He smiled at the thought of submitting a Bush Line praising Gretel Morrison. “When pigs fly, Niko. That ain’t happening.”
Niko had nothing to say.
The bus pulled up a few minutes later. It was already mostly empty, since their stop was the last on the route.
Jason, Petey, Chloeann and Eli came spilling out in a flurry of parkas and backpacks. The driver gave Zander a salute, performed a complicated five-point turn, and steered the bus toward town. It made a splash of yellow against the backdrop of snowy peaks across the bay.
The Suburban filled up with kids and chatter.
“I need new ski poles, I snapped one of mine in half,” Jason announced. “On accident,” he added quickly.
“I’m going to need a complete incident report,” said Zander. “Filed in triplicate.”
“Can Petey come over to play?” asked Eli hopefully from the passenger seat. “We got a new trampoline.”
“After his chores and depending on his homework.”
Zander glanced at Petey in the rearview mirror. He was listening to Chloeann whisper something in his ear and had missed the request from Eli. Being three years older than Eli, he wasn’t always interested in playing with him.
“A trampoline, huh? When did that happen?”
“Gretel got it. It’s a little one and it’s only in my room and I’m the only one allowed to jump on it. Except her, since she got it for me. And Petey if he comes over.”
Gretel got him a trampoline? Interesting. It made sense because Eli had a lot of energy to burn off, especially in the winter. And he would love having something that was just for him, since the twin toddlers got so much attention.
It was thoughtful.
Another surprise from the pretty girl next door.
“What if I come over? Can I try it?”
Eli shot him a dubious glance. “You might break it. No way.”
Zander hid a laugh. That was the thing about this whole surrogate parenting gig. The kids could really crack you up. Especially the ones you weren’t directly responsible for.
“Moose!” shouted Chloeann, pointing to the trees off the road. He located it—a spindly-legged youngster who swung his big head toward them and watched as they passed.
“Thanks for watching my six,” he told Chloeann.
“What?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “He means thanks for watching his back. That’s how they say it in the military. Like how he always says that he’ll pick us up at sixteen-thirty. Sixteen is four o’clock in normal people language.”
“But why does six mean the same thing as your back?”
“Imagine a clock face, and you’re looking toward the twelve. The six is at your back.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s by my feet.”
Zander laughed along with the other kids. She had a point, he couldn’t deny that.
Petey spoke up for the first time. “Zander, can I go to Chloeann’s and do homework?”
“Sorry, kid. You have chores to do.”
Storm clouds gathered on Petey’s face. “I always have chores. Life doesn’t stop because of chores. I’m not your prisoner.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. If you finish your chores quickly, I’ll drive you over to Chloeann’s.”
Petey subsided, though he still looked furious. Too bad—Zander took chores seriously, because if he didn’t, no one else would, that was for sure.
Just wait until Petey heard about the red dot on the chart.
They reached the mailbox that marked the end of Chloeann’s driveway. Zander pulled over and let her out. Out of habit, he watched her until she was safely at the door of her house.
“Come on, Z,” said Jason impatiently. “I’m already behind on my miles.”
Jason had set himself a goal of skiing twenty-five miles a week. That was a lot, but Zander approved of the goal-setting part.
He wasn’t so sure about the nickname.
“Since when do you call me Z?”
“Out loud? Just since today.”
Zander hid another laugh. These kids. They truly cracked him up. “Well, I’m not sure I like it.”
“There’s no rule about nicknames. Petey, is there a rule about nicknames?”
“Prisoners have numbers, not nicknames,” Petey said morosely.
“Good God, how’d I turn into a prison warden named Z? Sounds like a character in a movie.”
That lightened up the mood, and they spent the rest of the drive tossing out ideas for this hypothetical movie. The prison warden was also a bandit who went only by the letter Z. He jailed people by day, robbed people by night. He had an accomplice known only as X, who was a master swordsman, while Z specialized in archery.
“What about Y?” Zander asked.
