by Toni Blake
Wine in hand, she stood and padded to the window, glancing out on the serene lake across the narrow blacktop road. Oh, it was starting to snow. She hadn’t heard that in the forecast—but snow this early wasn’t the norm in southeast Ohio, so it would stop soon. Yet it was one more reminder that winter was here, and Christmas with it. Sophie’s first Christmas in a broken home.
Sophie had spent Thanksgiving yesterday with Sue Ann at her mother’s house with all the relatives—then Jeff had stopped by to pick her up, dumbly telling Sue Ann all the fun stuff he and Ronni were going to do with their daughter over the weekend.
Don’t you see how wrong this is, she’d wanted to say. You’re supposed to be here, with me, with us—and now we’re supposed to get in the car and go to your mother’s for pumpkin pie and Pictionary, like every year. We’re supposed to be a family.
And yet at the same time, she’d realized she could barely stand to look at him. Because he’d betrayed her. Broken their vow—and her trust. And now he kept walking around acting like it was all okay, like the divorce was long in the past, like they were all already adjusted to this new life they led.
Once, she’d respected Jeff’s easygoing social manner, the way he was always comfortable in any crowd. But now she sort of loathed it, because at the very least, she wanted him to be as uncomfortable as her when they saw each other. She wanted him to feel bad for uprooting their lives, changing everything. And he just didn’t seem to feel very bad about it at all. He was too busy flashing Veronica all over Destiny like a new—even if not very flashy—piece of jewelry.
But then, maybe the fact that she could barely stand to see him was a step in the right direction. Loathing him seemed healthier than missing him. Didn’t it?
Though, even if she was starting to loathe Jeff . . . well, at moments it was pretty easy not to like herself very much, either. This whole ugly drama had forced her to start being more critical of herself than ever before.
Was it unappealing that she’d been perfectly happy with her part-time job at Destiny Properties and was otherwise fulfilled by just being a mom? Was she supposed to want more simply because so many other people did? Had Jeff’s feelings for her changed because she tended to laugh too loud, or because she brought home takeout too often, or because she sometimes couldn’t keep a secret? She was working on that last one, though, and had gotten better about it. God knew she was learning just how painful it was when your dirty laundry was hung out for the whole world to see.
Karmic payback? It was hard not to wonder.
Every time she got on jags like this, Jenny talked her down, making her see that it was all just fruitless pondering. But Jenny wasn’t here to stop the useless spinning of her mind this time.
Letting out a sigh and taking another sip of wine, she decided that maybe tomorrow she’d rise early, bundle up, and take a refreshing walk by the lake. She’d try to soak in nature, look inward for peace, stuff like that. But for now, returning to her Christmas cards seemed like a much safer way to occupy her time than all this thinking.
An hour later, she’d finished the cards plus another glass of wine, and darkness had fallen silent and deep outside. Next up, studying for her real estate license. She’d done part-time administrative work at the real estate office for years, but now that she needed more money, this was the obvious direction to go in. If things went well, she might even be able to keep the house. She’d been waffling back and forth—to sell or not to sell—but she loved the house and she’d put a lot of herself into it.
And everyone said she had a knack for matching people with the right home and for helping people see a property’s potential even if it wasn’t obvious. She’d known Logan Whitaker would love her Great Aunt Celia’s lake cottage when it had been vacated summer before last, after all. And she’d seen the potential in her own house on picturesque Holly Lane when she’d talked Jeff into buying it—and following her vision, they’d turned the once run-down old place into a warm, wonderful home. And she’d actually started rehabbing and redecorating houses when she was a little girl—only they’d been dollhouses. Back then, her mother would buy old dollhouses at yard sales and she would repaint and revitalize them until they were showplaces. So going for her real estate license was about the only positive change caused by Jeff’s departure.
Just then, her cell phone rang. She hadn’t been sure she’d get reception here in the valley, but she rushed to the table where her purse rested, digging it out to answer. “Hello?”
