roxannerustand.com€¦ · web view5/9/2020 · toward kristen with a plastic smile on his lean,...

A CHRISTMAS IN MONTANA

Sending to Judicious Revisions

15,193 words


Roxanne Rustand

USA Today Bestselling Author

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CHAPTER 1ONE

Kristen Weatherby parked her pickup and horse trailer in front of her late

grandmother’s house and slipped off her sunglasses. A sense of loss settled in her stomach as

she zipped up her jacket against the Montana November chill and stepped out onto the

sidewalk to survey the solid 1920’s Craftsman home.

From out here, it was as beautiful as ever, with its full-width covered front porch and

the towering pines shading the expansive lawn. As a child, she’d imagined the heavy stone

pillars supporting the porch roof at each corner formed the spires of her castle.

Those pillars would probably last another hundred years.

The rest of the house, not likely.

She sighed as she fingered the set of house keys Mom had mailed to her. Peeling paint

hung in tatters from the wood siding, curling shingles on the roof promised a pricey

replacement in the near future. One of the sway-backed wooden steps was broken. If the

inside was just as bad…

A gleaming black Ford 350 pickup pulled up in front of her car at an angle, its back

bumper jutting well out into the street. The man behind the wheel glanced at himself in the

rearview mirror, ran a hand over his pale blonde hair, then opened the door and sauntered

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toward Kristen with a plastic smile on his lean, Nordic face. He’d sounded like a stereotypical

used car salesman on the phone last week, and now she realized she hadn’t been far wrong.

He extended his hand. “Kristen?”

She instinctively recoiled at his self-satisfied demeanor and imagined her own smile was

just as forced as his. She briefly returned his overly firm handshake. “You’re from Salt Creek

Realty?”

“Yes, ma’am. Eric Wright, at your service.” He gave her late grandmother’s house a

long, disparaging perusal. “Shame about this old house. Renters rarely do a place any favors.”

“Though I understand your Realty has handled the rentals?”

He nodded.

“And the maintenance as well?”

“We hired a local guy, as needed. But now it’s been empty for a good year, and your

mother wasn’t interested in the expense of any major repairs.”

“Such as…”

“New roof. Outdated 1970’s kitchen. The flooring all needs to be redone. New furnace.

Air. Good thing she finally decided to let it go.”

“Mom says you have someone who wants to buy it.” She bit her lower lip, studying the

leaded glass windows, the double front doors made of heavy oak.

He lifted a shoulder in casual dismissal. “I’m willing to take it off your hands—mostly just

as a favor to your family.”

“Hmmmm.” She suspected he was the type who never offered favors that didn’t

include significant benefits for himself. Sparing him a narrowed glance, she turned back to the

house. “As a B&B, Airbnb rental or quaint little restaurant, it does hold possibilities.”

He gave a snort of derision.

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“What would you do with it?”

“Bulldozer. It drags down property values on the entire street.”

“And then what?”

His gaze skated toward the old house, then hardened. “I’m not sure,” he hedged.

“Someone might be interested in the lot someday…who knows.”

From the calculating glitter in his eyes, she was pretty sure he already had plans—and

why not? With the existing house--—or not--—the property was on the edge of town, with an

acre of mature trees and beautiful views of the mountains.

“Then I’m glad I came, because I had no idea that anyone would want to tear down this

beautiful old home. I figured on staying a while, to see if I could spruce it up a bit before listing.

And, I hope my horse and I can get in some trail riding before winter settles in.”

“Have you been inside to see the water damage? The roof? The outdated plumbing?”

Clearly incredulous, he lifted an eyebrow. “Do you have any idea how much money that would

take? How much time? You can’t possibly think that a month could make any difference.”

“Well, I—“”

He snorted. “Wait much longer and it will crumble away until there’s nothing left. A

reno on a place in this condition could run a hundred grand or more.”

“Back in Chicago maybe, in an upscale suburb where high-end finishes are the norm,”

she fired back, feeling oddly protective of the old house.

Grandma Tilly had been in a memory care unit for over four years before she died last

summer. Except for a few of her things left in the locked attic, none of her possessions

remained inside. Yet warm childhood memories had flooded Kristen’s thoughts from the

moment she’d stepped out of her pickup, beckoning her to step back into Grandma’s world of

fragrant, home-made bread and fresh baked pies.

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“The property is in your mother’s name,” Eric said, a testy edge creeping into his voice.

“She told me that she wants it sold.”

“It is, and she did. But…”

A muscle jerked along the side of his jaw. “But?”

Kristen tipped her head as she studied the old story-and-a-half house and considered

her own uncertain future. She’d agreed to stay for a month--—just one month and then be

back home before Christmas. Mom had pushed her to consider staying long-term though,

saying it might finally give her a chance to start her life over and bring her a sense of peace.

But was that even possible? How could she ever put the past behind her, when it still

preyed on her thoughts every single day? When nothing—no prayers, no counseling, no

passage of time, could ever change what happened two years ago?

“If I decide I want to stay permanently, she has offered me quite a deal.”

“A town of 7,000seven thousand doesn’t offer many career options, you know. If you’re

looking for a great job here, good luck with that.” His face reddening with obvious irritation,

Eric waved an arm, encompassing the rest of Salt Creek. “And finding someone to rehab this

house? Good luck with that, too. I’m just encouraging you to be practical.”

It was a small town, that was true—surrounded on the east and south by vast stretches

of grassland and thousand-acre ranches. But quickly rising foothills to the north and west led

up into the Rockies, and heavy tourist traffic crossing the Midwest funneled through this area

and up into the towering mountains. From the Internet searches she’d done, it was evolving

from a ranching town into a pretty little jewel of a tourist town with shops replacing empty

storefronts, and B&Bs revitalizing some of the grand old homes that had once belonged to

timber barons and wealthy, retired ranchers.

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After a quick, silent prayer, she took a deep breath. “I appreciate your time, Eric. I know

Mom asked you to meet me here and give me a tour of the house, but I think I can take it from

here. Unless I find the place is beyond hope, I’ll be staying for a month—maybe more. I think

I’ve just found myself a new home.”

A new home? Where had that come from? Until this moment, it hadn’t even been a

thought. Before leaving Minnesota, she’d even signed the lease for a commercial storefront

building in a quaint suburb west of the Twin Cities, for the new start in life that she’d needed

for a long time.

“Whatever.” Eric gave a curt nod and handed her a business card. “When you change

your mind, just give me a call.”

****

She’d barely unlocked the front door of the house when she heard the familiar clang of

a horseshoe slamming against the steel tailgate of her horse trailer, followed by the sound of

Tucker impatiently pawing the floor. She’d broken up the eleven-hour trip from Minnesota

into two days, with stops every three hours to unload the old gelding and give him a break. But

now he’d clearly had enough of the confined space and wanted out.

After a whirlwind trip through both floors of the house, she hurried back out to her

truck and tapped in the address for Six Pines Ranch on the dashboard navigation screen.

She weighed her options during the five mile drive out into the country.

Eric hadn’t been fabricating about the condition of the old house. There was water

damage on some of the walls and ceilings upstairs, the outdated kitchen and bathrooms hadn’t

changed a bit since Kristen was a little girl. The bubble gum pink fixtures in one bathroom and

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mint green in the other were decades out of style, and neither offered a shower. The old, musty

carpeting—even in the kitchen and bathrooms, heaven forbid--—had to go, but what was

underneath? Hopefully hardwood, given the vintage of the house, but was it even salvageable?

Ahead, a sign for Six Pines Ranch Quarter Horses appeared on the left, with a shiny new

Creighton Vet Clinic sign hanging beneath it. She turned off the highway and followed a half-

mile lane leading to a parking area in front of two horse barns, a smaller building, an outdoor

arena, and farther up the hill, a sprawling log home with tall stone chimneys at each end.

She turned off the engine and draped her wrists over the top of the steering wheel, still

lost in thought over the enormity of work that Grandma’s house represented. At a knock on

her driver’s side window, she startled, and turned to find a tall cowboy-type standing outside

her door.

Resting a hand on the roof of the truck cab, he leaned down and grinned. “Lost?”

His sunglasses and the brim of his dove gray Resistol hid his eyes, but from that strong

square jaw and those deep, slashing dimples, she guessed that he was one handsome guy and

probably knew it.

Just the type she’d always tried to avoid. Hadn’t she already made a mistake just like

him?

She touched the button to roll down her window. “I’m not lost if this is Six Pines. I’m

Kristen Weatherby, and I believe Becca Creighton is expecting my horse today—for boarding.”

He stepped back as she climbed out of the truck, and offered his hand and a warm

smile. “Lane Creighton. Becca’s in town right now, but I can show you where to go.”

So he was obviously married, then. Good.

Still, she felt the strength and warmth of that brief handshake long after unloading

Tucker and following Lane into one of the long horse barns, and she found herself studying him

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as he walked ahead. Some of the horses hung their heads over the Dutch doors of their stalls,

watching the procession coming down the aisle. Lane spoke quietly to them as he passed,

calling each by name. Giving several a gentle stroke on the side of their heads or on their

gleaming necks.

Tall and lean, with broad shoulders and an easy, athletic grace punctuated by the jingle

of his spurs, he reminded her of a handsome hero in an old western movie. Becca was one very

lucky girl.

