Angel's Rest

chapter FIVE





Over the next few weeks, the riot of fall colors disappeared from the mountains as aspens and cottonwoods dropped their leaves. Winter arrived in Eternity Springs with chilling winds and falling temperatures, but only a dusting of snow. The last seasonal stragglers departed town, and Nic and her fellow year-rounders settled into their winter routines.

Folks tended to congregate at the Mocha Moose, a coffee house and Internet café, and the Red Fox Pub, where they visited with their neighbors and fretted about the scarcity of snowfall in southern Colorado. A slow start to the ski season meant fewer people in the mountains, which meant fewer adventuresome, tired-of-the-lines people wandering into town to spend their precious tourist dollars. Luckily, Celeste Blessing’s repair and renovation dollars were taking up the slack. The amount of activity had caused one grateful business owner to wonder if the bars found in her cellar really had been gold bars painted silver as a disguise.

The Cellar Bride and her thirty pieces of silver fired the imaginations of Eternity Springs’ citizens. Speculation as to the circumstances that led to the bride’s entombment in Cavanaugh House’s root cellar was just the sort of mystery people loved to discuss on a cold and otherwise uneventful winter’s night.

Once Gabe had agreed to participate in Celeste’s healing center plans, he and Celeste had held a series of meetings in Nic’s kitchen, where they discussed Celeste’s vision of the healing center and hammered out a work agreement that suited them both. Nic believed the final result had to be the strangest contract ever negotiated.

She understood keeping the plan under wraps until his design was complete and the concept ready to present. Asking him to work on-site rather than up at Eagle’s Way made sense, too. The more he interacted with townspeople the better he would understand the culture of Eternity Springs. That could have a positive influence on his work—or at least help avoid unforeseen problems.

His demands were more difficult to understand. Gabe Callahan agreed to design the landscape plan as long as he was allowed to lead the work crew doing renovations on the house, too. He wanted physical labor, all the brownies he could eat, and a home other than his own for the boxer. Plus he wanted Sage to create a work of art of her choice for Eagle’s Way.

That last request had caused Nic to suffer a brief and shameful bout of jealousy. After all, she’d “not dated” Gabe first. But something had passed between those two up on Murphy Mountain that day. They’d connected in some intangible way, and Nic had felt like a third wheel.

She talked about her reaction with her aunt when she and Nic’s mom visited for Thanksgiving. After dinner, while her mom took a nap, Nic and Aunt Janice bundled up and headed outside to walk off their meal. When Janice asked Nic about her love life, Nic spilled the beans about the new man in town.

“At least I had the good sense to keep my reaction—and face it, my attraction to Gabe Callahan—to myself,” she said as they walked briskly down Aspen Street headed toward the lake. “I know I’m oversensitive, projecting my own past experience into current events. Gabe isn’t my husband, Sage isn’t my business partner, and I’m not going to walk into my own home and discover the two in the midst of betraying me.”

“Greg Sullivan better hope he never crosses my path,” Aunt Janice declared. “I’ll take a tire iron to him.”

Nic grinned. That was no idle talk. Aunt Janice would do it.

“It’s been four years, and I still have moments where the memories catch me off guard. I guess it’s only natural that I’m more wary when it comes to men.”

“Between your skunk of a father and snake of a husband, you’ve had some bad breaks. You need to find a man like your uncle David.” Janice smiled wistfully and glanced toward the hill to the north, where her husband rested in Eternity Springs Cemetery.

“Don’t I wish,” Nic agreed. “Problem is, men like that are hard to find.”

“You just have to know where to look.” Janice shot her a sidelong look and said, “Your mom can tell you that.”

Nic stopped dead in her tracks. “Mom?”

“Yep.”

“You’re kidding me!”

“Nope. He’s a widower she met on our trip to Italy. He lives in Miami and they see each other quite a bit. I think it’s serious.”

Nic was thrilled for her mom, yet her feelings were hurt. “Why hasn’t she told me about him?”

Janice grabbed Nic’s hand and squeezed it. “She’s afraid. She loved your father deeply whether he deserved it or not.”

“Not.”

“Trust is a real issue with her as a result. She’ll tell you about Alan—that’s his name, Alan Parks—when she’s more secure in the relationship. I thought it best to give you a heads-up.”

