Snowbound in Montana (2 page)

“How many in your party?”

It took her a second to understand what he was asking. “Oh. Just me.”

Marshall took a moment to mull that over. “Maybe you’d consider our New Year’s Eve Backcountry Adventure? We have mostly singles signed up for that one, and still have space for a few more.”

“It has to be Christmas,” she insisted.

“Well, I might be able to squeeze another room out of Griff. He and his wife Betsy own the Baker Creek Lodge where we’ll be staying. But I’m afraid it wouldn’t have a fireplace like the others. Also, I think it’s too late to include any of your gifts on the Santa sleigh.”

She’d read about that. Guests could arrange to have their Christmas gifts delivered to the lodge by Santa driving a horse drawn sleigh. “I don’t mind either of those things.”

“Yes, well the Santa thing is more popular with our families who have children. We have two of them in this group, as well as two couples without children. One set is in their fifties, the other in their thirties. It probably won’t be the most exciting group for you.”

“I won’t mind,” she insisted.

“The agenda is pretty simple. Breakfast will be provided, along with bagged lunches. We ski all day, then break for afternoon tea in the lodge. After dinner, people sometimes play board games by the fire, or just sit and read. We’ll have a fondue and steak dinner Christmas Eve, brunch on Christmas morning and a roast turkey with all the trimmings that evening. But other than that, it’ll be pretty low key.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“You sure?”

She could see the questions in his eyes. Why didn’t she want to spend the holidays with her family? Was there some sort of problem? Possibly with her?

“I am sure. I brought cash,” she added, pulling out her wallet.

Marshall laughed. “Ryan loves cash. I think we’ve got a deal.”

She started toward the line-up at the front but Marshall stopped her. “I can take care of this for you.” He led her toward the back counter where there was a second register, as well as the binder he’d been writing in earlier.

As he rang up her receipt, she noticed a display of toques. A gray one with a red snowflake design on the front caught her eye. “Would you add this, please?”

“Sure thing.” He finished the transaction, made a note in the binder, then passed her a receipt. “You’re set now. You’ll love the network of trails in the Deerlodge National Forest. Something for everyone. You’ve been skiing about two years now, right?”

Yes. She’d taken up the sport her first winter in Marietta and had been thrilled by how quickly she’d caught on. “How did you know?”

“I sold you your skis. You told me you’d never tried Nordic skiing before and I promised you’d love it.”

A vague memory surfaced. A confusing array of skis, boots and poles, and then one polite man helping her choose exactly the right things. “I
do
remember.” She hesitated, feeling a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

“Oh, no worries. It was two years ago.” He handed her receipt and smiled again. “You changed your hair color.”

“Yes. This is my natural color. The other was just…an experiment.” She’d dyed her hair brown when she’d left Nashville for Marietta, so broken hearted she’d wanted to be a different person. Only recently had she decided to go back to her original color. If she’d known what was about to happen with her blog, she would have remained a brunette.

“See you tomorrow. We catch the bus here, at eight in the morning.”

She left the shop, still feeling badly. Yes, it had been two years ago. But he’d managed to remember
her.
Even with her new hair color.

*

Marshall put away
the trip binder, trying to decide if it would be better to notify Griff and Betsy about the extra booking by phone or email. Since they couldn’t yell at him by email, he decided on the latter. As he typed out the message on the store computer, he found himself humming along to the carol playing over the sound system.

He didn’t know why he was suddenly in such a good mood. Or why he was going out of his way to make room for Eliza Bramble on this trip. Sure, she was pretty. He’d thought so the first time he’d seen her. But with her blonde hair—which suited her fair skin and glowing caramel eyes better than the brown had—she was now even lovelier. Not that it mattered. A gorgeous woman like that was definitely out of his league.

Marshall didn’t have much luck with the fairer sex, despite meeting a lot of them in his line of work. Most trips he’d end up with at least one of the female guests giving him her number. But it never worked out. Attempts at dating were awkward. They never seemed to click.

It bothered him sometimes, his bad luck with women. But he wasn’t lonely, or unhappy. He had a job he loved and lots of friends, both male and female.

“You’re too nice, Marshall. Women like a bad boy.”

He got that line a lot. Which mystified him to no end. Did women really like bad boys? His inability to understand why, was, he suspected, the key to his lack of success in the romance department.

When he was finished with the final preparations for tomorrow’s trip, he checked in with Ryan. “I’m heading off now. I’ll be back to work on the twenty-seventh.”

“Have a good trip. The blonde going with you?”

Marshall nodded.

“I figured you’d find a way to squeeze her in.” Ryan winked. “In your shoes, I would have, too. Before you go, check my desk in the back. There’s an envelope with your name—that’s your Christmas bonus. And a package, too. UPS delivered it while you were on your lunch break. Forgot to mention it sooner.”

Marshall thanked him for the bonus, wished him a Merry Christmas, then went to the back where he peeked at the size of the check before sliding it into his back pocket. The package turned out to be what he’d expected. About the size of shoe box, with a return address from Albany, New York.

He exited out the back way, stopping at the bank to deposit his bonus, before continuing to the little clapboard he rented, just a few blocks off Main Street.

Once inside, he ripped open the box, read the Christmas card from his mother, step-father and two half-sisters, then took a bite of one of the chocolate chip cookies.

