by Arlene James
“The Roaster is really an excuse to cook hot dogs over a fire in the fairgrounds. The high school band plays carols. Service groups sell coffee, hot chocolate and homemade pie.” What are you, Brett, the Chamber of Commerce?
“Sounds fun.” Dr. Liz’s smile destroyed his concentration.
“The fudge booth is my favorite,” he blurted.
“What’s a fudge booth?” Elizabeth’s spiky hairstyle emphasized her prominent cheekbones. Interest twinkled in her hazel eyes.
So Zoey gets her green eyes from her father? And then... Butt out, Brett.
“The fudge booth is another Snowflake tradition.” Zoey and Elizabeth gaped at him as if he’d lost his marbles. “You have to see it.”
“Mommy’s car’s broken. Can you take us?” Zoey pleaded.
“An oil change,” Doc corrected.
“I could take you,” Brett offered. “The whole town goes. It’s—”
“Tradition.” Elizabeth’s silver-bell laugh made his routine day sparkle with excitement.
“Snowflakers are big on tradition.” What’s with your interest in the town’s doctor?
“Snowflakers?” She barely smothered her smile.
“The townsfolk. Us.” They all called her Dr. Liz but Elizabeth suited this classy woman better. Doc made their relationship seem more personal.
“Meaning we’re part of Snowflake now?” Her forehead pleated.
“So you might want to consider leading the kids’ choir.”
“Not you, too.” Something—regret?—flickered across her face.
“Everyone loves the kids’ Christmas concert. It’s our kickoff to Christmas Day. We all go. You’d be doing us a big service,” Brett added quietly.
“I can’t.” Doc’s refusal decided it for him.
Brett was going to break his rule and get involved. For the sake of the town.
He should be heading home to check on his dad and complete a list of ranch work longer than his arm. And yet he couldn’t shake the notion that if he showed this fancy doctor and her cute daughter that Snowflake was more than a blot on the landscape, she’d reconsider leading the choir.
“Come with me to The Roaster.” Brett watched her eyes flare.
“Um—” Elizabeth hesitated.
“You should learn about where you live.” The last thing Brett wanted to do was make Zoey cry but he needed to extricate the puppy. He looked to Elizabeth, who wore the same long-suffering look he’d seen other women wear when they had to break their kids’ hearts.
“Zoey,” she said quietly.
“I could buy him—her with my ’llowance.” The kid’s pleading gaze slipped from Brett to her mother. “Please?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“I want this dog!” Zoey sucked in an angry breath.
Elizabeth’s jaw firmed, determination meeting Zoey’s iron will.
“I need to tuck her in with her brothers now.” Wondering why the kid couldn’t have a dog, Brett lifted it from Zoey’s clinging fingers. “Come on, Mrs. Beasley.”
“You’re gonna call her Mrs. Beasley?” Zoey’s face beamed. “Mommy, that’s my name.”
“I know,” Doc murmured.
“It suits her.” With the animals nestled in blankets, Brett set the box behind his seat in the truck. “Fresh air tires them out. They’ll sleep.” He turned to Elizabeth. “The Roaster?”
Brett felt like a pimply-faced teen and figured he sounded like it, too. He hadn’t asked anyone out since Wanda. Doc’s different.
“I’ll be good, Mommy.” Zoey hopped from one foot to the other, curls jiggling.
“Well—if you keep your promise, okay.” Elizabeth then added, tongue in cheek, “Since it’s tradition. As Snowflake’s newest citizens it’s undoubtedly our civic duty.”
“Like the choir?” Brett couldn’t help it. This could be his last Christmas in Snowflake. He wanted perfect memories. “For the kids?”
“You’re persistent but the answer is still no.” Doc gave him a look meant to quell. “Let it go?”
“For now.” Brett helped them inside his truck and drove off, aware that every eye in the square was on them. The phone lines would be burning up.
Let them talk. Doc’s a beautiful woman but I’m not getting involved. I won’t be here long enough. That’s the plan. Right, God?
