On Thin Ice (3 page)

Christopher turned to see Mabel Grace, Aspen Creek’s oldest prowling cougar. She winked at him and he gave her a smile and a nod. He turned his head back toward his mother and laughed. “Old news. Kissed her yesterday.”

“Smart ass.” She swatted him on the side of the head. “Are you going to eat or what?”

“Yeah, I’ll eat.”

“Good. Then you can go find Wil and apologize for being a horse’s ass,” she said, turning and walking back to the kitchen.

Harvey shook his head as he wadded his napkin and tossed it onto the empty plate. “She’s got your number.”

“Yeah, it’s a wonder I came back here.”

“Where else can you get food like this?” he said on a laugh as he stood and placed his hand on Christopher’s shoulder. “That part for the Zamboni got here late yesterday. I’ll head back and get it fixed. I’ve got scheduled ice time starting at two. Full ice practices at six and seven.”

“Tell you what. You get the figure skaters in and out, and I’ll see to the hockey practices and lock up.”

“It’s good to have you as a partner.”

“I hope you’ll always feel that way.”

“Can’t think of a reason not to.”

“What will you say when I tell you I’m going to make Wil talk to me and sooner or later I’m going to convince her to marry me?”

Harvey laughed a rolling deep laugh and slapped him on the back. “You know, I think you did get knocked on your head a few too many times. But I’d say if you survive it, you’ll have my blessing.”

He laid money down next to his plate and Christopher noted it was double what the bill would have been. He caught Maggie’s eye and blew her a kiss. He was sure he did it so no one else in the restaurant would see, but he noticed.

“See ya round, slick,” Harvey said, still laughing as he walked out of the restaurant.

“What got him laughing so hard?” Maggie asked as she set a plate of pancakes down in front of him.

“I told him I was going to marry Wil.”

His mother didn’t laugh. In fact, he thought she looked a bit concerned.

He looked her over. “You don’t like that idea?”

“I like it an awful lot, but I watched what was going on outside. I don’t think she’s too open to the topic.”

“Not yet. But she will be.”

“Hey.” She covered his hand as he tried to cut his first bite of pancake. “I don’t know all about why she’s back. Don’t you go breaking her heart and hurting her. You hear?” He nodded. “You already screwed up pretty big. You and your stupid ego.”

He was finding it hard to enjoy his favorite breakfast with his own mother calling him out. He didn’t think he was such a bad guy, but Wil thought so, and by the sounds of it so did his mother. He set his fork down on the plate.

Over the years, he’d moved a lot. He’d played in Minnesota, Calgary, New York, and Texas. He had at least three relationships in each of those places, not to mention the non-relationships. Then there was the one relationship he’d trashed. He shook his head in disgust when he realized it had been over his stupid ego, as his mother had put it.

He rested his elbows on the counter and buried his head in his hands. He could still see her. Wil, in her blue-green prom dress and her hair piled in curls atop her head.

Tatum Bradley was easy and that had been all it was. But it had cost him his very dearest friend that night when he drove away from the high school with Tatum sitting next to him in his truck.

His mouth had gone dry. It had been a lot of years since he’d felt the urge to cry, but he wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to break down sitting right there at the counter of his mother’s restaurant.

It was as vivid as the kiss he’d planted on her that morning, their last conversation the day before they both left for college. He’d found her at the ice arena and backed her into a corner. His six-foot-four had nothing on her five-foot-five frame. He could have pinned her down if he had to, but she didn’t run from him that day. She never looked at him either.

From his pocket, he pulled a necklace with a Saint Christopher medal on it and clasped it around her neck. She kept her eyes closed through the entire process.

“Saint Christopher is the patron saint of travelers. He’ll keep you safe when you go to California,” he told her, wishing she’d look at him. She didn’t. “It’s a play on words too,” he continued nervously. “You know, like I’m watching out for you.”

She turned her shoulder to him and faced the corner where she stood. He could see her shoulders shake and he knew he’d made her cry.

He struggled for words. “Bye, Wil.” Burning with shame, he turned and walked away.