The wide, well swept cement aisle was flanked by roomy box stalls on both sides, the

varnished oak stall fronts topped by vertical bars. The bright fluorescent lighting and clean

scents of pine shaving bedding, leather, and alfalfa hay reassured her that her long-distance

decision to board here had been wise.

Lane pocketed his sunglasses and stopped at an empty stall halfway down the aisle with

a hot pink note taped on the brass nameplate that said “Tucker,” and slid the stall door open.

“Here you go. Automatic waterers are in every stall, and Becca already put some hay in the

manger. We grain the horses at 6:00six am and 6:00six pm.” He looked at her over his shoulder

and raised an eyebrow. “You already filled out the boarding questionnaire, right?”

Life just wasn’t fair, giving a man such long, thick lashes and those smoky graywarm

brown eyes. If he hadn’t yet appeared in magazine ads wearing designer jeans, it was only

because he hadn’t been discovered.

Swallowing hard, all too aware of her foolish—and inappropriate--—reaction to him,

Kristen nodded as she led Tucker into the stall and slipped off his halter. “I filled it out online. It

was one of the reasons I chose Six Pines, because it sounds like you’re very thorough and

careful. Are all of the horses here boarders?”

8

Judy DeVries, 09/09/20,

Two other times they are warm brown eyes.


He chuckled at that. “It would be easier if they were, but there’s just a dozen or so, in

this barn. The rest are our own or were brought here for training. Becca loves this life so much

that she would work night and day if we let her. C’mon, let me show you around.”

After pointing out the tack room, shower stall, feed room, and attached indoor arena at

the far end of the barn, he led her outside to the outdoor arena and gestured toward the riding

trails leading up into the foothills—another reason this ranch had been appealing during her

Internet search.

Curious, she surveyed the various buildings. “I noticed a vet clinic sign out on the

highway, but didn’t see anything about it on the ranch website. Is it still here?”

He tipped his head toward a sage green building on the other side of the second barn.

“Just opened two months ago. I had an equine practice near Los Angeles, but the traffic and

population finally got to me. It’s good to be back…though even here I’m getting too busy to

ride as much as I’d like. Now I mostly just help Becca work the two-year-olds under saddle,

when I can.”

“Oh,” Kristen said faintly. So he was a vet, to boot—exactly what she’d wanted to be

since she was a little girl, though few of her own dreams had come true. Not when Jeff…

A cloud of dust boiled up behind a pickup traveling up the road leading to the highway.

A moment later it pulled to a halt in front of the barn and a tall, slender woman with long black

hair stepped out. Kristen blinked, glanced between them. Even though only twins of the same

sex could be identical, the similarity between them was uncanny. “Um…are you Becca?”

The woman exchanged glances with Lane, then laughed. “You must be Kristen

Weatherby. I guess you’ve already met my big brother-by-three-minutes.”

She certainly had. And now—unfortunately—the simmering attraction she already felt

toward him would really need to be contained. She’d paid for just such a mistake with two

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years of marriage to a handsome charmer who hadn’t really loved her, and then she’d been left

with crushing grief and guilt when the marriage met a tragic end.

She would not make the same mistake twice.

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CHAPTER 2TWO

Lane helped Kristen haul her two saddles and other equipment from the horse trailer

into the tack room, then showed her where the trailer parking area was. When they headed

back to Tucker’s stall, he grabbed a couple of Diet Cokes from the refrigerator in the tack room

and handed her one.

She gave him a tentative smile—still as skittish as she’d been since first meeting Becca--

—and accepted it. “Thanks. Well, um…it was nice meeting you. I’d better go.”

Most of the women in his life—a grandma, two aunts, his sister--—were talkers. Start a

topic, and they could sometimes pursue it until he began to long for a tactful escape, but during

the hour since he’d met Kristen, he’d gotten nowhere beyond cursory replies.

Yes, she was from Minnesota.

No, she wasn’t sure if she was staying in Salt Creek long term. A month, maybe two,

then she had to get back to work.

No, she wasn’t looking for a job in town…and so it went.

Yet there something about her--—an air of mystery, of deep sadness, and uneasiness

that drew him, and made him feel he needed to help her somehow.

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He tried another tack. “So, how long have you owned Tucker?”

At that, she looked up at him from behind that long, glossy sweep of russet hair that

kept dipping down over her forehead, and finally gave him a more genuine smile that lit a

sparkle in her green eyes. “Is this an inquisition?”

“We just don’t get many new folks around here,” he drawled. “So you are fascinating.”

She snorted. “I’m sure that must not be true, with all of the outside clients who bring

training horses here. You just gave me a tour of the other barn, remember? Horses from

Montana and three other states?”

He dredged up the teasing smile that always seemed to make Myra, the elderly waitress

at the coffee shop, grin back at him, wink, and proclaim that he was pure trouble. “Well…those

clients aren’t as fascinating, then.”

She considered that for a long moment. The shadow of something—was it grief?—

dimmed the sparkle in her eyes. “Okay. I’ve had Tucker since I graduated from high school, so

now he’s seventeen and still the best guy in my life, bar none. I brought him along since I’m still

not sure how long I‘ll be in Salt Creek, and I also want to do some trail riding in the mountains.”

Now, there was an interesting dismissal of the males in the human race. “Do you have a

place to stay yet? My Aunt Lucy is a Realtor, if you need one.”

She stiffened. “Does she work with Eric Wright?”

“Nope. He’s an agency of one, and so is she. They actually don’t get along at all.”

At that, a faint smile touched her lips once more. “Then I might like your aunt very

much, though I’m not in the market for property. I’ll be staying at my late grandma’s house in

town—the Craftsman on the corner of Birch and Main, five blocks from downtown.”

He thought for a moment. “Nice place—lots of pines, right? Though if I remember

correctly, some of the windows have been boarded up for quite a while.”

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She gave a rueful laugh. “That would be the place. I need to decide if I can do some

rehab and sell it as a family home. Otherwise, Eric claims it’s bulldozer-worthy.”

“What—”“

“With that, I really need to get going,” she said firmly. She took a final sip of the soda

and dropped the can in the recycle bin outside the tack room door. “Decisions and a lot of

work await.”

“Good luck, then.” He watched her hurry toward her pickup and drive away.

The good Lord knew he was no knight in shining armor to anyone—the end of his long

engagement last year had proven that. Still, something about Kristen felt like a magnetic pull

and he’d wondered, if just for a moment, she’d felt it too.

That old house was probably in worse shape than she even realized, and with the start

of another Montana winter already approaching, maybe she’d welcome a little help, or at least

some advice about the local craftsmen. He’d had several of them work on his clinic, and not all

of them had been good.

With a bit of luck, he might even get the elusive Kristen Weatherby to slow down a little,

and enjoy being here. He might like that very much.

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CHAPTER 3THREE

It was a relief to know that Tucker had a clean, roomy stall, in a stable that had earned

such good feedback on its Facebook page. He’d be warm and safe and comfy. As for herself,

the jury was still out.

It was six o’clock and dusk was settling in as Kristen pulled into the driveway behind

Grandma Tilly’s house. Now, it looked almost foreboding, with all of the windows dark and

several of them covered in plywood. Why hadn’t she checked the light switches to make sure

the power was still on? If not, was there even a motel in this town?

Saying a prayer under her breath, she climbed out of the truck and walked up to the

back door, tried several keys until finding one that worked, then pushed it open. Dust swirled

into the air, making her sneeze. With another heartfelt prayer, she groped along the wall for

the light switch. The kitchen light blazed on and she gasped.

The single bare bulb dangling from a cord in the center of the room revealed a jumble of

empty boxes, heaps of old clothing and shoes scattered across the floor. The kitchen cupboard

doors hung open, revealing random boxes of food that had been gnawed open by rodents. A

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single chair with a broken leg lay on the floor. The floor and counters were filthy, with boxes of

rodent bait scattered here and there.

Earlier today, her rushed assessment of the house hadn’t included the kitchen, not with

Tucker anxiously pawing in the trailer. Since she already knew things would be bad elsewhere

inside, she’d hurried back outside to her truck…not fully realizing just how creepy the place

would be at night. If only her beloved Golden Retriever Bob was still with her, she would’ve at

least felt safe and at ease in this rundown place, but she’d been too heart-broken to look for

another dog ever since he died.

At a tentative knock at the front door, she crossed through the dining room into a

central hallway leading to the front entryway and flipped on the porch lights. Lane and Becca

stood outside, an extra-large pizza box in Lane’s hands. Becca held two buckets overflowing

with cleaning supplies. A mop and broom were already leaning against the door.

Kristen’s heart skipped a beat as she opened the front door. “I-is Tucker all right?”

Becca smiled. “Perfectly fine. But from what we hear, things aren’t so good for you on

your first night in town.”

Kristen closed her eyes briefly in relief, then looked between the two of them,

perplexed. “But why…what…”

“Lane mentioned that you were moving in and planning to fix the place up, so I asked

our Aunt Lucy if it was even habitable.”

“She hadn’t seen the interior for a year,” Lane added. “But even back then it was rough.

We thought we’d come over to offer some help so you at least can settle in a little. And we

figured we should all start with some pizza.”

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With a personal pronoun, one rule says it would be aunt Lucy, but many authors still prefer the Aunt, so it’s your choice. Only marking this one.


