“Had,” Shane corrected him. “She’s doing better now.”
“And what about you?”
“Never better.” The lie tasted bitter.
“Spencer,” Angie said, coming out of the bedroom, carrying her purse.
Shane noticed she’d taken off the ring that had glinted on her finger. His stomach clenched.
“It’s good to see you,” Spencer said to Angie.
Spencer smiled warmly at Angie and extended his hand. She accepted it and gave him a dazzling smile, one Shane knew he’d never see again.
“Are you the sheriff now?” she asked, looking at the star on his jacket.
“Followed in the old man’s footsteps,” he said, then added, “That was a heck of a hike you took. A couple of miles at least, through a snowstorm.”
“I knew Shane would take care of me.” For a brief second, she looked at him. Their gazes connected and she quickly looked down. “Of course, if I hadn’t had my chimes rung, I might have thought differently.”
Tension gusted through the room.
“Doc Johnson’s expecting you. Promised I wouldn’t come back without you.”
“Can you give me a ride to town?”
Shane wondered if that was desperation in her tone.
“Be glad to.”
An icicle seemed to stab Shane’s spine when she looked at him. She extended her right hand, then let it fall to her side. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
She wasn’t expressing gratitude as much as saying goodbye.
He nodded tightly but said nothing.
“See you for poker?” Spencer asked Shane.
“Yeah.”
Spencer replaced his hat, then took Angie’s elbow and guided her to his official sports utility vehicle.
She gave Shane a quick glance over her shoulder before getting in the passenger side.
Shane told himself it was better she leave now rather than later, which she inevitably would. She wasn’t planning to be in Colorado long, anyway.
But as Spencer drove off with her, Shane realized that an impersonal goodbye hurt every damn bit as bad as a Dear John letter.
“Around The Town”
by Miss Starr
Miss Starr is delighted to announce that Angela Burton, Emma Kelsey’s niece from Chicago, has temporarily returned to town! Rumor had it that Angela was returning to take over her aunt’s coffee shop. Your intrepid reporter has learned differently, however. And the truth is much more exciting than anyone could have imagined!
Angela runs Dreams and Wishes, an organization she established to help meet the needs of youngsters all across the country. While she’s here, Angela will be meeting with our very own Reverend Sheffield to discuss plans for the town’s community center!
As you know, our children have been using the old school, built in 1904, and the schoolhouse is in desperate need of repair. Dreams and Wishes is riding to the rescue! Reportedly, Emma Kelsey’s coffee shop will be used for a temporary community center while repairs are underway.
This is very good news indeed. We owe a huge debt to Miss Emma and her lovely, lovely niece, Angela, whom Miss Starr hopes to see very shortly.
As longtime residents might remember, Angela had a whirlwind marriage with Shane Masters one summer. I have it on very good authority that Angela spent one snowbound weekend at the handsome young man’s home.
Valentine’s Day is quickly approaching…dare we hope that love is, as well? Stay tuned, as I promise to bring you all the developments as they happen.
For this week, loyal readers, this is all the news you can use.
“This our angel?” a young child asked Reverend Sheffield.
As soon as the child asked the question, she stuck her thumb back into her mouth. Angie guessed the precious girl to be about four, and Matt smiled as he squatted to the child’s level.
“Yes, Molly, this is Angela Burton. She’s going to be helping us get our new community center.” He looked up at her. “Angela, I’d like you to meet Molly Barrett.”
Angie crouched alongside Matt. “Hello, Molly, I’m very pleased to meet you.”
Molly pulled her thumb from her mouth. “I never met a real-live angel ’fore.”
Startling Angie, Molly threw her arms around Angie’s neck. Automatically, she hugged the child back.
For a moment, tears threatened to storm her eyes. She’d dreamed of having a child of her own, but had to face the reality that it wasn’t going to happen, not now, not ever. That pain hurt every bit as much as the night when, just before his death, Jack had told her that as long as they were married, she would never be a mother. Until then, he’d made promises…telling her that if he could trust her, she could have the family she wanted. Foolishly, she’d believed him…giving up control of her life in small pieces.
But as Molly held on, Angie’s heart melted. Working with children had been the right choice for her life, she realized.
When Molly finally let go, Angie said, “I’m not really an angel, you know.”
“You’re getting us our new com…com…”
“Community center,” Matt supplied.
“Right? So as I have somewhere to be when my mommy goes working.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then you’re an angel.” She punctuated her sentence by sticking her thumb back in her mouth.
“There’s a lot of people around here who feel the same way,” Matt told her.
Molly’s preschool teacher rushed into the room. “Molly! There you are.”
“I’s talking to an angel,” she said as her teacher took her hand to guide her toward the other children.
“Molly’s precious,” Angie said softly, her gaze lingering on the direction Molly had taken.
“You’re good with her.”
“I adore kids.”
“It shows.”
She met Matt’s gaze. She remembered him from the few months she’d lived here. Back then, he hadn’t been a man of the cloth; he’d been a rowdy young man, undecided whether to finish college or go to auto mechanics school. Life had taken them both different directions. “Do you like being a minister?” she asked suddenly.
