by Melissa Tagg
Mara finally joined them, sitting in a chair beside Marshall. “What I don’t understand is why they would need to start over. Lenora used to talk about her childhood years at the Everwood as idyllic. And what does an art history prof have to do with it—or does he at all?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Sam said.
It was an echo of Marshall’s internal reply. They’d stumbled upon multiple mysteries at once. Whether or not any of them were connected, it was too soon to tell.
But he’d solved plenty of puzzles before without all the pieces turned over. He’d thought he left his detective hat in Wisconsin, but no. He was a part of this now.
“I cannot believe I’m doing this.” Mara huddled into the warmth of her coat and the striped scarf around her neck. She should be back at the house pulling down curtains in the guestrooms or making sure Marshall didn’t work too hard after having a fever just last night.
Instead she was freezing her tail off at the town square with Jenessa. Holding a borrowed pet carrier. Waiting for her turn to waltz across the band shell stage as part of the Maple Valley Pet Fashion Show.
A hiss sounded from the carrier.
“Pretty sure my nameless cat doesn’t want to be here any more than I do.”
Jenessa tied the strings of her fur-lined hood underneath her chin. “You’re going to have to do something about that nameless thing in the next ten minutes, my friend. You’re supposed to give your pet’s name to Mayor Milt when you walk past so he can announce it.”
Music drifted over the square, and despite the wintry late afternoon cold, the place was abuzz with people and activity. The line from the bandshell stretched half a block long. “I can’t name this cat. I don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl.”
Jenessa laughed. “Pick a gender-neutral name. Whiskers.”
“Too generic.”
“Jamie. Taylor. Pat.”
“I’m weirded out by animals with human names.”
The line inched forward and Jenessa nudged Mara to move with it. “For it not being your cat, you’re sure picky about the name.”
“Why am I doing this again?”
“Because in a few weeks, you need to tell the city council you have a bunch of reservations for the B&B. So you should be out and about in the community, reminding people that you’re here and that the Everwood’s doors are still open. Word-of-mouth is the best advertising there is.” Jenessa moved her camera bag from one shoulder to the other then pulled out her Nikon. “There are probably people right here in town who would love a weekend getaway that’s close by.”
Right. Yes. She’d gone searching for the cat and lured him-or-her into the carrier with a trail of tuna, all for the sake of the Everwood. Of course, that had turned out to be the easy part. Coaxing the feline into the pirate costume had been another story. They’d lost the captain’s hat somewhere between their parking spot and the square.
A woman with a poodle wearing what looked like a trench coat and a newsboy cap strutted across the stage. Jenessa lifted her camera to snap a photo. Apparently this thing was worthy of a headline.
The line moved again, bringing them closer to one of the portable heaters set up on the lawn. Cold as it was out here, this quirky little town knew how to throw an event. Between the music, the refreshments, and the pastel bulbs hanging from trees, the square was festive and bustling. Shoveled paths crisscrossed the area.
Mara had to admit coming here might’ve been a good idea considering the number of people who’d stopped to say hello to her as she waited for her turn to take the stage.
“One thing I don’t get—why wasn’t this thing moved inside? It’s supposed to snow again this evening.” Next up, a dalmatian in a tuxedo.
“This is Maple Valley, Mara. We’ve held snowman-building contests when there was barely any snow. We’ve gone forward with a live nativity after one of the wise men burned the roof of our makeshift stable. We had a parade once just a couple of days after a tornado. Live around here long enough and eventually you stop asking why and just go with it.”
Jen’s twinkling laughter fit the mood of their surroundings—carefree delight. It reminded her, surprisingly, of Marshall. Of the way he’d appeared walking into the kitchen this morning, looking hale and hearty and not at all like a man who’d spent half the night battling a migraine and a fever. Without the beard, those grooves around his mouth looked more like dimples. Without the hair flopping over his forehead, she could see the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
Without the heaviness weighing down his shoulders, he was almost lighthearted. Which, now knowing what she did about the tragedy he’d faced, was a wonder. Yet there hadn’t been a hint of grief in his expression when he’d thanked her in low, husky tones before sitting down to eat.