Kristen lifted a hand to her lips, overwhelmed by their offer and embarrassed by the

mess surrounding her. “This is too much. I—I can’t expect anyone to come in here. It’s

horrible.”

“We’ve seen much worse, believe me.” Becca rolled her eyes. “One of our maiden aunts

refused all visitors for years, and when we finally got a judge to intervene, we found her place

could have been featured on a TV show about hoarders.”

Lane glanced around the front room and shrugged. “Looks like mostly trash, and

furniture for the landfill. No big deal.”

Kristen felt her lower lip tremble. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say, it’s time for the best pizza in town,” he said with a wink. He lifted the lid of the

pizza box, releasing a cloud of mouth-watering aroma. “And if the three of us all work until ten

or so, we can make a real difference.”

****

It was almost midnight when Becca finally tossed her sponge back into a bucket of hot

water and stretched. “I think I’m done for now. So, what do you think?”

“I just don’t know what to say. You and Lane are amazing. How can I ever thank you?”

Becca shrugged away the thanks. “No big deal. At least you’ve got a start here.”

She and Kristen had focused on the kitchen. All of the cupboards had been emptied and

scrubbed, the countertops—except for a burn mark from a hot pan--—looked much better.

Lane had hauled uncounted trash bags out to the curb, along with some old mattresses and

most of the rickety old furniture more suited for a bonfire than use.

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A single end table and one wooden chair remained, plus whatever was stored away in

the attic,. I if renters hadn’t breached the lock, anyway.

Lane came through the front door and pulled off his leather gloves. ”Will you be okay

staying here alone tonight?”

“You could come home with us and stay at the ranch for a few days,” Becca said with a

smile. “We’ve got three guest rooms and it would be no bother at all. We’d love having you.”

Overwhelmed by their kindness, she managed to shake her head. “No, but thanks

anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“Told you so,” Lane said under his breath, looking at his sister. “Just in case, we brought

something you can use until you get settled. It’s a fold-away guest bed, never been used. Not

sure how comfy it is, but is it has to be better than sleeping on the floor.”

He disappeared out the front door.

“After I came back to Montana to take over our parents’ ranch, folks around here were

just as helpful to me,” Becca said as she shouldered on her puffy down jacket. “Same when

Lane came back to town last year to open his clinic. You might find yourself with all sorts of

company and more ‘welcome to Salt Creek’ casseroles than you can possibly eat. I hope that

fridge and freezer are working.”

Kristen had plugged it in a couple hours and it had been humming ever since. “It seems

to be—so far.”

“So, what do you want to know about the town?” Becca pursed her lips. “Lots of

touristy places are downtown. But for the locals, there’s a decent grocery store. Two gas

stations. Decent mom & pop café. We actually have a medical clinic now, though the doc is

only here on Mondays and Wednesdays, and otherwise there’s a nurse practitioner in the

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office. If you need some inexpensive, temporary furniture, there a nice consignment store

twenty miles from here. And let’s see…”

“Is there an animal shelter in town?”

Becca glanced up from zipping her jacket and frowned. “Are you dropping off, or

adopting?”

“I…I lost my old dog last spring, and it broke my heart. I just wasn’t ready to go looking.

But now, well…” Kristen glanced around the dimly lit living room, the curtainless windows. “I

think I’m ready to find a friend.”

Becca’s expression cleared. “If you head north, there’s a small one about ten miles from

here. Foothills Animal Rescue.”

Lane blew in the front door burdened with the folding bed and a large carryall filled with

blankets. “Becca tucked a set of sheets in the fold of the mattress, so you should be set for a

while.”

“Could you leave Tank here tonight, for a little company?” Becca pulled on a pair of

gloves. “She’s going to look for one to adopt, but still…”

“Really—that’s not necessary,” Kristen protested. “I’ll be fine.”

But Lane had already spun on his heel and gone back outside.

“Tank goes everywhere with him,” Becca murmured. “But tonight Lane left him inside

the truck so he wouldn’t be in the way.”

“All these hours?”

“Goodness, no. That dog has been out in your yard to potty and run around more that

than he’s been sleeping in the truck. The entire yard is fenced in chain link, so he was safe.”

The front door opened once again and a massive black and white spotted dog bounded

in, skidded on the rug in the entryway, then galloped up to Becca and planted his forefeet on

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her shoulders for a slobbery kiss. After spinning in circles a few times, the shaggy creature loped

around the living room sniffing the floor and following invisible trails only he could see. “What

on earth is he?”

Following his big galoot of a dog inside, Lane laughed. “Probably too many breeds to

count.”

“Lane thought about running a DNA on him, but decided Tank would rather ‘preserve

his air of mystery,’” Becca said wryly. “As it is, there seems to be a running joke about his

parentage between the clients at his clinic.”

Tank disappeared around the corner and seconds later he erupted in fierce barking.

Kristen felt her heartbeat stutter. Surely there’d be no intruders brazen enough to

break in now, with the lights all blazing and extra adults in the house…could there? But what

did she know about this area, anymore? She remembered Salt Creek as the quintessential small

town, but things could change.

When Lane strode toward the deafening sound of Tank’s barking, she followed at his

heels, through the parlor, dining room, and up the open stair case to the darkened second

floor, her pulse hammering.

The sound of barking stopped and toenails scrabbled down the hardwood floor of the

hallway. Lane halted abruptly at the top of the stairs and she bumbled into him, losing her

balance. Swaying, she flailed wildly for the bannister but came up with only air as she started to

topple backwards.

A scream died in her throat when two strong hands grabbed her upper arms and pulled

her to safety against Lane’s broad, hard -muscled chest. “Ooof!”

He backed up and pivoted, holding her still for a moment as he searched her face. “Are

you all right?”

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Tank lurched down the hall to throw himself against them both and Lane held her

tighter for another moment, then released her well away from the yawning chasm of the stair

well.

“Uh…sorry about that,” he murmured, his gaze still locked on hers. “He’s not usually this

crazy.”

“I…thank you.” Her arms still tingled where he’d held her, sending a rush of warmth into

her cheeks and her pulse into overdrive. She managed an embarrassed little laugh. “That

might’ve been my last trip down those stairs. Ever.”

Tank danced around them, then took off down the hall, his nails slipping and sliding on

the wood as if he were on ice skates. The second he disappeared into the farthest bedroom, he

started barking again.

“I’d better check this out before he has a stroke,” Lane said ruefully as he flipped on the

hall light switch. “I was up here earlier hauling out the trash and didn’t see anything, so it’s

probably just a dust bunny. But maybe you’d better stay here.”

Kristen followed him anyway. At the doorway, Lane reached inside and turned on the

light, then pushed the door wide open with the toe of his boot. A blast of cold air rushed into

the hallway. Across the room, tattered curtains danced high on the breeze.

The windows had been sealed shut with old, heavy coats of paint when she’d been up

here earlier…

But now they were wide open.

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She was in and out so quick, I don’t think she’d notice that. As she says further on, she noticed them closed and that it was musty as if it’d been closed up for the year they had been.


CHAPTER 4FOUR

Tank sat quietly in front of the window, looking over his shoulder as Lane approached,

clearly satisfied now that his guard duties had brought reinforcements. The room was empty,

save for a metal bed frame in the corner. The other two upstairs bedrooms were the same.

“I didn’t open that window,” Lane said quietly. “Did you?”

Starkly illuminated by the harsh overhead light, Kristen’s lovely face paled, leaving a

scattering of tiny freckles over her nose in sharp relief. He fought the urge to enfold her in his

arms to offer comfort.

“Nope. The only time I came upstairs today was when I was—literally—doing a fast run-

through before I took Tucker out to the ranch. The windows were all closed and the whole

upstairs smelled musty, like it had been closed up for a year. Which it had been. There sure

didn’t seem to be anything of value laying around that could interest a thief.”

“Agreed. Tonight I filled trash sacks with litter and junk from upstairs and tossed the

three mattresses. There was nothing worth saving—I’m sure the past renters made certain of

that. Anyway, if someone was going to break in, they would’ve been smarter to hit the place

during the year it stood empty.”

21


Here’s where she mentions the windows.


“Maybe they did, given that two windows are boarded up.” She bit her lower lip as she

studied the window. “So why now—tonight--—when there’s finally some activity in the house?

Why risk getting caught?”

“If you want to call Eric, he probably has records on how recently those other windows

were broken.” Lane lifted his cell from his back jeans pocket. “While you do that, I can call the

sheriff.”

“But there wasn’t anything to steal, no vandalism,” Kristen protested, tucking a strand

of her hair behind her ear. “So nothing is missing. The window wasn’t even damaged—just

open.”

“But if someone was trying to break in, maybe we scared them off. You want to make

the sheriff aware of the situation, get it documented and have some patrol cars cruise by now

and then. That alone could be a deterrent.”

Kristen looked back at the window and sighed. “All right…I guess.”

Lane tapped 911 into his phone, spoke to the dispatcher, then shoved the phone back in

his pocket. “It’s a quiet night, and Carl Foster is here in town. He can stop by in a few minutes.”

Footsteps came up the stairs, and Becca appeared at the door. “I’ve got the kitchen

straightened up and took our cleaning supplies to the truck. What’s going on up here?”

While Kristen left a voice mail for Eric, Lane explained the situation. “So, I’m uneasy

about heading for home before the deputy gets here.”