Chapter Two
“This is nice of you, Brett.” Elizabeth’s hazel eyes glinted gold flecks in the afternoon sun. “Snowflake isn’t the easiest place to fit in.”
“You fit in at church,” he said without thinking.
“I’ve never seen you there.” She studied him curiously.
“Dad and I usually sit in the back row.”
“You should bring him to The Roaster.” Doc’s furrowed forehead said she was rethinking this...date?
Uninvolved, remember?
“Dad wouldn’t come,” Brett said. “Zoey, how’re you doin’?”
“Are we there yet?” That age-old question of kids in a vehicle made Brett chortle.
“Yes.” He pulled onto the grassy verge of the street, wondering how to phrase his next comment. “Uh, Doc, this park isn’t paved and your shoes...”
“I always wear heels.” She glanced at her four-inch spikes. “I need the height.”
He let it go. He wasn’t going to tell classy Elizabeth, with her fashion-model hair and cover-girl makeup, her probably-cashmere jacket with the handmade angora scarf, her tailored jeans and those fascinating shoes, that she didn’t need anything.
But when she alighted, only to falter over a hole in the grass, Brett held out his arm. And she took it! Funny how the sun felt warmer.
“What’s first?” Zoey gaped at the chaos.
“Coffee.” Elizabeth grinned. “And a doughnut?”
Brett couldn’t help returning her smile. Keep your distance was easier said than done.
“Coffee and doughnuts coming up. Hot chocolate for Zoey?” He grinned when the little girl’s eager nod set her curls waggling. So cute. Stupid father.
“I want this recipe.” Elizabeth licked doughnut glaze from her fingertips.
“Good luck.” Brett snickered at her puckered brow. “Bessie Flett started selling doughnuts at The Roaster over seventy years ago. Her progeny now consider making Christmas Roaster doughnuts their civic duty. Her recipe is top-secret.”
“Local unspoken rules again.” Elizabeth’s expression softened as Zoey accepted a bright green balloon with glittery snowflakes on it from a six-foot snowflake. “Snowflake’s a great place for families.”
“Yep.” He liked that she didn’t fuss about the breeze messing her hair. “You’d find it easier to fit in if you directed the kids’ choir.”
“Mabel already hinted that.” Elizabeth’s tone was droll.
“And?” Brett asked hopefully.
“I’d make a mess of it.” She lost the sparkle in her eyes.
“We don’t need a qualified choral director, Doc. It’s just kids singing.” He could look at her all day and not tire.
“Is that the fudge booth?” She pointed to a shanty hauled onto the grounds.
“Yes. The—um, elves—” Brett grimaced “—cook the ingredients in that copper kettle. When it’s ready, they pour it on the marble slab to work. Wanna watch?”
“Elves?” Her impish grin mocked him in the nicest way. “Tradition time, Zoey.” She stepped forward, caught her heel and grabbed his hand.
While Brett squeezed her fingers, a feeling bloomed inside that had nothing to do with the temperature or her firm grip. Though indefinable, whatever that feeling was, he liked it.
“This town is quite amazing.” She forgot to release his hand as she gazed around.
Brett didn’t
mind, content to hold it and watch her as she studied the fudge-making Fletts in their red pointy hats and green jackets stirring the bubbling mixture in the pot. Zoey was caught up in the antics of the town’s mascot but Elizabeth remained riveted by the fudge-making.
Was this what it felt like to have a family? A burst of longing surprised Brett.
“So they sell this fudge?” Elizabeth licked her lips.
“If there’s any left.” Brett hid his smile. “First they hand some to everyone. Free of charge.”
“Really?” Her widened eyes met his. “Glorious food and a whole month of celebration. I don’t see how Snowflakers stay slim.”
“We work it off the rest of the year.” When several people stopped to visit, Brett dropped Doc’s hand.
Tomorrow speculation about them would be rife. Well, he’d survived gossip before. At least she wouldn’t be dumping him at the altar.