“Choose a name yet?” Jenessa asked. “Four more people and you’re up.”
Inspiration struck. “How about Lenny? That could work for a boy or girl, couldn’t it?” She handed her hot chocolate to Jenessa so she could kneel and open the carrier. Snow seeped through the knees of her jeans as she reached in for the cat. He-or-she came straight to her, not even a hiss or a scratch.
When Mara straightened again, Jenessa was smiling.
“Lenny. After Lenora. I like it.” She reached into her pocket. “One more thing.” She held up a black band.
“I am not wearing an eye patch, Jenessa Bellville.”
“Oh, come on, it completes the look.” She fit it on over Mara’s hair, leaving the patch on her forehead for now.
“Where’d you even get this thing?”
“My mother used to direct the community theater. My basement is full of costumes and—” She cut off. “Oh my gosh, is that Logan Walker?” She spilled half of Mara’s cocoa as she jumped and waved. “Logan! Charlie!”
A man with a young girl sitting on his shoulders, her legs bumping against his collarbone, tromped over in the snow.
“Jenessa Bellville, I was hoping we’d run into you,” the man said. He crouched to let the girl slide down his back then popped up to give Jen a big hug. “Amelia’s going to be bummed she missed you. She’s back at Dad’s house with Kate and my new nephew.”
“Don’t tell me you guys are in town just to see the pet show.”
Logan laughed. “Hardly. We’re back for Dad’s birthday. Plus”—he leaned in and lowered his voice—“don’t tell anyone, but we’re thinking of moving back.”
“What?” There went the rest of Mara’s cocoa. “Seriously? It feels like you just moved away.”
“It’s been almost two years,” Logan said. “Chicago’s great but we miss Maple Valley. We miss family even more.”
Mara was straightening Lenny’s baggy pirate pants when Jenessa tugged on her. “Oh, Logan, this is my new friend, Mara. Mara, this is Logan Walker and his daughter Charlie. One of Maple Valley’s famous Walkers. His cousin, Seth, owns The Red Door. His brother, Beckett, is married to Lucas’s sister. Logan inherited the newspaper a few years ago and ended up selling it to me.” She bent to kiss Charlie’s cheek. “You’re as adorable as ever, Miss Charlie.”
“I’m Charlotte,” the girl said.
Logan grinned. “It’s her new thing. Going by her full name.”
They chatted for another minute as a young boy led a goat wearing a bowtie across the stage. Logan promised to give his wife a hug for Jenessa before moving away.
Jenessa turned to Mara, a new sheen of gratefulness in her eyes. “Man, I did not expect to see him here today. I don’t think he has any idea how much he changed my life when he sold me the newspaper. If not for that, I could still be . . .”
Lenny purred against Mara’s chest. “Could still be?”
Jenessa shook her head as if freeing whatever serious thoughts had huddled there. “Eye patch in place. You’re up.”
Moments later, Mara was climbing the steps of the bandshell stage, the sound of her name reverberating over the square, eye patch covering one eye. “Come on, Lenny. All w
e have to do is strut our stuff and this will be over with.”
Somewhere in the line a dog barked and Lenny wriggled in Mara’s arms.
“It appears Captain Lenny is eager to get back his pirate ship,” the mayor quipped.
Laughter fanned through the crowd, and Mara found herself giggling along with them. Who would’ve thought that after eight months of solitude at the Everwood, she’d be up in front of these townspeople for a second time.
On a whim, she leaned over to the mayor’s microphone, held out Lenny, and gave a playful “arrrgh.”
The audience clapped and Mayor Milt beamed. “Way to get into the spirit of the day, Mara.” His white mustache twitched. “Although, it seems you may have misunderstood the purpose of this event. This is a fashion show. Not a costume show.”
Mara gaped, her focus flipping to Jenessa, who shrugged and laughed from the side of the stage.
