Sleigh Bells in the Snow

by Sarah Morgan

  “Are you and Sean in touch?”

  “No. It was just a onetime thing for both of us and it was a very good one time. He has expert knowledge of anatomy.”

  Kayla exchanged glances with Brenna. “But when he comes home for Christmas—won’t that be awkward?”

  “Why?” Apparently bemused by the question, Élise emptied the berries into a bowl. “I don’t really understand why it would feel awkward if you both chose to do it.”

  “In my case because I slept with a client! Oh, God—” Kayla groaned and dropped her head onto her hands “—how could I have been so unprofessional?”

  “He already was your client so what is the problem?” Élise gave a Gallic shrug. “Maybe it would be different if you had sex with him to persuade him to give you the business. Although maybe not. Jackson is so hot I think any woman could be forgiven—” She thought about it for a moment and Brenna laughed.

  “You’re an alley cat, Élise.”

  “Sex is a normal part of life. Not something to be embarrassed about. Unless the sex is bad, of course. From the dark rings around your eyes I’m assuming the sex wasn’t bad.”

  Bad? It had been exceptional. The first time, the second time, the third time...

  Kayla dug her hands in her hair. “It was just the one night. Like you and Sean. That’s it. I’m—I’m just going to carry on as if nothing happened.” And she knew the real reason for her panic had nothing to do with being unprofessional and everything to do with the way she felt about Jackson.

  Brenna sipped her coffee. “You think he’s going to go along with that?”

  She had no idea. She didn’t want to think about it, and she certainly didn’t want to talk about it. She wasn’t used to confiding in other women. She wasn’t used to waking up in a man’s bed.

  She wasn’t used to feeling this way.

  Élise poured a small amount of pancake mixture onto the center of the pan and spread it until it formed a thin, even layer. “Jackson will do what suits him. He is a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it. He is very strong. I like that about him.”

  She liked that about him, too. Along with many other things.

  A crepe appeared on the plate in front of her.

  “Voila!” Élise dusted it with sugar and folded it with a flourish. “Crepe au sucre. Eat. After a night of sex, you need food.”

  She ate, and of course it was delicious because she was fast learning that Élise was incapable of producing anything that wasn’t delicious. To make sure the subject didn’t return to Jackson, she revealed to them her initial ideas for Snow Crystal.

  “There are lots of angles I’m going to try with the media, but the biggest one is you—” She looked at Élise. “Female French chef transforming the restaurant experience in this little corner of Vermont—the press will love you.”

  “Vraiment?” Élise’s face brightened. “This is promotion from ‘the French Bitch,’ I think. From bitch to babe. I will be a celebrity, perhaps. I will be rich.”

  “You can open your own restaurant in Paris.”

  “I wouldn’t want to do that.” Élise turned her back to them and something in her voice and the set of her shoulders made Kayla wonder if there was more to that declaration than a simple statement of future plans.

  She remembered how quiet Élise had been when Brenna had suggested a girls’ weekend in Paris.

  She remembered what Jackson had said to Darren.

  Elise has a home and a job here for as long as she wants.

  “I’m glad you’re not going back to Paris,” Brenna muttered, her mouth full, her fork already loaded. “You’re a pain in the butt, but you can cook like no one I’ve ever met. This is delicious, although it kind of cancels out the hour I put in on the treadmill this morning. How can you cook like this and stay so slim?”

  “Because I do not eat everything I cook, imbecile.”

  Kayla decided that Élise’s secrets, whatever they were, belonged to Élise. “I think Walter would also interest the press. A man who was born here, raised here and still runs the place.” She sampled the maple syrup. “I’m a little worried about what he’d say to them. It could backfire in a spectacular fashion. Then there’s Tyler, of course—ex-downhill champion now working here. I need to think how I can use that. It’s got to be a draw for experienced skiers. I think we should put together packages that would appeal to the expert. Ski master class. We could offer a ‘powder date with Tyler O’Neil.’”