Kristen shook her head. “You two don’t have to stay any later. The doors all have

deadbolts—I checked that first thing. I’ve got my cell, and it’s charged. If you leave Tank

overnight I’ll be perfectly fine.” She eyed the window. “Tomorrow, I’m going to start looking

for a home security system and a dog of my own.”

“We’re in no rush to get home,” Becca said firmly. “We’ll wait with you.”

22


She’d call him after midnight?


Kristen gave her a warm smile that was every bit as firm. “You’ve been here since six,

and now it’s almost one in the morning. You’ve gone above and beyond already. How can I

thank you enough?”

At the sound of a vehicle pulling to a stop outside, they hurried downstairs and met the

Deputy Foster at the door. He toured the house, taking statements, then went outside to check

the yard with his flashlight. When he finally came back inside, his cheeks and nose were rosy

from the cold.

“Too bad we don’t have any snow. Might’ve had tracks to follow.” He frowned, looking

at his notes. “As it is, the ground is frozen too hard to reveal footprints or any evidence of a

ladder at that window. It does look like it was pried open from the outside, though with the

lights on downstairs and the three of you visible through those uncurtained windows, why

would someone risk such a break-in? And for what? The house has been vacant a long while.”

“Have any other problems been reported?” Kristen asked. “I was just wondering, since

a couple of windows have been boarded up.”

“I checked, but there’ve been no records of any criminal complaints at this address, so I

don’t have an explanation for those windows. You might want to check with the rental agent

who managed the property after Mrs. BarnesWeatherby moved out. He probably knows.” The

deputy studied her over the top of his clipboard. “So Mrs. BarnesWeatherby was your…”

“Grandma Tilly. My mom grew up in this house, but she married in college and has lived

in Minnesota ever since.”

“And you’ll be in town for how long?”

Kristen lifted a shoulder. “Not sure just yet. It hasn’t exactly been the best start, but I’m

checking into security systems tomorrow and also want to find a nice, noisy dog. In the

meantime, Lane is loaning me Tank.”

23


Massive as a sofa, Tank sidled up to her and leaned against her leg as if to confirm the

plan, his tail sweeping the floor and his tongue lolling out of his mouth. The deputy looked

down at the woolly dog and snorted. “Young lady like you needs more than a carpet on legs.

The county doesn’t always have deputies close by, so it can take some time to answer 911 calls.

Always lock the doors and windows. Keep your front and back porch lights on. Leave some

interior lights on too, even if you’re out for the evening. I’ll write this call up with the

recommendation that we cruise by your house at night whenever we can—at least a couple

times a week.”

After the deputy left, Becca headed for the door as well, but every protective fiber of

Lane’s being ordered him to stay put and not leave Kristen alone in this rambling old house.

She was having none of it.

“Go—both of you. Over half the night is gone and you must be exhausted. You need to

get home.” She looked weary herself when she leaned into Becca for a grateful hug, hesitated,

then rested her hand on Lane’s arm and looked up at him, her green eyes warm with emotion.

“Thank you—for everything. You’ve both been such a blessing today.”

He’d rather have had the hug she’d given to Becca, preferably longer and even more

heartfelt, but he corralled those wayward wishes along with the others that had been sneaking

into his thoughts today. What was he thinking? He barely knew her. She was clearly a classy

city girl whom he suspected might have a sad and difficult situation lurking in her past--—one

that precluded any sort of interest in connecting with someone with unbreakable ties to this

part of Montana. But still…

He cleared his throat. “You do have our cell numbers. Right?”

24


She held up her iPhone. “Plus the clinic and barn numbers, the sheriff’s office and 911

on speed dial. I’ll drop off your dog tomorrow and then go looking for a Tank mini-me at the

shelter, so I’ll be fine. No worries!”

Then she firmly closed and locked the door behind them.

But on the drive home, he couldn’t shake the feeling that her breezy dismissal was just a

show. Right now, she might be nervously pacing through the house listening for suspicious

sounds, fearing the approach of a prowler outside. Wishing she’d never scome to Salt Creek in

the first place.

He wouldn’t blame her a bit.

But if she felt threatened and abruptly decided to pack up and leave, what then? He

had a feeling he would be losing something very precious. Life-changing. A chance to finally

connect with a woman who could be his once-in-a-lifetime love, just like his parents had been

for each other until the day they died. Was that even possible?

Becca was dozing in the passenger seat of his truck, so he glanced heavenward, then

whispered a nearly silent prayer. Please, Lord, give me a little more time.

****

All of her brave talk aside, it took Kristen until almost five in the morning before she

finally slipped into an hour of fitful sleep on the fold-away bed Becca and Lane had brought

over.

Like Goldilocks, she’d tried one bedroom after another upstairs.

25


The first was too cold.

The second was too loud—that corner of the old house groaned and creaked loudly as

the interior warmed and the outside temps dropped.

The third bedroom might well have been under an old leak in the roof, because the

overpowering odor of mustiness made her sneeze.

In defeat, she lugged the bed downstairs and set it up in the parlor, where she soon felt

all too aware of the trio of large, multi-paned windows looking out over the back yard….where

someone could easily stand in the darkness and stare right into the room. Unconcerned, Tank

curled up next to her makeshift bed and snored the rest of the night away, leaving her to count

the pressed aluminum ceiling tiles and long for daybreak.

On her way out to Six Pines the next morning, she called Eric and left another message.

When she pulled to a stop at the vet clinic she tried again, but this time he finally answered.

“I listened to your message. So you had some trouble last night?” he asked mildly.

“Strange. Nothing ever happens in Salt Creek.”

“Then why are two of the windows boarded up?”

“Oh, that. The local kids were playing baseball in the back yard last summer, treating it

like a city park. I had the sheriff scare them off permanently. No big deal. Have you gotten a

better look at that dump?”

She felt her hackles rise. “A better look, yes, but it’s not a dump—not by a long shot. The

woodwork is just beautiful. With a little work—“”

“Okay, then. Knock yourself out.” He said with a dismissive laugh. “But when you’re

ready to list, we can talk about what it’s actually worth and go from there. Don’t be surprised if

you lose every dollar you spend on it. Real estate in town is really soft right now, and it’s been a

buyer’s market for a long time. If you’re smart, you won’t waste your time.”

26


“So…what do you think it’s worth, right now?” She caught herself asking too late,

instantly regretting her words.

He snorted. “It’ll cost to bulldoze the house—it adds no real value. For an acre of land,

in a little ranching town like this, maybe…twenty grand, but that would be generous.”

He was not just a smarmy, irritating man, he was a thief. She struggled to rein in her

anger. How many people did he cheat over a year’s time? The elderly? The uneducated who

trusted a man with his worldly demeanor?

“I’ve actually done my own research, Eric. Property half this size, bare ground without

any mountain views, has recently sold for far more here in town.”

“But it was in a much better location,” he countered smoothly.

Actually, it had been a neighboring lot.

There would be a day when Grandma Tilly’s house had to be listed, but it wouldn’t be

with Eric. She was sure of that.

“My mother kept a file of everything you’ve sent her about the house since Grandma

moved to the care center—repairs, maintenance, dates for replacement parts and so on—but

she misplaced it during her last move and said I should ask you for copies. I can stop by later

today, if that’s convenient, for photocopies of the receipts and such? Or can you just email me

a copy of your spreadsheets?”

Silence.

“Eric?”

“Uh…the thing is, my office secretary left a few weeks ago, and I had to fire the one

before her because she was so incompetent. A complete disaster.”

“So you don’t have a secretary. Or an office manager.”

27


“Not at the moment. I’m still trying to make sense of the bookkeeping system those

two left behind.” A long pause. “But, I have some interviews this afternoon and hopefully can

find someone with experience and organizational skills. Someone willing to stay at the job.”

Wondering if he ever managed to keep any staff for very long, she let a pointed silence

lengthen between them.

He sighed. “But in the meantime, yes--—I’ll look around for what you need.”

She might have doubted his explanation as just a weak excuse, but he sounded so

frazzled that she almost believed him. Almost…but not enough to let him off the hook. He was

probably making up every word. “Thanks. I’ll stop in tomorrow. Say…nine o’clock?”

With that, she ended the call, slid out from behind the steering wheel and let Tank out

of the back seat of her truck. With his usual exuberance, he streaked in circles around the

barnyard before sliding to an ungainly halt at the back of the vet clinic and clawed madly at the

back door.

Lane appeared at the door a second later—probably figuring the furry beast would tear

it down if he didn’t hurry—and strode over to meet her with Tank bouncing along at his heels.

He searched her face, his warm brown eyes filled with concern. “Did you have a good night?”

Just seeing him in front of her made her skin tingle where he’d grabbed her and pulled

her to safety against his chest last night. The memory kicked off a funny little tap -dancing

sensation in the vicinity of her heart.

“Short night, but fine,” she hedged, hoping the heat rising in her cheeks wasn’t a blush.

“I just wanted to thank you again for all of your wonderful…uh…help yesterday, and for the

loan of your dog. He made me feel much safer.”

“So now you’re off to the animal shelter?”

28


It never mentions if she goes there or what happened.


“Next stop. I also did some research online this morning, on home security systems, and

called several. The first guy is coming out this afternoon to look things over and give me an

estimate.”

“Good for you. Did you check the shelter’s website, to see what sorts of dogs they

have? Unfortunately, they often have way too many.”