“And for anyone who doesn’t recognize Miss Bristol with her eye patch on,” the mayor continued, “this is the intrepid young lady who’s currently intent on reviving our Everwood. You can read all about it on the front of this week’s Maple Valley News.”
Wait. What?
Lenny meowed, the crowd clapped once more, and Mara moved to the edge of the stage. She pushed up the eye patch as soon as she reached Jenessa.
Jenessa lowered her camera. “I’m soooo sorry. I didn’t realize this was about fashion, not costumes—”
“The front page?”
Jenessa’s grin turned sheepish. “So, I guess you didn’t see yesterday’s paper.”
“You’re mad.” Jenessa spoke over the rasping heater of Lucas’s truck, snow crunching under the tires and splaying past the window. Lucas had insisted they take his truck into town earlier rather than Jenessa’s little car since the roads had still been half-covered from last night’s snow.
Now it was snowing again and the wind had picked up.
“I’m not mad.” Mara’s fingertips were smudged with black from the newsprint, her toes were still numb from the cold, and she dearly wished Jenessa would drive a little slower considering the near white-out surrounding them. But she wasn’t mad.
“I thought you’d be excited about the article. We need to drum up interest however we can. Plus, it’s such a sweet underdog story.”
A stack of newspapers sat in Mara’s lap—courtesy copies, Jenessa had said. Because, yes, that was Mara’s photo splashed on the front page under the headline, “Everwood B&B Gets its Second Wind.” The photo was from her presentation at the town meeting. She hadn’t even noticed Jen’s camera with her that night.
But it wasn’t the photo or the headline or even the article itself that bothered Mara. It was her name in print—and probably online since surely the Maple Valley News had a digital edition. It was the possibility, however slim, of Garrett still looking for her.
“I’ve found you twice now, Mara. I can find you again.”
And all it’d take now was one little Google search. If he was still looking.
Which was just an irrational fear, right? He had to have given it up by now. Recognized his absurd attachment to her for what it was. He’d just been an infatuated college kid who’d gone too far.
“I really am sorry if the article bothers you, Mara. I should’ve run it by you. I thought it’d be a fun surprise. I’d hate to . . . to lose your friendship or—”
“You’re not going to lose my friendship.” Lenny meowed from the carrier at Mara’s feet.
“I wouldn’t blame you. I steamrolled into your life. I got you on that town meeting agenda without asking. I dragged you to this pet thing. I keep showing up at the B&B. I’m clingy, that’s what Sam says. And I know he’s joking, but sometimes I wonder . . .” Jenessa’s brow was pinched, her grip tight on the steering wheel, her usual perk as subdued as the lights of the Everwood up ahead. Barely visible through the snowstorm.
“You and me, we’re good, Jen. I promise.” Mara leaned toward the warmth of the truck’s heater. “Hey, can I ask you something? Back in town, you made a comment about where you’d be if Logan Walker hadn’t sold the newspaper to you. What did you mean?”
Jenessa was unusually silent for a moment. “I spent a lot of years . . .” She started, stopped, tried again. “Let’s just say, Lucas isn’t the only one with scars. His are just a little more visible.”
This was a whole new side of Jenessa—a new layer underneath her bubbly surface. Jen. Lucas. Marshall. Me. We all have our wounds.
“Jen—” Mara began, but the skidding of the truck stole her next words.
Jenessa’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “I thought the chains on Luke’s tires were supposed to—”
The vehicle lurched over a patch of ice and suddenly they were swerving, veering off the road. The newspapers flew from Mara’s lap, plopping to the floor and she was yelping, Jenessa squealing—
Until a snowdrift caught the front end of the truck. They stopped with a jerk, the clatter of Lucas’s orchard equipment colliding with their panted breaths. “Lucas is going to kill me.”
Mara’s seatbelt lanced into her chest. She unstrapped herself and reached down for Lenny’s carrier. “That could’ve been worse.”
“Way worse. But Lucas is still going to kill me.” Jenessa shifted in her seat, the engine still growling and, thankfully, the heater still chugging. She shifted the gear into reverse, but despite its spinning wheels, the truck didn’t move. “We’re stuck.”