Nic understood about trust. It was one of her bugaboos, too—as her reaction to Sage and Gabe’s interaction proved. “I’m glad for her, Aunt Janice. Shocked, though. It’s been such a long time since Bryce Randall walked out on us. She said she’d never love again, and I believed her. I’m shocked she let this Alan Parks get close.”

“He was sneaky about it. I like the man.” It had begun to snow, and Janice flipped the hood up on her coat and suggested they turn around. “My blood has gotten thin while living in Florida. So, what about you, honey? Do you see yourself falling in love again? Maybe with this hunky Callahan guy?”

“I admit I thought about it, but I don’t think Gabe is the guy. It appears that the walls around his heart are higher and thicker than mine. I do hope I’ll fall in love again someday, though. I want to.”

Nic tilted her face toward the sky, felt the cold kiss of snowflakes on her cheeks, and smiled. “Bryce P. Randall III and Greg Sullivan played havoc on my past; I don’t want to give them the power to ruin my future.”

“You go, girl. I’m glad to hear you say that. I’ve worried about you, you know. When you moved here as a girl, you were like a young Hester Prynne wearing a scarlet I-for-illegitimate on your shirt. I don’t know that your mother ever realized how deeply affected you were by the fact your mother wasn’t married to your father, but David and I saw it.”

“We lived in a very conservative town. It was hard.”

“I know, dear. And I know that you were hurt by Greg and his wandering penis. I’ve been afraid you wouldn’t stay at the plate and take another pitch.”

Nic grinned at the expression her aunt had used, then declared, “I refuse to be a quitter, Aunt Janice.”

They reached the corner of Aspen and Seventh and turned toward home. Nic’s gaze lifted toward Murphy Mountain. “That said, I’m afraid that learning to trust a man again will be more difficult than falling in love will be. Trust is a tough one—just look at Mom.”

“It’ll happen for you.” Aunt Janice linked her arm through Nic’s. “I believe in that old cliché about time healing all wounds.”

Nic nodded and added, “Time, distance, and Eternity Springs.”


Ten days later, Nic recalled the conversation as she pulled her truck into the driveway at Cavanaugh House and sat for a moment, looking at the sprawling Victorian. The place looked postcard pretty with snow icing the gables, the mountain behind it, and expanse of yard in the front. “Time, distance, and Eternity Springs,” she murmured. That would make a good marketing slogan for Celeste’s healing center. She’d have to remember to tell her.

The initial cleanup in the wake of the fire was just about finished. Unfortunate though it had been, the fire had worked magic on the town’s off-season economy, providing a windfall to local contractors and the building supply store. The Elkhorn Lodge benefited from visits by various inspectors and historical experts brought in by Gabe, and Sarah said the sales of the cinnamon rolls she baked for the Mocha Moose had tripled in the weeks following the fire.

While the north wing of the house had been a total loss, harm to the rest of the manse was for the most part limited to smoke and cosmetic damage. Celeste had moved home over Thanksgiving weekend. She liked being on-site and in the thick of things, able to interact with the workers as they wired and papered and painted. Because Cavanaugh House’s current kitchen facilities—a dorm-size refrigerator, a coffeepot, and a microwave—gave her the perfect excuse to dine out most evenings, she often shared supper with Gabe at the Bristlecone and discussed her ideas for the prayer garden, the hot springs pools, and any other new thoughts that had come to her that day.

Nic exited her truck, then hurried up the walk and onto the Victorian house’s sprawling porch. Light from the entry hall fixture shone through the front door’s leaded glass. She wiped her boots on the doormat, then stepped inside. The scent of sawdust and popcorn greeted her. As she removed her coat and gloves and hung them on the hall tree, in addition to the banging of hammers from somewhere upstairs, she heard female voices coming from a room down the hall. Sounded like Sarah and Sage were already here.

With her plan moving forward, Celeste had determined that she needed help compiling a formal inventory of the contents of Cavanaugh House, particularly the basement and attic. Nic, Sarah, and Sage had jumped at the opportunity to explore the multitude of boxes, trunks, and chests squirreled away in the nooks and crannies of the Victorian house, and they’d taken to spending a couple of hours each afternoon at the task. The inventory already had unearthed some gems. The vintage clothing had caught Nic’s fancy. Sarah swooned over the silver tea service. Once Sage got a look at the art glass they uncovered, she eyed each unopened trunk like a gift box on Christmas morning.