She idly ruffled her fingers through Tank’s thick coat and the dog blissfully leaned into

her like a tipping sack of potatoes, his tail wagging. “I thought about it, but decided I’d rather to

go meet them all in person without any preconceived notions. My only worry is that I’ll see too

many and will want to take all of them home.”

“You do have a very roomy house and a huge fenced yard.” Lane’s heart-stopping grin

deepened his killer dimples and made his eyes twinkle. “I’d say ‘go for it.’”

“Bad influence,” she teased back. “Aren’t vets all about responsible pet ownership?”

“Yep. And I’d guess you fit that to a T. Want some company to help with your

decisions?”

“I heard that.” She laughed. “This is one decision, not multiple. But yes—it would be

great to have a second opinion. Though don’t you work on Mondays?”

“I do. But barring emergency farm calls, it’s usually a lighter day because I work on

Saturdays. Let me grab my jacket and put Tank in a kennel.”

As soon as he disappeared into the clinic, she turned away and wrapped her arms

around her stomach with a groan of embarrassment. What possessed her to start flirting with

this guy at every turn?

She did not want a relationship with anyone. None.

She was better off alone from here on out, without worrying about disappointments and

heartbreak and all of the other emotions that had turned her life upside down two years ago.

29


And she definitely did not feel anticipation and flutters of excitement every time she

encountered Lane Creighton.

If she just kept telling herself that, maybe she’d start to believe it.

30


CHAPTER 5FIVE

Lane introduced Kristen to Glenda and Phyllis Tompkins at the animal shelter, then

followed as the two elderly spinsters gave her a tour. Years ago, they’d generously donated

twenty acres of land for the shelter, gave even more towards the building fund, and still happily

volunteered nearly full -time. Each time he’d come to donate neuters, spays, and other surgical

procedures, they’d positively sparkled with delight and gushed over his generous help, but they

were the true treasurers of this operation.

He’d spent a lot of time thinking about Kristen since leaving her house last night, and

had thoroughly convinced himself that she was unavailable and uninterested—she’d made that

rather clear with as many times as she’d avoided meeting his gaze or kept careful distance

between them.

And he wasn’t really on the market either.

His long engagement of several years had ended in a friendly departure and few regrets;

hardly the stuff of a great romance. If he’d really been meant to find the love of his life, surely it

would’ve happened before now, at thirty-five. And was that so bad? He had a good dog, a

career he loved, and a great extended family, so what else did he need? He was content with all

of the blessings in his life and needed nothing more.

31


But now, as he followed the elderly sisters and Kristen into the cement block shelter, he

felt a helpless grin take over his face and felt his heart start to warm as he watched Kristen’s

face light up as she passed each cage and engage in an animated conversation with the sisters

about each animal.

He found himself judging her interest, wondering if she was like so many clients who

only wanted cute, fun little puppies, or preferred a dog that would be an elegant, impressive

statement piece in the house.

Big dogs. Little dogs—there were dogs to match every fun dog description in the old Dr.

Seuss book he remembered from childhood. A couple of pens held wiggly, excited litters of

indeterminable breeding. Some were surely purebreds, some were the small designer breeds

bred to be cute to the nth degree. She moved on, though, lingering longer in front of the white

muzzled old troopers who studied her with sad patience from their dog beds at the rear of their

cages when she called to them.

She kneeled down in front of the last cage and looked up at Glenda and Phyllis, shaking

her head sadly. “You were right. Even you, Lane. This is completely impossible. How do I leave

anyone behind?”

Phyllis rested a gnarled hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right, dear. Not everyone can

follow their heart, here. But take comfort in knowing this is a no-kill shelter. It’s clean, bright,

and warm, t. The dogs are all well fed.”

“And wonderful people like Dr. Creighton donate expensive services that we couldn’t

otherwise afford,” added Glenda. “So all of our animals receive the best of care if they need

something special. We have lots of volunteers, too, who come to walk the dogs and play with

them, or come to cuddle the kitties.”

32


Kristen stood and brushed the dust from her slacks. “I want a mature dog; one who will

bark at an intruder or if someone comes to the door…but who will also be very safe around

neighbor kids and other dogs.” She gave the pens a wistful look. “And I would love to find one

who will be my best friend for life. Dogs are so much more devoted than people, don’t you

think?”

The sisters exchanged glances, then studied the long rows of pens flanking each side of

the room.

“That might be Coco, Molly, or Sandy,” Phyllis said.

“Or Ralph,” Glenda added, giving a distant cage a thoughtful look. “Though his hearing

isn’t very sharp. We don’t always have any history on the animals here, but these four were

owner surrenders so we do have a pretty good idea. Every dog here is neutered, heart worm

negative, and has all of its vaccinations up-to-date. Our senior dogs have a reduced sixty-five-

dollar adoption fee, but just like the younger dogs, we require a pre-adoption home visit and

also a home visit for a status check on them, two weeks after adoption. But before all of that, a

prospective owner has to fill out an application online.”

Kristen nodded. “I did that this morning before leaving home. My yard is safely fenced

already, and I definitely plan to comply with every stipulation about a dog being kept inside. I

would feel terrible, leaving it to live outside all alone.” She shuddered. “My heart just breaks

when I see dogs chained outside with a pitiful little dog house, or one kept 24/7twenty-four

seven outside in a pen, with little human contact. What a horrible existence.”

He heard a break in her voice over all alone, and again wondered at all of the little hints

he’d caught about her past. The glimpses of sadness. Her obvious belief that dogs were more

loving than people. What was her story, really?

33


One by one, the sisters brought out each of the dogs—a beautiful brown goldendoodle,

a Doberman-Rrottie cross, a golden lab with a white muzzle and finally, Ralph, who appeared to

be a spaniel-beagle mix, with a white and brown spotted coat, floppy beagle ears and freckles

on his legs.

Lane leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest watching her study and

then interact with each of the dogs. All costs being equal, she would choose the goldendoodle,

he decided. The prettiest of the bunch. Or perhaps the dobe, with its striking appearance and

muscular body. Just its silhouette in a window might strike fear in the heart of an intruder.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him. “Who would you

choose?”

He held his hands in front of him, palms out. “You probably don’t want my opinion. The

last time I chose, I ended up with Tank.”

“I need to fly home for Thanksgiving. Do you board dogs at your clinic?”

“Not as a general rule, but I could do that for you.”

“We don’t offer boarding either,” Glenda murmured. “But we won’t be able to do your

home inspection until Wednesday, and it sounds like you’ll be leaving town a few days later. It

would be much less upheaval for the dog if you could wait to pick him up after the holiday.”

Kristen’s face fell and her shoulders slumped with obvious disappointment. “You’re

right, of course. But can I make my choice today?”

Phyllis nodded and cocked her head, her face wreathed in a big smile. “I’m dying to hear

what it is.”

“Well…Coco is gorgeous, but goldendoodles are so popular that I think she’ll easily find

a home. Same with the beautiful dDobie cross. I’ll bet those two haven’t been here long at all,

and that they’ll have new owners soon. Am I right?”

34


For some reason, Doberman and Dobie are capitalized. Goldendoodle can go either way.


Glenda nodded.

“But Sandy looks older than the first two, and slower. And she’s limping, so I’d guess she

has some arthritis…and Ralph looks older yet. They seem to be buddies, though…so how cruel

would it be to take one without the other?”

Lane hadn’t noticed until now, but sure enough, they were in neighboring kennels and

even now they were laying down so they were practically touching through the chain-link wall

between their runs. “You want both?”

Kristen lifted her chin to a stubborn tilt. “Definitely. As lovely as it is here, I think they

both might like to live out their days in their own, quiet home. And I think they deserve to have

a loving home together, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re absolutely right,” Lane said softly. With just a few words, she’d

completely upended his expectations, and his estimation of her character tripled.

He shook his head, feeling a mix of awe and fascination that sent his universe spinning

out of balance. Where had she been all his life, and now that she was here, what was he going

to do about it?

35


CHAPTER 6SIX

The day after her trip to the animal shelter, Kristen met with two more home security

companies and hired one of them for an installation next Monday. Then she drove out of town

to a furniture consignment store to buy a sofa, loveseat, and chairs for the living room, a small

dining room set, and an old oak bedroom set for the main floor bedroom, all that arrived with

next-day delivery.

Most everything else, she’d ordered online, and when the new mattress set arrived this

morning, she’d heaved a deep sigh of relief. With that plus the heavy curtains she’d purchased,

surely she would finally have a good night’s sleep. New dog beds arrived as well, for the floor

next to her bed, along with minimal housewares and linens.

Grandma Tilly’s house was actually beginning to feel like home.

Far more than it needed to, for someone staying just a month or so, she reflected as she

looked around. What had she been thinking, while shopping the online home goods sites for

bargains? That she was actually going to stay for good? Did that even make sense?

36


At the end of the afternoon, Gladys Tompkins had arrived at the front door, clipboard in

hand and a steely look of resolve in her eyes, but then she left an hour later with words of

praise and a smile on her face.

Kristen sagged onto the new sofa after her departure, exhausted. The house was finally

habitable, though now the real work could start, and just the thought made her muscles ache

and her back hurt.

What had she been thinking, when she’d decided to take this project on?

A text beeped into her phone. I’m on your doorstep. Didn’t want to startle you. L.