Yes, and considering they were caught in a snow bank and the wind was picking up more every minute, they either needed to get out and try to free the truck or ditch the vehicle and make a run for the Everwood.
Or the guys were about to make the decision for them. Because that had to be them, appearing like dark silhouettes through the snowfall and hurrying toward the truck. The driver’s-side door flung open only seconds later and Lucas reached in to twist the keys free from the ignition and haul Jenessa from the truck.
And there was Marshall on Mara’s side of the truck, kicking snow out of the way and yanking her door open. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, glancing over to where Lucas had pulled Jen into a hug. “Huh. I don’t think he’s going to kill her.”
“What?” Marshall helped her out, taking hold of the carrier, steadying Mara when her boots sunk into the snow.
“Nothing.”
“You sure you’re okay? We saw the headlights coming down the lane. Lucas had been pacing for like half an hour, worrying about you guys driving in this. I thought he was going to have an aneurysm when you started swerving. Sam wasn’t much better.”
She looked over again—Lucas had finally released Jen, but he still had one arm slung over her shoulder as they tramped through the snow toward the house. Sam was on her other side, the wind carrying his disgruntled voice across the distance. A little family.
“We had no idea the roads were this bad in the country.” Marshall helped her up the ditch and onto the lane—or what she assumed was the lane. Hard to tell with fresh layers of snow and gusting wind. “Are we just leaving the truck?”
“Doesn’t look damaged, only stuck. We’ll deal with it later when the blizzard dies down. Let’s get inside.” With his free hand, Marshall reached for hers and tugged her forward. “How was the pet show?”
His long strides had her nearly jogging to keep up. “Zany. Hilarious. I wore an eye patch. I still can’t figure out if there was a point to the whole thing.”
“Bet Eunice is sad Frank missed out.”
“Huh?”
He whisked her up the porch steps without answering and into the welcoming light of the house. Marshall lowered Lenny’s carrier and the cat bounded free, disappearing up the steps. Snow clung to Mara’s hair and her coat and tracks where Jen and the others had barreled in before them covered the floor. And, oh, the warmth. She might even stop shivering eventually and—
Wait. Something was different.
Marshall stepped behind her t
o help her out of her coat. “You’ll have to forgive us if we went overboard.”
Her gaze swept through the lobby. Why were there twinkle lights hanging around the window and tracing the edge of the check-in desk? Was that garland twisting around the staircase banister?
She shot a glance to Marshall. He grinned. “Check out the den.”
She made quick work of yanking off her boots then trailed through the sitting room and dining room and . . .
She stopped at the opening to the den. What? Unlike the dining room, lit by the tawny glow of sconces Marshall must have replaced after the second coat of paint dried, none of the den’s lamps were on. Instead, more twinkle lights—tons of them. Around the fireplace, the picture window, the built-in shelves. A Christmas tree too? Complete with ornaments and candy canes hanging from its branches. Stockings over the fireplace. A red and green blanket draped over the couch.
Marshall joined her in the doorway. “Like it?”
“I’m so confused.”
“You said Lenora was gone at Christmas. You said you spent the holiday alone here. That you tried to pretend it wasn’t Christmas at all.”
They’d even set up a Nativity on the fireplace mantel. “But . . . this . . . I don’t understand.”
He looked adorably exasperated. “We’re giving you Christmas, Mara. I thought that was kind of clear. We found a bunch of stuff in the attic. I know it’s cheesy, but—”
“Are you kidding? Cheesy? No, Marshall, it’s wonderful. It’s . . .” She couldn’t decide whether to cry or laugh or throw her arms around him. “It’s by far the best Christmas I’ve had in years.”
“You haven’t even been to the kitchen yet. We’re making homemade pizzas. Not a very fancy Christmas feast but—”
“I love pizza.” The kitchen—that must be where Jen and the others were. And they’d turned on music. She could hear it drifting through the house.
“Do you love it as much as cereal?”
“Probably a tie.”
“By the way, don’t eat the candy canes. They were in a box in the attic, so who knows how old they are.”
