by Susan Wiggs
Chapter Eight
Logan heard the clack of suitcase wheels on the adobe tile of the foyer, and knew Darcy was about to depart. Fresh out of the shower, he leaned toward the mirror to make sure he hadn’t missed a spot shaving, then hurried downstairs to tell her goodbye.
He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay. He wanted to kiss her some more, for sure. He wanted to make out with her, run his hands over that amazing, athletic, taut body, inhale the flowery smell of her hair, taste the strawberry jam on her lips...
Not possible, though. She had to rush back to the city and Lake Placid and her work project, while he had to wrap up the holiday here, tell Charlie goodbye until Christmas and get back to Avalon for work. Most of all, he had a project that was going to take all his energy and focus. He had to prepare to look after Maya Martin’s children.
It was probably for the best that he and Darcy had been interrupted before they even got started.
But holy crap. It was going to be a long time before he forgot about that kiss.
Darcy was in the foyer with his sisters and mother, doing a final check—phone, boarding pass, rental car key. “This has been such a fantastic stay,” she was saying. “Thank you so much for having me.”
“Wish you could have stayed longer,” said India, who then turned to Logan. “Right, Logan?”
“Of course.” He grinned at his sister, wondering if she’d guessed her matchmaking had worked, even just a little. Then he moved past her. “Glad you were here for the holidays,” he told Darcy.
“Me, too.” She held him with that direct look of hers. “Thanks again for including me at the children’s center. Oh, and the surfing. And the dolphins.”
“I can’t take credit for the dolphins,” he said.
“You saw dolphins?” India asked.
“Yep, while surfing,” Logan said. “Let’s go back with the kids this afternoon, see if we can spot them again.”
“It was unforgettable,” Darcy said softly, and he noticed a touch of color in her cheeks. Then she said her goodbyes to everyone else.
After she’d gone, Logan decided to bring up the topic of Christmas with his parents and sisters. He hadn’t intended to drop two bombs at once, but circumstances made it necessary.
“We’re having Christmas here,” his mother said. “Just like we always do.”
“I’ve got a different idea,” he told her. “Avalon. Everyone’s coming to Avalon this year.”
“Where will we stay?” his mother asked, uncertainty shadowing her eyes. “There’s no way you have room for us all.”
“The lodge at Saddle Mountain,” he said. “I live there now.”
“What?” His mother stared at him. “I don’t understand.”
“I sold my house and moved up to the mountain.”
“And when were you going to tell us about this?”
“It all happened fast. I got a full-price offer as soon as I listed my house—a couple from the city who want a place near Willow Lake. I moved up to the mountain week before last. The residence there is old, but huge. It’s been operating as a B and B.” He’d sunk his profits from the house sale into the resort, where nearly all his resources went these days.
“What about your insurance business?” his mother asked, her face pale with distress. “Logan, you worked so hard to build it up, and you were doing so well.”
“I’m keeping a stake in it as a silent partner, but someone else is running it,” Logan said. “I’m putting all my energy into the resort now.”
“What?” His mother regarded him, aghast. “You did what?” She turned to her husband. “I thought you said you talked him out of it.”
“I believed I had,” Logan’s father said.
“Look, could we talk about this another time?” Logan said. “How about we discuss Christmas plans?”
“We already have plans,” his mother said. “The Costellos are having their usual Christmas Eve party at the Paradise Cove Clubhouse, and I’m cochair of the church breakfast.”
“Plans are made to be changed,” Logan said. “So I’ve heard.”
“I invited Darcy to spend the holidays with us,” India said. “Do you just want to throw her in the mix, as well?”
Darcy of the smoking-hot body and razor-sharp wit? Hell yes, he did.
“I bet she likes snowboarding as much as surfing,” he pointed out.
“The kids might like it for a change,” said China. “I can’t remember the last time they had a white Christmas.”
“I can definitely promise you that,” Logan said, sending his sister a nod of gratitude. “It’s going to be awesome. A perfect Christmas.”
Part 5
Two unbreakable rules:
Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and should never be skipped.
There is nothing—repeat, nothing—that cannot be improved by the addition of bacon.
Maple Bacon Bread Pudding
Nonstick baking spray
1 pound bacon
Maple sugar or brown sugar, to coat bacon slices
1½ cups cream
½ cup pure maple syrup
1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
Pinch of salt
6 eggs
8 slices brioche or challah bread
Preheat the oven to 375° F. Coat a 9-inch round or oval pan with baking spray.
Dredge bacon slices in maple or brown sugar. Bake the bacon on a sheet tray between two pieces of parchment paper until crispy, 15 to 20 minutes. Then crumble the bacon.
Mix the cream, maple syrup, pumpkin pie spice, salt and eggs. Line the pan with the bread and pour the egg mixture over it. Sprinkle with bacon crumbles. Cover and refrigerate a couple of hours or overnight. Then bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until eggs are set. Serve with warm syrup.
[Source: adapted from Food & Wine magazine]
Chapter Nine
The week after Darcy finished the Lake Placid photo shoot and returned to the city, her sisters took her to lunch. It was their annual pre-Christmas planning-and-strategy lunch during which secret Santa names were drawn, menus and venues were planned and general excitement over the upcoming holiday reached a fever pitch.