“Y is their nemesis, he wants to kill everyone. Why, Y? Why?” Petey clutched his hands at his heart. The kid was such a natural when it came to drama.
When they dropped off Eli at the Noonans’ place, Zander got out to hand him the box of groceries. “Is that too much for you to carry? Want me to bring it in?”
“Course not. Jeez.” The boy shifted the box in his grip as he peered inside. “Pistachios?”
“They’re for Gretel. Hey, can you pass on a message to her?”
Eli nodded. His hat had gotten displaced during his exit from the van; Zander reached out and adjusted it for him.
“Tell her pistachios grow best in warm climates. Can you remember that?”
“Pistachios grow best in warm climates,” Eli repeated obediently, with little puffs of breath accenting every word.
“Good. Thanks, dude. And hey—Petey will come over and jump on your trampoline soon, okay?”
Eli nodded and marched toward the house with his bulky load.
On his way back to the driver’s seat, Zander noticed a piece of firewood in the culvert by the driveway. It must have rolled out of Gretel’s sight when the sled spilled over.
Should he pick it up despite all her instructions about not helping her?
Screw that. Firewood was valuable. And she didn’t even know it was there.
Quickly, he snatched it up and whisked it into the woodshed, then hurried back to the van.
“Why were you running?” Jason frowned at him from the backseat, where he was slouching with his iPhone. Service was very spotty in their area, but there were a few hot spots. The Noonans’ driveway occasionally got one bar.
“Exercise.” He didn’t feel like explaining anything related to Gretel. Maybe because he couldn’t really explain it to himself. Why did he think about her as much as he did?
Well, there was the obvious explanation—she was new around here.
And so beautiful.
And fun to talk to.
When she wasn’t actively trying to piss him off.
He took one last lingering look around the property, but she was nowhere to be seen. No flash of hair with magenta streaks or tasseled snow boots or sparkling blue-lagoon eyes.
He slowly backed out of the driveway. With his head turned to look behind him, he caught sight of a figure in the woods. Someone small, wearing a snowsuit, using snowshoes to wend their way through the woods. He couldn’t really get a good look, so he checked the rearview mirror, angling it to get a better view.
It was Gretel.
If he had to guess, this was her first time on snowshoes. She was exaggerating each step, making sure she didn’t catch the snowshoe on any stray brush. She wasn’t looking where she was going, at all. The contraptions on her feet drew all her attention.
The hood of her parka had blown back and her hair clung to her face. She must be sweating. Her vivid magenta streaks glinted in the dappled sun coming through the branches.
“Z!”
He snapped back to attention. Jesus, he’d nearly driven off the edge into the culvert. He’d completely forgotten that he was even driving.
He maneuvered the van back into the proper direction and continued reversing down the driveway.
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When they passed Gretel, she waved. He pretended that he’d just spotted her and waved back. Then he winced as she tripped on a spruce branch and tumbled into a snowbank.
As soon as they reached the road, Jason burst out laughing. “You like Gretel.”
“What?”
“You were watching her. I saw you. You nearly crashed into a tree. That’s how much you like her.”
“I didn’t nearly crash. And I like her okay.” He reached the road and made a sharp swerve to head for home.
“I’m going to tell Eli.”
“Tell what?”
“That you nearly crashed the van because you were looking at her like this.” Jason widened his eyes as big as they could get and stuck out his tongue like a panting dog.
“The hell you are.”
“Is there a rule against talking to Eli now?”
Of course there wasn’t. Try as he might, Zander couldn’t think of any of their rules that applied to this situation. “Insubordination and disrespecting your superior officer?”
“Nice try.”
“Tell you what. I’ll take care of dinner tonight. That’s on your chart. You can go ski.”
“Buying my silence?”
“Want it or not?”
“Yes,” Jason said quickly.
A moment later they pulled up outside their house. Jason was already halfway out the door when Zander remembered the letter from the Office of Children’s Services. Jason was old enough now for Zander to run stuff like this by him.
