Lakeshore Chronicles [10] Candlelight Christmas (17 page)

Chapter Fourteen

L
ogan had a crush on Darcy. He admitted to himself that it felt good. It was a big crush, maybe the biggest he’d ever felt, one that bounced around inside him as he went through his day. One that made him keep glancing at the clock and wondering what she was doing and wishing he was doing it with her.

Was she snowboarding on the fresh powder that had fallen last night? Having lunch with his sisters at the Powder Room? Sitting in front of her laptop, telecommuting to her job?

At his office in town, he had a meeting with Mason Bellamy, Adam’s brother and the finance guy who had organized the investor group for the resort. Logan was supposed to be going over business matters with him, but he had trouble concentrating.

“It’s that girl,” said Mason, nudging him after about the third time he drifted off, staring out the window at the snowy afternoon. “The one you were telling me about.”

He nodded, reluctantly pulling his attention back to the spreadsheets on the desk in front of him. “I’m having a hard time thinking about anything else.”

“Girls will do that to you.”

“You know what’s weird is that my family likes her.”

“How is that weird?”

“All my exes were girls my family disapproved of.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re exes.”

“I don’t want my family’s opinion to matter that much.”

“Hey, it does. Get used to it.” Mason loosened his shirt collar and spread his arms with a laugh. “I’m a Bellamy. I’m used to family matters.” He was only visiting Avalon, having come to town to help his ailing mother. So far, he was not adjusting well to small-town life. But his mother’s affairs needed sorting, and Mason, the moneyman, was the one to do it. “So,” he said, “you’re interested in a girl they all like. What’s the problem?”

“I keep thinking there’s something wrong with this picture. When I was a kid, I used to actively seek out the wrong kind of girl, just as a kind of f-you to my parents.” Logan drummed a pencil on the surface of the desk.

“Yeah, we all did that.”

“And then I pulled the ultimate f-you and knocked some girl up.”

“And let me guess. They got over it and ended up being awesome grandparents to your boy Charlie.”

Logan nodded. “Okay, yeah. They drive me nuts. They always have. But they’re the only folks I’ve got.” He settled back and opened a new window on his laptop. “So we’ve got the year-end board meeting coming up for Saddle Mountain. Tell me something good.”

Mason shifted in his chair. Cleared his throat. “The resorts and recreation business is tricky.”

“In other words,” said Logan, “the finances are in the shitter.”

“It’s more nuanced than that. There are variables to weigh....” Mason sighed. “Okay. In the shitter, yeah. That about sums it up.”

Logan’s heart sank. He knew he wouldn’t get rich overnight running the mountain resort, but he didn’t want to be irresponsible. He had a son to raise.

“The situation is temporary,” Mason said. “The cash flow is in good shape, but your reserves are running low.”

“What will fix this?” Logan asked. “Besides a Christmas miracle.”

“You could use another infusion of cash.”

“More investors, you mean.”

“Yes. You can do another investor offering, or resolicit your current investors. Or some combination of both.”

“How much time do I have?”

“There’s a January fifteenth filing date you’ll want to keep your eye on.”

“Got it.” Logan stood and gathered up his papers. “I’ll figure something out.” And he would, because it was mandatory. He had no alternative. He was not going to let himself fail at this. Still, he couldn’t help hearing his father’s voice, which was embedded deep inside his head. His father would say he’d made a huge mistake. He had walked away from a stable, thriving insurance business for the sake of a risky enterprise that had equal potential to either make or lose a fortune for him. He’d gambled not just his own future, but that of his son, too. What kind of father was he?

“Want to get a beer?” Mason suggested. “Adam’s just winding up his stint as Santa.” The firefighters of Avalon took turns donning the red suit each afternoon. “He could meet us at Hilltop Tavern.”

“That’s okay. I’m meeting my sisters and their husbands and kids. They’ve just been to see Santa. Adam is under orders to tell us what the kids asked for.” He shook hands with Mason and headed out into the wintry afternoon.

“You look superpensive,” said Darcy Fitzgerald, approaching him on the frosty sidewalk. “Am I interrupting something?”

He was ridiculously glad to see her. “Just an age-old argument with my father.”

They fell in step together. “I assume it’s the father in your head,” she said.

“He’s one of my permanent residents.” Logan tapped his temple.