“Sue Ann, it’s Barry Clayton.” Her lawyer. Hmm. She hadn’t talked to Barry since the divorce was final. “And I’m afraid I’m calling with some bad news. Are you sitting down?”
Fifteen minutes later, Sue Ann disconnected from Barry, then slumped back into one of the easy chairs across from the fireplace, numb. Life had felt pretty crappy lately, but she’d been coping, doing the one-day-at-a-time thing, getting by, getting stronger. Yet this—this changed everything.
As she stared blankly into the low-burning flames, snippets of all he’d just told her echoed in her head. “Jeff’s petitioning to stop his alimony payments . . . He’s arguing he’ll no longer be able to afford it because he and Veronica are getting married—tomorrow. And I’m sorry to tell you this, but they plan to have a baby. Right away . . . One and potentially two more dependents—he’ll have a reasonable case . . . And I don’t want to scare you, but—worst case scenario—if you have trouble making ends meet because of this, he could go after full custody of Sophie.”
Trying to wrap her head around it all, Sue Ann got dizzy, even while sitting down, and finally blew out a long breath. Whoa. Jeff, how could you? Marrying her, already? And . . . oh God, having a baby? She felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. But not just someone—her ex-husband. He’d behaved pretty selfishly in many ways lately, but this took the cake. It was almost unimaginable. And at the same time that he was getting married and preparing to start a family with someone else, he was cutting her off financially? Before she even had a chance to get her feet under her? Yes, she was studying for her real estate exam, but now . . . well, it sounded like there was no time for that, like she had to come up with a bigger income immediately.
Or else she could lose Sophie. Another whooshing breath left her. Surely Jeff wouldn’t do that? Surely. And yet—Jeff had done a lot in the past six months that she wouldn’t have thought possible.
What am I going to do? How on earth am I going to make this work?
Before that phone call, she’d been getting ready to grab the binder containing her real estate study materials, but now . . . well, again, she was gonna need a bigger, quicker miracle than a real estate license to keep her afloat. So she reached past the binder for the bottle of wine and took a big drink. That wouldn’t save her either, but in this particular moment, it made more sense to her than trying to study.
So she drank more and tried to think. About options.
She considered calling Jenny, or maybe her mom, but realized she was still absorbing the news and couldn’t quite face sharing it just yet, not even with the people closest to her. Block out the hurt. That he’s marrying her. That he’s ready to have a child with her. Focus on Sophie and you. What are you going to do to save yourself? And to ensure keeping Sophie with you?
Deep down inside, tears of rage threatened to burst free—but don’t you dare cry. You’ve shed enough tears over this whole situation already. No more.
And to her surprise, she held them back.
Maybe it had finally happened. Maybe Jeff had finally hurt her so much that she was no longer just sad—she was mad. Angry as hell, as a matter of fact.
She took another long swig from the bottle, then resisted the urge to throw it across the room and send it crashing into grate where the fire still burned. After which she set the wine aside, emotionally exhausted. Oh God, this was too much to think about. But don’t panic here. Just give yourself a little time to get used to it all. You don’t have to solve the world’s pro
blems right this second. So let yourself rest. And maybe tomorrow you’ll wake up with an answer. Of some kind. Maybe everything will be clearer in the morning.
The fire could have used another log, but . . . she was suddenly feeling sleepy, like she could nod off any second. Must be the wine. Okay, and the mental collapse, too. So she simply let herself lean back into the comfortable easy chair. Fire, schmire.
It felt good to let her eyes fall shut, good to feel herself drifting into a peaceful place. You’re strong, you’re capable, and everything will be fine, she promised herself silently—another simple mantra from the book Amy had given her. Everything will be fine. God, she hoped so.
And then . . . what was that? Sue Ann had no idea how much time had passed when she flinched awake—from a sound. It had come from her right, near the door, like a click. And it was followed by a jiggle.
Lethargic from her nap, she tried to get her wits about her, tried to force herself to sit up straight and think.
