The Christmas Wedding Quilt: Let It Snow / You Better Watch Out / Nine Ladies Dancing

As she pulled into the drive lined with cars she saw that not much had changed, although some changes might have been welcome. The white frame house was in need of paint. This climate was hard on houses, and she supposed Brody painted on a rotation and would probably paint it in the spring. But the porch sagged, as if the foundation needed shoring up, and she wondered why he had let it deteriorate. Was he stretched so thin he just didn’t have time for upkeep?

She quickly forgot to wonder. Brody was approaching, wool cap covering his hair again, but the smile was right out front.

“I hoped you would come,” he said, as she scooped up her contributions and got out. “But you didn’t have to bring anything.” He leaned over, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her and her breath caught. Then he reached for the casserole dish.

She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. “Any excuse to cook. And I’m returning your care basket, with thanks. I made it to the grocery store and replaced everything. It’s in the back.”

“You’re so...” He hesitated.

“Predictable?”

“Responsible. But thanks, it saves me from having to hit the grocery store right away.”

They started toward the house, and Jo saw groups of warmly clad people working on snowmen, maybe six groups or more, although individuals seemed to be going back and forth between them.

She heard laughter and smiled. “It looks like you have a crowd.”

“Almost everybody’s here. Some are friends from high school, with their families, some are neighbors. You can see we have lots of kids. We’ve been doing this for a few years. We find any excuse to get together during the winter. This is my way of hosting. I’m the only single guy in the crowd, and they’re always trying—” He stopped.

She knew what he’d been about to say. “To match you up with somebody?”

He didn’t answer directly. “You get the same thing, I bet.”

“My friends are few and far between. I work too many hours to keep them.”

“Then I’m surprised you’re still here in Kanowa Lake and not back in California slaving away.”

They were nearly at the house, and people were beginning to peel off from their snowmen to come meet her.

“So am I,” she said, before the introductions began. “But I’m not sorry.”

* * *

BY EIGHT O’CLOCK the last of Brody’s guests had left. Except for Jo. He found her by the fireplace, sitting on the rug stirring the coals. He paused for a moment to admire the picture. Then he moved in to put another log on top.

“It will catch in a moment,” he said. “The coals are still hot.”

She smiled up at him. “You didn’t have to do that. I really need to get home.”

“Somebody waiting for you?”

She shook her head. He watched her hair swirl as the fire brought out the subtle red highlights. He had to restrain himself and not reach down to smooth it into place.

“Stay, then,” he said. “For a little while. I have coffee brewing and some Irish whiskey to put in it.”

“I have to drive.”

“You could sleep here.”

She looked surprised. “I think not.”

“I have a guest room.”

“I’ll have the coffee, without the whiskey, then I’ll go home.”

He decided he wasn’t in any hurry to pour her a cup. He settled himself on the rug beside her, careful not to touch her and scare her back to Hollymeade. “Did you like my friends?”

“Your friends are great. You’re lucky to have them.”

“It would be lonely here if I didn’t. It’s not so bad in the spring and summer when the place is buzzing. My mother’s here then, and she’s good company, plus I’m outside so much I don’t have time for a social life. But in case you hadn’t noticed, Kanowa Lake’s not a metropolis. In the winter we make our own fun.”

“Does Kaye really need your mom to babysit? Or does the cold bother her?”

He didn’t want to explain that they couldn’t afford enough heat to keep his mother comfortable, and when she was away he could set the thermostat at a minimum. Tonight he had warmed the house for the party, but when Jo left, he would turn the thermostat to 55 degrees and sleep under two down comforters.

“She loves her grandchildren,” he said instead. “And she likes Arizona a lot.” That, at least, was true. His mother loved being out west with her grandchildren, and in a perfect world, where she could afford a little condo of her own there, she would only spend summers in New York.

“In between giving my snowgirl a perm with pinecones and tinting her cheeks with red food coloring, I got a lot of questions from your friends. I passed the stranger test, since I’m one of the Millers from Hollymeade, but I got the feeling everybody wants to be sure I don’t hurt you.” She looked into his eyes. “I told them not to worry. We’re old friends.”

Her eyes were almost the color of her hair. Brody loved watching the firelight dancing in them.

“They’ll keep asking,” he said. “We’ve stirred their imaginations and given them a gift good enough to put under their Christmas tree and talk about for months to come.”

“Speaking of trees...” Jo laughed a little, although he thought it sounded forced. “Yours is, how can I put this, Brody? Like the last Christmas tree in the lot on Christmas Eve. A Charlie Brown tree.”

He glanced at the little tree he had set up in the corner for the party. “It’s artificial.”

“I do realize that. I just wondered what the manufacturer used as a model.”

“I’m offended you think it’s less than perfect. I got it at the Trading Post last year—after Christmas.”

“If you paid more than a dollar, you paid too much. Aren’t you going to decorate the poor thing?”

“It is decorated. Didn’t you notice?”

“Brody, you hung three ornaments and a star. That’s not decorated. Did you get those on sale, too?”

He smiled. “So what’s on your tree?”

“Hey, I’m just visiting. Of course, I don’t have a tree. I might not even be here for Christmas.”

He didn’t want to think about that. “So what would be on your Christmas tree back in California?”

“It varies. Last year I came home from work to a pale blue tree, kissing cousin to a toilet bowl brush, decorated with Japanese origami ornaments in gold and silver. Sophie had spent weeks folding them to surprise me. It was an homage to her ancestors.”

“Your mother is Japanese?”

“Not in this life. Three lives ago, I think.”