“You, too?” She grinned. “I sometimes have that dad. My mom, too. It’s funny how much influence our parents have on us.”

“True. I think about that a lot because of Charlie. I want to be the kind of father he actually likes having in his head.”

“Is there such a thing?”

“I’m working on it. I’m trying my best to do a good job. For Charlie and for...” He stopped talking. He’d nearly said Charlie and his future siblings. What a boneheaded thing to say. “So,” he said, changing the subject, “how was skiing and riding today?”

“Awesome, as I’m sure you knew it would be.”

“After the snow last night—yeah.” Just the mention of last night made him think about walking with her in the winter woods, kissing her in front of the fire... He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing her right then and there. “Where is everyone?”

“India and China are taking everyone to see Santa now, and then there’s apparently some kind of parade. We’re supposed to rendezvous in the church parking lot.”

He nodded. “There’s a parade every Friday evening in December leading up to Christmas. Charlie has never missed a single one. The town kind of goes overboard for Christmas.”

She looked around the lavishly decorated and lit village square. “I noticed. I really like it. Can you actually skate on the lake?”

“Can I skate? No. Can the ice hold me? Yeah, probably through February.”

“I could teach you to skate.”

“I’ll hold you to it. So, what does a big-city girl think of Avalon?”

“It’s lovely here. You’re lucky to live in such a beautiful place.” She looked around at the shop windows, the people strolling from place to place, her eyes shining. “I love all the lights and decorations this time of year.”

“No regrets about missing out on your family’s holiday?”

“No,” she said instantly. “Definitely not. If I were back in the city, my sisters and I would be fighting our way along Fifth Avenue, dealing with the crush of holiday shoppers. Then we’d stagger with our parcels to Penn Station for the LIRR and pray we get a seat. It’s fun in its own way, but this is definitely more mellow.” She watched a kid and his mother crossing the street with a little dog on a leash.

“So, are you a city girl or a small-town girl?” he asked.

“Both. Oh, and a wilderness girl, too. Does that make me hopelessly inconsistent?” She ducked her head and then looked at him again. “I’m still figuring out who I am when I’m single.”

“Fair enough.” He couldn’t quite tell what she was trying to say. That she liked being single and wanted to stay that way? That she was flexible and open to change? That she wanted him to take her to bed and do all the stuff he thought about when he thought about her?

Which was pretty much all the freaking time.

“You must miss something,” he said.

“Shopping for the kids, I guess. That was always one of my favorite parts. I mean, it’s one thing to pick out the perfect cashmere bathrobe for your mother, or a BugZooka for your dad, but shopping for the kids is the best.”

“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “This way.”

He took her to the local toy store. It was nice, the way her face lit up when she saw the window display—a model train circling its figure-eight route through the fake snow and trees, and a lit village in the background. There was a robot endlessly lifting hand weights, dolls and boxing gloves, bikes and musketeer swords.

“It’s fantastic,” Darcy said. “Every kid’s dream toy shop.”

“Yep.” He nodded at the manager, a woman named Guinevere who had been working here since she was a teenager. He drew Darcy over to a display of the latest and greatest. “I’d like to get your help,” he said. “We’ve got a bumper crop of kids this year, and my ever-efficient older sister China sent me a text message with suggestions.”

They spent the next hour channeling the kids. What would light them up on Christmas morning? What would make them laugh, excite them, give them warm memories of their Christmas at Saddle Mountain?

“We have to try stuff out,” said Darcy.

“That’s right, you’re all about testing gear, aren’t you? Let’s steer clear of the things that need to be plugged in,” he suggested.

“Are you expecting a power outage?”

“No, but up on the mountain, it happens. Nonelectric toys are more fun, anyway.”

“Agreed. Remember Battleship?” She pulled out the classic board game.

“Good one. Everyone’s going to want that.”

“Then let’s get it for the pickle prize.”

He scratched his head. “The pickle prize?”

“You don’t do the pickle tradition?”

“Never heard of it. But if it involves a pickle, I’m game.”

“You need a pickle ornament and you have to hang it in some very arbitrary spot on the tree. And whoever finds the pickle first on Christmas morning gets a prize.”

“Gives new meaning to hide the pickle.”

