What if Drew decided he wanted to live with his dad during the school year, instead? What if she ended up being the parent who got him on holidays and some weekends? That thought was enough to make her heart stop. She glanced over at Drew. He looked tired, and deeply sad. She’d been hoping he’d be as happy to see her as she was to see him, but being a mom and being a growing boy were two very different experiences. She was forced to wonder, was moving back to Mountain Springs a mistake?
Jen pulled into the drive and up to the main doors, shooting Drew a smile as he leaned forward to get a better view of the mansion.
“Keep in mind that we’ll have to get the brick pressure-washed this spring, and we can have this drive repaved. It’s pretty cracked right now. And we’re going to renovate the inside completely—I have a man who’s working on the kitchen right now. I’d actually kind of hoped to have it spruced up a little more before you saw it—”
“This is a dump,” Drew said softly. There was no more attitude in his tone now, just quiet honesty that stung.
“What?” she said. “No, Drew. This is a historic site! This mansion has been here for...” The words faded on her tongue...for almost a hundred years.
Drew didn’t seem to care about the history. He wasn’t seeing what she used to see as a little girl who grew up in a row house and saw this old house as the epitome of grandeur. He’d grown up within walking distance of the University of Denver in a beautiful new house with a three-car garage. When he saw this old mansion, he wasn’t thinking the same things.
“Come inside and have a look around,” she said. “Come on. You’ll see. This is going to be amazing.”
But she didn’t feel quite so confident anymore. She’d been counting on his first impression being one of amazement that this was going to be his new life. And if he couldn’t see the beauty on the outside of this mansion, she wasn’t so sure he’d see it on the inside, either.
Jen sighed, then pushed open her door and hopped out.
“Grab your suitcase,” she added.
Because maybe she’d babied Drew just a little too much, and there was no way she was going to carry Drew’s bag while listening to him insult the home she’d bought for them. It was one or the other. Not both.
Great. And she’d been so hoping that he’d love it, too.
* * *
NICK HANDED HIS daughter a piece of sandpaper. She sat at the brand-new counter, perched on a stepladder and with a cupboard door in front of her. Winter sunlight dappled the snowy yard outside the kitchen windows, and cold seeped in from the same place. These windows were at least thirty years old, and the amount of heat that would escape through them was astronomical. He made a mental note to mention it to Jen.
“And just smooth over the edges,” he said. “Gently. You don’t want to take off more than just the last of the paint or you’ll dull the detail in the carving beneath and there’s no getting it back.”
“Dad, maybe you should do this,” she said.
“Why?” he asked. “You’re doing fine.”
“Right.” She cast him a pained look. “I’m not really a...construction kind of woman, Dad.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Come on. This is good for you.”
“How, exactly, is this good for me?” she muttered, applying the sandpaper as he’d shown her.
“It’s good to know how to use a few tools, Amelia,” he replied. “How do you expect to get things done around your own home if you don’t know the basics?”
“I don’t think refinishing antique cupboards is actually considered a basic,” she replied.
“But using sandpaper is,” he said and chuckled. “Besides, you’ll probably be renting your own place soon enough, won’t you?”
“Chris thinks I should buy,” she said. “And he’ll give me a pretty hefty down payment to get me started.”
Of course Chris would. Chris handed her money, but Nick was trying to give his daughter something different—an ability to do a few things herself. Money came and went, and it could be used up faster than Amelia probably appreciated. She was allowed to be good at more than one thing—academics were great, but there was more than book work out in the world.
“Are you waiting to buy until you’re working as a lawyer, then?” Nick asked.
“That’s the plan,” she replied, leaning over the cupboard door and following Nick’s instructions. “Until I’m done school, I’ll be living on campus anyway. And if things get more serious with Ben...”
“Just for simplicity, let’s leave Ben out of it,” Nick said. “When you buy a place that’s yours, you’re going to need to know how to do some of this stuff.”
“I’ll hire someone,” she replied.
“And how will you know if they’re messing it up or not?” he asked.
Amelia looked up at him. “I’ll get you to come take a look?”
Nick grinned in spite of himself.
“I’ll be happy to,” he said. Happier than she probably realized.
He heard the front door open and shut. There was the sound of muted voices and Nick glanced over at his daughter.
“That would be Jen,” he said. “Keep on that. I’ll be back.”
He ignored the exasperated look his daughter cast in his direction and headed out through the dining room. Jen was just hanging her coat up, and he saw a tall, blond-headed boy standing next to her. He was only a couple of inches shorter than Jen, and his expression was unimpressed.
“Hi,” Nick said.
“Hi, Nick,” Jen said with a tired smile. “Drew, meet Nick Bryant. He’s the contractor working on the kitchen right now.”
“Hello,” Drew said sullenly. “So where’s my room?”
Nick saw a flash of irritation in Jen’s gaze, and then she shrugged. “Up those stairs, and then up another flight. Third floor. You’ll find it, I’m sure.”
“You aren’t going to show me?” Drew asked.