  “Except that this is Vermont, so the powder is about as predictable as Tyler, which isn’t saying much.” Brenna nursed her coffee and Élise looked thoughtful.

  “Tyler is hurt, I think. I don’t mean his leg, I mean his whole self. He loved ski racing. It was his everything. Like my cooking. If I could no longer cook, I would want to boil myself in oil.”

  “I want to boil you in oil most of the time.” Brenna picked up her fork. “And Tyler can still ski.”

  “But he can’t race and he is so competitive. It would be like me no longer cooking for appreciative guests, just people like you.”

  “Thanks. He was the same when we were kids. Had to be first down the mountain.” Brenna took a mouthful of pancake. “Trouble was, Jackson and I wanted to be first down the mountain, too.”

  Kayla cleared her plate. “What about Sean?”

  “He’s a good skier, but not like Tyler. Sean treats the mountain the way he treats everything else in life—as an intellectual challenge. He waited for us to fall and then picked up the pieces. The family drives him crazy. He doesn’t have Jackson’s patience. And talking of the family, have you talked to Walter about your idea?”

  “Not since the meeting on the night I arrived here, which was an unmitigated disaster.” Remembering made her insides quail. But she also knew she needed his support. Kayla stood up. “I’m going to go and do it right now. I’ve been putting it off.”

  “Walter can seem fearsome, but underneath he is a pussycat. I love him very much. I will give you pancakes for him. That will put him in an instant good mood.” Élise pulled open a drawer and found a container. “Wait for him to eat exactly two mouthfuls and then hit him with whatever you want to say.”

  “Thanks. This was—” Kayla pulled on her coat “—it was fun.”

  Brenna waved her fork. “When you’re ready to give us part two, send a text.”

  “Part two is me going back to New York. I bought some gear yesterday by the way, so I’ll drop yours back to you soon, Brenna.”

  “No hurry.”

  It was still early and most of the occupants of Snow Crystal were asleep or occupied with breakfast. Her feet sank into new snow and she thought how peaceful it was, how restful. The cold froze her cheeks. Her breath clouded the air. The sky was a perfect winter blue. The only sounds were the occasional snap of a twig and the whispery rush of snow falling from branches onto the forest floor.

  She followed the path to the old sugarhouse that was home to Walter and Alice, grateful for her new boots and jacket. Both were warm and fitted perfectly. As she rounded a bend in the trail she smelled wood smoke and heard the steady thump of an ax connecting with a log. There, in a covered area next to the house, was Walter with a pile of freshly cut logs stacked next to him.

  Nerves fluttered in her belly. Everything she was hoping to do for Snow Crystal depended on this man’s support. “Am I disturbing you?”

  That fierce blue gaze reminded her so much of Jackson. “So you haven’t gone back to New York then?”

  “No.” She stamped her feet to keep warm. “I’m here for a week. Élise sent you pancakes and blueberries.”

  “These aren’t real pancakes.” But he removed them carefully from the container and ate them with the little fork Élise had packed, one eye on Kayla. “Thought you might have run out.”

  “I’ve never run away from a job.”

  “You’ve been talking to people.” Walter pushed the log with his foot. “Asking a lot of questions. Heard
you’ve been skiing, too.”

  Kayla thought about the amount of time she’d spent horizontal in the snow. “I’m not sure you’d call it skiing. Other people seemed to be on their feet. I was mostly on my face.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “You were out there. That’s what counts.”

  “I hope so.”

  “So did you learn anything useful?”

  She glanced around her. Saw pretty curtains in the windows of the house and a whisper of smoke rising from the chimney. “I learned I didn’t know much about the place when I arrived a few days ago. I talked when I should have listened.”

  “So now you’re an expert?”

  “An interested beginner. Jackson took me on a snowmobile.”

  Walter grunted. “When I was a boy we used cross-country skis and hauled sleds. Back in those days we didn’t have ski lifts or fancy machinery to smooth the snow. If you wanted to go up a slope, you attached skins to your skis and you walked there.” He pushed the log with the toe of his boot. “It was all backcountry, and when I say backcountry I mean backcountry. We’d be out there in the wilds and the forest and not see another soul all day.”

