Winter in Snow Valley (Snow Valley Romance)

by Anderson, Cindy Roland

  Fiction was so much easier to write than a new path for her life.

  Resolutions were a big thing in her family. Her mom made spreadsheets. Her dad created reward charts. One year he stopped cussing and earned a trip to the Library of Congress. A vacation in the biggest and oldest library in the U.S. may not seem like much of a reward for most people, but for an English professor, it was heaven.

  Sure, she could put something down about releasing a book every other month or attending some writers’ conference, but none of those options felt … personal.

  Looking around Grandpa’s kitchen didn’t help much. The thick carving block she and Mercedes had installed for a counter was clean and orderly. The glass tile backdrop was stunning. The shiny stainless steel appliances hummed, and the beadboard walls were clean. There wasn’t a thing left to do in this house—or to put on her goal sheet.

  “Morning, pumpkin.” Grandpa came in, already wearing his Sunday trousers and a blue button-up shirt. The bald spot on the top of his head reflected the overhead lights. He’d throw on his tie and dress shoes right before they left.

  “Morning.”

  “How’d it go today?” he asked.

  Cat looked down at the fluffy kitty pajama bottoms she’d stuffed into snow pants to do Mercedes’s chores this morning. Someone, who shall receive a loaf of her best pumpkin bread, had already fed the chickens. The cattle’s water was topped off, too, so she had a pretty good idea of who had proven himself a knight in heavy winter clothing.

  “Better. I collected a full basket of eggs.” She grinned down at the table. Looks like Sam was getting some pumpkin bread after all.

  “You’re becoming a pro.”

  Cat snorted. “No thanks to Bessie. She planted herself in the roost. That chicken is the spawn of—”

  “Hell-o?” Grandpa picked up the phone on the first ring. He gave Cat an amused shrug and a wink. “Good morning to you, too. What’s on your mind, Sam?” Grandpa settled into the chair across from Cat.

  She tapped her pen on the paper and kept her eyes down, but she kept her ears on this side of the conversation. To say she’d thought about Sam now and again since he’d taken on the dragon chicken was something of an understatement. If her thoughts were a loaf of bread, Sam would have been the warm, soft center with everything else in her life taking up the crust.

  “I can see how that would be a problem. Why don’t I come have a look first thing tomorrow? I can take some measurements and put a bid together for the work. All righty.” Grandpa hung up the phone. “What do you have there?”

  Cat sighed. “My New Year’s resolutions.” She turned the blank sheet his way.

  Grandpa dropped his chin as if he were trying to look over his bifocals—except he’d had laser surgery before moving to Snow Valley. He’d never quite lost the mannerism, though. Taking the pen from her hand, he slid the paper to his side of the table, wrote something, and handed it back. “There.”

  Cat read: CREATE ROMANCE. She laughed. “Grandpa, I create romance every day. I’m a romance writer.”

  “Not on the page, pumpkin.” He tapped the wood with two fingers. “You need romance in your life.”

  She leaned onto the table. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “Get rid of you?” His heavy eyebrows rose like windshield wipers—up, up and away.

  “Marry me off to some rancher so you can have this place to yourself? I see how you are.”

  “Chowderhead,” Grandpa teased.

  “Alls I know is, you moved Mercedes next door to Chet’s, and now you’re working on me.” Cat checked her smile. She and Mercedes had moved to Snow Valley to fix up Grandpa’s childhood home for him to retire to—but Grandpa couldn’t have known his next-door neighbor was a book-loving single cowboy who would sweep Mercedes off her feet.

  “I just want to see you happy.”

  “I’m perfectly content,” Cat held up her hands.

  “Well, that stinks.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me. You should be going out, dating, kissing boys, and staying out past curfew.”

  “You are a bad influence.” Cat patted his hand. “Which is why I love you so much.”

  Grandpa smiled.

  Cat’s gaze fell to the sheet in front of her. “Romance isn’t as easy in life as it is on the computer screen.”