Then the jiggle came again, louder this time. And holy crap, it wasn’t just near the door—it was the door! Someone was outside—trying to get in!
Still disoriented, she leaped to feet. Weapon, weapon, I need a weapon.
She glanced around but could barely focus and her limbs moved too slow.
Come on, do something. You’re someone’s mother—you’re supposed to be quick-thinking in the face of danger, and you can’t let yourself get killed because Sophie needs you now more than ever.
In full desperation mode as the jiggling grew louder and she sensed the door about to open at any second, she spotted an old wooden broom leaning against a doorjamb near the fireplace. She snatched it up, her heart beating wildly, painfully now, and just as the cabin door began to move, she followed the instinct to jump up onto her easy chair. She held the broom like a battering ram.
When the door opened and a man’s form entered the room along with a cold burst of air, she let out a yelp of fright. But then she remembered to be brave. Tough. What would you do if Sophie were here, if it were up to you to protect her? “Don’t come near me—I’m armed!” she yelled.
And then she realized the man, looking completely unalarmed, was squinting at her.
And that he was dark and . . . hmm, maybe handsome.
And that he was . . . “Adam?” she said. Adam Becker had been a fixture in her life since they were kids at Destiny Elementary, as well as being her ex-husband’s best friend for nearly as long. With dark hair and classic good looks, Adam was Destiny’s all around good guy, so it was a relief to see him instead of some mad killer—but what on earth had brought him to Bear Lake on Thanksgiving weekend?
Adam squinted even harder in the room left dimly lit by the dying fire, and continued looking confused as he said, “Sue Ann? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Me? I’m wondering the same thing about you. What are you doing here? In my cabin?”
That’s when Adam drew back slightly, his usually friendly expression suddenly filling with a clear disdain. Whoa, what was that about? And who was this masked man? In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen Adam look so snarly.
“Your cabin?” he spat. “Uh, I hate to break this to you, Sue Ann, but this cabin belongs to me.”
Two
By this time it was getting dark, and snowing pretty heavily . . .
Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
Okay, was it just her or did Adam look hotter than usual? Maybe it was the pale lighting. Or maybe the wine? But wait. What he’d just said didn’t make any sense.
“How can it be yours?” she snapped back at him. “Especially since I’m in it?”
“I rent this cabin on Thanksgiving weekend every year—including this year. That’s how,” he said.
“Well, you must have rented some other cabin, because I rented one, too, and this is the one they gave me.”
In response, he simply held up a key attached to a wooden key chain the size of his fist with the Bear Lake logo imprinted on it, as if that proved his ownership of the building.
“I have one of those, too,” she informed him smartly.
But he still wore a look she couldn’t quite read, because—again—it wasn’t like any expression she’d ever seen Adam wearing in all the time she’d known him. He appeared disgusted bordering on angry. That’s when his gaze dropped to the broom she held . . . more like a low-slung guitar now. “So what were you gonna do if I was some crazed cabin killer, sweep me to death?”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “I’m not sure. It was all I could find.”
He swung his glance toward the hearth, then back at her. “Um, next time, try the fire poker—I would have been a little more worried.”
Crap—how had she missed the poker! Sleep, wine, distress. But still . . .
“And what the hell are you doing on that chair? I’m a crazed cabin killer, remember—not a mouse.”
Okay, he was officially starting to make her feel stupid—which was not Adam’s usual style. What had come over him? “I was disoriented and . . . I guess I thought it would make me feel more powerful if I was towering over the crazed cabin killer.”
Yet he didn’t look the least bit impressed. Or as if he thought she was at all powerful. “Well, you can come down now,” he said dryly. Then he looked around. “So . . . are you, like, alone here? By yourself?” He made it sound like that was insane, even though he, too, appeared to be alone.
“Yep.”
“Weird,” he said, seemingly more to himself than to her, but it rankled just the same.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. Usually, Adam was friendly, responsible, and likable—and most people in Destiny would go so far as to describe the owner of Becker Landscaping as a “people person.” Even at his worst, he might be quiet and a little brooding, but he was never snide or condescending like this.
