Snowbound in Montana (6 page)

“No one told me I was expected to play hockey. I was just hoping I could skate without falling!” She laughed as she stepped tentatively on the ice. Her first few steps were wobbly.

“Let me help you.” He offered her his arm, and they made a slow circuit around the ice, while Kevin busily used a couple pieces of wood to construct a goalie’s net. Once that was in place, he began taking shots, and Marshall provided a little color commentary.

“Now, Kevin Ritchie’s got the puck, he’s working it past the blue line. No one’s open so Ritchie’s heading for the net…and wow! He shoots, he scores!”

Kevin whooped, took a jump in the air, then landed on his butt, laughing. “That was so much fun!”

They stayed out for almost an hour, he and Eliza taking turns in the net while the other acted as defense against Kevin’s offense. Finally, even Kevin admitted to being cold and they made their way back to the lodge, where Kevin’s parents were waiting for him.

“Young man, you need a shower before dinner.” Tina removed her son’s jacket, hats and mitts, while her husband took off the skates.

“But, Mom…”

“No arguing.” Tina took her son’s hand and led him out of the drying room. Alec hung back for minute to talk to Marshall and Eliza.

“Thanks so much for taking Kevin skating. He’s quite a handful, our son. Sometimes Tina and I wonder if we brought the wrong baby home from the hospital.”

Marshall was so taken aback by this, he didn’t know what to say. Kevin seemed like a pretty normal seven-year-old boy to him. “It was fun.”

“Right.” Alec laughed, as if to imply that there was no way this could be true. “Well, thanks again. We’ll see you at dinner.”

Marshall put away the skates he’d just removed from his feet. Sitting on the bench opposite him, Eliza was still shaking her head. “What is that man’s problem?”

“You see all kinds in this job,” Marshall replied.

“I guess so.”

She still hadn’t taken off any of her gear. She was probably exhausted.

“Want some help taking off those skates?”

She laughed. “That would be awesome. My fingers are so cold I still can’t feel them.”

“Rub them,” he suggested, as he dropped to his knees in front of her and started working on the laces. Meanwhile, she pulled off her toque, sending her blonde hair in disarray. He felt his breath catch.

“I can’t feel my toes, either.”

Once he had the skates off he gave each of her feet a brisk rub. “You need a hot bath.”

“That sounds so lovely. At least we’ve still got hot water. And power. When do you think this storm is going to finally end?”

He didn’t say anything at first. The hot water and power wouldn’t last much longer if the propane delivery didn’t come tomorrow. The truck had been scheduled for today, but that hadn’t happened. As for the weather… “According to the Satellite radio, we’re in a bit of a holding pattern. The blizzard’s probably going to hang around another day or so.”

“But—” She frowned. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

He nodded. They were in for a white Christmas all right. More white than any of them had counted on.

‡

F
or dinner that
evening they had baked salmon, rice and several different salads. Dessert was hot cherry cobbler, served with vanilla bean ice cream. Eliza couldn’t believe how much of the delicious food she was able to pack away. She’d had a very active day, though, so she supposed she needed the extra calories.

She was just finished her tea and was about to go help Betsy with the clean-up, when Buck’s wife, Bonnie, came to join her, bringing along her cup of steaming hot tea. Eliza could smell the peppermint from across the table.

Bonnie had a broad, round face, that didn’t seem to match her lean, tall body. Her smile was friendly as she leaned over the table and tapped Eliza’s mug of coffee. “You looked so familiar. And finally, at dinner tonight, it hit me. You were on the Jane and Ty Morning show, weren’t you?”

Eliza felt instantly uncomfortable. “Yes.” She tried to stand up, but Bonnie kept talking.

“I thought so! You wrote that blog that went viral. Decorating Bramble House for Christmas. Where did you get the idea to put a different themed tree in every room? I’d just love to see that. Do you ever open Bramble House up to visitors?”

“Only our bed and breakfast guests.”

“Well, you should think about serving tea, like a real restaurant. There are plenty of us in Marietta who would love a chance to get a good look at that house. I mean the history alone…”

“That is an idea,” Eliza murmured. She could just imagine the uproar from Aunt Mable if she dared mention the idea. Again, she made to leave the table, but Bonnie Brackett wasn’t finished. She continued talking as if they were old friends.

“And John Urban! That was a surprise. You must have been so thrilled when he called into the show. And then booked into your bed and breakfast for the holidays!”

If I was thrilled, do you think I’d be here, Eliza wanted to say. But she just nodded.

“Imagine a man like that wanting to come to Marietta, Montana for the holidays. I told my friend Nina there had to be more to the story. Like, maybe you’re old friends?” Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “Or maybe he’s an ex-boyfriend—you’re certainly pretty enough to catch the eye of a man like that.”

Of all the people to make a random guess—and be right. Eliza simply didn’t know what to say.

“Well,” Bonnie said, obviously not one to let a sleeping dog lie. “Which one is it? Old friend or ex-boyfriend?”

“I—” She spotted Marshall then. He’d been coming toward her, then had suddenly paused and turned around. How much had he heard?