“Can’t think of anything I’d rather do. What about you, Angie, are you satisfied with your life? You and Shane once talked about having kids of your own.”
“I’m happy,” she said, ignoring the little wrench in her heart. “I love what I do with the kids. I’d like to think I make a difference.”
“You do,” he said.
When he started to ask another question, she changed the subject, asking about the building’s current plumbing and what they’d have to do to bring it up to code.
After completing the tour, she and Matt returned to his office in the church and went over the architect’s plans.
“These are good,” she approved after studying the blueprints. “I like that she proposes to keep it as original as possible, but updating the plumbing and adding new windows. I like that we can have alcoves for the kids so it’s quieter at nap times. I also like the separate areas for the preschool and day-care sections.” She flipped a page. “This gymnasium will be wonderful. Does the town have a gymnastics team?”
“Not right now.” He leaned back in his chair. “We don’t have the equipment. Kids who are interested have to go to Fairplay.”
“That makes it tough,” she sympathized. “How about volleyball and basketball?”
“Just at the high school.”
“So this could really benefit the younger kids.” She grinned. Blood was singing in her veins. This was what she loved, making a difference. “Do you have a contractor in mind?”
“I do.”
She looked up, frowning when he didn’t immediately answer.
“Masters Construction.”
She sucked in a small breath.
“Shane’s company.”
“They’re the best we have locally.”
“What about contractors in Durango or Denver?”
&nb
sp; “This is your project, Angela. You can hire whoever you want.”
“But—”
“Shane does a great job, has his own crew instead of hiring subcontractors, stands behind his work and he’s reasonably priced. He did the work on the church when we remodeled two years ago. I can personally vouch for him. And you saw what he did with his house.”
A flush rushed up her cheeks. Did the whole town know she’d spent a few days with her ex-husband? She never had this problem in Chicago. Then again, in the big, anonymous city, few people cared.
“I take it you haven’t seen the Courier? ”
“The Courier? ”
“Once a week the newspaper runs a gossip column, written anonymously by Miss Starr. She reported you’d weathered the storm at Shane’s place. Even if she hadn’t, I heard about it from Doc Johnson. He figured a few extra prayers for your safety couldn’t hurt.”
Her legs no longer able to support her, Angie sat down across from Matt.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Is that the town’s minister asking?”
“An old friend,” he corrected her. “Unless you need a minister to talk to, in which case, I’m all ears.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Have you been sleeping?”
“Not a lot,” she confessed with a wan smile.
“Doc says there’re few remnants of the injury. Does that mean there’s something else on your mind?”
Matthew Sheffield had the kindest eyes she’d ever seen. Blue, nearly gray, they spoke of compassion. Even though his words were probing, his tone was gentle, holding no nosiness. If she didn’t want him to push, he wouldn’t. “I had amnesia,” she said. “I didn’t remember that Shane and I had divorced.”
“I understand.”
She thought that maybe he did. After closing her eyes for a moment, trying to shut out the exhaustion of four nights of broken sleep and haunted dreams, she looked at Matt and honestly said, “He’ll never see that I did the only thing I could.”
“I take it you explained things to him?”
“Tried,” she said sadly. “He sees life in black and white.”
“Most of us do, Angela.”
“Angie,” she said. “I became Angie again when Jack died.”
“Angie, then,” he agreed. “We’re all human, we all have failings, we all make mistakes. The trick is to pick up the pieces and go on, try to make the world a better place from where we are, not where we were.”
“I’m trying, Matt. I’m trying.”
“And so is Shane. He’s doing the best he can.”
She instinctively reached for the aspen leaf, only to realize it wasn’t there. She dropped her hand to her lap and curled it into an empty fist. “I just wish I’d never had to hurt him.”
“And that’s why you’re doing this for the town? To make up for the hurt?”
“Superman’s not the only one with X-ray vision, apparently.”
He grinned. “Was I talking like a minister?”
“No,” she said. “You were being a friend. I appreciate it.”
Matt took a phone call, and for the first time, she began to question the choices she’d made in her life. Molly’s hug and Matt’s concern brought up questions Angie was trying hard not to face.
After he ended the call, Matt brought the conversation back around to Shane’s company. “The decision of who to hire is strictly yours. I won’t try and influence you.” He steepled his hands on top of the desk.
“I need to think about it.”
“I know you’ll reach the right decision.”
“You have more faith in me than most people.”
Matt grinned. “That’s my job.”
After a few minutes of discussion, she stood. “When I’ve hired a contractor, I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks, Angel. Maybe that name’ll stick.”
With a small smile, she waved goodbye.
Outside, she buttoned her coat against the bite of cold air sweeping down from Eagle’s Peak. The entire mountain was still white from the storm. Even though they’d had a lot of sunshine, the temperatures had prevented the snow from melting. The landscape looked as bleak as her heart suddenly felt.
She walked toward the Chuckwagon Diner, needing a cup of coffee to warm up and to think. Shane probably was a good choice for the job but she couldn’t work with him, not after their argument and lovemaking.