In addition to dozens of pretty things, they had unearthed a mountain of paper. Town records, old newspapers, account books, and diaries offered a potential treasure trove of information. Once they made a master list of everything, they intended to dive into those. They all hoped the written records held the key to the Cellar Bride’s identity.

Nic walked into the room to see Sage at the desk in front of the computer and Sarah seated on the sofa, a box of delicate glass Christmas ornaments at her side, a yellow legal pad and digital camera in her lap. “Sorry I’m late,” Nic said.

“Lori told us you had to make a run out to the Double R this morning. Is the horse okay?”

“She will be.”

“Good.” Sage reached into the bag beside her desk, saying, “And, now that we’re all here, I want to show you what I found. Wait until you see this.”

She held up a small leather-bound book. “Remember that photo album I took home yesterday? This was tucked inside it. It’s a diary written by a woman named Elizabeth Blaine.”

Sarah carefully set down a hand-blown glass Christmas ornament and looked at Sage with interest. “Elizabeth Blaine married Harry Cavanaugh, one of the founders of Eternity Springs.”

“The time period this journal covers is January first to June first, 1892. Elizabeth and Harry are engaged. The wedding is set for August. It’s fascinating reading, and I’m only through the first three months.”

Sage handed the journal to Nic, who said, “That’s after he’d built this house, though. I don’t suppose you read anything about the mystery bride?”

“Not yet, but that thought occurred to me, too. Also, it reads as if she kept a journal by habit, so we might find more diaries as we go through all these boxes.”

Sarah tucked a short dark curl behind her ear as she said, “Zach Turner told me he heard back from the vintage wedding-gown expert. Judging by the lace on the train and the unique design of the embroidery around the neckline, she dates that gown as late nineteenth century. This is cool!” Her eyes sparkled. “We might solve the mystery before the sheriff’s department does. Hmm … wonder if I could get Zach to bet me?”

Nic snorted. “Shoot, I’ll bet you could get Zach Turner to do anything your heart desires. I saw his car at your house again last night.”

“Why won’t you believe that Zach is simply my friend? Nothing romantic going on there. Besides, he didn’t come to see me last night. He brought Lori home.” Sarah hesitated, then confessed, “She and Andrew had a fight, and he left her without a ride.”

Sage folded her arms. “That weasel. I hope she finally dumped him.”

“She’s okay?” Nic asked as she sank into an overstuffed easy chair.

“Yes. Angry, but okay. She finally came out and admitted what I’ve suspected for a while now. He’s pressuring her for sex.”

Nic scowled. “I hope she told him to tie a knot in it. She’s been nothing but clear about her views on that subject since she turned fifteen.”

“Fourteen. She asked me to buy her the promise ring on my thirtieth birthday. Nothing like being illegitimate to know for a fact you don’t want to repeat the mistake.”

“Don’t talk that way. You’ve never said that Lori was a mistake!” Nic jabbed a finger at the on button on the laptop she’d left on the chair’s ottoman the previous day. “I agree with Sage. I hope Lori broke up with that little slimeball. He knew her stance when he started dating her.”

“She’s thinking about it.” Sarah glanced up at the mantel clock and frowned. “I think she’s torn because she’s afraid she won’t have a date to the Christmas dance and she doesn’t want to miss it.”

“She should go alone or with a group of girls,” Sage suggested. “Girls do that in other parts of the country. They usually have more fun that way because girls actually like to dance.”

“I’m afraid Eternity is still behind on that trend,” Nic said as the Westminster chimes of the grandfather clock in the entry hall rang out the hour.

“Enough of reality.” Sarah said, standing. She grabbed the TV remote from the mantel and pointed it toward the small flat-screen Celeste had provided for entertainment while they labored. “It’s fantasy time. The game is on. Buffs versus OU. College basketball at its finest.”

“That’s why I smell popcorn.” Nic propped her legs on the ottoman, her computer in her lap, and settled in for the show. “Excellent. I’d forgotten we had a game today.”

“Not me.” Sage tossed her a bag of popcorn, still warm from the microwave. “I came prepared.”