“I thought we covered that already,” he said. “You’re in my cabin.”
Never before now, that is. She didn’t know what his problem was, but he was starting to piss her off. “I thought we also covered that when I checked in, they gave this cabin to me. So there must be some sort of mix-up, but I’m sure if you go back to the office, they can give you a different cabin.” She enunciated very clearly, just to make sure he got it this time. Sheesh, to think she was the one who’d been drinking.
A few feet away from her, he let his narrowed eyes run the length of her body, brow tightly knit, as if sizing up the situation yet again and realizing that she really wasn’t going to just disappear. “Fine,” he finally bit off, then turned to go. But as he reached the door, he stopped and looked back, and this time he spoke with a little less contempt. “What are you doing here anyway? I mean, since when are you the rent-a-cabin type?”
She didn’t let her gaze waver from his. “Since my husband left me for another woman,” she reminded him sharply. Although her sharpness faded regrettably as she added, “I just . . . wanted to get away from everything for a couple of days before the holidays, that’s all.”
“Oh.” Apparently he’d been so caught up in his own . . . issues, problems—or whatever was going on with him—that for a moment he’d forgotten hers. And then his eyes softened, his angry look fading to something like . . . sadness. For her. Kind of like pity. Yuck. “Just so you know, I think he’s an idiot.”
And despite the fact that Adam still wasn’t acting like himself, and that she didn’t want to be the object of sympathy, the sentiment warmed something in her chest, just a little. “Thanks,” she said softly.
And then the door closed behind him and she stood there staring at it.
What had just happened here? And what the hell had Adam in such a nasty mood? She hadn’t talked to him much since she and Jeff had split, and it did help a little to find out he thought Jeff had made a mistake, but that aside—what had turned Mr. All American good guy Adam Becker into the snotty jerk she’d just encountered?
Oh well—whatever the case,
at least now she had her cabin back to herself.
Adam wasn’t acting like himself and he knew it. Problem was, he just didn’t care much at the moment. Too many thoughts spun through his head as he trod back through the falling snow toward the small office that served the cabins and nearby campground.
Damn, when had it started coming down this hard? He pulled the collar of his denim jacket up around his neck to ward off the cold wind that kept the thick, heavy flakes swirling around him.
He still couldn’t believe he’d walked into his cabin to find Sue Ann there. Sue Ann and all her girlfriends—that he could have believed. But Sue Ann alone, in a cabin—it just didn’t make sense.
Aw hell, cut her a break. Her world’s been turned upside down—she doesn’t have to do things that make sense right now. Still, what were the chances? Of all the places she could retreat to, she’d had to choose his place? His actual cabin, the same one he and his twin boys, Jacob and Joey, came to every year on Thanksgiving weekend.
Not that the twins were with him this year. That’s what had him in such a Grinchy mood. When his ex-wife, Sheila, had told him just over a week ago that her parents wanted to take the boys out west to Aspen for the entire month of December . . . well, it had shot his holidays to hell before they’d even started. Of course, he shared custody and could have said no, but he’d have seemed like an ass, especially the way his kids’ eyes had lit up at the thought of all that snow. Hell—even their second-grade teacher, Miss Wallace, had agreed to the plan, citing that travel was educational, so long as the twins kept up with their work via a laptop he’d given them to take on the trip.
Adam and his dad had camped here in the valley a lot when he was a kid—in summer the fishing was good, there were canoes and paddleboats, and hiking trails crisscrossed the hills surrounding the lake. So nearly as soon as his boys could walk, he’d started packing them up and bringing them over here—and Thanksgiving weekend had become an easy time to do it because Sheila had always used that weekend to drive to Columbus and shop with her friends. And even still, since the divorce, she and the guy she now lived with usually went away for those few days. It wasn’t the warmest time of year, but he and the boys still found plenty to do—hiking, roasting marshmallows, telling ghost stories, and just generally hanging out and doing guy stuff.