She arrived at the Chuckwagon just as huge flakes of snow began to fall from a nearly clear blue sky.
“Come in, come in,” Bridget Potter greeted. The older woman waved her onto a stool near the ancient bar. “My goodness gracious, child, it’s been about five years since we’ve seen you around here. Your aunt Emma told me you’d be stopping by.”
“It’s good to be back, Bridget.” Angie realized she truly meant it.
Until now, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this little town. When she went back to Illinois, she’d tried to cut out her memories of Colorado, pretend that part of her life had never happened. It had only been a summer, she’d rationalized.
But it had been so much more.
She’d formed relationships here, and she was welcomed back as if she were family. Sitting here under Bridget’s watchful eye and with a cup of hot, steaming coffee placed in front of her without her having to ask, Angie realized just how much she’d lost in leaving. It wasn’t just Shane, it was a way of life.
“Aren’t you supposed to be resting like Doc Johnson said?”
“I’m doing much better.” Besides, resting only gave her mind time to remember Shane…the way his eyes darkened with desire and the fury that burned them when he saw that she remembered intentionally hurting him. The sooner she got started with her meetings, the sooner she’d be on her way, with Shane just a part of her past once more.
“I saw your Shane this morning.”
“He’s not my Shane,” she said softly, sipping from the coffee and looking at Bridget through the steam.
“Go on with you, now. You spent last weekend together.”
“Does everyone know?”
“Everyone with eyes or ears. If you don’t be reading Miss Starr’s column yourself, you’ll hear about it soon enough.”
She sighed. “He took care of me, Bridget. Nothing more.”
“If’n you say so, missy.” She turned to flip a burger on the grill behind her. “What can I get for you?”
“How about a piece of pie? Do you still make pecan yourself?”
“I do indeedy.” She looked at Angie purposefully. “But you need something more substantial than pie. What with trying to recover from that nasty car accident.” She tutted.
Family? Angie wondered. No, the caring of the people here went deeper than that. Her mother had loved Angie deeply, but after Sylvia died, when Angie was a young teen, no one ever asked if she’d eaten. Her father figured she was eating at school—either that or the housekeeper had fed her.
Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she’d lost and how much she cherished being part of a family, extended or not.
“You still enjoy a nice bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich?”
“Haven’t had one in five years.”
The woman harrumphed, then said, “Well, I’ll be taking care of that problem right away, then.”
Angie took another sip of coffee while Bridget tossed some bacon on the sizzling grill.
“You know, your Shane doesn’t look any better than you do.”
She didn’t want to be interested. So why did her heart run its next five beats into one? “Oh?”
“He looks tired, as if he hasn’t slept. Bernadette Simpson from the post office made sure he knew you went to Doc Johnson and that the doc gave you a clean bill of health.”
“Bridget! I’m sure it didn’t matter to him one way or another.”
“Then you’d be thinking wrong.”
“I doubt it.”
“He asked about yo
u.”
Her heart rushed its next two beats together. “He did?”
“Indeedy.”
“Just in passing, I’m sure,” Angie said. “We both have separate lives. And I’m anxious to get back to Chicago and my work there.”
“And when might that be?”
“In a few weeks.” Then, suspiciously, she narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t be Miss Starr, would you?”
“Me?” Bridget laughed, then served up the hamburger and called for the waitress. “Heavens to Betsy, missy. When would I have time to be a gossip columnist? I’m here seven days a week as it is.”
“You seem to know everything in town. I’ll bet most people stop by eventually.”
“Still and all, I’m not Miss Starr.”
A few minutes later, Bridget returned to refill Angie’s coffee cup. “I need some advice,” Angie told the woman.
“Now, that’s something I can be giving. No extra charge.”
“I’m looking for a contractor for the community center.”
“You’ll be hiring Shane, without a doubt.”
She swallowed her groan. “I was hoping there were other contractors in town.”
“There certainly are.” She liberally spread a layer of mayonnaise on Angie’s toast.
Angie didn’t usually eat anything that wasn’t healthy, but now she was salivating. Yes, there was definitely something wonderful about being back in Colorado.
“I hired Sammy Dawson one time because Shane was busy and I needed an emergency repair on my front steps. They’re wooden, you know, and one of ’em collapsed when Bea Hampton was on them.”
“Bea Hampton?” She remembered the elderly matron, the town’s unofficial first lady. “Was she hurt?”
“No, just her pride.” Bridget smiled conspiratorially. “But she broke a heel off one of her Rodeo Drive shoes.”
“She must have been indignant.”
“Furious. Sent me a bill for a new pair of shoes. Lordy, Lordy, but I had to sell a lot of hamburgers to pay that bill.”
Angie shook her head.
“Well, anyway, Sammy had made such a mess of the repairs that the whole set came down the same day he fixed ’em.” Bridget brandished a spatula. “Our Shane had to come and save me. Did a mighty fine job, as well, he did.”
One Snowbound Weekend... Page 8
