There's Something About Christmas (8 page)

“I’ll wait just to be sure,” Sophie insisted.

Emma didn’t want to hold up the other woman, but reluctantly agreed. She hurried over to the plane, seeking Oliver, disappointed not to find him immediately. She felt excited—no, elated—after the interview and wanted to talk about the experience. Share some of the wisdom she’d gained from Sophie and her friends.

In discussing the interview with Oliver, she might get a slant for her story. She had a thousand ideas and impressions chasing around in her head and needed to sort through them. It was important to her that she do Sophie and her friends justice.

“Oliver!” she called out. He might have curled up inside the hangar for a nap. “Oscar?”

No response.

Emma let Boots out of the restroom and bent down to feed her the can of cat food Sophie had given her. The dog would be too hungry to be finicky, Emma guessed, and she was right. Boots gobbled up the small can’s contents and looked for more.

Emma found her cell phone and walked outside to make sure she’d get a good connection. She waved at Sophie, then punched in the number for his cell. The phone rang three times before Oliver responded.

“Hamilton.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“You’re finished?”

“Where are you?” she repeated. She couldn’t place the background noise, which sounded like some sort of circus.

“The casino. It’s a couple of miles out of town.”

After the poker experience, she should’ve known he’d be gambling. “Will you be much longer?”

“I’m in, I’m in,” he shouted, obviously not to her. “Listen, I’m in the middle of a game and I can’t quit. Find a way out here, will you?”

“You want me to come to the
casino?
” She couldn’t believe the nerve of this man.

He didn’t answer and the line was disconnected. She called again, but this time there was no answer, even after a dozen rings. Like it or not—and she didn’t—Emma was going to the casino.

O
n the short drive to the casino, Emma brooded about the unreliability of Oliver Hamilton. She hoped Sophie didn’t notice how upset she was with her so-called pilot. In case he’d forgotten, she needed to get back to the newspaper office sometime before the end of the Christmas season.

“Colville’s a pleasant little town,” Sophie was telling her. “I wish you had more time to look around. There’s a lumber mill on the other side of town, which helps keep the local economy afloat.”

Emma smiled politely, finding it difficult to concentrate. Boots was curled up next to her feet and had gone to sleep. She still didn’t know what she was going to do with the stray. Maybe she could persuade Phoebe to take her until Emma moved into a new apartment that allowed pets.

When Sophie pulled up in front of the casino, Emma had to look twice. The place resembled nothing so much as an overgrown tavern. Other than a sign on the roadway, there wasn’t a single indication that this was a casino. Emma had expected flashing neon lights, a fancy restaurant offering steak and lobster dinners at cut-rate prices, uniformed valets. Instead, Sophie parked on a gravel lot.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Emma told the other woman as she climbed out of the vehicle. Boots hopped out with her as Emma reached for her purse and briefcase.

“It was lovely to meet you,” Sophie said, leaning across the front seat. “I hope you win today. I’ll be out here on Sunday after church—for bingo. I won eight hundred dollars a year ago.” She grinned. “Like I said, I’m just plain lucky.”

The door to the casino opened and out sauntered the largest lumberjack Emma had ever seen. Not that she’d seen many lumberjacks. This man had to be close to seven feet tall and wore a red plaid shirt, dirt-smudged jeans with suspenders and a red wool cap. She glanced around, just to make sure Babe, the blue ox, wasn’t following behind.

He took one look at Emma and pointed a beefy finger in her direction. “You. Be my woman.”

Emma gasped.

Shaking her head, Sophie got out of the driver’s seat. “Grizzly, you leave this young lady alone.”

Grizzly looked crestfallen and rubbed the side of his face. “I shaved before I came into town.”

“It takes more than a shave to attract a woman. Now apologize.”

Grizzly shuffled from one foot to the other. “I didn’t mean no offense.”

“None taken.” After a final wave for Sophie, Emma grabbed Boots and tucked the dog under her arm as she scurried into the casino. When she found Oliver, she intended to let him know
exactly
what she thought.

Oscar was patiently waiting for Oliver just inside the door. As soon as he saw Emma and Boots, he barked twice. This appeared to be the cue Oliver was waiting for, because he turned abruptly and faced the door.

He was at a table near the entrance playing some card game. Blackjack? It was hard to tell in the smoky haze.

The entire place was shrouded in cigarette smoke, and she gave an involuntary cough. Oscar sneezed, but she managed to jump back in time.

“Won’t be long,” Oliver called out. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“In here?” The smoke was likely to kill her first.

With a disgusted grimace, he left the table and walked toward her. “I’ll be ten minutes or so.”

At her horrified expression, he looked over his shoulder at the blackjack table. “You want something to eat?” he asked quickly.