As Nic tore open her bag, her gaze focused on the television. Thirty seconds later, the three women sighed as one. “Coach Romano.”

“Be still my heart,” Sage declared.

Nic clicked her tongue. “Slam-dunk.”

“Put me in, Coach,” Sarah said. “I’m ready to play.”

Standing a muscular six foot five, Coach Anthony Romano had wavy back hair, luscious brown eyes, and a perpetual five o’clock shadow. He was in his second season as assistant coach and recruiting coordinator for CU, and according to his bio on the athletics department website, Coach Romano was a bachelor.

The most devoted sports fan of the three of them, Sarah had been the one to bring the coach to their attention after a three-margarita discussion led to an extended search for the perfect fantasy man. Coach Romano was the only man all three agreed on, and he’d become the focus of their tongue-in-cheek fangirls’ club.

It was silly, slightly embarrassing, and fun.

“That’s a new suit,” Sage observed.

“You’re right.” Nic took a bite of popcorn. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear blue before.”

“He’s a god in gray.” Sarah clicked her computer mouse and a printer began to hum.

Sage nodded in agreement. “Not many men can pull off the suits-and-sneakers look, but I have to say, it really does it for me.”

“It’s the artist in you, Sage. You need something with a bit more flair than straight GQ.” Sarah clucked her tongue. “I wonder how he feels about sperm donation. Don’t you think the two of us would make beautiful babies?”

Something in her smile, a wistfulness, signaled to Nic that this wasn’t fangirl nonsense for Sarah. “Wait just a minute. Babies? What’s that all about? I thought you couldn’t wait for your nest to empty. That’s all I’ve heard about since Lori’s sixteenth birthday.”

“Yeah, well, it was easier to be happy about her leaving home when the date wasn’t staring me in the face.”

“Sarah, Lori is only a junior. She still has a year and a half of high school.”

“Don’t you know how fast that year and a half will go? We have to do college visits this spring!”

To Nic’s shock and surprise, tears welled in Sarah’s violet eyes, then overflowed. Sage and Nic shared a look, and the basketball game was forgotten. Both women crossed to the sofa and took seats beside their friend.

“Honey?” Sage asked. “What’s wrong?”

Nic didn’t need to ask. She’d known Sarah Reese for most of her life. Despite the struggles she faced as a single mother in the small town, Sarah loved being a mom to Lori. From Girl Scout leader to perennial field trip mom, basketball team mom, and chair of the prom committee, Sarah did it all. Both she and Lori had thrived as a result. “You’ve had me fooled, Sarah Elizabeth. I really thought you were tired of fund-raisers and sports banquets. I thought you were looking forward to this next stage of your life.”

Sarah’s lips wobbled. “I lied. I don’t want her to be a senior. I don’t want her to graduate. I don’t want her to go to college. I want her to still be six years old.”

“That’s a problem,” Sage said.

Sarah swiped at the tears with the back of her hand. “It just makes me so angry. I feel old and I’m not even thirty-five yet.”

“Close to it,” Nic pointed out, trying to distract her.

“Oh, hand me a tissue.” When Nic did just that, she continued. “All I’ve ever wanted to be is a mom. Nothing against you two, but I never needed the validation of having a career outside the home. That was never my thing. Motherhood fulfilled me.”

“That’s true,” Nic agreed. Glancing at Sage, she added, “Her mom always said the women’s libbers wasted their burning bras on Sarah.”

“I was born to be a homemaker, and I’ve done a darn good job of it—despite the fact my home was missing a penis,” Sarah said.

“The visual on that isn’t attractive,” Sage observed. “However, you shouldn’t be defensive. I think you’re lucky that you know what you are supposed to do, what you were born to do. I’ve spent most of my life trying to figure that out, and I still don’t have the answer.”

Nic held up a palm. “Okay. Hold on. I’m confused. Sage, you have to be the most self-assured woman I’ve ever known. I’ve looked at your work, and I’ve observed your work method. If you weren’t born to be an artist, then I don’t know a Holstein from a Hereford. And I’m a vet!”

“It’s complicated.”

“Excuse me?” Sarah folded her arms. “This is my crisis. I would appreciate it if we can keep the focus on me, please?”