He didn’t know why his mother continued to send him two dozen home-made cookies every Christmas. The cost of the postage was probably double the value of the cookies themselves. Was it to remind him that he had a family and that he was loved? Or was it a salve to her guilt, to the way she’d gone on to build a new family after their old one imploded?

Marshall honestly didn’t know the answer. He only wished she’d stop sending the cookies. They’d been his brother Dean’s favorites and they always made him feel a little sad.

*

After successfully booking
her ski trip, Eliza stopped at Copper Mountain Chocolates. She’d already finished her Christmas shopping—gift cards for Jo and Ella, who did the cleaning and laundry at Bramble House, and a beautiful wool shawl for her Aunt Mable. But she needed to pick up something for her sister and brother-in-law. Her family didn’t usually do gifts, but given the favor Caro and Frank were doing for her this year, Eliza felt she had to buy them something.

Gourmet chocolates seemed like a safe choice. Still, Eliza hesitated a moment before pushing open the door.

The shop owner, Sage Carrigan, was Eliza’s cousin. Sage had three sisters, another of whom, Callan, lived in the Marietta area. Eliza wanted to be close with these girls, who were all around her age, but she’d started on the wrong foot when she’d first moved to town. She’d been so miserable when she’d first arrived in town that she’d spurned both Sage, and her younger sister Callan’s, friendly overtures, going so far as to make up a story about a bereavement.

When she’d opened up Bramble House as a bed and breakfast, she knew there were suspicions that she was somehow taking advantage of Aunt Mable. Which was a laugh. If there’d ever been a great Bramble fortune, it was long gone now. She’d seen her aunt’s bank accounts. The poor woman was barely scraping by—something Eliza hoped to remedy once Bramble House was operating to its potential.

Then, this summer when she’d asked for assess to their late mother’s diaries for the family history she was working on, the Carrigans had refused her access.

Eliza knew it wasn’t fair to blame her cousins—Sage, Callan or the other sisters, Dani and Mattie. She was pretty sure it was the father, Hawksley Carrigan, who was being so stubborn. Still, the refusal had hurt.

But lately Sage had made a few encouraging overtures, including inviting Eliza to her wedding this past October. So—she should stop being silly and go inside and buy those gifts she needed.

The chocolate shop was bustling, so packed with customers Eliza could hardly move. And no wonder—Sage was handing out small samples of her molten hot cocoa. Even with her red hair pulled back into a long braid, and wearing a simple apron with the store logo on the front, Sage looked beautiful.

She smiled at Eliza, as she handed her a paper cup of cocoa. “So nice to see you, Eliza. How is Aunt Mable?”

Earlier in the year Mable had been taken to emergency after a fall. “She’s well, thankfully.”

“Glad to hear it. Sounds like you’re going to have a full house for Christmas. I can’t believe your blog, Eliza! It’s wonderful! Dawson and I saw you on TV, too. Can you believe how much press you’re getting?”

“It’s more than I counted on,” Eliza admitted. “It’s been overwhelming. The website actually crashed at one point, we had so many hits.”

“The themed Christmas trees are brilliant. I love that you made each one reflect a different aspect of the Bramble family.”

Eliza had indulged her inner child with not just the mining-themed tree in the breakfast room, but also a literary-themed tree in the library, a Bramble tree in the sitting room, a baking tree in the kitchen and a huge thirteen foot Montana-themed tree in the foyer.

“The recipes are popular, too.” Eliza had gone through all the old cookbooks in the Bramble House kitchen. It seemed nothing had ever been thrown away. Some of the recipes dated back to the eighteen hundreds, when the Brambles first settled in Marietta. She’d selected recipes to suit a Christmas menu, tested them, then posted them on the Bramble House Blog, along with her decorating tips.

“I bet they are. Lots of them were favorites of my mother’s.” Sage’s expression grew wistful, even though it had been almost two decades since she and her sisters had lost their mother in a ranching accident.

Eliza struggled to find the right thing to say—something tactful that didn’t involve the diaries—but before she had a chance, the woman in line behind her, said politely, “Excuse me, but we’ve been waiting a long time back here for a sample of that cocoa.”

“Of course.” Sage gave Eliza an apologetic smile, then continued handing samples to her other customers.

Eliza moved on, picking out an attractive box of assorted chocolates for her sister, then waiting patiently in line to pay for her purchase. She was ready to leave, when Sage once more called out her name.

“Eliza! You can’t leave without confirming the story. Is John Urban really coming to Marietta for the Christmas holidays?”

Eliza froze.

“I mean, he’s just so
hot.
And that voice! This town will go crazy if he actually shows up. But he’s such a big country music star. It was just a publicity stunt, right?”

Eliza wished some more customers would show up, demanding samples of rich cocoa. But several groups had just left the store, and at that moment, there was only Sage and her two employees, all of whom were staring at her.

“H-he is booked in,” Eliza confirmed.

“Wow,” said the young woman at the cash register. “I wish he’d give us a concert. Wouldn’t it be neat if he teamed up with Landry Bell?”

“Oh, yes,” said the other employee, a very thin woman who was restocking one of the displays. “And Rayanne Grey could open for them.” To Eliza, she explained, “Rayanne is a local girl, still looking for her big break. Landry bought one of her songs a while ago.”

“That does sound like a dream concert,” Eliza agreed. “But I wouldn’t count on it ever happening.”