“Wait.”
His younger brother sat back down and closed the door, but kept hold of the handle. “What now?”
“I got a letter about another home visit from a new caseworker. They usually only do that if there’s a problem. Is there anything I should know about?”
Jason’s eyebrows drew together. Just recently his voice had changed and his face had grown more bony. He too had their mother’s hazel eyes and dark hair, just like Zander did.
Sometimes it hurt to see the resemblance.
“What do you mean?”
“Grades are good? No trips to the principal’s office I didn’t hear about?”
“No.”
“Arrests? Drugs? Alcohol?” Zander was mostly joking about that, but it was worth throwing out there.
“Yuck, no. Dude, I’d never make the ski team if I did that shit. Can I go now?”
“So there’s nothing?”
Something crossed Jason’s face—maybe guilt? “Why don’t you ask the caseworker why they’re coming?”
Okay, well, that was a good suggestion. But he didn’t want to look like he was scared of the caseworker.
Jason opened the door and made his escape, sending a swirl of cold air into the van.
Zander put the letter and the rest of the mail onto his box of groceries and hurried inside, Niko at his heels. Jason was already racing to his bedroom, stripping off his school clothes as he ran. Zander had gotten him a winter ski suit for Christmas. It was Jason’s favorite possession in the world, second only to his skis.
“Can I borrow your ski poles?” he asked as he came racing back out.
“Yup. No pole-vaulting with them, though.”
Jason came screeching to a halt. “How did you know?”
Zander burst out laughing. “Damn, I’m good, aren’t I?”
“Did someone tell you?”
“No one told me. I’m just that good. Remember that the next time you think of some dumbass stunt like that.”
Looking spooked, Jason loped out of the house. Zander chuckled to himself as he unpacked the box of groceries.
He’d broken two ski poles that same way when he was in high school. Why did kids always think they’d invented their stupid shit? Someone else had always done it first—and probably worse.
He stuck the letter from Children’s Services on the pile of “important things he needed to deal with and better not forget about.”
Before this new caseworker, Susan Baker, showed up, he had to find out what was going on. Because he knew his little brother well enough to know that he was hiding something.
Chapter Four
When Lloyd Morrison—mega-millionaire, father, and control freak—had cut Gretel off last fall, she’d panicked at first. She’d never had to completely rely on herself before, since she’d always had his credit cards as a safety net. She knew that he liked funding her life because that gave him a say in what she did. It worked out well for both of them.
But then two things had happened. One, he’d gotten mad at Bethany and wanted to punish her. Since Bethany didn’t need his money, he’d gone after Gretel. That wasn’t the real reason, though. Even Bethany didn’t know the real reason. Gretel had done something he considered unforgivable—she’d played Robin Hood with his money. She’d donated funds to a group fighting to protect a butterfly sanctuary from the Morrison Group. Yup, her own father’s investment firm was trying to develop that land, and she’d gone directly against him. To the tune of seventy-five thousand dollars.
Oops. Sorry not sorry.
“You can earn your own money and throw it away,” he’d raged. “Let your sister take you in. I’m done.”
She couldn’t really complain because she’d brought it on herself. But yeah, she’d panicked.
Her mother, Aimee, had begged her to consider one of the wealthy older men who filled her contacts. Why get a job when she could simply marry a rich man?
But Gretel kept refusing her suggestions. It was time to grow up and fend for herself.
She’d accepted the position with the Noonans and taken an extra job at the Wicked Brew Coffee Shop, which had recently been purchased by a Hawaiian guy named Danny D. He’d changed the name from the Dark Brew to the Wicked Brew to give it some edginess.
“I’m here!” she announced as she twirled through the door.
“You always say that as if you deserve a medal.” Danny D rolled his eyes as she waltzed toward the espresso counter.
The idea of showing up at the same time at the same place over and over again—that was new to her, she had to admit.