Door’s unlocked. Come on in. In LR, she texted back, ignoring the sudden butterflies

ricocheting around in her stomach.

The front door swung open and Lane walked in, bringing with him a blast of cold air.

“How did the inspection go?”

“Great. Now I can’t wait to bring those sweet dogs home. If I could, I would cancel my

trip so I could go get them now.”

He dropped onto the loveseat. “So where are you going next week? A family holiday?”

“To my mom’s. She doesn’t know it, but my brother and I are surprising her on her 65th

sixty-fifth birthday—the day before Thanksgiving. As far she knows, neither of us can be

home.”

“What a wonderful surprise.”

“If we can pull it off. You just never know about snowstorms this time of year, and the

long-range forecast is looking a little tricky for the Twin Cities.”

He glanced around the room. “I like your new furniture.”

“It’s new to me, anyhow. I’ve been in Salt Creek four whole days, and it’s nice to finally

have something to sit on.”

37


He leaned back and crossed one boot over the opposite knee. “So what’s next around

here?”

“Honestly, I’m not even sure right now. Everywhere I look, I see more and more things

that need to be done before my mom should even consider trying to list it. Honestly, it’s

overwhelming.”

He nodded to himself, as if she’d just confirmed what he already knew. “I had a lot of

help when I built my new clinic, but you’re here without anyone. So I’d like to volunteer to

come into town and help out several nights a week, if that’s all right with you. Becca will come

too, when she can.”

“All right? What—I mean, why?” She stared at him in surprise. “You’ve got enough on

your plate as it is.“”

He smiled. “I enjoy a challenge, I guess.”

“A challenge.” Something told her that he wasn’t just referring to reno projects around

a house. “As in…”

He lifted an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling. “Like you, for instance.”

“Me!” This was treading onto dangerous ground. She laughed dismissively as she rose

and crossed the room to inspect the fireplace. “With all of the smoke darkening on the brick,

this thing must have worked at one point. What do you think—do I dare give it a try?”

He joined her and reached inside for the damper. A quick jiggle sent a choking cloud of

ash and dust into the fire box.

Coughing, she backed away. “Maybe not.”

“You’d want to hire someone to come out and clean the flue, then do a full inspection.

There could be bird nests inside, cracks in the bricks…who knows.”

38


“One of the many surprises in Grandma’s house,” Kristen said dryly. “Every day is an

adventure. I can hardly wait to check out the attic.”

“How about right now? I think I saw a hatch for a drop-down ladder on the second floor.

You probably don’t want to risk going up there unless someone else is around to catch you if

the ladder fails.”

Kristen rolled her eyes at him. “There’s a happy thought.”

She hunted for a flashlight in the kitchen, grabbed her set of keys from the counter,

then followed him up to the second floor.

“Mom said the door has been locked since Grandma moved away, but I have no idea

about what might be up there. Hopefully nothing dead.”

“Or alive,” he said dryly.

That made her shudder. “Thanks very much for that image. Bats, squirrels, raccoon…

whatever might be up there, I don’t want to meet it face-to-face.”

Lane tugged at the rope pull hanging from the hatch in the hallway ceiling and slowly

pulled down the aluminum ladder until its feet rested on the floor. “This actually looks sturdy. I

figured it would be rickety old wood.”

Kristen eyed the steep angle of the ladder and the dark maw of the attic overhead.

“Um…you first?”

“No problem. Keys?”

She handed him the key ring and flashlight. “I have no idea if you even need these. It

looks like we can already see right into the attic.”

He moved up to the top of the ladder and swept the beam of the flashlight through the

darkness. “It’s odd that there wasn’t simply a padlock on the trapdoor, but someone build a

wire cage up here with a lock…”

39


He fiddled with the keys, then she heard the squeal of metal against metal as he pushed

aside a makeshift gate, then disappeared through the opening.

“You can come on up,” he called down to her. “You might find this interesting.”

“Interesting as in…spooky?”

“As in family history, I suppose. I thought you said there wasn’t much up here.”

Intrigued, she followed him up the ladder and peered into the gloom. “Goodness,” she

whispered. “I’m surprised all of this is still here, undisturbed.”

“There wasn’t much of a barrier, frankly. If someone had tried, they could have easily

gotten in.” He moved across the attic to pull a dangling string and a single light bulb turned on,

then he moved to a steeply sloped section of the roof, tugged at a thick curtain and exposed an

eyebrow shaped window. A weak shaft of moonlight angled across the space.

Stacks of old shipping trunks and boxes filled one wall, while an eclectic collection of

furniture from different eras filled most of the remaining space. “This is amazing. I wonder

what’s in all of those old trunks?”

“Lots to explore on a rainy day.” He glanced around. “If you see anything you want

brought downstairs, just point it out.”

Sparks of excitement danced through her at the thought of what she might find from

her family’s history. Her mother’s and grandmother’s things. And the furniture—how beautiful

some of it might look downstairs in the parlor.

“I…I think I should talk to my mom first, at least about all of the personal trunks and

boxes. Much of this might be hers, and she should make those decisions, not me.” Kristen

surveyed the attic once more. “But the furniture is a different story. Do you think we could

manage that old fashioned rocker over there? And the that little washstand, just for now?”

“You bet.”

40


Between the two of them they wrestled the furniture down the aluminum ladder to the

second floor. In the brighter light of the hallway, she could now see the intricate carving on the

two pieces…and the chipped and flaking paint.

“These will be fun to refinish,” she murmured. “I hope my mom knows who they

belonged to.”

Lane hunkered down for a closer look and flecked a single loose chip of paint from the

washstand. “I bet you’ll find beautiful oak underneath.” He straightened, his intense, darkened

gaze locking on hers. “Looks like you could keep busy for a year with all that you just found.”

“”Or more,” she said lightly. But she knew he wasn’t really talking about refinishing

projects. He was asking if she might decide to stay for good. But that unspoken question set off

little warning bells in her head, reminding her of past mistakes and the price she’d paid. As

much as she was drawn to him, did she dare to ever take those chances again?

Sadly, she already knew the answer to that.

41


CHAPTER 7SEVEN

The next week passed in a blur, while Kristen scrubbed and polished the beautiful old

woodwork and cleaned windows until they sparkled. Hauled dead branches from the yard.

Cleaned the garage and tackled the dark, dank, and rather spooky basement.

Despite her cool distance, Lane often came in the evenings, sometimes with Becca, to

help with bigger projects around the house. If he didn’t come, Kristen felt bereft, missing him

more than she thought possible.

When he did stop in to help, the world felt…right, somehow, with their laughter ringing

throughout the house. It was easy to forget her past, she realized, as her feelings deepened for

him with every inadvertent touch or shared gaze.

Tonight, as Lane, Becca, and Kristen finished off the last of a pan of lasagna, she heard

the wind suddenly come up outside, rattling branches against the house and driving icy pellets

of sleet against the windows. Startled, she hurried to the front entry and flung open the door

to peer outside. Already, the sidewalk and trees were encased in a thin layer of ice, and more

sleet was coming down, driven sideways by the escalating wind.

42


“Did you see this?” she called out. “You two need to hurry home or you’ll need to stay

overnight.”

Becca and Lane joined her at the door, Becca tapping her phone keypad in search of a

weather report, while Lane stepped out onto the covered porch.

“You’re right. It’s now or never,” he said, coming back inside. “The street is glare ice.

But I’ve got to get back to check in on a couple of patients and Becca has her morning chores.”

“Not good news,” Becca added morosely. “Winter storm warnings here for ice and five

to six inches of snow, but the Midwest is getting hit really hard. High winds, heavy snow.

They’ve already closed the Twin Cities airport through tomorrow afternoon, and traffic is badly

snarled in Chicago. That airport will probably close down next.”

Kristen’s heart sank. “But I fly out from Billings tomorrow at noon.”

“Not anymore.” Becca gave her a quick, one-armed hug. “Watch your phone for

updates, but even if you could make the drive to Billings and fly out, you wouldn’t be able to

land.”

“So there goes the surprise birthday party plans for Mom on Wednesday, and the

chance to see my brother.”

“And Thanksgiving?” Becca gave her a curious look.

“That, too.”

“So what’s your holiday like?” Becca asked. “Your celebration, I mean.”

“Quiet,” Kristen admitted. “Not a sprawling, bustling Norman Rockwell scene. We

always have to watch the Macy’s parade on television, then we go out for a long dinner at a

favorite restaurant right on Lake Minnetonka. Afterwards, we go back to Mom’s to watch

football and make Christmas cookies. Nothing special. How about you?”

43


“That sounds wonderful.” Becca’s expression turned wistful. “Dad was already gone,

and our mom passed when we were in college. We used to go to our grandparents or an

aunt’s, but now they’ve passed as well. If would be different if either of us were married and

had kids, but now the two of us usually end up at a restaurant in town.”

“Let’s make dinner here. What do you say?” Kristen took a last look outside, then shut

the door. “If I can fly out, I will, but otherwise we could just do potluck style—doesn’t have to

be traditional.”

Lane looked between Becca and Kristen. “It doesn’t?”

At his crestfallen expression, Kristen grinned. “How about this. I owe both of you so

much, for all of your help with this house. So I’ll do the pies, rolls, turkey, potatoes and gravy,

and you two figure out the kinds of side dishes you like best. How’s that, Lane. Deal?”