“I’m confident in your ability to climb stairs,” she said dryly. “Your stuff is in there, so you’ll know which one is yours. And come back down once you’ve found it. I want to show you some things down here first.”
“Fine,” he muttered.
“Don’t forget your suitcase.” She pushed the suitcase toward him.
Drew picked up the suitcase and headed on up, Jen watching him go with a grim expression on her face.
“I take it he’s upset about his dad,” Nick said.
“That’s an understatement.” She sighed, then stepped up to the staircase and raised her voice. “You can use the bathroom on the third floor, Drew! Don’t use any bathrooms on the second floor!”
“I wasn’t going to!” Drew’s voice filtered back down.
Jen rolled her eyes and came back to where Nick was standing. “He’s taking it out on me.”
“What’s he upset about?” he asked.
“His father booting him out days before Christmas,” she replied. “And he’s determined to hate it here.”
“Give him time.”
“It’s all I can do, I guess.” Jen cast him a tired look, and he had the urge to put an arm around her. Instead, he leaned over and nudged her with the side of his arm.
“It’ll be fine,” he said.
She didn’t answer, but she also didn’t look so sure. Instead, she leaned toward him, too, resting against him. He eased his arm around her shoulders and for a moment they stood there like that, Jen at his side, and his hand holding her solidly against him. He wanted to help, if he could, but he knew that figuring out her son was her job. Still, if he could help her feel a little stronger in the process, he’d feel like he’d done well.
“Parenting is hard,” she said after a moment.
“Yep,” he agreed. “Really hard.”
Jen looked up at him, her sandy-blond curls falling around her face, and
those brown eyes meeting his, and for just a second, he had an image of what it would be like to face all of this stuff together, just like this. With an arm around her and the certainty that it would be easier with a partner in it.
Drew’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Nick pressed a quiet kiss on the top of her head, then dropped his hand. He wasn’t sure why he’d kissed her again. It had just felt natural between them, and he’d wanted to show her that he cared. Jen took a step to the side, but he noticed that her cheeks had pinked.
“I’ll let you show him around,” Nick said, and he gave Jen a smile. “Don’t let a kid question your good taste.”
“That’s probably sound advice,” she said, then Drew appeared on the stairs.
“Come on, son,” Jen said. “Let me show you the main floor.”
Nick headed back to the kitchen. Jen would sort things out with her son. He remembered being about the same age, and he’d been a pain in the butt, too. It was perfectly natural. Still, he glanced once over his shoulder to see Jen by the Christmas tree, her hands on her hips and a smile on her face.
As Nick went back in the kitchen, he saw his daughter sitting where he’d left her, but the sandpaper was on the counter, and she was on her phone texting.
“It that Ben?” he asked.
“Yep,” she said absently, the soft click as she typed not slowing down.
“Right...” He sighed. “Look, Amelia, if you were working a job, would you stop to text?”
“I’m not working a job,” she said, looking up. “I’m visiting my father. And if I wanted to send someone a quick a message, yeah, I would stop and do that. My employer doesn’t own every second of my time. I’m a human being with relationships that exist outside of work.”
What was he going to do, make up for the past ten years with one day of proper work?
“Gotcha,” he said. There was no point in arguing with her.
“There are new ideas about management these days. If employees are treated with respect, they work harder and produce at a higher level.” Her tone was a little too patronizing for his liking, and Nick shot his daughter an annoyed look.
“Now you think I don’t respect my employees?” he said. “Have you managed a team before? Have you had the outcome of a project be entirely your responsibility?”
She caught the sarcasm in his tone. “So that’s why I’m here—the job? Really?”
“My point is that the real world is a whole lot different than you think right now. There’s theory, and then there’s application,” he said.
She looked back down at her phone again. This was always how it had been—Shari and Amelia treating him like he was a rung lower than they were. She finished typing and dropped her phone back in her pocket.
“It’s been nice to see you in action and everything, but I think I’ll go, Dad.”
Nick met his daughter’s drilling gaze. For just a second, meeting his daughter’s ire-filled stare, it wasn’t her mother he saw in her stubborn stance. Sure, she looked like her mother, but the set of her jaw, the tilt of her head—it was like looking in a mirror. Was the battle against his own DNA?
Nick watched as Amelia headed out of the kitchen just as Jen and Drew were coming in.
“I’m heading out,” Amelia said with forced cheerfulness. “Nice to see you, Jen.”
“Oh, you, too!” Jen called after her. “See you!”
Drew ambled into the kitchen, looking around.
“This would have been where the servants cooked for the family,” Jen said. “If you see that staircase over there, that leads up to the second floor. It’s a servants’ staircase, so they could move around the house without bothering the family.”
“Do we get servants?” Drew asked dully.
“Nope,” Jen said. “Anyway, take a look at what Nick has been doing. He’s been fixing up the sink and counters. He’s also redoing the cupboards to look more the way they did originally.”
“Huh,” Drew said.