  “Romance doesn’t have to be big. It’s in the little things. Like, saving a seat for someone or—”

  “Feeding the chickens.” She bit her lip. Why she suddenly thought of Sam, of the way his strong arms tucked her close, or how he smelled of laundry soap and tree sap, she didn’t know.

  “What?” Grandpa tipped his head.

  “Nothing.” Cat gathered her sparse list and kissed Grandpa on his bald spot. “I’m going to get ready for church.” She hurried up the steps, her hand brushing the dark mahogany banister she and Mercedes had installed, sanded, and stained almost a year ago.

  Showering quickly, she was wrangling a pair of nylons when her cell phone rang. The caller ID showed her dad’s number. “Hi!”

  “Hello.”

  “How are ya, Dad?”

  “You, not ya—Catrina,” he corrected her diction. “I am doing well.”

  Cat smiled. She loved needling her dad the English professor with her choice of words. “Good.” Her parents thought she was slaving away over the next great American novel—something full of prose and promise. If her dad knew she wrote historical romances—and now westerns—he’d have a conniption.

  “What are your plans for the day?” he asked.

  “I’m going to church with Grandpa, and then I was going to do some online shopping.” The nylons in place, she turned the phone on speaker so she could finish getting ready while they talked. Despite his pretentious literary preferences, her dad was one of her favorite people.

  “You girls and your Sunday shopping. Your mom is going to the Grotto.”

  Cat groaned in envy. The Grotto was an upscale shopping center with stores that catered to the clothes hound barking inside every O’Shae woman. “I love the Grotto. Will you tell her to keep an eye out for a red leather jacket? I’d take black, but I’ve been dying for a red one.”

  “I’m sure you’ll live without a red jacket, but I’ll pass along your message.”

  “Thanks. What are you doing today?” Cat avoided asking about his resolutions. He’d have something wonderful, like eliminate unnecessary adverbs from his vocabulary and incorporate the whole G section of Webster’s into his everyday conversation. All she had was “create romance,” and Grandpa had written that one down. She wasn’t sure if she was officially picking it up.

  Dad cleared his throat, a sure sign that whatever he was about to say would be a change in one, if not both, of their lives. “Do you remember Robert Floyd?”

  Cat bit her lip. She did remember Robert, and she also remembered that he liked to be called Bob. Dad knew it too, but he’d never felt comfortable around Bob who liked to grab his shoulder as they talked. “He’s the adjunct faculty member who takes the night classes in your department, isn’t he?”

  “Right. He’s accepted a full-time position, and we’re looking for a replacement.”

  Cat coughed to cover her laugh. “Great. You two will be the best of friends in no time.”

  “Sarcasm?” asked Dad.

  “Of course.”

  “You get that from your mother.”

  “And I love her for it.” Cat searched for the silver loop earrings that went with her dress. “In all seriousness, tell him congratulations.”

  “I’d rather be telling you congratulations.”

  “Excuse me?” Cat slid one earring in place.

  “I talked to the department head about the possibility of you becoming our adjunct instructor. He was impressed with your résumé. You’ll need to take a few teacher development classes, but there’s no reason you couldn’t start this semester.”

  Cat froze. “Are you serious?”r />
  “Yes.”

  “I—I don’t even know what to say?” She looked about the room. The room she’d painstakingly sanded, scraped, painted, and refurbished. “I hadn’t even thought about moving home. Grandpa just got here and Mercedes—”

  “Mercedes is married now, her focus is going to change.”

  Cat sat on her bed. Her dad had expectations for his children and often expressed them with a firmness that hindered argument. “She’ll always be my sister.”

  “That’s true, but she has a home now, a husband, a ranch to run. You two have been peas in a pod for so long …”

  He left the rest of the sentence for Cat to fill in. For so long that being apart will be hard—but it’s inevitable—it’s time to let go.

  Cat knew things would change once Mercedes got married. She’d planned on it. Chet’s family had welcomed Mercedes and Cat like they were their own, despite their Boston accents and city ways. She enjoyed learning how to bake from Chet’s older sister, Whitney, and teaching his young cousin, Aiden, home maintenance.