“That’s quite a gift you have for remembering names,” he complimented when they were alone once more.
“How can you help someone if you can’t even remember their name? Speaking of—who’s the woman selling hand-painted scarves?”
Brett didn’t have to look. “Emma Feinstein.”
“I’ll buy one as a Christmas gift for my office manager. They’re gorgeous. What?” she demanded crankily when Brett’s grip stopped her. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall on my face.”
“I’m not worried. If you fell you’d just get up again.” Too personal, Brett. “Your office manager is Emma Feinstein’s daughter. She probably already has a couple of those scarves.” Realizing he was still holding her arm, he quickly let go.
“That could have been embarrassing.” Elizabeth grimaced. “Thanks.”
“Mommy,” Zoey huffed, her breath forming white clouds as she hopped up and down. “People are dancing.”
“Outside? In winter?” Wrinkling her nose in disbelief, Doc said, “Where?”
“Over there.” Brett found himself hurried along as Elizabeth eased her way through the crowd until she’d wiggled into a front-row view of couples swaying to “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”
“Dancing in snow boots?”
“Snowflakers love to dance,” Brett whispered against her ear. “Want to join them?”
“Dance with you?” Longing flared before she frowned. “I’m not very good.”
“It’s not a contest. Come on, Doc.” He slid his arm around her waist, clasped her hand in his and drew her close. “Snowflake can’t have a doctor that doesn’t dance,” he teased to ease the sudden tension on her face.
“I hope you don’t regret this.” But she moved fluidly, matching his steps easily as the tempo changed to a faster rhythm, the height of her heels impeding her not a whit.
This could be his last December in Snowflake. Brett had vowed to savor every single celebration. Was that why he so easily abandoned his usual restraint?
Relishing Elizabeth’s giggle, he twirled her around a second time, grinning when wisps of her bangs tangled in her lashes and stuck to her damp forehead. Just for a moment Brett wished the music would never stop, that he could let go of his problems and enjoy life. But there was a chance to have his dream.
Taking that chance will hurt Dad.
“Can I dance?” Zoey demanded.
Without missing a beat Elizabeth lifted her hand from his shoulder and linked it with her daughter’s. Brett followed suit and their threesome moved over the crisp grass. Zoey’s laughter brought smiles to those around them.
If it wasn’t for that chance, Brett might reconsider staying in Snowflake.
Because of Elizabeth?
* * *
“You must be a popular escort.” Half an hour later Elizabeth, flushed and thrilled by their dance, gratefully sipped the coffee Brett brought her. “You’re a very good partner.”
“So are you.”
“I’m not usually,” she said, feeling the rush of heat to her cheeks.
“I don’t go to many dances since—” Brett gulped, looked uncomfortable.
“Since?” She immediately backtracked. “Sorry. None of my business.”
“You’ll hear about it, anyway. No secrets in Snowflake.” He snickered when she completed the last part with him then sobered. “I was engaged. She walked out before the wedding.”
“Right before?” Elizabeth winced when he nodded.
“Ten minutes before the ceremony.”
Why would any woman walk away from a gorgeous guy like Brett?
“May I ask what happened?”
“Wanda said she couldn’t spend the rest of her life with an uneducated cattleman in a Podunk town nursing an old man. My dad.” Brett’s voice brimmed with...shame?
“She couldn’t have thought that through before your wedding day?” Indignant on his behalf, Elizabeth snapped, “Sounds like you’re well rid of her.”
Brett stared in astonishment.
“I’m sorry if I’ve offended—”
“You haven’t, Doc. It’s just that’s the first time I’ve considered her leaving a blessing.” Brett’s face reddened. “I mean it’s taken me ages to pay—”
“She left behind wedding debts?” Disgusted when he nodded, she muttered, “Well rid of her,” and was surprised when Brett started laughing.
“You’re a fantastic ego booster, Doc. Your patients must love you.”
“I hope so. Now what I’d really like—” Elizabeth coyly peeked through her lashes “—are a couple of pieces of that fudge.” And she’d called Zoey a con artist. “And maybe some to take home?”