His comical expression cleared instantly into one of pure joy. “Best deal I’ve had this

year, bar none.”

****

The three of them lingered over second pieces of Kristen’s pumpkin and pecan pies long

after Thanksgiving dinner was over. A triple berry and a coconut cream were still untouched,

but Lane was pretty sure he needed to try both before this incredible day was over.

“Where in the world did you learn to bake like this?” Becca murmured. “This beats

anything I’ve ever had from the bakery in town.”

“I’ve loved to bake since grade school, when I used to help my mom.” Kristen shrugged.

“I collect cookbooks and also like to experiments.”

44


Becca closed her eyes, savoring her last bite. “You should open a bakery. Right here in

Salt Creek, of course. You’d be famous far and wide.”

“And always sold out by noon,” Lane added. “There would be riots in the street when

that happened.”

Kristen ducked her head at the compliments. “I’ve actually given a bakery some thought.

I’m ready for a career change.”

“Here?”

“Maybe. Or back in the Twin Cities. I actually leased a small building just before coming

out here, but now I don’t know where I want to be.”

Becca cocked her head. “I guess I never did ask about what you did before.”

“Photographer.” From her closed expression, Lane guessed that she really didn’t want

to discuss it, but Becca blundered on anyway.

“Like, was it the dangerous assignments? Or nasty clients? I hear Facebook comments

and online reviews can be devastating—people can be so cruel.”

“Weddings and babies, mostly. Happy people during joyous times.” Kristen rose to start

cleaning the table. “I had lovely clients for the most part, but of course they usually are during.

the happiest times of their lives.”

“So wasn’t that fun?” Becca persisted. “Being a part of all that joy?”

“Yeah…well…then some things changed in my own life, and after a while, it became too

painful to bear dealing with such happiness. But I know that sounds terribly shallow and I’d

rather not talk about it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going out to the kitchen to make more

coffee.” She summoned up a smile. “And afterwards, will you try a different pie?”

45


Maybe have her cancel this somehow?


CHAPTER 8EIGHT

Still embarrassed over what she’d said about the end of her photography career

yesterday, Kristen drove alone to the animal shelter on Friday to pick up Sandy and Ralph.

The house was silent and dark when she returned home by late afternoon.

Just as she liked things to be—quiet and alone. Wasn’t that her world right now?

It didn’t last for long.

She carefully lifted each dog from the back seat of her pickup and led them into the back

yard, unsnapped their leashes, and watched them tentatively explore, noses to the ground and

tails wagging. There’d been a light snow last night, frosting the grass and trees in sparkling

46


You don’t say much about the dogs. They don’t react to Eric…aren’t mentioned. Maybe add a bit more about them?


white, and soon Ralph and Sandy were running, then stopping to roll on the ground, clearly

ecstatic over their perceived freedom in the fenced yard.

She barely knew them yet, their little quirks and habits, but just watching them made

her feel settled somehow, part of a makeshift little family that she would treasure for years to

come. They made her feel whole again,; the new security system made her feel safe.

She idly let her gaze drift over the pines in the back yard, then westward, to the view of

the Rockies that always filled her with wonder. How could she ever find any place else this

peaceful, t? This perfect? She was discovering a good future here, just as her mother had

promised.

Now she just needed to make amends and apologize to Becca for her sharp answer

yesterday, and try not to destroy this new life of hers, too.

****

With Christmas Eve just a week away, Kristen hummed along with the Christmas music

on the radio and finished a fifth batch of Christmas cookies, then slid them onto a cooling rack.

The past couple weeks had sped by in a flurry of activity—working with Lane on the

house, decorating for the holidays, and even some beautiful trail rides with him up into the

foothills through crystalline mounds of snow. They’d alternated sharing dinners with Becca at

their house or hers, and sometimes went out.

Was she falling for Lane—really?

It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to care, she didn’t quite dare believe it.

But there it was…...settling deeper and deeper into her wounded heart. And did he really care

47


for her—with so much baggage that she’d never expected such a chance of happiness to ever

strike again? She hardly felt she deserved it.

Someone knocked at the back door. Lane, probably. “Come in,” she called out. “I’m in

the kitchen.”

Heavy footsteps stomped snow from a pair of boots, then clomped up the three steps

leading to the kitchen. She turned, smiling. Her smile faded.

Eric Wright stood just inside the kitchen holding his hat and gloves, his expression grim.

“You didn’t answer my last couple of calls.”

She’d seen the calls on her phone screen but hadn’t picked up. She knew he was just

reiterating his previous requests. “I’m sorry, but you already know my answer.”

“Your mother called me. She’s concerned about the sale of this property before the

market gets any worse, so I promised her I would keep trying to get ahold of you.”

Kristen had explained all of this to him before, but still, none of his words made sense.

“I talked to her myself this morning. We talked about Christmas, and she was elated

about me staying here. That was her original plan, did you know that? She asked me to come

out to get the house ready for sale, but she really hoped this would be a chance for me to start

my life over and be happy. She has a revocable trust, this house is part of it, and my name is on

it. This place is not for sale.”

Eric’s hard gaze narrowed. “Your plans for a bakery here will not go through. I can

promise you that.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Word travels.” He gave her a wolfish smile. “The city council will never approve a

commercial license for this property.”

She sighed. “That’s just so sad. Now I’m glad I have no plans to ask.”

48


He advanced towards her, and suddenly the kitchen walls seemed to close in on her and

the air thinned. She backed up, struggling to draw breath. “Leave now, Eric. I mean it.”

“Not so brave now,” he taunted. “I hope you—”“

She snagged a boning knife from the magnetic knife rack under the cupboards and

grabbed her cell phone from the counter. “You are threatening me, and I can have you

arrested. Leave, or I will call the sheriff’s office right now.”

“You are making a big mistake,” he snarled. He glared at her for a long minute,

conveying his roiling anger, then he spun on his heel and left.

Kristen closed her eyes, forcing her hands to stop shaking. Then she drew in a slow,

deep breath and called 911. She’d dealt with his kind before—she only had to remember her

ex-husband to know how bad things could be--—she knew exactly where it could lead.

This time, she wasn’t going to be a victim. She had power. She wouldn’t back down.

And she knew it had to stop right now.

****

Lane and Becca came for dinner on the Saturday before Christmas, bearing a pretty

poinsettia plant and a foil -covered 9x13 pan of creamy parmesan potatoes.

Becca set the potatoes on the kitchen table, then looked closely at Kristen and frowned.

“Are you okay?”

Kristen continued slicing the rosemary, thyme, and garlic herbed pork loin without

turning around. She nodded stiffly, wishing Becca would drop the subject right now.

“Honey, we heard about what happened Thursday. You did the right thing to press

charges.”

49


Where are the dogs?


Kristen bit her lower lip. “He’s a wealthy local businessman. They didn’t even keep him

for an hour. He was on the other side of the street when I went to the grocery store this

morning, and that smug smile was hard to take. He was taunting me.”

“But he found out that he can’t get away with walking into your house and threatening

you. He knows you will follow through, and that can’t help his reputation—such as it is.”

“Yeah…supposedly. But I don’t trust him a bit.”

Becca shuddered. “I can only imagine his wife’s miserable life, living with someone like

him.”

If only you knew, sweetie. Kristen turned around. “Your aunt is a rRealtor, and I know

she doesn’t like him. Have you asked her why?”

Lane nodded. “We went to see her after you called last night. She says he’s the real

estate version of an ambulance -chasing lawyer. This is off the record, but she’s pretty sure he

has wheedled a number of elderly people out of their property way below market value—or

has taken advantage of unsuspecting heirs. He’s too slick to get caught at defrauding them—he

claims, and they agree, that he gave them what they wanted, and no one forced them to sell.

But the county property records do show those sale prices, and there’s a reason he’s become

so wealthy.”

Kristen nodded. “That fits. Did she know anything about his investments in this area?

Why he seems so possessed about buying this house?”

“That’s already part of the county records, so no secret there. He owns property on both

sides of yours, and yours is the missing piece of a possible development.”

“Funny thing—he never mentioned that to me. But he’s definitely out of luck, because

there’s no way he’ll ever get his hands on this land.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

50


“Well, dinner is ready, so let’s eat. I’ve got lemon meringue pie tonight—I hear it’s your

favorite.”

“Everything you make is my favorite. Bar none.”

He surprised her by laughing with delight, then taking her in his arms for a bear hug.

His laughter had charmed her. But from the second he pulled her into that surprise

embrace, all she could feel was the absolute terror of Jeff’s assaults. He’d stalked her, taken her

by surprise too many times to count.

The world around her started to go utterly black.

And then she screamed.

****

Lane exchanged worried glances with Becca as he hovered near Kristen, afraid to come

too close. Afraid to risk touching her—not even her hand--—to offer comfort. Where had that

come from? That gut -wrenching fear, those moments when she hadn’t appeared to even

recognize either one of them?

Even now, ten minutes later, she sat hunched over in a chair, staring off toward a blank

wall, her skin pale and her hands trembling.

He didn’t even want to imagine what kind of experience had damaged her so deeply.

Rape, possibly, though he wouldn’t ever ask. He’d seen faint glimmers of grief and sadness on

her face before now, but nothing like this.

“We certainly can’t leave now,” he said quietly.

51


The dogs would be by her if they sensed that.