  “You skied, too?”

  “We all skied. Had Jackson on skis before his second birthday. Same with Sean and Tyler. Tyler was only interested in going fast, but Jackson—” He paused, smiling as he remembered. “Jackson didn’t just love going fast, he loved the mountains and he wanted to know everything from what makes a slope likely to avalanche to how to check that the ice on the pond is thick enough for skating. If he found something difficult, he’d try harder. Every time he fell, he was up on his feet again. Didn’t matter if he was bleeding, he’d keep going until a job was done.”

  Kayla heard the pride in his voice and something else that made her stomach knot tight. Love. She wondered why he persisted in fighting Jackson when he clearly loved him so much.

  “Snow Crystal means a lot to him.”

  “The place is in his blood. Even when he was young he understood the importance of protecting the habitat. You can’t own nature...you’re just a guest. He and I used to spend days together in the forest.” Walter shifted the ax in his hand. “I was the one who taught him to recognize claw marks on beech trees. A black bear will mark a tree—” He followed Kayla’s nervous glance with a shake of his head. “They won’t bother you this time of year. Jackson taken you walking in the forest yet?”

  “We cut down a Christmas tree yesterday.”

  Walter sniffed. “I bet you used the snowmobile. That’s no way to see the forest. You need to walk or get Dana to take you on the sled with those dogs of hers. Gives you a real feel for the place. You ever see a sugar maple?” When Kayla shook her head he waved a hand toward the trees. “These maples need a certain amount of cold to produce sap for maple syrup.”

  “I just had some on my pancakes. It was delicious.”

  “Come back in March and I’ll teach you how it’s done.”

  “Is that an invitation?” Kayla discovered she was holding her breath.

  “It sounded like one, didn’t it?”

  It felt like a huge step forward. She felt light inside and then he hefted the ax and she remembered how worried Elizabeth was about him chopping wood.

  “Can I do that?”

  His expression was incredulous. “You?”

  “Can’t really get a feel for Snow Crystal without having chopped some logs. I’ve burned through plenty in my cabin. The least I can do is replace them.” Thinking about the log fire in her cabin made her think about Jackson, and her insides flipped like one of Élise’s pancakes.

  It didn’t matter how long she put it off, eventually she was going to have to face him.

  But not yet.

  Walter gave her a long look and then gestured to the log under his foot. “We’re cutting it to the right length. Secret is to let the weight of the ax do the work. Doesn’t need to be razor-sharp. Blunt is good.”

  “How does it cut if it’s blunt?”

  “You’re not cutting it, you’re splitting it.” Walter brought the ax down with a thwack, and Kayla flinched.

  “Should you be doing that?”

  He wedged his foot on the log and worked the ax free. “Are you suggesting I’m too old for this?”

  “No.” She searched for tact and ended up with direct and honest. “Elizabeth mentioned you had chest pain.”

  “She fusses. It was indigestion. Too much good food.” He brought down the ax again, splitting the log. “There’s enough work around this place to keep a whole army occupied, and Jackson doesn’t have an army so we all need to do our bit.”

  That fiercely spoken statement brought a lump to her throat. She wished Jackson could have heard it.

  “He loves this place.”

  Walter stood still, his breath clouding the air. “Maybe he does.”

  “Maybe?” Kayla wondered how he could doubt it. “He came back, didn’t he?”

  “Didn’t have any choice about that.”

  “There’s always a choice, Walter.”

  “Not to Jackson.” He bent to throw the logs on the pile with the others. “He feels a debt. A sense of responsibility. He’s bound to this place. It’s a failing and a strength.”

  “How can it be a failing?”

  Walter hesitated. “Because a man shouldn’t throw away his whole life doing something that doesn’t feel right, just to please others.”

  Kayla thought about her father. About the years he’d been married to her mother before he’d finally got out and gone to the woman he loved.