  But … maybe what her dad said was true. Maybe she needed to step back and let Mercedes settle into her new family. After all, it was Mercedes who wanted the country life. Cat had come along, happy for the adventure, but she’d always planned on returning to Boston at some point. An adjunct position at the university was huge. It could be a stepping stone to following in her dad’s footsteps. “How soon would I need to be there?”

  “We start in three weeks. You’ll need to go through orientation, so you’ll have to be here the week before classes start—at the latest.”

  Two weeks? “Let me think on it?” She slipped her feet into the knee-high denim boots with a two-inch heel. Not practical for playing in the snow, but they looked great with her creamy lace skirt and black button up shirt. A wide brown belt studded with faux ivory completed her ensemble.

  “Sounds fair. Have a wonderful day.”

  “I will, you too. Give my love to Mom.”

  “As always.”

  They hung up, and Cat checked herself in the mirror before making her way downstairs.

  “All set?” asked Grandpa as he held out his arm.

  Cat took it, not sure if he offered because she needed help traversing the snow in her boots or he needed the help in his slippery dress shoes. “Of course.” If she moved home, who would be here to help Grandpa to the car?

  Grandpa opened the door for Cat before making his way around to the driver’s side. He’d taken to Snow Valley like a bird coming home to nest. Said he loved the quiet.

  Cat loved that too. She could think here and often found that all she needed for inspiration was a half hour on the back deck watching the sun set. Or five minutes with Sam in the chicken coop. Her body flushed with the memory of his chin brushing her cheek.

  Putting her thoughts aside, she asked, “Are you okay if I invite Sam over for Sunday dinner?” She wanted to do something to thank him for feeding the chickens, and pumpkin bread was a small offering compared to taking on the feathered red dragon.

  “Oh?” Grandpa grinned. “Giving the resolution a good start this morning? Do you want me to make myself scarce?”

  “What?” Cat blushed. “No, nothing like that. I—um, owe him one. That’s all.”

  “Fine by me.” Grandpa turned the radio on, and they rode the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

  Cat watched the Montana scenery pass by, contemplating her dad’s offer.

  Moving home.

  It was difficult to think of Boston as home anymore. Snow Valley had gotten under her skin and worked its way into her heart. The town was one big family—parts of it were dysfunctional, as with any family, but a family nonetheless. Leaving that behind wasn’t a decision to make lightly.

  Then again, if she was going to work on her resolution, she needed to go where the single scene was hot and hopping. It wouldn’t take long to fall back in with old friends. Friends she’d hardly spoken to since moving.

  Somehow, she couldn’t imagine Snow Valley letting her go as easily as Boston had. Whitney would find a way to send her goodies in the mail. Aiden would FaceTime. Harley and Shelby, Chet’s nieces, would email. Mercedes would call every day.

  Cat glanced at Grandpa. She’d miss him too. He’d been a mainstay in her life, the one who welcomed her home from elementary school and grumbled over algebra homework.

  And then there was Sam. Would he keep in touch or let her fade away like snow on the mountain tops? The idea didn’t sit well.

  Crossing her ankles, she decided to keep the conversation with her dad on the DL for now.

  Chapter 4

  Sam hated being late for church—everyone turning to look when the back door opened. But it couldn’t be helped. Not after Bessie had attacked the feed bucket, possessed with the evil spirit of chickens gone bad.

  His Carhartt overalls were covered in chicken goo, and he’d had to start a load of laundry before he could leave his cabin to stave off the smell. Then there was the call to Edward O’Shae, Cat’s grandpa, about fixing up the bunkhouses. His pruning team would arrive at the end of the month. He’d inspected the dwellings on the edge of the orchard. Several needed repairs before the men arrived.

  Migrant workers followed the seasons. Most came at harvest time, bringing their whole families and everyone pitched in to get the fruit off the trees. But in the winter, the men came for pruning—bringing only a couple women to cook for them. Where the rest of the families stayed, Sam had no idea. The men rarely spoke of where they came from or where they went. Jorge, the oldest of the group, organized their travels and handled the paperwork. His cell phone was the only way to get a hold of him, and he’d waited to hear back about their arrival before leaving the cabin.