Darcy dreaded it.
She used to look forward to the tradition as the kickoff to her favorite time of the year. The five sisters, knowing all their lives that they had more brains and creativity than money, used to delight in coming up with innovative ways to make the holidays merry, and planning things was half the fun. The Collinses, forever known as the “boys next door,” always celebrated with the Fitzgeralds, and the tradition was solidified when Lydia married Badgley ten years before. When Huntley was married to his first wife, she’d been included in the joint celebration, as well. After their children—Amy and Orion—had come along, Darcy had happily crocheted them little caps and booties, never dreaming she’d one day be their stepmother. The year the marriage had ended, Darcy had joined her sisters in consoling Huntley. The year after that, she’d become his wife. She’d loved Huntley and his children with all her heart.
She’d loved the combined family holiday, too—the Christmas Eve feast, the caroling trek to midnight services, the Christmas morning breakfast, the opening of the presents, the gift-stealing game and the silly pickle prize, each moment steeped in tradition, becoming part of the cherished fabric of memory. Now that she was divorced, she understood how friable that fabric was, disintegrating at the slightest touch, like a burned veil. The love she’d started out with had simply gone away.
“Thanksgiving wasn’t the same without you,” said Kitty.
“That’s right. We made a new rule. No more going our separate ways at the holidays, no matter what,” said Lizzie.
“I don’t remember voting on that rule,” Darcy said.
“We made it with you in mind. Part Two of the New Rule is that if you’re uncomfortable with the guest list, you get to speak up.” Lydia eyed the mimosas that came to the table, but settled for orange juic
e and sparkling water.
“And you’ll actually listen? What a concept. So, what brought this about?” Darcy paused. “Oh, wait. Don’t tell me. Huntley’s kids were horrible.” She pictured Amy and Orion at their worst—obnoxious, making a mess, squabbling with each other, fussing about the food. Back when she was married to Huntley, she had known how to take charge of the kids. They complained about her being bossy, but when she was around, they behaved.
“I think they miss you,” said Mary.
I miss them, too, Darcy thought. Yes, they’d been impossible the past couple of years, but they were kids, hurting kids.
“However, we decided it’s not fair to include Huntley if it means you won’t be there for the holidays.”
Did they have any idea how small that made her feel? How petty and selfish? She pictured what it might be like, with Huntley and his children barred from the traditional celebration. Would Huntley’s parents defect, as well? His brother? And then Lydia? The entire holiday would come apart at the seams, all because Darcy didn’t want to be anywhere near Huntley.
“It won’t work,” she said. “Badgley and Huntley are practically joined at the hip. I can’t imagine Badgley would agree to this.”
“Badgley doesn’t get a vote,” Lydia said simply, folding her arms. “Please, Darcy. This is a really important time for us.”
“What the heck do you mean, really important?”
“We’re...” Lydia’s eyes misted. She slowly sipped her mimosa. Her virgin mimosa, made with sparkling water.
“Oh my gosh,” Darcy said. “You’re pregnant!”
Lydia nodded, her smile soft, aglow with pride and mystery. “Yes. Finally.”
Darcy reached over and hugged her so hard they nearly fell off their lunch counter stools. “That’s fantastic, Lyddie. I’m so excited for you.”
The other sisters squealed and hugged, and Lizzie, always the most emotional of the bunch, teared up.
“You’re all the first to know,” Lydia said, dabbing at her eyes. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad yet. Badgley and I are going to make an announcement on Christmas. That’s why it’s so important to have everyone present.”
Darcy took both her sister’s hands and squeezed them tight. “I couldn’t be happier for you. I’m completely thrilled for you and Badgley. But I want your announcement to be a wonderful moment for the whole family, one you’ll always remember. My being there, having to endure Huntley, would only cast a shadow over your good news.”
“Darcy—”
“I’m going to do everyone a favor and make this simple.”
“No,” said Mary and Kitty simultaneously.
“My friend India invited me to spend the holidays with her and her family, and I’ve accepted.”
“But you did that at Thanksgiving,” Lydia pointed out.
“And we all survived.” Darcy still thought about that magical weekend, far more than she should. In the middle of Manhattan’s freezing rain and winter darkness, she would often catch herself gazing out her office window and conjure up memories of the sunshine warm on her skin, surfing on a private beach, swimming with friendly dolphins, kissing Logan O’Donnell....
“This is different,” said Kitty. “This is Christmas. Nobody skips out on Christmas.”
“I’m not skipping out. I’ll just be...elsewhere.”
“This is not happening,” said Lizzie, doodling with a red pen in her dayrunner. “We have to stick together at Christmas. We have to.”
“Otherwise the world will come to an end, right?” Darcy touched her sister’s arm. “Look, I don’t want to make trouble. I’m trying to save everyone the tension and awkwardness of me being in the same room as Huntley.”
“Just don’t be tense and awkward around him, and all will be well,” Mary said simply.
“Sure,” Darcy snapped. “I’ll just forget that he still shows up for family holidays as if he deserves to be there.”