But he turned one last time to watch her as he walked from the rink. She lifted the medal and looked at it. She ran her fingers over it. She was crying. They weren’t just soft tears that fell, her whole body shuddered, and she slid to the floor in that very corner and sobbed. She’d lifted her knees to her chest, and that was how he left her that day.

“You look lost in thought.” His mother returned to him, and her gaze drilled into him. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Hey, I gotta go help Harvey with that part.” He stood and reached across the counter to kiss his mother. “I’m locking up the arena tonight, so I’ll pass on dinner if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” He slid his arms through his coat and then looked up at his mother, who kept her eye on him. “Tell Wil I’m glad she’s home when she comes to see you.”

“I’ll let her know.”

As productive as she’d hoped for her day to be, it hadn’t been. Malory fell into the oversized chair in her bedroom and gave in to exhaustion. She’d been so steamed over Christopher kissing her that she’d only driven by the few rental places she’d found in the paper. Her mood had been so foul that she’d dared not make one phone call. News in the town spread quickly enough that if one property owner knew the crazy lady with the red Jeep was looking for a place to live, they’d call another and another. Soon she’d be blacklisted and never rent in that town again.

Obviously Christopher had done more than piss her off and make her mood unreliable. He’d made her crazy too. She shook her head.

She needed ice cream and wondered if her father had any in the freezer.

Standing with the freezer door open, she surveyed the contents and realized it was just another thing to add to her disappointing day. The only thing in the freezer was a Hungry Man dinner, toaster waffles, and a fish—she thought.

Malory closed the freezer and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from the junk drawer and began making a list of essentials to pick up at the store. Maybe her father could use a few home-cooked meals. Heaven knew what he’d been living on.

By the time she was done searching cupboards, the pantry, the refrigerator, and one more time through the freezer, she’d made her list. It was extensive and might have to be broken down into multiple trips. She continued to analyze it.

Breakfast didn’t seem to be too big a deal to her dad. He seemed happy, if not too cozy, having breakfast with Maggie.

She crossed off a few of the items she’d had in mind for breakfast.

He’d be at the arena for lunch, she supposed. There was a little kitchenette there, but nothing too big. Some deli meat to make sandwiches would be best.

She crossed of a few more things and added the deli meats.

After a few more minutes, her list had dwindled to a more manageable size. She looked at the Colorado Avalanche clock that hung on the wall and figured she’d just stop by the store after she met with Maggie.

Malory pulled her hair into a tail at the base of her neck and then tugged on the stocking cap, which she figured would get plenty of use this winter. She’d had some fun on her drive to Aspen Creek when she’d stopped in Grand Junction and done some shopping. She hadn’t realized just how long she’d lived in California until she’d hit that first shock of cold air somewhere in Utah. Grand Junction was always warmer than Aspen Creek, and she knew it would be her last chance to purchase something warm, and perhaps something that had a little style too.

Funds were okay for now, but that would change. She’d splurged on the coat, gloves, and a ridiculously expensive pair of UGG boots with tassels. She wasn’t even sure what use they’d be in the Rocky Mountain snow, but she deserved them, she told herself. But, because she was very practical too, she also purchased a good set of sturdy, waterproof boots.

She gave one last glance in the mirror and let out a snort. She looked out of place. The California sun had tanned her skin to a certain shade over the years, not so much that she looked like she’d spent all her time on the beach, but just enough to look different. In time she’d be pale like those who lived in Aspen Creek, Colorado, tucked neatly into the Rocky Mountains, yet only a mere two hours to Boulder or Denver.

Denver. She hadn’t been there since she’d returned, but a trip was certainly in store, she decided as she pushed her fingers into her gloves.

Maybe she’d see if Maggie would like to take a weekend and catch the ballet. Maybe they could even spend the night at the Brown Palace and have high tea. Had they hung the six-story chandelier in the atrium yet?

Her body warmed with the thoughts of everything they could do on their weekend in Denver, just her and Maggie.

She turned the key in the Jeep and the engine gave a weak protest and then started up. Yeah, eventually she’d have to admit she’d need a new truck. She’d had that red Jeep since high school and that had been forever ago. It was old then. But she loved it. It was always her piece of home, even when she wasn’t there.