She sniffed. “I can’t believe you never heard of it. The tradition goes way back. According to Wikipedia, anyway.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Look, they’ve even got pickles for sale.”

They were displayed with the stocking stuffers. They chose one that had eyes and a mouth, a sprinkling of glitter, and a movement activated switch that caused it to yodel.

“How have I managed to live my life without a yodeling pickle?” asked Logan.

“It’s a new world order,” she said.

Toy-shopping with Darcy, just like cooking with her, snowshoeing with her, surfing with her, did not suck. She was very serious in her deliberations, weighing the merits of the slingshot versus the potato catapult, a xylophone versus a recorder. He couldn’t remember laughing with a woman so much. He’d just come from a stressful work meeting and he needed this, needed a change or some shift in perspective.

In the middle of doing a yo-yo trick—an impressive one at that—she looked up at him and grinned.

“What?” he asked, liking the grin.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. For what?”

She gestured at the toys they picked out. “I thought I’d have to miss out on this.”

He paused. “You don’t have to miss out on a thing.”

“Picking out toys is one of the best things about Christmas. It’s part of the magic.”

“For somebody who doesn’t like kids,” he said, “you sure like kids.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” she said. “I do like kids—a lot. The whole nieces-and-nephews thing is right up my alley. I’m just not into parenting.”

“Aunting, then.”

“Yep.”

“Sounds good.” He changed the subject. “Okay, there’s one gift we haven’t nailed down yet.”

“Angelica,” she said. “She’s adorable. What should we get her?”

He thought about the conversation at breakfast. Great big round eyes, soft lisping voice.
I want to see my mom.
“The only thing she wants is the one thing we can’t give her.”

Chapter Fifteen

L
ogan O’Donnell was dangerous. Darcy concluded this halfway through the toy store spree. Whenever she was with him, she felt herself getting way too interested in him. That was the dangerous part. Interest led to a deeper crush, which led to passion, which in turn would lead to an emotional entanglement she wasn’t ready for.

She said as much to India when they all met for the Christmas parade later that day. It was hugely fun for the kids, waiting for the hometown processional to pass by. Everyone was bundled up, faces aglow in the twinkling lights.

Darcy kept sneaking glances at Logan, who was like a human jungle gym crawling with nieces and nephews. He looked impossibly sexy to her, even covered in small children. At his side, Charlie was a smaller, cherub-faced version of him, reveling in the excitement of the holidays. In his own way, Charlie was as dangerous to her heart as his father, because when she looked at him, something happened inside her. She yearned to reach out to him, to make him laugh, to gather him into her arms—just as she had done with her ex’s kids.

“Remember the definition of insanity?” she asked India, who was taking pictures on her smartphone. “Doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results.”

“Your point being?” asked India, framing a shot of the glittering pillars of the Avalon Free Library.

“Look, I really like your brother—I think you knew I would. But being with him...it’s got disaster written all over it.”

“You guys are great together. I’m not seeing how that’s crazy.”

“He’s a single dad—like Huntley. He wants more kids—like Huntley. It’s crazy of me to think going down that road again will lead to anywhere but disaster.”

“It’s not the same. Huntley is a tool,” she said simply. “Logan isn’t.”

“Why does it not make me feel better to know I was married to a tool? I think I was right to swear off any kind of relationship. I’m simply not any good at it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is not like you, Darce. You don’t shy away from things just because they might be difficult.”

“I do now.” She wondered if she would ever get over the searing pain of betrayal, the sense of loss.

“Look, if you refuse to let yourself go with a guy—a good guy, like my brother—then guess what you’re doing?”

“Protecting myself. India, I’m doing the best I can.”

“But if you hold back, then you’re letting Huntley win. You’re letting him walk away with everything he got in the divorce, and he’s taking the most vital part of you. He’s taking your heart, your soul, your sense of joy and optimism, your belief in love. So ask yourself—do you really want to give him that? Do you really want to surrender and give up on things that used to be so important to you?”

“Jeez, when you put it that way...”

“Don’t let him win this one. Don’t let him spoil something special.”

This, thought Darcy, was what a best friend was for. She told you the truth, even when you didn’t want to hear it.

“You know what?” said Darcy. “It’s Christmas. I love Christmas. I’m going to enjoy every minute of it, and then I’m going back to the city and to the real world and...”