“Have you seen those roads? And have you seen my truck? It might honestly be faster to snowshoe into town.”
She took off her parka—the hot-pink fur one she’d found at the thrift shop—and hung it on the coatrack in the back. She found an apron and tied it around her waist. For today’s shift, she’d chosen a black lacy top layered over a form-fitting burgundy long-sleeve leotard. A striped spandex miniskirt over leggings and her zebra-print boots completed her outfit.
Joining Danny D behind the bar, she pulled herself an espresso shot. All the coffee she could drink—a reason to dress up—a chance to chat with the Lost Harborites—honestly, she loved this job.
“So you finally got out there with the snowshoes, huh?”
“Yup. And you know something? I am not a sporty person. I suck at skiing and tennis and swimming and jogging and skating and anything that has a ball—except for croquet, I’m pretty good at that—but I think I’ve found a sport I can get behind.”
“Basically walking?”
“In my case, there’s a lot of standing too. The occasional fall into the snow.” She grinned at him and blew on her espresso. “But I love it because you’re absolutely encased in fluff. Snowsuit, lots of fleecy gloves and so forth, fluffy snow. And it’s literally impossible to go fast so there’s no pressure. There’s a reason why there’s no Olympic event for snowshoeing. It would be like watching tortoises race.”
He shook his head with a laugh and untied his apron. He wore a Kingdom of Hawaii bandanna to keep his dark hair off his face. He claimed to be a descendant of King Kamehameha and from his imperial manner, Gretel didn’t doubt it. “You almost talked me into it.”
“Into what? Don’t let her talk you into anything, before you know it you’ll be hot air ballooning over the South Pacific or something.” Her sister Bethany strolled toward the bar, holding hands with her new sweetie, N
ate.
“Now that doesn’t sound so bad.” Danny D balled up his apron and headed for the back room. “Don’t burn the place down, Gretel. No freebies for anyone.”
Gretel mouthed “ignore him,” and poured mugs of coffee for Nate and Bethany. “Looks like we have cranberry muffins this morning, are you guys hungry?”
“No, we ate. Nate made pancakes.” The adoring glance that Bethany gave Nate was sweeter than the triple dose of simple syrup Gretel added to her coffee.
Nate smiled down at her, just as blissful as Bethany. On the surface, the two of them seemed very different—Nate was lighthearted and fun, whereas Bethany was a doctor and more serious and reliable. On the other hand, they’d both dedicated their lives to helping others, so they weren’t so different. And they’d fallen madly in love with each other after a few false starts. They were both wonderful people who deserved happiness. Gretel couldn’t wait for their wedding next summer.
An actual wedding between two people who intended to stay together for life? Imagine that. Having witnessed Lloyd and Aimee’s divorce, then two subsequent marriages apiece, honestly it was difficult.
“Do you both have the day off?” Gretel set to work preparing the behind-the-counter workspace the way she liked it.
“Yes, for once. Do you have any time off today? There’s a new movie at the theater.”
“I’m here until three, and then I need to drive Abby to a checkup.”
Bethany frowned as she tucked a long strand of blond hair behind her ear. “You’re working too much. I’m worried about you. When you’re not helping Abby, you’re working here, and you never have any free time. Why do you need this job, too? Isn’t one enough?”
“It’s fine. I’m making up for my lazy past when I didn’t work at all.” Gretel tossed back her espresso shot.
“You were not lazy. You were fun-loving,” Bethany said sternly. “Don’t you dare criticize my favorite person. Besides Nate, but he’s in a different category,” she added quickly.
Nate put a hand on his heart. “Ego check. Yup, still holding strong.”
“I was a party girl.” Gretel shrugged lightly. “No point in denying it, the evidence is all over social media. The internet is forever. Anyway, I like this job. I’m going to get a sound system in here and get some live music going. Danny has this dark moody vibe that he likes, but he couldn’t say no to some local talent.”
Wicked in Winter Page 3