  Driving fast was not an option on snow-packed roads, so he settled behind the wheel and ended up only five minutes late. For the Snow Valley congregation, that was considered on time.

  The church was packed. The first Sunday of every year had the best attendance, as everyone turned over a new leaf—or page in the hymnal—as it were.

  Smiling, Sam stopped at the back of the chapel to look for an open seat. He spied one next to Cat and her grandpa. Gabe Wesson sat in front of them with his two kids. If Sam knew Cat at all, she’d have Gabe’s daughter Lindsey in her lap before the chorus of the first hymn was over. Cat had a beautiful singing voice, the kind that he would love to hear in his kitchen, his front room, his trees …

  He quickly shook off the thought. If anyone had placed him at arm’s length, it was Cat. She’d told him right up front that she wasn’t looking for a man, but she was always looking for a friend. He respected her for being straightforward and enjoyed the way she’d taken the pressure off.

  There was a seat by Roxy, who happened to glance back and see him. She gave a small wave and nodded her head to the open spot. He was about to make his way to sit next to her when his resolution came to mind. Instead of following his common sense—which apparently wasn’t all that sensible in the dating world—he waved her off and took the third empty seat in the back row.

  Pastor John had picked “starting anew” for the sermon this fine New Year’s Day—a timely subject. The gentle pastor reinforced Sam’s desire to make changes in himself in order to change things in his world. The rule of three played over in his mind, and he once again nodded to stamp it into his heart. With the final amen, Sam had set his sights on staying his course long enough for it to become a part of his heart.

  After the service, he spoke to Eli for a minute about welding the Pluk-O-Trak. The apple-picking machine had limped through the summer. Several areas needed reinforcement, and Eli was the only welder in the valley. Eli agreed to come over the next day and take a look at it. After agreeing on a time to meet, Eli wrapped his arm around his wife, and they headed out the door together. Sam watched them go, wondering if he’d ever have what Eli had.

  He was deep in thought when Roxy touched his arm. “Hi.” She tucked her shor
t blond hair behind her ear. “I had a lot of fun last night.”

  Sam considered her for a moment. Normally, he would take her comment as an invitation to ask her out again. But he was learning that wasn’t the way things always worked. Remembering Pastor John’s admonition to stick to it for thirty days, he smiled. “Me too.”

  They stood there in an awkward silence for a moment before Roxy brightened. “I’m not due back at school for another week or so.”

  “That’s good.”

  “… So, that gives me some free time this week.” She lowered her gaze to the floor and then peaked up at him through lowered lashes.

  See, this was the part that threw Sam for a loop. Roxy had done the same thing when she was fishing for an invite to the bonfire. He’d bit—hook, line and sinker—only to find out she’d played him for a fool.

  Fool me once …

  “I’m sure you’ll need it to recharge your batteries before hitting it hard your last semester.” He patted her on the arm. “It’s so good to see you.”

  She looked up, surprise written all over her pretty little face. “Oh. Okay. I’ll see ya around.”

  “Lookin’ forward to it.” Sam moved toward the back doors but was stopped by Paisley, the manager for the local band gone platinum, the Iron Stix. She dragged a cute brunette behind her, one of those girls who has a style. Like she looked at the fashion world and said, “Nah, I’m good just the way I am.” And she was good-lookin’. Her boots came up her calf, and her flowing dress and long cardigan landed just above the knee. A black leather cuff graced her delicate wrist, and her heavy earrings jangled.

  Sam did a double take.

  “Sam!” Paisley said. “I was hoping to see you here today. I wanted to introduce you to one of my dearest friends, Nellie.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Sam put out his hand.

  Nellie flushed pink as she shook his hand. “Likewise.”

  Paisley continued with the introduction. “She’s my maid of honor, and she’ll be working at The Barn.”