“One piece I can handle. The rest waits until everyone’s served, but there’s always lots. They whip up a couple of batches beforehand.” He held out a hand to Zoey. “Come on, kid. Let’s go get your mom some fudge.”
Delighted, Zoey slid her fingers into his and skipped beside him, chatting merrily about Mrs. Beasley. Elizabeth lost her smile. She was going to have to do something about that puppy. And about these odd feelings Brett aroused. She’d never been able to laugh and tease like this with James. He’d never made her feel pretty or complimented her as Brett just had.
“Today’s your lucky day, Doc.” Brett’s voice broke through her introspection. “As a newcomer to Snowflake, they’ve gifted you with several pieces.” He handed her a little box.
“How wonderful.” She debated opening it or saving it for later.
“This is for you to eat now.” Smiling as if he’d read her mind, Brett extended a napkin with a piece of shiny dark fudge perched on top. “Your first Snowflake tradition.”
“It’s good, Mommy.” Zoey smacked her chocolate-ringed lips.
With Brett and, Elizabeth suddenly realized, almost half the town watching her, she bit into the fudge. As flavors hit her tongue she closed her eyes and savored the sensations.
“Good?” Brett’s anxious question made her smile.
“I’ll need more boxes and a new diet.” At her words, relieved expressions filled the neighboring townsfolks’ faces before heads nodded and the buzz of conversation resumed.
“Did you say that just to appease them?” Brett asked quietly.
“I never lie about chocolate.” She pinched a corner off his piece and popped it into her mouth. “Do you want the rest of that?”
“Yes.” He ate it. “I have a box for Dad, too.”
“Maybe he’ll sell it to me,” she joked. When had she last felt so carefree?
“Can I go jump in the bouncy house?” Zoey barely waited for Elizabeth’s nod before she raced across the space, slid off her shoes and flung herself inside.
“No fear. I admire that.” Brett studied Zoey. “Why don’t you want her to have a dog? And what’s the real reason you won’t direct the choir?”
“Long sto
ries,” she temporized, set off balance by his question.
“I told you about Wanda.” He chuckled at her glower.
“Let us not speak that name again,” she said in a mock-threatening voice. Ignoring the second question, she said, “I’ve a mental block about dogs.”
“You’re afraid of them?” Surprise darkened Brett’s eyes.
“No.” Elizabeth hesitated. “Getting another dog—I can’t do it.”
“You keep saying that.” Brett’s warm gaze made her relax. “Why?”
“Rex was my dog. My parents gave him to me for Christmas when I was thirteen. Rex was the support I clung to when we moved from one military base to another, the friend I didn’t have to make. He was there when I got married, when my parents were killed overseas, when I had Zoey. Through all the milestones Rex was there.”
“And you loved him. So what happened, Doc?”
“James caused Rex’s death.” Pain resurfaced.
“James being?” Brett asked softly.
“My ex-husband. He was driving drunk and hit my dog.” Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed, willing back the pain, wondering why she was telling this to a stranger yet surprised by how easy it was to talk to Brett.
“When was this?”
“After Zoey was born.” She gulped down the sadness. “It’s silly but even now I can’t fathom another dog taking Rex’s place.”
“Not silly. Another dog couldn’t take Rex’s place. He’s in your heart.” Brett slid his hand over hers and squeezed. “Rex is part of you. But maybe you’re mourning more than his death.”
“His death was the final nail in ending my marriage,” she admitted. “I can’t just replace Rex as if he never mattered.”
“After grieving for almost five years, you aren’t,” he said. “But isn’t Rex’s legacy to you what you want for Zoey?”
“You must really want to get rid of your puppies.” Elizabeth wished she hadn’t said it as a pained look flickered across his face.
“I have to do that before the end of the year.” Brett glanced at the bouncy house where Zoey jumped. A half-sad, half-amused smile filled his face. “Animals can make a huge difference in a lonely child’s life.”