“And what?”

“And everything will be as it should be,” she concluded.

“It’s coming,” piped Bernie. “The Christmas parade is coming.”

A small parade moved down the road. It was headed by a group of carolers—the Heart of the Mountains Church choir, followed by a few community groups and of course, Santa Claus, bringing up the rear.

The short processional was over soon enough. They all walked together to the Heart of the Mountains Church, where they were parked.

It was a cute little traditional church with a brilliantly lit steeple, its slender silhouette looking perfect against the purple sky. In the snowy yard was an elaborate manger scene illuminated by floodlights, and a sign that read O Come All Ye Faithful.

“It’s beautiful,” India said to Logan, taking more pictures. “The whole day was beautiful—skiing and lunch and Santa. You are one hundred percent forgiven for talking us out of going to Florida.”

Darcy was drawn to the PAWS contingent—the town’s animal rescue league. Volunteers walked with rescue dogs wearing little jackets with the phrase Rescue Me on the side. Some of the volunteers were passing out brochures about pet adoptions.

“Oh my gosh, I wish I could take one home,” Darcy said, watching a beagle bounding through the snow.

“That can be arranged.” Logan came to stand next to her. “I have it on good authority that Santa loves giving away puppies at Christmas.”

“My building doesn’t allow dogs.”

“Maybe you’re living in the wrong building, then.”

Why did everything he said have a double meaning? It seemed that way to Darcy. “I love my building,” she said. “I was on a waiting list forever to live there. It has everything I need.”

As the parade disassembled, Santa climbed down from his throne in the back of a fire department utility truck.

Logan gave him a wave. “That’s my buddy Adam, behind the beard.”

“Aha. So he’s telling you what the kids asked for.”

“Yep.”

“Sneaky.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Yes. Tell me everything
. “Sure,” she said.

“Charlie and André wouldn’t tell Santa their Christmas wishes. They wrote letters instead.”

“Uh-oh. So, what’s your best guess?”

“Bad news—I think he wants a dog. He had a dog named Blake, but she was old and passed away.”

She gave a low whistle. “That’s a tough one.”

He nodded. “Not the best timing for me. And of course, when Charlie’s with his mom, the dog is all my responsibility.”

“So what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I hope he wants something else. I’m considering my options. Like giving him a toy dog. Or making a donation in his name to the animal shelter.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

“Do you know how lame that sounds? A dog is a
dog
. Not a toy. Not a donation.” She indicated the noisy mess in the parking lot as the PAWS volunteers loaded up the animals to take back to the shelter.

He nodded. “I know you’re right. Maybe in the summer, then.”

“Does Santa give rain checks for summer?”

He laughed. “You’re harsh.”

“Being the youngest of five, I learned to play hardball at Christmas at an early age.”

“I’ve got a week to figure this out.”

She wondered if she should tell him about the Santa trap. Charlie and André were right on the cusp of disbelief. One wrong move, and the myth would be busted.

“Good news,” Adam reported, now in his street clothes. “I pried the truth out of Charlie—his Christmas wish. I got him to sing like a canary.”

“Yeah?” Logan grinned. “Good work. So, what am I in for?”

“A new snowboard. The kind with flames painted on the bottom. Boots, too.”

“Excellent. Much easier than a live animal. I can make that happen.”

Darcy felt a twinge of suspicion. That was just too easy. She thought about the conversation she’d overheard between the boys. “What about André?”

Adam shook his head. “That kid’s tough as a Kevlar vest. He wouldn’t talk. You’ll have to figure it out another way.”

“Okay,” said Logan. “I’m on it.”

Adam clapped him on the shoulder. “See you around, buddy. And Darcy.”

After he’d gone, Darcy pondered about whether or not to disclose her suspicions. Not now, she decided. “Can I tell
you
a secret?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

“
I
still believe in Santa Claus.”

“You probably just like sitting in guys’ laps.”

“Depends on the guy. Depends on the lap. And how do you know what I like? You don’t even know me.”

“Then maybe we should work on that some more.” He lowered his voice and leaned down toward her. “I know you like kissing me.”

“You do, do you?”
Kiss me now,
she thought crazily.
Kiss me now.