“No, I want to go home. How are we supposed to get back to the airfield? And why did you make me come out here, anyway?”

He gazed at her a moment, pure innocence in his eyes. “Why, Ms. Collins, I thought you’d enjoy being introduced to another fascinating aspect of Washington state culture. Maybe you could write a travel piece. And like I said, you can get a meal here. Or try one of the slot machines. Don’t worry about getting back, either. A friend of a friend said he’d give us a ride to the airfield. You’ll like Grizzly. And don’t be put off by his name. He’s as gentle as a lamb.”

“Grizzly?”
That completely distracted her from the sarcastic remark she’d been about to make.

“Now, don’t judge a man by his name. He’s a sweetheart.”

“Big guy in a red plaid shirt?”

Oliver nodded. “You know him?”

“He just asked me to be his woman,” she said from between clenched teeth.

Oliver blinked. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

Emma’s eyes opened wide. “What is
that
supposed to mean?”

“He doesn’t come into town often. Don’t worry, you’re safe.”

If that was supposed to reassure her, it didn’t. From the sound of it, the big guy hardly ever saw a woman. And since she was going to be stuck in some vehicle with him, he might well think he’d hit the jackpot.

“I’m in the middle of a lucky streak.” For the first time Oliver seemed to notice that Boots was with her. “What do you intend to do with the dog?”

“I…I haven’t figured that out yet.”

Someone impatiently shouted Oliver’s name.

“Be right with you,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Can’t you entertain yourself for a few minutes?”

He spoke as if she were ten years old.

“Don’t be concerned about me,” she said. Next time she was going to insist on driving, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Hamilton, you in or not?”

“In,” he shouted back.

Emma watched him sprint over to the table. This was great; it was either breathe in smoke or risk facing Paul Bunyan in the parking lot. Emma decided her chances were better in the casino. But she didn’t like it there. Boots didn’t, either. The dog trembled in her arms, alarmed by all the lights and noise. Oscar, however, despite an occasional sneeze, relaxed in his corner by the door. He appeared to be an old hand at this, which no doubt he was.

After a few minutes, Emma couldn’t tolerate the smoke anymore. She needed fresh air. She stepped outside and wasn’t completely pleased when Oliver’s terrier followed her into the pale wintry sunlight. She didn’t like the way Oscar was eyeing Boots. Her hold on Boots tightened. No way was she letting Oscar have his way with this sweet dog.

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking,” she told the other dog, “forget it. Boots is off-limits. Understand?” Once she got home, there’d be a veterinary appointment for Boots—checkup, shots and spaying. She planned to be a responsible pet-owner, and that included thwarting Oscar’s evil-minded intentions.

It was cold outside, and her fashionable leather boots weren’t enough to keep her feet warm. Her toes lost feeling; reluctantly she retreated inside once again, determined to drag Oliver away from the gaming table if necessary.

Fortunately, he was finished with his game. Counting his money as he walked toward her, he looked up as if nothing were amiss and smiled. “I won three hundred dollars.”

She ignored that. “Can we leave for the airfield now?” she asked, keeping her voice as level and even as she could manage.

“Sure thing. And considering your worries about Grizzly, I got us another ride.”

“Good.”

“You don’t have any objection to riding in the back of a pickup, do you? It’s only a couple of miles.”

“What?”

“Just kidding.”

“Ha, ha.” She wasn’t amused.

“Come on, Emma, loosen up. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

She didn’t answer. The less said regarding her feelings about Christmas, the better. Instead she asked, “Three of us are supposed to cram into a truck cab?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I’ll find my own way back to the airfield.” Oliver was really starting to get on her nerves. “Why did you have me come out here, anyway?” she demanded. “Seriously. Don’t give me any nonsense about culture or travel, either.”

He sighed. “I was on a winning streak. I didn’t know how long it was going to last. But sending for you was the stupidest thing I could’ve done. The minute you showed up, I started losing.”

“You’re blaming
me?
” Emma had to get away from this Neanderthal. “Go ahead without me,” she told him. “I’ll phone for a taxi.”

Oliver nearly doubled over as he burst into laughter. “La-di-da. Her highness requires a private conveyance. Do you actually believe a town the size of Colville has a taxi service?”

“Oh.” Emma had assumed there was one.

“Don’t worry. I’m the forgiving sort. I’ll still let you ride with me and if you’re real nice I won’t make you sit in the back of the truck.”

By this time Emma was so angry with Oliver, she wanted to smack him upside the head. “Have you been drinking?” she snapped.

“Absolutely not.” His smile faded. “FAA regulations don’t permit it. I worked too hard for this license to mess it up over a beer.”

She had half a mind to lean over and smell his breath. She didn’t, for fear he’d try to kiss her again. And yet…the thought was strangely appealing.