“We don’t want him there, either,” said Kitty. “We want you. That’s why you should come, and we’ll tell Huntley he’s not welcome.”
Darcy could imagine this conversation going round and round, never finding a conclusion. She was sorely tempted to tell her sisters about the cheating, but that would open yet another avenue of conflict. They would take sides, they’d gang up on Huntley, they’d create a rift between the families, just at the moment Lydia was going to deliver a new Collins baby. Darcy clenched her jaw, unwilling to be the architect of that.
“My mind is made up,” she told them. “I’m going away for Christmas. I’m going to have a fantastic time.”
“With your friend India? Doesn’t she feel guilty, stealing you away from your family? What kind of friend is she?” Mary asked.
“The best sort. The kind who’s there when I need her, offering what I need. In this case, I need to do something fun and different, like surfing at Thanksgiving.”
“She’s got a point,” Lizzie said. “Surfing sounds fun.”
“Totally fun,” Darcy assured her. “They might not be surfing, though. According to India, the O’Donnells are negotiating where they’ll be spending Christmas, too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Lydia. “Where are they taking you?”
“They’re deciding between sunshine and snow.”
“You mean they have more than one fabulous vacation spot?” Kitty nudged Lydia. “Maybe we should all make friends with the O’Donnells.”
“Maybe you should,” Darcy said. “One faction of the family wants to spend Christmas in the Florida sun. Another wants a white Christmas in the Catskills.”
“What sort of place in the Catskills?”
“India’s brother, Logan, is a partner in a ski resort in Avalon, up in Ulster County.” Darcy knew which location she preferred, but she didn’t get a vote.
Lydia gave a low whistle. “There’s a brother.”
“And this brother,” said Lizzie, “does he happen to be single?”
“And does he happen to have red hair and green eyes and a killer smile, not to mention a set of abs like a cheese grater?” asked Mary.
Darcy smacked her. “Hey, you’ve been snooping.”
“I call it research,” Mary stated. “Is it a secret?”
“No, but it’s...new. It might be nothing. Or it might be a thing.” She knew she was blushing furiously now, because she kind of wanted it to be a thing. She’d even scheduled a shoot for a sports gear client at Saddle Mountain next week, hoping she’d run into him.
“Now it all comes clear,” Lydia said, laughing at Darcy’s flaming cheeks. “We know what Darcy wants for Christmas.”
“Hey—”
“And you can’t smack me,” Lydia said. “No smacking the pregnant sister.”
Chapter Ten
Logan paced back and forth on the train platform, stomping his feet and swinging his arms across his chest in order to stay warm. A cold front had arrived the night before, and it hovered like an alien spaceship, beaming wintry weather down on Willow Lake. A fresh dumping of new snow blanketed the town, and the sun was trying to break through, offering glimpses of frigid blue sky. The fresh snow was a boon for Saddle Mountain, which had opened with great fanfare the first Saturday of December. The place had been busy ever since, teeming with locals and tourists, visitors from the city, people who loved the bright chill of winter and the exhilaration of a day on the slopes.
He hadn’t taken a day—or even more than a few hours—off since the ribbon had been cut by the town mayor at the base of the main chairlift. This day was special, though. In a kind of terrible way. Maya Martin was bringing her kids to stay with him for the next two months.
The cold bit at his earlobes. He tugged his hat down lower and paced a little faster, stimulated by nerves as well as the temperature. He couldn’t imagine what Maya must be feeling right now. How did you tell your kids goodbye for two whole months? Sure, he had a similar challenge with Charlie every time he sent him to his mom’s, but the circu
mstances were never as extreme as Maya faced.
They would not be allowed to visit her. She had insisted on this. She didn’t want her children brought to the concrete-and-razor-wire-surrounded facility to be frisked and questioned and then ushered into some cheerless, monitored holding room where they would undoubtedly watch her fall apart, only to be escorted away in tears.
After agreeing to take the kids, Logan had gone down to the city a couple of times to see André and to meet Angelica, his younger sister, so she wouldn’t feel so completely foisted off on a stranger. He’d submitted to screening questions and a background check by social services, intrusive but understandable. He couldn’t imagine what the children were feeling right now.
He checked his phone, scrolling through the photos on the screen to a shot of the little girl. She was aptly named, completely angelic, as beautiful as her mother, though in a tiny, seven-year-old-missing-two-front-teeth way.
The first time he’d met her, she had sung a song to him—her own rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way.” Little kids singing and smiling never failed to tug at the heartstrings. Little kids who had to be taken away from their mothers at Christmas didn’t just tug at the heart. They yanked until that fragile organ broke.
The train arrived, lumbering into the station with a steamy hiss and screech of brakes. Logan’s heart sped up. He wanted this to go well. He prayed the kids wouldn’t cry or worse, burst into hysterics.
He and Maya had a plan. They would drive together up to his new place on the mountain, get the kids settled in and then she’d say goodbye to them there. It seemed the least traumatic way to handle the situation.
The passenger car disgorged an eclectic mix of people—tourists and travelers, everyone bundled up for the cold. He was gratified to see a good number of skiers and snowboarders heading up to Saddle Mountain. The chalet was booked solid through the holidays.