“And when I turn the bottom floor into an art gallery, I’ll close off the kitchen so that the only access is by this back staircase, which will lead up to our living area,” Jen went on.
“More paintings and stuff,” Drew said.
“Yeah...” Jen’s enthusiasm seemed to wane a little. “Paintings and stuff.”
“Did you want to help me out with some of this?” Nick asked. “I can show you how to use a power sander so you can work on your own house. It’s a matter of pride.”
Drew’s eyes lit up momentarily, then he seemed to change his mind.
“No, thanks. I don’t think I’ll be here too long,” Drew said.
Nick saw Jen’s eyes widen as the barb hit home. Drew was trying to hurt her, and he’d finally succeeded. He had the urge to bark at the kid, tell him to apologize—but he wasn’t part of this.
“Upstairs,” Jen said, her voice low and trembling. “Now.”
Drew seemed to hear the threat in her tone, because in a split second he went from attitude-plus to looking a little scared.
“Sorry, Mom,” he muttered.
“I said now,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Drew turned toward the staircase, and Jen followed him, their footsteps thudding through the walls until they faded away. Nick stood there, feeling hollowed out. Nick and Jen were both meeting their matches today in their own children. Amelia was ditching him for Ben’s family, just like Sam was doing to Drew. But Drew was just a kid...
Nick was tired, sad, but not quite ready to give up. When he finished work today, he was going to have a word with his daughter, and this time she was going to hear him out.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JEN MARCHED DREW up to the second floor and down the hall, past the multiple bedrooms and toward the far end. Drew looked into the rooms as he passed.
“This isn’t a tour,” Jen said. “We’re going to talk. Keep walking.”
They arrived at an old library at the far end of the second floor—a few books had been left behind, and the built-in wooden shelves were covered in dust. A few boxes of her own books sat piled next to the corner windows, the cardboard boxes bathed in watery winter sunlight. A cold fireplace loomed on one end of the room, the flue shut, but a finger of cold air still managed to make it through.
Drew looked around himself for a moment, then cast her an annoyed scowl.
“Now.” Jen crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve had just about enough of this. I know you’re upset. I know this divorce was terrible for you—it was terrible for all of us! And I’m not bouncing back as fast as your father did, either. But when you say things just to hurt me—”
“I’m not,” Drew cut in. “I’m not saying stuff to hurt your feelings. I’m saying what I mean.”
Her heart fluttered at that. “You said you didn’t intend to stay here very long,” Jen said. “What did you mean by that?”
Drew looked away, his expression stony, and Jen rubbed her hands over her face.
“Drew...” Jen softened her voice. “You really don’t want to live with me? You want to live with your dad during the school year?”
The very thought made her heart squeeze in her chest, and she longed to just order him to behave himself. But this went deeper. He was old enough to choose where he wanted to live now, and she’d assumed that because she’d been the one to do most of his raising, that he’d prefer her for the school year. Maybe Sam assumed it, too.
“I don’t want to leave you,” Drew said, tears welling in his eyes. “But I was supposed to see Dad this Christmas, and now I can’t!”
“I didn’t cancel that on you,” Jen said. “You know that!”
“I know, but I still can’t see him, or my friends from school. And if we live here, then I can’t see my cousins, either. Or my aunts and uncles.”
“You’ve got an aunt and a
cousin here, too,” Jen said. “And you’ve got your great-aunt Gayle and her new husband, and Uncle Stu... Besides, Denver isn’t that far away. We’ll work this out. You’ll see your dad a lot, I promise. I’ll make sure of it.”
“How come you couldn’t just stay married?” Drew asked miserably.
“Because—” She sighed. “Drew, sometimes there are problems that are bigger than all of us. Your dad and I...we both changed, I guess. Or I did. Your father wanted me to keep being the person I was when we first got married, but I couldn’t do that. I do wish it could have been different, son. I didn’t want this to be how it turned out, either.”
“So if you can’t stay married, how come you can’t at least live in the same city?” he countered. “I’ve got friends whose parents got divorced, and they live like three blocks apart, and the kids can see both their parents all the time. You could do that.”
Yes, she could have stayed in Denver. She could have kept doing what she’d been doing the past fourteen years, and she could have watched Sam move on with a woman less than half his age and been the bitter ex-wife with a ringside seat.
“This was a chance for us to get to know my side of the family better, too,” Jen said. “We should have done that earlier, but it’s better a bit late than never. And this old mansion, it’s a chance to start something really special. This art gallery is a dream come true, son.”
“Yeah, for you,” he said. “Not me.”
Jen met her son’s anguished gaze. He’d lost so much in their divorce, and she couldn’t fix it for him. Add on to that a father who prioritized his girlfriend over him, and Drew was really struggling. Her heart ached for him, but she couldn’t change any of it. All she could offer was this second chance at a meaningful life, and promise that she’d help him to see his dad as often as possible.
“Can’t you give Mountain Springs a chance?” Jen pleaded.
Mountain Mistletoe Christmas Page 17