*

Marshall felt a
little stunned. He knew he wasn’t the kind of guy Eliza Bramble would give a second look to. But the two of them had had moments. That talk about his accident and the way his family hadn’t been there for him. She’d looked so sympathetic, as if she knew what that had felt like for him. Then, skating with his arm around her waist. They’d seemed to move so well together, and he was just the right amount taller than her to make it all feel so natural. Then later, after he’d helped her out of her skates, when he’d been rubbing her incredibly narrow feet in his hands…he’d thought she’d given him a look.

But he must have imagined it. All of it. Because a woman who had dated someone like John Urban wasn’t just in another league. She was playing a totally different sport.

“Marshall!” Eliza had left the table and was walking toward him.

Too late he realized he was standing randomly in the middle of the dining hall, like a wild animal who’d been hit with a stun gun. “Um, yeah?”

“I was thinking of helping Betsy with the cleanup. Are you in?”

“Uh, sure, that’s a good idea.”

“That Bonnie is something else,” Eliza said quietly as they made their way past the tables to the arched opening that led to the kitchen. “She was grilling me like I was a suspect in a murder investigation or something.”

Slowly his wits were coming back to him. “Knock on wood. That’s all we need to make this trip complete. A mysterious death.”

She laughed. “Like one of those murder mystery dinners.”

It cheered him, hearing her laugh. He was pretty sure she liked him, at least. But then, he’d always been good in the role of ‘friend.’ “By the way—excellent idea to help Betsy. She must be exhausted by now.”

And she was. They found her sitting on a stool, her head resting on the butcher block counter normally reserved for food preparation. She looked stunned. Around her was the detritus of the evening meal. “I don’t know where to start,” she admitted. “I’ve never had to cook for so many guests without any of my hired girls to help.”

“You start by getting a good night’s rest,” Eliza said. “It’s still snowing out there, so tomorrow isn’t likely to be any easier.”

“Eliza’s right,” Marshall said. “We’ll take care of this. And in the morning you can keep things simple. Boiled eggs and toast will do just fine. People will understand.”

Betsy sniffed. “Boiled eggs and toast my eye. But—are you serious about the offer to clean up?”

“We insist.” Eliza was already scraping dishes to go into the dishwasher. But before she could load then, Marshall shook his head.

“We should do the washing up by hand,” he said. “We’ll use less hot water that way.”

“Oh.” She went still for a moment. “Is it as serious as that?”

“Better safe than sorry,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

They worked in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. “Is it true what Bonnie said? Did you really date John Urban?” It was probably gauche of him to ask. But he had to know.

She sighed. “It was before he was famous. We met in California. I was working for one of the wineries near Sonoma, and he came in for a tour. He had a gig at one of the restaurants in town, and that night I went to hear him. I thought he was…really talented.”

“By talented, I suppose you mean hot.” He passed her a large pot he’d just finished washing.

She took the pot, dried it, put it away. “Yes. That, too.”

“So,” he said, trying to sound casual, “How long did you guys date?”

“In California? Just a few weeks. And then he got the idea to go to Nashville and I, well, I quit my job and went with him.”

“Wow. Impulsive.”

“My family thought I was crazy. I got a lot of e-mails telling me I was making a big mistake.”

“But, you went.”

“Yes. And like my family warned me, it was a mistake. Not just big. Huge.”

He kept washing dishes, keeping his eyes on his task. “What happened?”

“At first he was sweet. We hung out together, and he wrote songs. Most of the ones from his first album he wrote when we were—” She hesitated. “—hanging out.”

By hanging out, he guessed she meant in bed. And the idea of that, well, it bothered him. It made him kind of want to punch the guy. And he suspected she hadn’t even got to the worst part yet.

“And then John got his record deal, and things started changing really fast. He kept telling me he loved me, but he was gone more and more of the time. I had a job at a restaurant, and at first he would always be there to walk me home after the late shift, but that stopped. He gave me excuses, and I believed him. And then a mutual friend—actually his bass player, so not my friend at all, more like John’s—took pity on me and told me John was sleeping with, like, a dozen different women. And I was the only one who hadn’t figured it out.”

Marshall swore.

“Exactly. I asked John why he hadn’t simply broken up with me rather than sneak around behind my back. He gave me some lame story about how I’d always be special, because I was the one he was with when he wrote all those songs. Blah, blah, blah.”

She was trying to make light of it, but Marshall could see tears gathering in her eyes. She paused, wiping them away with the back of one hand.

“What an asshole.”

“I know. I really do know that. But the crazy part is I can’t seem to get over him. I still cry when I hear him singing on the radio.”

“If that’s true, then why are you here? Why didn’t you stay in Marietta so you could see him again?”

She took a deep breath. “I left because I’m not strong enough to resist him. Whatever he wants from me, he’ll get.”

“You’d go back to him? Even after he cheated on you?”

“I’m afraid I would.”

“That’s real messed up, Eliza.”

“I know. But you asked why I’m here. And that’s the reason.”

‡