“Of course not.” Becca moved to a window and peered out into the night. “I’m just glad

I did evening chores before we came into town. How about the clinic?”

“It’ll be fine until morning. Just two dogs overnight, but they’ve been fed and have

water. Tank has the run of the horse barn.”

Becca stood and headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to wash the dishes. Let me know if

there’s anything I can do.”

Lane stayed in the living room near Kristen, feeling frustrated and useless, wishing he

could do or say the right thing that would fix this. What was going on in her thoughts right

now?

From the kitchen came the sounds of water running, the clink of dishes and silverware

being rinsed and put in the dishwasher. He took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Kristen. I didn’t

mean to scare you.”

She slowly rose to her feet, hugged her arms around her middle. “Please—just go.”

“What?” He reached out to her but she drew back in fear and shock, her eyes blank and

wide and fearful, as if she were seeing a different and terrifying world in front of her.

“Just leave. In fact, it’s probably better if you don’t come back. I-I just can’t do this. Not

anymore.”

Baffled, he stared at her. How had this gone so completely wrong in the blink of an eye?

“Just tell me what’s going on, and I will leave. I promise.” But just then, he saw the secrets she

was hiding. The abuse, the terror. The helplessness. The memories that Eric had probably

stirred up with his oafish threats. Lane’s heart wrenched painfully. “I am so sorry, Kristen. I

can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

She glared at him like a cornered prey animal, defiant to her last breath. “Leave.”

52


“Whatever happened to you, it would never, ever happen with me. Do you

understand? Never.”

She shook her head fiercely. “It will never happen again because I will never be in that

position again. Dependent. Weak. Controlled. I was stupid to let my guard down. I was married

once, did you know that?”

She stalked across the room, then pivoted and came back to stand in front of him. “Jeff

was a handsome charmer, just like you. Funny and loved by everyone—the life of the party.

Oh, none of that changed later on—no one would’ve believed what he was like behind closed

doors. People looked away if they noticed a bruise or a cut lip—he laughed it all off because I

was so ‘clumsy.’ And they still believed him.”

She closed her eyes, remembering what she’d wanted to forget. “He was a detective…

and I knew I’d pay for it if I tried harder to report him or worse—tried to get away. So my life

was a horror show and I hated him—hated him. But it didn’t matter, because he had all of the

power.”

“I believed in him at first. And then…” she turned away. “We were in a car accident. I

was driving when we got T-boned—and he died. Just like that. To this day, I beg God for

forgiveness and wonder if, in my deepest heart, I wanted it to happen. If I actually hoped we’d

both die. Which makes me just as evil as he was. Even worse. Grief….guilt…they’ve been my

constant companions ever since.”

He stared at her as the futility of the situation washed through him like acid rain. To her,

men were all alike. None worth the bother—or the fear. “I’m nothing like your ex-late

husband. I never have been, never will be.”

“How can I ever risk that again?” she shot back, her words laced with pain. “How would

I ever know until it’s too late?”

53


“Then I guess you just have to trust. To take your time until you truly know in your heart

that the next guy is nothing like him.”

“I thought I knew about Jeff,” she said bitterly. “But it was all a lie.”

“So that’s what you think of me—that I’m like every other guy who has ever treated you

badly? I’m like your late husband?” Shaking his head, he went to get Becca then grabbed his

coat and keys. “”I’m truly sorry for all that you suffered, Kristen. But not everyone is as cruel as

he was. Many men are kind and decent and loving, and I hope you will figure that out soon.”

The brightly twinkling Christmas tree lights cheerily mocked him as he walked out the

door.

54


CHAPTER 9NINE

Numb, Kristen stumbled through the next three days, wallowing in self-pity.

And why not? She’d lived through a horrific marriage. She was probably responsible for

her husband’s death. And now, she’d driven away the only guy she’d ever really loved—a

wonderful, sweet guy-- —by revealing just how twisted her life had become.

He was lucky to be rid of her and probably regretted every minute he’d spent with her.

She felt a sad little chuckle make its way up her throat. Except maybe when he was eating one

of her pies. At least he’d liked those.

Unless he’d just been kind, in which case that made him even nicer while she was still

beyond redemption.

And now, in a little town lit up with an avalanche of Christmas decorations and

Christmas music pouring from loudspeakers throughout downtown, she was curled up in a

morose little ball on her sofa in a darkened room, with her two dogs and no one else within a

thousand miles who even cared.

55


It was a Christmas Eve pity party of the worst kind—and she had two emptied cookie

platters and an empty gallon pitcher of full-fat eggnog to prove it.

She cuddled the dogs closer to herself and looked out the windows, where fat

snowflakes were swirling past like Swan Lake ballet dancers.

It’s not all about you, a little voice whispered in her ear.

It was. It was all about her poor choices and bad mistakes.

Call him.

And what would she say? She’ds essentially thrown him under the bus with Jeff and

every other man like him. And what could be worse?

Call him. Then go to church. It’s Christmas Eve. The little voice was more insistent now,

and she imagined it giving her a swift kick in the rear.

She grudgingly glanced at her watch. The candlelight service was in an hour, the church

was just three blocks away. No excuses.

“So what do you think?” she asked the dogs. They just snuggled deeper into the sofa

cushions.

With a sigh, she disentangled herself from the heap of cushions, pillows, and dogs, and

went to take a shower. After debating about her usual jeans and sweater, she found a pair of

nice black slacks and her favorite red cashmere turtleneck instead.. Shrugging into her black

wool coat and tossing a bulky Kelly green scarf around her neck, she stepped out into the night

and locked the door and set the alarm behind her.

The snow was falling in beautiful swirls now, coating the pines with mounds of whipped

cream and obliterating the sidewalk. The scent of pine, the Christmas music wafting down the

street and the pretty Christmas decorations at every house lifted her spirits with every step,

until she was humming We Three Kings right along with the recording.

56


She wouldn’t know a soul at the church, but that was okay. Sometimes it was just

better to be anonymous.

A half block before the church she felt someone fall into step behind her and she felt a

flash of city-bred fear.

“Kristen?”

Lane’s deep, quiet voice flowed over her like a healing balm, yet she was almost afraid

to turn around. Heaven only knew what he thought of her now…or what he was going to say.

If this was going to be painful, she deserved every word.

She stopped, turned, but kept her eyes focused on the toes of her snow covered boots.

“Yes?”

“Are you heading to the church?”

She nodded, looked away. If she looked into his beautiful, warm brown eyes or saw the

flash of those dimples, she knew she just might cry over all she’d thrown away.

“Can I walk with you?”

Again, she nodded. A familiar truck accelerated on down the street toward the church

with Becca behind the wheel.

He walked beside her, the sleeve of his coat barely brushing hers, as if he were afraid to

touch her. She longed to just grab him and pull him close—into a real embrace this time—but

of course, those days were over because she was a complete idiot.

“I spent the last two days doing some research, Kristen. I asked the sheriff if he could

contact the police in the Twin Cities, and I had my lawyer get on this as well. You think you

might have been responsible for the accident that killed your husband, because you were

driving. But all of the official records show that wasn’t the case. It was an intersection. You had

57


the right of way when you turned left, but the oncoming driver was drunk and ran a red light at

well above the speed limit. There were four witnesses who signed a statement to that effect.”

She frowned. “I—I don’t remember it that way.”

“Probably because you went to the hospital with a concussion and broken bones, not to

mention facing the shock of it all. You might not remember anything real at all, but it was not

your fault. I have documents in my truck to prove it.”

She stopped walking and closed her eyes. Tried to think back over that night. The

traffic. The sirens and flashing lights and the ambulance that came just for her. Could he be

right? Had she immersed herself in guilt all this time for nothing? If so, Lane had just given her

an incredible gift of freedom from her past.

She chanced a look up at him and was struck by the kindness and worry in his dark

eyes. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Say that you’ll accept those documents. Think hard about them, and then try to finally

let all of that go. I could never imagine you capable of harming someone—not even someone

who treated you so badly.”

“I treated you badly,” she whispered. “Unforgivably. I can’t believe what I said to you.

From my first day here I knew you could never be anything like my late husband, and yet…”

He reached up slowly to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “It’s all right. I

understand.”

“It isn’t all right.” She reached up to cup her hand over his, and hold it against her

cheek. “I am so, so sorry.”

He looked deep into her eyes, then dropped a sweet and gentle kiss on the tip of her

nose. “What do you think—do you suppose we can start over and give this another try?”

She nodded slowly, almost afraid to accept that it might really be possible.

58


Ahead, the church bells began ringing and she could see other couples walking toward

the wide front doors. The chatter of excited children.

Lane tucked her arm in his and they began walking again, with the snow falling all

around and the feeling of Christmas in the air. “I don’t think I’ll forget this Christmas Eve for as

long as I live,” he whispered as they started up the church steps. “I have a feeling that this is

the start of something wonderful.”

She held his arm a little tighter and smiled.

Just an hour ago, she’d felt like a forlorn little waif on her sofa, sure that everything

good in her life was over…and yet here she was next to Lane, her heart bursting with hope.

She glanced heavenward. Thank you, God, for my very own Christmas miracle.

59


This would be an awesome story to expand. To show Eric getting justice and these two falling in love and then Becca getting her own story ;-)

roxannerustand.com€¦ · web view5/9/2020 · toward kristen with a plastic smile on his lean,...

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