a brave princess.” He set her on her feet and she trotted off.

  His family was still giving him funny looks, and Whitney signaled for him to tune it down.

  Chet rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like they’d never seen him chase the kids before. It happened at every family get-together.

  Aiden hurried over. “Dude, Boston’s here.”

  Chet glared as he got back to his feet. “Thanks for the warning.”

  Aiden held up his phone. “Maybe if there was a cell tower nearby, I could send you a text.”

  Chet ignored his jibe and made for the house. So much for skipping the shower.

  Whitney snagged his arm before he could make it inside. “Come say hello to your guests.”

  The last thing Chet wanted to do was try and talk to Boston when he was covered in dirt and sweat. “They aren’t my guests. I didn’t invite them.” He slowed his steps.

  Whitney yanked on his arm. “I invited them and it’s your house, so they are your guests.”

  “Thanks for inviting people to my house, Whit.” Chet brushed his hands against his jeans sending up a cloud of dust. Great, he’d have to meet the most put-together woman he’d ever seen looking like Pig-Pen from the old Charlie Brown cartoons his Dad used to hang on the fridge. Chet squared his hat on his head, figuring he’d blown any chance he had of impressing Boston and so he might as well get this over with so he could eat.

  “Come on.”

  ***

  Mercedes and Cat had been swallowed into the Bauer family picnic as easily as Jonah had been swallowed by the whale. Although she had to wonder if it was all that easy for the whale. It’s not like whales swallowed people on a daily basis.

  Cat stood near the buffet table, asking the women how they made each dish and whether they had any secrets to pass on. They loved her immediately.

  Mercedes hung back a bit, content to watch Aiden and his cousins toss a football and give each other a hard time about girls. Whitney had told her that the group started with the six siblings, three boys and three girls, and had multiplied from there. This was the original family home. Though it wasn’t small, Mercedes wondered how they fit six children in there and kept them from killing each other.

  They all seemed to get along now. David, Whitney’s husband, was the oldest. His dark hair had more pepper than salt, and his dark skin wrinkled here and there. He had a quick grin and a firm handshake.

  After Chet’s extremely loud entrance, which Mercy found completely adorable, David called everyone together and offered a blessing on the food.

  Mercy bowed her head, grateful to have come to a place where her belief in the Lord was echoed by her new friends. When they said “Amen,” there was a mad dash for the end of the table where the paper plates and napkins were set up. A line soon formed.

  “Hey!” David hollered. “Guests first.”

  A couple women ushered Cat to the front of the line. Aiden motioned for Mercedes to go in front of him.

  “No, go ahead. You’re fine.” Mercedes wanted a few more minutes to observe. She’d been to her friends’ houses for dinner and attended a large parties; but never had she been surrounded by such a large family. She loved their energy. It stirred a yearning deep in her gut that she’d never felt before.

  Mercy decided to sit in a chair and wait her turn. She found a foldout near a large-bloom yellow rosebush. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who was attracted to the flowers. Several fat bees hung around. There weren’t enough to fill the air with their buzzing, just a few she could hear now and again. She was just about to sit down when Whitney dragged Chet over. Resisting the urge to make sure her bun was still in place, Mercy smiled. Even covered in dirt, Chet looked good. His ball cap was pulled low to shade his arresting blue eyes. If anything, the shadow made them stand out more, and Mercy had a hard time not sinking into her chair. What was wrong with her? The first good-looking guy she sees in Snow Valley and she goes weak in the knees. Mentally shaking some sense into herself, Mercy planted her feet.

  Chet looked at her and then looked quickly away. Was he upset she’d come? It was his house; maybe he didn’t like surprise guests. Well, she was here now, and she wasn’t going to turn into a chowderhead because of his looks. She put on her brightest smile as Whitney properly introduced them.

  “Chet, this is Mercedes O’Shae. Mercedes, this is Chet.”

  “Mercedes?” Chet repeated.

  She sighed. Here it comes—the old line about my name and a stupid car. “Yes.”

  “Like Mercedes Mondego in The Count of Monte Cristo?”

  Mercedes perked up, not sure if she’d heard him right. “Yes.” She gave him an appraising look. “You … You’re the only guy who’s ever gotten that. Do you…I mean, have you read The Count of Monte Cristo?”

  Whitney laughed. “Oh, hon, Chet buys books like a girl buys hair products.”

  Mercedes looked at the freshly mowed grass. Having an English teacher for a father, Mercedes had been raised on a steady diet of classic and contemporary fiction. She was about to ask Chet what types of books he read, when Whitney raised her hand and called toward the children at the buffet table, “Honey, don’t use that much dressing!” She let go of Chet’s arm and sprinted away. “Excuse me,” she said over her shoulder.

  Chet stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded toward the buffet table. “Sawyer has a history.”

  Whitney pulled a bottle away from a younger version of herself.

  “When he was four, he drank an entire bottle of ranch dressing.”

  “Yuck.” Mercedes pressed her hand to her stomach. “When I was two, I ate a stick of butter.”

  Chet grinned. “The inside of a pumpkin pie.”

  “That’s not so bad—it’s the best part.”

  “Before it was cooked,” he said with a triump
hant grin. “Licked it up like runny ice cream.”

  “Ugh!” Mercedes stuck her tongue out.

  They chuckled.

  “So, no one gets your name?” Chet asked.

  Her shoulders fell. “They all think I’m named after the car.”

  “The car was named after Daimler’s favorite niece, so even if you were, technically you’d be named after a girl who captured her uncle’s heart.”

  Mercedes’s insides went all gooey. She tipped her head, studying him. This was exactly the type of line that had her dropping her defenses around men. Okay, not that good of a line. No one had ever known that little factoid. She glared just over Chet’s shoulder, working to keep the flutters in her tummy in check.

  Chet took a step back. “My family’s always teasing me about knowing useless facts. Usually I censor them better. That one snuck past me.”

  Mercedes felt bad. She should censor herself, not him. “I liked it. What else have you got?”

  Chet scratched under his chin. “Did you know the same guy who led the attack on the Alamo invented chewing gum?”

  “You’re making that up.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “What else?”

  Chet blinked. “Venus is the only planet that rotates clockwise.”

  “And?”

  “Ketchup was sold in the 1830s as medicine.”

  “No sir!”

  “And grapes explode when you put them in the microwave.”

  She lifted her hand. “That one would be worth testing.”

  “Did it.”

  “What happened?”

  “I had to clean the microwave.”

  Laughing, Mercedes asked, “Where were you when I had to go to all those stuffy dinner parties with my parents?”

  Chet motioned for her to sit and scooted another chair closer.

  Mercedes found herself relaxing a smidge because of Chet’s easy way. He moved with the grace of a man who used his body, knew what it was capable of, and was comfortable in his skin. She also liked that he wasn’t ashamed to be seen in work clothes. Most of the guys she’d dated would have run into the house and not come out until they were all decked out. She could handle talking to him.