She and Oliver clambered into a rickety old truck driven by a bearded taciturn man named Michael Michaels—known as Mike-Mike. He had remarkably little to say, which was fine with Emma. Preferable to Grizzly’s idea of conversation, anyway.

On the ride back to Colville Emma reminded herself that she wasn’t attracted to Oliver Hamilton. Still, if he wanted to kiss her—not now, of course, but later—she was afraid she might let him. Perhaps she was experiencing altitude sickness. There was definitely something in the air, but it wasn’t Christmas and it sure wasn’t love.

Emma sat between the two men with Boots, plus her purse and briefcase, on her lap and Oscar down by Oliver’s feet. When they arrived at the field, Emma climbed out of the truck once Oliver had leaped to the ground. She thanked Mike-Mike politely for the ride.

Oliver handed his new friend a few dollars. With the two dogs trotting behind them, Emma and Oliver headed toward the Cessna.

“How’d the interview go?” Oliver asked as they approached the plane.

The tension left her shoulders. “I think Sophie is one of the most interesting women I’ve ever met.”

“Really.” Oliver walked around the Cessna, giving it the usual inspection.

“She’s loved one man her entire life.”

He nodded, although she doubted he was listening.

“Harry died twenty years ago, and she’s loved him and only him all these years. I find that so romantic.”

“Romantic,” he repeated absently.

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

Oliver glanced back at her. “I heard you. So what’s the big deal? Men and women stay in love all the time.”

“They don’t,” Emma said. “Do you know what the divorce rate is in this country? One out of every two marriages fails. That’s a fifty-percent failure rate. Men and women
don’t
stay in love, and do you know why?”

He yawned.

“It’s because there aren’t any genuinely romantic men left in this world. Where’s Cary Grant when we need him? What about Humphrey Bogart? Rock Hudson? No, wait. Not him. Although he was very romantic in all those Doris Day movies.”

“Donald Duck. Daisy thought
he
was pretty romantic.”

This time she couldn’t resist and slapped his shoulder. “It’s all one big joke to you, isn’t it?” Without giving him a chance to respond, she said, “I’m serious.”

“There are romantic men in this world, Emma. Lots of them, and they don’t look anything like a bunch of old movie stars, either. Real romance isn’t about candlelit dinners or diamonds or champagne. As for couples staying in love, my parents have been married for thirty-six years.”

Suddenly Oliver Hamilton was the expert. “You know all about this subject, do you?” She let him hear the sarcasm in her voice.

“You’d probably consider my brother a romantic. At least he tried to be. Unfortunately, the whole thing backfired on him.”

Emma knew he wanted her to ask what happened and she refused to. She needn’t have worried because Oliver was intent on telling her, whether she wanted to be told or not.

“Jack took his girlfriend to a fancy restaurant in order to propose. He wanted to do it up big, you know. So he had the chef bake the engagement ring into a piece of chocolate cake.” He was smiling as he described the details of his brother’s attempt at romance. “The problem is that when Ginny ate the cake, she swallowed the diamond ring.” He slapped his knee now, overcome by mirth.

“Oh, let’s just get in the plane.”

But Oliver seemed determined to finish his story. “I told him he was lucky Ginny didn’t choke to death on that diamond. They’ve been married for six years now and have two little rug rats, both as cute as can be.”

Emma was about to comment when a white van drove into the airfield. Boots started barking frantically. Emma bent over and picked up the dog in order to calm her. She’d welcome the opportunity to clean her up. Maybe she could sneak her into the apartment and do that later today.

The van pulled up next to the plane. Emma read the lettering on the side of the vehicle and groaned. Animal Control.

“It’s the dogcatcher,” Oliver said out of the side of his mouth, in case she wasn’t smart enough to read it for herself.

“I can see that.”

“Afternoon, folks,” the tall thin man said as he climbed down from the van.

Boots growled and Oscar joined him in perfect harmony.

“Good afternoon, Officer Wilson,” Emma said formally, reading the nametag on his jacket.

“Do you know that dog?”

“Ah…we only just met.”

“Before you ask,” Oliver said, distracting Officer Wilson. “Oscar’s license is paid in full. He’s not a local but he’s legal.” He grinned, apparently at his own cleverness.

“I’m more concerned with the stray your lady friend’s holding.”

“I named her Boots.”

The dogcatcher nodded in a friendly fashion; he seemed to approve of her choice of names. “Do you plan to adopt Boots officially?”

“Ah…” Emma didn’t know how to respond. She needed time to work something out. If Mr. Scott discovered she had a dog, he’d evict her from the apartment so fast her head would spin. She’d probably end up living at the office.

“It seems she’s taken a liking to you.” His expression grew somber. “You know, for some reason she’s been hanging around the airfield lately. That’s dangerous, for her and for the pilots.”