  “Maybe this feels right to Jackson. But you’re right—he needs all the help he can get. So let me help.”

  Walter wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “You seriously want to chop logs?”

  “Yes.” She pushed up the sleeves of her fleece. “I’ve been known to use the gym when I can’t think of an excuse not to. I’m sure I can lift an ax.”

  Walter handed it to her. “Don’t chop your foot off or that grandson of mine will take the next ax to my head. According to him, you’re valuable.”

  Kayla felt the weight of it in her hands. “So I just swing it, right?” She laughed as Walter took a rapid step backward. Then she raised the ax and brought it down hard, as she’d seen him do. The log split. “Wow. I did that!” She grinned with delight and Walter grinned back, his weathered face creasing.

  “That’s a hell of a move you’ve got there.” He nodded at the splintered wood. “If I’d known you could chop like that, I would have been more polite the other night. You mad at someone?”

  “No, not mad.” She brought the ax down again and then toed the log she’d chopped with a rush of pride. “Maybe a little, with myself.”

  Walter picked up the pieces and tossed them on the pile. “For falling in love when you didn’t want to?”

  Kayla froze. “I can absolutely assure you that—”

  “Don’t blame yourself. First time Elizabeth set eyes on Snow Crystal, she was gone. Same for my mother.”

  He meant the place, Kayla thought, not the person. Snow Crystal, not Jackson. “It’s certainly special.”

  “Glad you think so—” The deep male voice came from behind her, and when she turned, Jackson was standing there, arms folded, broad shoulders resting against the tree as he watched her with the same blue eyes that had seen her lose control the night before. “I’ve been looking for you. Didn’t realize you had a date with another man.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SHE LOOKED GOOD for a woman who’d had less than four hours sleep, but nowhere near as good as she’d looked lying naked on the rug in the firelight. He wished she were back there now. This was the last place he would have picked for a morning-after encounter. He’d come looking for her, but now he had more immediate concerns.

  Jackson eyed the ax and the pile of logs. “I thought we agreed you were going to leave the wood chopping to me, Gramps.”

  Walter glared at him. “You’re
already running my business. Got to leave a man something to do.”

  “There’s plenty to do.” He was treading a delicate path between ensuring his grandfather felt involved and not giving him anything too strenuous.

  “Then go and do it and leave me to talk to Kayla about Snow Crystal.”

  Lack of sleep added weight to the responsibilities already pressing down on his shoulders.

  “I need to talk to you about the restaurant, Gramps.”

  “If you’re here to tell me Darren has gone, I already know.”

  Jackson cursed himself for not speaking to his grandfather immediately. “He came to you?” Anger flared at the thought of Darren bringing an eighty-year-old man in on the problem.

  “Two minutes after he walked out. Came straight over here, ranting about that ‘French bitch.’ Excuse me.” Walter sent a look of apology to Kayla, who tightened her grip on the ax as if she was contemplating bringing it down on someone’s head.

  “Don’t worry. But I might just need to chop another log soon.”

  “Me, too. I’m steaming mad. Some folks don’t know when they’re well off—that’s the problem.” He glared at Jackson, who prepared to do something he never did. Explain his decision.

  “I know you took him on, Gramps—”

  “Yes, I did. And I reminded him of that when I sent him on his way.”

  “You—” Braced for a different conversation, Jackson stopped in midsentence. “You did what?”

  “I sent him on his way, of course.” Walter took the ax from Kayla. “I told him to grow a backbone, get himself right back in the kitchen and do the job we employed him to do.” He took a swing. The ax landed with a thud, leaving another two logs to add to the growing pile.

  Kayla nodded approval. “Nice one, Walter.”

  Jackson wasn’t sure whether she was referring to Darren or the split log. “I’m assuming he refused.”

  “He did. Said he already had a better job lined up. Need a turn, Kayla?”

  “Yes.” She took the ax back while Jackson watched the two of them, noticing the way his grandfather gently adjusted Kayla’s grip and then positioned the next log for her.