There were only a few cars still in the parking lot when she pulled into Maggie’s. It was three o’clock and she watched as Maggie turned the sign to Closed. She waved and Malory waved back as she turned off the Jeep and stepped out. The air had grown even colder and the sun was already making its way toward the rim of the cloud-draped mountaintop. More snow was on the way.

Malory stomped the frozen snow from her boots as she entered the restaurant. There was a booth with four older men in it, arguing over a chess game two of them were playing. Each had a cup of coffee in front of him, and it looked like a ritual. Malory wondered when Maggie would kick them out. It didn’t look like they planned to leave anytime soon.

“Hey, Wil. Come sit.” She motioned to her to sit at the counter where all of the salt and pepper shakers sat lined up on trays. “Make yourself useful.”

Malory shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the high-backed stool, then she walked around the counter to the sink and washed her hands. How many times had she filled those shakers? This was where she’d had her heart-to-hearts, over salt and pepper.

She wiped off her hands and batted her eyes to keep the tears that stung from falling. Her journey home was becoming very sentimental.

She sat back on the stool and began opening each of the saltshakers and putting their lids into a pile. Then she took the canister of salt and began to top off each one.

“Hey, fellas, finish up your game,” Maggie said, and the men at the booth grumbled. Then she whispered to Malory, “They’ll be here till four.”

“Do they always stick around?”

“Yeah. But it’s good company.” She smiled. “So how is it being home?”

“Weird,” she said, still pouring salt into the containers as Maggie set down a tray of ketchup bottles and began to take off the lids. “I think I made the right decision though.”

“I’m sure your father is happy to hear that.”

“Well, we haven’t talked too much about that,” Malory admitted.

“I haven’t had the chance to say I’m sorry about your marriage.” Maggie laid her hand on Malory’s.

Malory swallowed back those tears that seemed to be intent on winning their battle to fall. Her failed marriage wasn’t what she wanted to talk about.

Maggie pulled back her hand. “Did you find a place to stay yet?”

“No.” She was happy to have a shift in the conversation. “I drove around today, but my mind wasn’t into it. I was a little distracted.”

Maggie nodded without a word.

“Why does he do that to me?” She overfilled the shaker and the salt hit the tray. She cursed. “Why does he think he can just be my friend after all these years?”

“This is where you were friends before. Is it so hard to be friends again?”

Malory looked up and saw Maggie’s soft eyes. Sometimes it was hard to remember that she was his mother and not hers.

“I guess I could give it a try. My anger toward men isn’t all his fault. But he hurt me, and I don’t want to be hurt like that again.”

“It was fifteen years ago. And you’re right, he is stubborn and stupid sometimes, but his heart is good.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, and didn’t that make it worse? She knew Christopher was a decent man. He’d been a good teenager too, just momentarily stupid. But that alone had ruined years of dreams for her and made her trust in him plummet. And as she let go of one failed relationship, she hadn’t planned on having to face an old one. She had hoped to dissolve into the mundane routine of small-town life. Though she sat at Maggie’s filling shakers, the feelings that stirred in her certainly were not mundane.

She continued with her job as she heard the men behind her gather their game and coats. They said their good-byes to Maggie, who walked them out the door and locked it behind them, then returned with their four used coffee mugs. She set them in the sink and went back to marrying the tops of the ketchup bottles so that one would drain into the other.

They worked quietly as they had years ago. Malory wiped down the tops of the saltshakers, dried them, and screwed them back on. Then she started the same procedure with the pepper shakers.

She was aware of Maggie’s eyes on her. It was a process, she knew. Maggie would wait her out, and when she was ready to talk, she’d listen. Perhaps it was why she’d never mourned her mother too much. She’d always had Maggie Douglas.

“Did Dad tell you I sold my bakery a few months back? Made some decent money too.” It caught in her chest and she wondered if Maggie saw her lie surface on her face.

“That’s pretty lucky, if you ask me. Things don’t move too well in this economy.”