“Yeah, so—sorry, I need to...” He didn’t finish, but sprinted across the road toward a tall pile of packed snow. Charlie, André and some other kids were playing on a Bobcat snow mover, which looked like a toy version of a snowplow. The equipment was clearly marked “keep off,” but the kids were either blind to that or just ignoring it.

“Hey,” Logan called. “Get down off that Bobcat.”

“It’s cool, Dad,” said Charlie. “Check it out.”

André was working the levers and making motor sounds with his mouth.

“Damn it, Charlie. It’s a week before Christmas. Shouldn’t you be on your best behavior?”

“What if that
is
his best behavior?” asked Darcy, coming up behind them. She couldn’t decide whether she was grateful for the interruption of her moment with Logan or frustrated.

“Then I’ve got my work cut out for me,” he said.

* * *

“You didn’t tell anybody, did you?” Back on Saddle Mountain the next day, Charlie and André were making a snow fort.

“Only Santa Claus,” said André. “And only in the letter I wrote. A real letter, not an email. You?”

“Same.”

“Yeah, but I saw you talking to Santa today. You must have said something,” André accused.

“I did. The guy in the Santa hut is my dad’s friend Adam. They think I don’t know that, but I do. I had to say something because they expect it. So I said I wanted a snowboard, even though that’s not what I really want.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

They had a stare-down. “So, are we gonna tell each other?”

“Better not.”

“Okay.” The snow was perfect for packing, just sticky enough but not too heavy. “Hey, I think my dad’s going to have a girlfriend,” he said. “I think it’s gonna be Darcy.” He’d already gone over this in his mind. Now he wanted to tell somebody, and André was the perfect choice. A best friend.

“She’s cool.”

“Yeah. Does your mom have a boyfriend?”

André added another chunk of snow to the wall. “Nope. Sometimes my dad used to come around, but... He’s not very nice to her.”

“That blows.”

“Yeah.”

Charlie felt bad for André. Charlie himself had a dad
and
a stepdad and they were both awesome. He looked over at André and frowned. “Wait a second. We can tell each other our Santa wishes. We can take the best-friend oath, and then we can tell each other.”

André hesitated, staring down at the snow-covered ground. Then he said, “Okay, but the oath is unbreakable, right?”

Charlie thought about things that broke. Bicycle chains. Thin ice. Christmas bulbs. His parents’ marriage. Promises. Sometimes it seemed as if everything was breakable.

Not a friendship, though. Not when you were best friends.

“Right,” he said. “Let’s go inside the fort to make sure nobody hears.”

They crawled through the opening and settled into the icy darkness. Charlie pulled out his flashlight and stuck it in the middle with the beam shining up, lending an eerie bluish glow to the interior of the fort. It felt as if they were the only two kids in the world.

“Okay, do we solemnly swear to keep everything we say and hear a total secret? Forever?”

“I do.”

“Me, too.”

“A dog,” said Charlie. “That’s what I want for Christmas. A dog.”

André’s eyes lit up and a grin broke across his face. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh man. That is so rad.”

“I know. I used to have a dog named Blake. She died, and I thought I wanted to die, too. I miss her so much. I never believed I would ever be happy again. But then I saw this kid playing with a black Lab, and I started thinking it might be time to get another dog. See, there are other dogs that need me, other dogs that can be my dog. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever wished for.”

“It’s big,” André admitted. “Really big. What kind of dog?”

“Pretty much any kind, so long as it’s friendly and wants to play and likes to sleep with me at night. I don’t want to be too picky.”

Charlie’s heart sped up when he pictured himself with a dog. Playing and feeding, lying around, taking walks, games of fetch. With a dog of his own, he would never be lonely.

“I’ve been asking and asking,” he said. “My mom and stepdad said no after Blake died, on account of we’re moving overseas and we move a lot. And my dad said no because he’s always busy working and I’m not home enough. Yeah, right. I know deep down in my heart it would be awesome. It would be a dream come true.”

“That’s totally cool, Charlie. So you think Santa’ll actually bring you a dog?”

“If he’s real, he has to, right?”

“Yep.” They rolled snowball after snowball, and more walls went up. It was awesome, having a best friend, thought Charlie. You could talk, or just be quiet and work side by side. You could tell each other stuff. They finished the shelter, and it was like a dark cave inside, cold and small, a real fort to keep them safe in case of enemy attack.