Nic sighed. “It’s gonna be a long year and a half, isn’t it?”

“This is our next-to-last Christmas together!” Sarah said.

“News flash!” Nic waved her hands. “College students come home for Christmas break.”

“But it’ll be different. I don’t want it to be different. I love life the way it is, and it just ticks me off that it has to change. Now, I know that’s a bad attitude, but it’s my attitude and I own it!”

“Well, that’s honest, anyway,” Sage said. “Futile, but honest.”

“Unlike others among us who pretend they are just fine with being lonely, I choose not to lie to myself.”

“Okay, now that’s just mean.”

“Sorry. Not.”

“One good thing about Lori growing up is that with any luck, Sarah will quit talking like a teenager.”

“Excuse me?” Sage interrupted. “Can we pause the bickering for more important matters, please? Look. There’s a time-out on the court.”

Which meant more Coach Romano camera time. The three women focused on the TV.

“OMG,” Sarah said, the slang usage obviously for Nic’s benefit. On the screen, the man in question had slipped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and he was holding a basketball in a one-handed grip. “Look at the size of those hands.”

Sage fanned her face. “Think of what he could do with them.”

“At the risk of sounding crude, this is the first time in my life my boobs ever wished they were a basketball,” Nic observed.

Out in the hallway, something heavy thumped to the floor. Nic recognized the voice that muttered the epithet that immediately followed. Gabe Callahan.

She glanced in the wall mirror and smoothed her flyaway hair, catching Sarah’s knowing smirk as she did so. She stuck out her tongue at her best friend and sent up a little prayer that his hearing wasn’t all that sharp.

“Gabe?” Sarah called out. “Everything all right?”

Footsteps approached and he came into sight, pausing in the doorway. He wore a blue-and-gray plaid flannel shirt tucked into a snug pair of faded Levi’s. He had a stained and scruffy pair of lined leather work gloves tucked into a back pocket of his jeans, and his steel-toed boots showed plenty of wear. He might be stopping for dinner at the Bristlecone most nights these days, but he still hadn’t managed to find his way to the barbershop. His hair brushed his shoulders now, curling slightly on the ends.

And dang it, her fingers itched to play with those thick silken strands.

Until he turned a wickedly amused gaze her way and dashed her hopes about his hearing. “Sorry about the noise. That piece of lumber slipped right out of my hands. You know …” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I have to tell you that, while men are often accused of thinking with body parts other than their brains, this is the first time I’ve ever heard women admit they have parts that think for themselves, too.”

He heard, all right. Nic closed her eyes and flushed with embarrassment. They not only think for themselves, they blush.

Sage saved her by laughing. “You like basketball, Gabe?”

“Not the same way you ladies do, apparently.”

“We’re just having a little fun. Would you care to join us? I promise we’ll keep all our leering to ourselves.”

“You know, I’d enjoy that, but I’m up to my gym shorts in drywall upstairs.”

“I haven’t looked beyond this room for a while,” Sarah said. “How’s the cleanup progressing?”

“Pretty good. We’ll finish up restoration this week, and we should be able to tackle the north wing rebuild right after Christmas.”

“That fast?” Sarah asked.

“Celeste was able to articulate what she wanted, and the town delivered the permits all wrapped up with a bow.” He focused on Nic as he added, “I was hoping to talk to you, Nic.”

Oh?

“You have to do something about that dog.”

Oh. “Tiger?”

“What other dog roams this town at will and always manages to get in my way? This must be the last town in America not to have leash laws on the books.”

“Actually, I agree with you about that. It’s not safe for the animals, and it’s something Eternity Springs will need to address once we have more visitors to town. What did he do now?”

“I had a breakfast meeting at the Mocha Moose this morning. He was sitting at the door when I left, and he followed me back here. He’s been hanging around all day. You were supposed to find a home for him. That was the deal, was it not?”

“Yes, and I’m still trying.” She licked her lips, then offered a smile just shy of sheepish. “Dale Parker has agreed to consider taking him.”

Gabe jerked his stare away from her mouth as he asked, “So why is he underfoot every time I turn around?”

“I explained that to you before. He’s adopted you.”

“He’s a dog. It’s not his choice!”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Sage said. “Give it up, Callahan. I saw you slip that dog a hunk of your sandwich earlier. Way to chase him away.”

