Читать книгу High Country Holiday - Glynna Kaye - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Cody strode to the old Dodge pickup, jerked open the door and climbed inside. Then he slammed the door and sat staring blindly out the snow-streaked windshield.

It was clear Paris couldn’t wait to send him on his way. He couldn’t blame her. How old had she been back then—almost sixteen? He’d been nearly eighteen and old enough to know better than to do what he’d done that night. He could still hear her soft gasp when he’d stepped out of the shadows where she’d been relaxing on the porch swing. He’d been desperate to speak to her before he left town, daring to risk being caught by her father.

Looking back, he was lucky she hadn’t called the cops.

And yet...for a fleeting moment, he thought he’d seen something in her eyes that sustained him with a glimmer of hope despite her firm but gentle turndown. It kept him going as he endeavored to turn his life around and become a man worthy of a woman like Paris. That is, until the day four years ago when he’d come across her engagement announcement on the front page of the online local paper.

Yeah, he’d been a dumb kid in more ways than one. He wasn’t that bright of an adult, either. He hadn’t spoken to Paris in twelve and a half years, yet he’d neglected to say it was good to see her. He hadn’t told her how beautiful she was. Nor could he bring himself to offer congratulations on her marriage into the Herrington clan.

Dalton Herrington.

Cody’s fists clenched involuntarily at the thought of the hotshot physician marrying Paris. But with Dalton’s professional status and upper-crust social standing in the community, he was exactly the kind of man she’d have been expected to marry. No surprises there. The future doctor had been in the same graduating class as Cody, likely finishing up medical school and heading into a residency program three and a half years ago. But even though he hadn’t been one to give Cody grief like others in the popular crowd, Cody didn’t want to think about them being a married couple who’d probably soon be starting a family of little high-class Herringtons.

For all he knew, they already had.

“Cody!” A sharp rapping at the driver-side window startled him back to the present.

He turned to find an auburn-haired, fiftysomething woman smiling at him and his spirits lifted as he stepped out to join her. Sharon Dixon, owner of Dix’s Woodland Warehouse, had always been good to his mom. To him, too, come to think of it. Funny how you forgot things like that.

The once-robust woman had lost considerable weight, though, since he’d last seen her. Had she been ill? His mother hadn’t mentioned it but, then again, after Paris’s engagement he no longer checked online to see what the pretty Miss Perslow might be up to, and forbade Ma to share any Canyon Springs gossip with him.

“As I live and breathe,” Sharon whispered, her former smoker’s voice as rough as sandpaper. “I’d heard you were back in town, doll. I’m sure your mother is tickled to pieces.”

He noticed she didn’t include his dad in that observation.

“Look at you. All grown up.” Her smile widened as she took him in from his booted toes to the baseball cap on his head. “I imagine you’re beating off the girls with a bat these days.”

He gave a dubious chuckle. “I can’t say that’s been much of a problem.”

“It will be if you stick around here for long.” She winked.

Right. While women elsewhere didn’t seem to have any objections to what reflected back at him in his mirror, he doubted any in this town would line up to compete for a guy who’d grown up on the wrong side of the tracks.

“I’m glad our paths crossed today, Cody. I have something for you to give your mom.” She dipped her fingers into a jacket pocket, then handed him a check. “It’s payment for wreaths and table decorations she left on consignment last week. They sold out within days.”

He glanced at the amount on Dix’s Woodland Warehouse check stock, then raised a brow. He used to gather bags of ponderosa pinecones for Ma, but had no idea people paid that kind of money for homemade Christmas decorations. He pulled out his wallet and tucked the check inside. “I’ll see she gets this.”

When she wasn’t with Dad.

“I’ve hesitated to contact her with all that’s going on.” Sharon gazed at him with sympathy. “But I have customers asking about future deliveries. There would be guaranteed sales if she can find time to put together more wreaths. The greenery or pinecone variety both sell well. Those quilted table runners are popular, too.”

“Thanks. I’ll let her know, Mrs. Dixon.”

“It’s Sharon.” She wagged a finger at him. “I thought we went through this when you were a teenager.”

They had, but he still felt funny calling her by her first name. His Texas-born mama had been a stickler for proper etiquette, Mister and Missus being drilled into him from infancy. Not that his manners had made any difference in this town.

