High Country Holiday

“You are a regular Christmas elf, aren’t you?”

“That’s me.” But they both knew this had never been his favorite season. It always brought too many reminders that he wasn’t as well-off as the other kids in town. Too many humiliating opportunities for his dad to send him around for handouts.

Sharon gave him an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of Paris and Elizabeth with this silly hat.” She waggled her head to send the puffy white ball swinging.

He laughed and snatched it off her head, then popped it on top of his. “No problem. I’m sure I’m the most handsome elf this town has ever seen.”

“I imagine you’re the most handsome one Paris has ever seen.”

“I don’t know about that.” He handed the hat back to her. “I imagine her husband can hold his own—if supplied appropriate headgear, of course.”

Sharon’s forehead creased. “Her husband?”

“Dalton.” Why was she looking at him as if he’d lost his mind? “Dr. Dalton Herrington?”

“You have been gone a long time, doll.” She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Paris never married Dalton. He died. Didn’t you know?”

* * *

“A tuck here and there and it will be a perfect fit,” Paris reassured Macy Colston late Saturday afternoon as they exited the Sew-In-Love shop where the final fitting of the young woman’s bridal dress had taken place. Low, slate-gray clouds once again hinted at a possibility of snow, the Northland’s weather changeable from one minute to the next.

“Thanks again, Paris, for stepping in to take over for Reyna. With all the traveling for my Hometowns With Heart blog and my family scattered across the country, I’ve probably depended on her more than I should. Hopefully I won’t infringe on your time too much.”

Paris patted the leather portfolio tucked under her arm. “Thankfully, Reyna is extremely organized. Your wedding will be utterly charming with the 1940s theme. I love that Jake’s agreeing to wear a fedora and has a friend with a vintage car. So dashing—and romantic.”

“He’s being a real sport. You have no idea the lengths a man in love will—” Macy brought herself up short, an apologetic look darkening her eyes. “I’m sorry, Paris. Of course you know. Hearing women babble on about their fiancés and weddings can’t be easy. Please forgive me if I’ve been insensitive.”

Paris shook her head, determined not to allow a stab of guilt to affect her response. “I love your excitement at God’s gift of marriage. That is in no way being insensitive to what happened to me.”

When she and Macy parted, Paris headed to her SUV where she paused to leave a phone message for Abby Diaz, suggesting a time for a face-to-face meeting. She’d already spoken with Sharon and hopefully assisting the two of them would be no more time-consuming than Macy and Jake’s wedding appeared to be.

With the strong possibility that she might be compelled to dive into decorating for the Christmas gala, she’d need every spare minute she could get. She should have foreseen that this could happen when she’d first heard of Leroy’s setback, and not agreed to take on the weddings.

She glanced at her watch. Cody hadn’t called yet. Had he forgotten he’d promised to talk to his mother? Should she call to remind him? No. That sounded teenager-ish, as if she wanted an excuse to talk to him.

But what she could do in the meantime was drive out to Pine Shadow Ridge, a gated community which Perslow Property Management oversaw. Its impressive clubhouse would once again be the site of the Christmas charity event. She could confirm that there was no sign of Lucy Hawk’s recent decorating activity. In fact, she should have confirmed it before speaking with Cody. What if that committee member was wrong? Sharlene Odel often thrived on conflict. What if things were right on schedule and Lucy took offense at Paris not trusting her?

Not far outside the city limits, Paris slowed to take a sharp turn before heading up a blacktopped, tree-lined lane. Ahead she spotted the stone gatehouse and the security gate where an older-model pickup nosed up to the wrought-iron barrier. The gatekeeper had stepped out of his shelter, shaking his head and motioning for the driver to back up. Harry Campbell knew all the residents and vendors authorized to come and go. Apparently this one didn’t pass muster.

Allowing adequate space for the truck to back up, Paris put the SUV in Park, adjusted the heater and settled in to wait. Hopefully Harry would get this straightened out quickly and she could be on her way.

But...wait. Wasn’t that truck similar to the one Cody had been driving? Turning off the ignition, Paris stepped out into the nippy late-afternoon air. A few snowflakes kissed her cheeks as she approached the gatehouse, and Harry’s polite but firm voice reached her ears.