Gabe didn’t bother defending himself, but watched Nic for a long minute before asking, “And where might I find Dale Parker?”

“He owns the Fill-U-Up.”

“That grumpy old son of a gun? No wonder the mutt has taken to hiding out with me. Is he the best you could do?”

She watched it register on his face the moment he realized the mistake. Nic decided to take pity on him, mostly because her embarrassment lingered and she needed distance. “Where’s Tiger now?”

“Here, at the foot of the stairs.”

“He can stay with us.” She lifted her voice and called, “Tiger? Here, boy. C’mere, boy.”

Four paws’ worth of nails clicked against the wooden floor. The boxer paused in the doorway and rubbed up against Gabe’s legs. “Awww,” Sage crooned as Sarah said, “He’s so cute. Gabe is right. He’s too sweet to hang with Dale Parker.”

Nic dropped her hand and wiggled her fingers. Reluctantly the boxer approached. “You willing to take him home, Sarah?”

“I can’t. Daisy and Duke are all I can handle. You know that.” She referred to the three-year-old golden retrievers who refused to leave the puppy stage behind.

Nic scratched the boxer behind the ears and said, “What about you, big guy? Wanna watch the basketball game with us?”

When the boxer climbed up on her knees and licked her face, she smiled and looped a finger through his leather collar. “We’ve got him. Sorry for the trouble, Callahan.”

Gabe nodded, then glanced at the television and fired a parting shot. “You do know that Coach Romano has a twin brother who coaches at Southern Cal, don’t you?”


Seated at the lunch counter at the Blue Spruce Sandwich Shop, Gabe sipped his coffee and watched the weather report on the muted television hanging in one corner of the restaurant. “Looks like we might have some weather headed our way,” Hank Townsend said as he took the seat beside him. “Finally. Ski resorts need the snow. Other than that storm over Thanksgiving, this has been a scary-dry winter so far.”

“Maybe so, but it’s worked out for the Cavanaugh House project. We’re ahead of schedule.”

“You have motivated help. She’s paying her contractors top dollar. Folks are anxious to work for Mrs. Blessing.”

“That’s true.” Almost too true, in fact. Most days he had more help than he knew what to do with.

The mayor then asked Gabe’s opinion about a proposed park addition at Hummingbird Lake. By the time Hank Townsend’s lunch and Gabe’s own order of a turkey sandwich and fries arrived, three more business owners had joined them, and he’d somehow ended up seated at the center of a table for eight. He left the sandwich shop forty-five minutes later with one invitation to poker night, one to go ice fishing, three invites to dinner, two to church, and a sexual proposition from a seventy-two-year-old waitress with bold hands and a ready wink.

The temperature hovered in the twenties, and during lunch the snow the mayor had been waiting for had started to fall. Gabe looped the hand-knitted brown muffler Celeste Blessing had given him around the lower half of his face, shoved his hands in his coat pockets, and shivered his way up the street toward Cavanaugh House.

How in the world had a Texas boy ended up living in the tundra?

Gabe didn’t let himself think about the days of his youth very often. A couple of times when weakness got the better of him, he had Googled his brothers, but like the ancient mapmakers had written, that way there be dragons. Learning that they’d married and started families hurt more than it helped, and made the lonely hole in his heart grow bigger. John Callahan had “died” a long time ago.

Last winter, after the accident sent Gabe spiraling downward, Jack Davenport had attempted to help him by floating the idea of making contact with the Callahan family. As the CIA superspook responsible for the charade in which John Callahan had died, Davenport had the power to make the resurrection happen. He hadn’t gone into much detail other than to say that world players had changed and that it no longer served a useful purpose for John G. Callahan to remain dead. Once, Gabe would have jumped at the chance to reclaim his old life, but times had changed. He had changed. He’d refused his friend’s offer.

Gabe didn’t want the Callahans in his life. They would love him and expect his love in return. Well, he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t the same person who had grown up in a little hill-country town in Texas. The six months in an Eastern European prison had damaged him. Losing Jen and Matt had destroyed him.

The familiar cold, dark cloud descended on him, and despite the bitter chill, Gabe’s steps slowed. What was he doing down here in town, eating lunch with people who invited him to go fishing? Why was he working again? Sure, he’d decided not to die—for now, anyway—but what about that decision made it okay to start living again?