“I’ll give the message to her...Sharon.”

She studied him for a long moment, windblown snowflakes lighting in her hair. “How is your father?”

Not many asked. Not many cared. But he knew Sharon’s concern, like Paris’s, was genuine, not merely fishing for gossip to share with neighbors who clucked their tongues at those no-good Hawk men. Dad couldn’t care less about their disapproval, but Cody knew it hurt Ma, even though she’d never said as much.

“He’s as well as can be expected.” Which meant Leroy Hawk wasn’t happy and was making sure no one else was, either. The wind shifted direction, whipping around them with a blustery gust. “You’d better get back inside, ma’am, before this wind knocks you off your feet.”

“Tell your mother she’s in my prayers. You are, too.”

“Thanks.” He’d willingly take any prayers he could get, for within hours of crossing the Canyon Springs city limits, anger and resentments he thought God had put to rest resurfaced. And now, finding Paris living here... He hadn’t expected the ambitious Dalton Herrington to settle down as a small-town doctor.

For a moment he thought Sharon might try to hug him, but apparently his expression prevented that. Instead, she fixed a look on him that said she understood more than he gave her credit for, then she headed back to her store.

Mrs. Dixon had always gone out of her way for his mother, for which he was grateful. It still galled, though, to know people were aware of your lack. That people—like Paris—knew you and yours were struggling and in need of a handout.

But, God willing, not much longer.

* * *

“Oh, sweetheart, this dress is breathtaking on you.” Saturday morning, the well-coiffed Elizabeth Herrington stepped back to better view Paris in the three-way mirror outside the dressing rooms of a Canyon Springs boutique. “If only Dalton were here to see you.”

Paris stiffened, avoiding Elizabeth’s misty-eyed gaze in the reflection before her.

“I don’t know...” She swished the skirt from side to side, the exhilaration she’d felt when she’d slipped into the floor-length gown evaporating at the mention of Dalton’s name.

She didn’t fault Elizabeth, though. Widowed not long before the loss of Dalton, she’d loved her only son dearly and generously included Paris in that all-embracing affection. Right from the beginning, when her mother died when Paris was fourteen, Elizabeth had stepped into her best friend’s shoes to comfort and guide, to treat Marna and Merle Perslow’s daughter as if she were her own. What could possibly have been more natural, more gratifying for her efforts, than to have the girl she adored grow up to marry her only son?

But Elizabeth’s fondness had been undeserved. She had no idea Dalton would still be alive...if it hadn’t been for Paris.

“I’ll think about it.” She turned her back to the sales associate to be unzipped.

Elizabeth frowned her disappointment. “It’s only a few weeks until the charity event. In this dress you’ll be the belle of the ball. It fits as if made for you, and the black velvet sets off your dark hair and fair complexion to perfection.”

That’s what Paris had thought, too. At first, anyway. Now the dress had lost its luster.

“Please hold this until you hear from me,” Elizabeth instructed the sales associate, not questioning that her instructions would be followed even if it might cost the boutique a sale. There were certain advantages to being a Herrington in this town.

Paris returned to the dressing room to change into her street clothes. As much as she loved Elizabeth, as good as Dalton’s mom had always been to her, would the dear woman ever let her live her life outside the confines of a relationship with her son?

Maybe this shadow world was Paris’s penalty for having attempted to go against family wishes three and a half years ago. Which made what she planned to do now—leave Canyon Springs—seem all the more disloyal to those who loved her.

Once outside the shop, Elizabeth motioned her toward Dix’s Woodland Warehouse. “Let’s take a look at Dix’s seasonal items. I love how it’s decorated this year. I think Sharon’s daughter has played a huge part in that.”

Newly married Kara Kenton was an interior designer, a local girl who’d escaped for a time to Chicago and made her mark on the world. Paris didn’t even know where she herself would start if given such an opportunity. She had many interests. Events planning. Gourmet cooking. Photography. Her unfinished degree was in elementary education. How could she choose?

Unlike yesterday, this morning the sun shone in a brilliant blue sky. Although still chilly, the wind had abated and Paris had donned a fitted wool blazer rather than a heavier jacket. Such crazy, patchwork weather in mountain country.