“I’m sorry, sir, but like I said, you have to move. You’re blocking those who are authorized for entrance.” Harry glanced in her direction, then motioned apologetically toward the truck. “Sorry, Miss Perslow.”

At the mention of her name, Cody poked his handsome head out the driver-side window to look back in her direction.

“Paris, please tell this guy I’m legit. Like I told him, I’m here on behalf of the Christmas gala.”

Did he intend to personally check out the status of his mother’s work, to see how bad it was—or wasn’t?

“He’s legit,” she confirmed as she came to stand by the irritated gatekeeper. Then she cast a cool glance toward Cody, who flashed an I-told-you-so look in Harry’s direction. “It’s customary, Mr. Hawk, to have authorization in advance. Harry wouldn’t be doing his job had he let you in.”

No doubt Harry had taken one look at Cody’s weathered vehicle and decided this man had no business there. He’d know Leroy, of course, and could easily have gone to school with one of Cody’s troublemaking brothers. A Hawk was a Hawk in this town, with a one-size-fits-all reputation.

She nodded to the gatekeeper. “Thanks, Harry. I’ll vouch for him.”

But was that wise? She had to keep reminding herself that Cody might have been a much-maligned boy who’d always been kind to her, but she had no idea who he was as a man.

Harry nodded and returned to the gatehouse, then the massive gates slowly opened. She glanced at Cody.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

He shook his head and grinned, a heart-stopping flash of white teeth in his tanned face. “Why don’t you lead the way, Miss Perslow?”

Back in her SUV, endeavoring to quiet the now-skittering beat of her heart, she watched Cody ease his truck through the gate. Then she followed until he pulled over to let her pass. The tree-lined lane curved among pines and boulders, a gradual incline that wouldn’t give anyone too much wintertime grief. The majority of residents vacated after Labor Day, of course, not returning until early summer. But diehards remained throughout the year or returned on winter weekends to ski nearby slopes and cozy up to a roaring fireplace.

When they reached the top of the rise, the log-and-stone clubhouse came into distant view through the pines, but she took a sharp right turn down a narrow blacktopped road marked “Private.” When she finally reached the large steel structure where heavy maintenance equipment and supplies were housed, she shut off the engine and got out as Cody pulled in beside her.

As he approached where she stood next to the substantial building, his dark eyes assessed his surroundings.

“This is new. And I’m guessing that was the clubhouse I glimpsed before we turned off. The foundation was being poured about the time I left town.”

She’d forgotten he’d have still lived in Canyon Springs when the project was getting underway. Motioning to a door off to the side, she held a keycard to the security pad next to it. Cody reached for the latch and opened it for her.

“Thanks,” she said as she stepped into the dimly lit interior, noting that the workers had left for the day. She felt along the wall for the light switch just as Cody reached for it, too, his warm fingers brushing hers as together they illuminated the high-ceilinged space. She pulled back as a shot of awareness bolted through her.

Catching her breath, she pointed across the spacious interior to the far corner. “We’ve set up an area for your mother to work. Since you’ve come to take a look, I assume you’ve talked to Lucy?”

“I phoned her.”

Please, God, let Lucy be able to finish this project. This was supposed to be a special Christmas. My last one as a resident of Canyon Springs. But everything is snowballing out of control. Please?

She took a steadying breath. “And?”

“And...” Cody’s brows formed a sympathetic, inverted V. “She can’t follow through on it. Dad’s too sick. She needs to be there for him.”

“But she signed a contract. Accepted payment.”

“Yes, she’s well aware of all that.”

“Well, then, what—?”

“What am I doing here? I wanted to see how much she’s done.” Cody glanced toward the work area, then once again leveled a steady gaze on Paris. “And see how much I have left to do.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_556bbb8c-737c-5f80-8170-468868c09db0)

A soft, startled breath escaped Paris’s lips. Cody wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. All he knew was that it pierced his heart and made him more determined to make good on his mother’s commitment to the holiday gala. For Ma. For Paris.