Stepping carefully around an icy patch on the sidewalk, he scowled. It was one thing to use his professional talents to help Celeste Blessing and Eternity Springs. It was something else to invest himself in the town’s recovery, to include himself in its social life. To become part of something again.

The warmth of this town and its citizens threatened to thaw the numbness within him. He could not allow that to happen. That way there be dragons.

Gabe tugged down the muffler and sucked in a deep breath, welcoming the cold sting in his lungs. He ignored the friendly wave from a driver making his way slowly up the block and turned his head away from the laughter of a pair of women struggling to hang Christmas garland around the doorway to their flower shop.

Christmas. He closed his eyes. Oh, joy. He might be beyond suicide at the moment, but nothing said he wouldn’t welcome a good old fatal heart attack.

In that moment, he found himself bombarded with the Christmas season. Holiday flags on lampposts. Twinkling lights in shop windows. Christmas carols piped through outdoor speakers. Red and green everywhere you turned.

God help me.

He wished he could leave Eternity Springs. Get out of here and go somewhere warm with a beach where dark rum flowed like water. He’d do it in a heartbeat if he hadn’t promised to spend Christmas with Jen’s sister and her family.

Pam and her husband, Will, had been lifesavers for Gabe during the brutal months of Matty’s extended hospitalization following the accident. They’d pitched in every possible way to help, and Gabe owed them. Pam and Jennifer had been closer than most sisters, and as a result, the two families had spent their Christmases together. When Pam called asking him to continue the tradition for at least this first tough holiday, he couldn’t refuse her, though no way on earth could he have joined his in-laws at their home. Instead, after an enthusiastic endorsement of the idea by Jack Davenport, he’d invited Pam and her family to join him at Eagle’s Way for Christmas, followed by a few days on the slopes at Crested Butte, going so far—in a moment of strength or weakness or idiocy, he wasn’t sure which—as to have the Christmas boxes from his attic at the house in Virginia sent to Colorado. Now, bombarded by red and green and Santa Claus and carols, he feared he’d made a big mistake.

Gabe completed his walk to Cavanaugh House and entered through the construction entrance in the back. Once again the boxer was there to greet him. The two of them had reached a compromise over the past week. Gabe allowed the dog to be underfoot at work, but he made certain he didn’t have a stowaway when he headed up Murphy Mountain at the end of the day. Apparently the animal spent his night at Nic’s.

This afternoon Gabe had decided to tackle the wallpaper in Celeste’s bedroom suite. It was a good time to do it, since she was away for the next three days on what she was calling her undercover trip to Sedona.

He plugged in his iPod earbuds and went to work stripping paper. It was a messy, tedious job, but he was glad to have the distraction. It took him most of the afternoon to remove the old paper and prep the walls, and as he stuffed scraps into big black trash bags, he heard the grandfather clock downstairs chime five o’clock. He eyed the rolls of new wallpaper—a vintage cabbage rose pattern that fit the house but made him wince—and debated whether to knock out a wall or two tonight or wait and do it all tomorrow. Before he could make up his mind, he turned toward the door at the sound of a knock.

Nic stood at the doorway. Forgoing her habitual ponytail, today her golden hair hung loose and flowing. She wore a long-sleeved, V-necked, forest-green sweater dress belted at the waist with a red Christmas-patterned silk sash. The knit fabric clung to her full breasts and hugged her slim hips. The modest hem hit just below her knees and covered the tops of brown leather dress boots that sported three-inch heels.

Gabe swallowed hard and took his earbuds out of his ears.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, smiling. She wore lipstick, bright red lipstick that matched her sash. “Gabe, when you reach a stopping point, could you lend me a hand? I think I might have located the rest of Elizabeth Blaine’s journals in a box in the basement, but I need a piece of furniture moved so I can get to it. Would you help me?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh … sure. Let me wash this old paste off my hands. I’ll meet you down there in a few.”

“Thanks!” She flashed him a smile, her eyes gleaming with pleasure, then spun on those heels and disappeared from view—leaving Gabe standing frozen in place, unaccountably warm, uneasy and … holy crap … turned on.

Guess it wasn’t broken after all.