“Isn’t this wreath beautiful?” Elizabeth stopped to admire the door decoration as they stepped up onto the porch at Dix’s. “It would be perfect in my foyer, don’t you think?”

“If it’s not for sale, I imagine you can commission one from Lucy Hawk.”

“That poor woman, being married to that lowlife Leroy.” Elizabeth discreetly lowered her voice as she held open the door to the store. “He got what he had coming, but it will make life more difficult for her. Those sons of his haven’t lifted a finger to help, either. They should be ashamed of themselves.”

Paris bit back the impulse to defend Leroy’s youngest. But she couldn’t speak to what Cody’s intentions were. Taking sides with a Hawk—any Hawk—wouldn’t be advisable.

Once inside the store, they greeted proprietor Sharon Dixon who was dressed in a Christmas-themed sweatshirt, her head topped with a jaunty Santa Claus hat. Then they moved eagerly through the store to take in the abundance of Christmas wares mixed with the usual outdoor gear and general-store staples.

While Elizabeth wandered off, Paris moved to the Christmas tree in the center of the raftered room where tiny fairy lights and dozens of handmade ornaments were arranged in a heartwarming display. She had a collection of mountain-themed decorations and, as always, was eager to add one more. This year’s selection would be particularly special for her as, if all went as hoped, it would be her last as a resident of Canyon Springs.

“Parker will be in town for the holidays,” Elizabeth pointed out when she eventually rejoined Paris, her arms laden with Christmas merchandise.

“That’s nice.” Paris avoided her gaze. Dad had also mentioned Dalton’s cousin Parker a time or two in recent weeks, expressing pleasure that the up-and-coming attorney might return to Canyon Springs to partner in the same law firm with city councilman Jake Talford.

As if this town needed another lawyer.

But Paris wasn’t interested in being railroaded into a relationship with Parker Herrington.

“You are going to need an escort for the Christmas gala, you know.”

“Actually,” Paris said, “as the head of the committee this year, I’ll be behind the scenes more often than not, seeing to details of the event. I don’t want to be tied to someone with the expectation that I keep them entertained.”

Her best friend would be home soon and, as far as she knew, didn’t have a date for the gala, either. Maybe they could hang out together. As always, the high-spirited Delaney Marks would pitch in on anything that needed doing—like keeping Paris sane.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Parker is capable of entertaining himself and would be a strong complement to your talent for hosting social events such as this.”

“Elizabeth, I—”

“Ho ho ho!” a low, masculine voice called from the front door. “Look what I found, Sharon. Ma had a stash of finished ones out in the shed. There’s more in my truck.”

Startled, Paris turned to see Cody making his way to the checkout counter, his arms laden with beribboned wreaths. Hope sparked. If she could ditch Dalton’s mother, maybe now would be an ideal opportunity to talk to him regarding a unsettling phone call she’d received earlier that morning about his mother’s role in the Christmas gala. Considering the nature of that untimely call from a committee member, she should never have given in last night to what she thought was God nudging her to contact Pastor Kenton and agree to take on the weddings.

Elizabeth raised a brow disdainfully as she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Isn’t that one of those Hawk boys?”

“Maybe he’s here to help his parents.”

Elizabeth sniffed. “That’ll be the day.”

Sharon clapped her hands in delight. “Lucy had these made up? Why didn’t she bring them in? Customers are begging for more.”

“I imagine she intended to, but with everything that’s happened in the past week...” He shrugged, then motioned to the wreaths he’d placed on the counter. “Being kept in the cold shed, they still look and smell as fresh as you could hope for.”

“They do look nice. I’ll get busy calling people on the waiting list.” Still smiling, Sharon placed her hands on her hips and looked up at him. “Aren’t you the finest of Santa’s helpers, doll.”

With a laugh, she impulsively whipped off her holiday hat and stood on tiptoe to secure it on Cody’s handsome head. Startled, he glanced uneasily around the store, no doubt to ensure no one had observed the indignity of his impromptu elf act.

Paris couldn’t help but smile, but she didn’t anticipate the knee-buckling impact when his dark-eyed gaze collided with hers.