Читать книгу High Country Holiday - Glynna Kaye - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Cody groaned inwardly. Not because Paris caught him with the silly hat on his head, but because she was more beautiful today than she’d been yesterday. How was that even possible?

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat as the seconds ticked, taking in her trim, shapely figure, the brightness of her expressive gray eyes, the delicate curve of her sweet mouth...

Then, coming to his senses, he broke eye contact when he realized she wasn’t alone. A frowning Elizabeth Herrington stood beside her. Her mother-in-law.

He sheepishly removed the ridiculous hat from his head, then handed it to Sharon. “I’ll get the rest of the wreaths out of the truck.”

“Do that, doll. I’ll move these to a back room. It’s warm in here with that woodstove blazing away.”

He nodded, his eyes averted from Paris, then headed outside. He let down the tailgate and lifted the lightweight tarp to reveal half a dozen more wreaths. Well, it could have been worse. It could have been Paris’s husband who caught him staring awestruck at his beautiful wife. Her mother-in-law catching him in the act was bad enough.

Mrs. Herrington was no doubt aware that Merle Perslow had warned him off more than once as a teenager and that a stipulation of that job offer twelve years ago included keeping his distance from his daughter. That’s what had set off Cody’s temper that day. That and the man’s patronizing air that he was doing the community a favor by hiring the son of Leroy Hawk to keep him off the streets and out of trouble.

He didn’t have long to wait until, from the corner of his eye, he caught a package-laden Mrs. Herrington and Paris exiting the store. Deep in conversation, the older woman didn’t glance in his direction, but Paris clearly spied him, then quickly looked away.

Counting slowly to one hundred to ensure they’d walked down the shop-lined street, he’d no sooner lifted the remaining wreaths into his arms when he saw Paris heading briskly back in his direction.

“Good morning, Cody.” Her voice came somewhat breathlessly when she halted before him.

“Paris.” He nodded an acknowledgment as he placed the wreaths back in the truck bed, his heart beating faster at this unexpected chance to speak with her.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I got a call earlier this morning about your mother.”

He frowned. “My ma? Is something wrong?”

“I’m hoping not.” She clasped her gloved hands in front of her, her expression troubled. “It has to do with the annual Christmas gala. I’m the committee head this year.”

He was more than familiar with the event, but managed not to grimace. It was a charity dinner and dance that had been a community tradition since long before Cody’s family had moved to Canyon Springs. It was for a good cause, of course. But he’d been mortified more than once when his father insisted he line up with other underprivileged children to receive a token toy or item of winter clothing as society’s elite looked on benevolently, proud as peacocks of their generosity toward the community’s needy.

Needy. It was all he could do to keep his lip from curling at a word reminiscent of a poor Dickensian urchin timidly holding out a bowl for cold porridge. How he despised the image.

He cleared his throat. “You’d mentioned yesterday that my mother is helping. She’s making a few decorations, right?”

“More than a few, I’m afraid.” A tiny crease formed between Paris’s brows. “Some on the committee are concerned that, with your father’s illness demanding so much of her time, she won’t be able to fulfill her obligations.”

“Exactly how many decorations has she agreed to make?” Dad might not always make good on promises, but no one would ever accuse his mother of that. Maybe, though, he should have asked permission before carting off to Dix’s the stash of wreaths he’d found in the shed? He’d thought he was doing her a favor.

Paris slipped her hands into her jacket pockets. “Unfortunately, it’s more than that. She’s overseeing the decorating this year. The props. Christmas trees. Centerpieces. The works.”

He gave a low whistle. “I’m surprised she took that on, but I doubt she’ll be able to do it now. She’s at the hospital almost around the clock and there’s no telling how long Dad will be there. I suggest you look elsewhere for a volunteer.”

“That’s just it. She isn’t a volunteer.” Paris hesitated, as if reluctant to continue. “She’s been contracted for a design she submitted several months ago, and she received payment in advance for her time and materials.”

Cody flinched. He hadn’t expected that. His mother must have needed the money badly. Why hadn’t she told him?

“I can reimburse the committee, Paris. That’s no problem.”

Or it wouldn’t be if things worked out as he and his business partner hoped.

Paris offered a feeble smile. “That’s thoughtful of you, but the gala is three weeks from tonight, and I’ve been told nothing at the staging site has been touched in over a week. There’s always a last-minute scramble, but usually by this time things are coming together. A few committee members are concerned that she intended to have your father build the sets. And now...”

Leroy Hawk volunteered to do something of that nature? No way. Ma must have had another plan.

“If I reimburse the committee, can’t you get someone else to take over?”

A flicker of irritation lit her eyes. “I’ll certainly do my best if it comes to that. I know I should talk to your mother directly, but when I saw you here...”

With Dad’s situation demanding her every waking moment, Ma probably lost track of time. But he could tell this turn of events had unsettled Paris. The charity event was a huge responsibility on those young, slender shoulders.

“Let me talk to her. And don’t worry about it, okay?” He met Paris’s gaze with a firm one intended to reassure. “I imagine she has everything under control, but hasn’t had time to update the committee.”

“Thank you.” She tilted her head, the expression in her eyes conveying her gratitude—and reminiscent of the look she’d given him the day long ago when he’d flown to her aid on the playground. “Your mother has my cell phone number, but I can give it to you, too, so you can get in touch with me.”

He pulled out his phone and punched in the numbers she recited, then gave her his. But as he watched her head off down the street, he knew this exchange would be far sweeter if she wasn’t married to Dalton Herrington.

Back inside Dix’s, Sharon motioned for him to follow her to the rear of the store with his armload of wreaths. “I thought you’d fallen down a hole or something.”

“No, no holes.” Except for the gaping one in his heart.

Inside the storeroom, Sharon took one of the wreaths and placed it on an empty shelf. “How long will you be in town?”

“I’m not sure.” He handed her another wreath. “Dad’s situation is uncertain and I can’t talk to his boss until Monday. But there’s plenty to keep me busy at my folks’ place in the meantime. Ma hadn’t said a word about it, but Dad’s let things go since I left.”

“You know that I still check on her, don’t you? I make sure she’s doing all right.”

“It’s good to know there are people I can count on to make sure Dad doesn’t get out of line.” Cody grimaced. “Pastor Kenton does the same. Ma and I communicate through occasional phone calls he arranges at the church office. It’s better for Ma that Dad not be aware of that.”

“I figured you’d keep in touch with her. While life isn’t easy being married to your father, I feel certain Lucy hasn’t come to any physical harm. God’s kept watch.”

“He has. But He’s had help from the sidelines, as well.” Cody placed the last wreath on a shelf. Confession time. “This isn’t something I’m proud of, but the night before I left town I told him if he ever laid a hand on Ma, I’d find out about it...and come back to kill him.”

Startled eyes rose to his.

He met her gaze without blinking. “I meant it, too, and he knew it.”

Sharon offered a dry smile. “It sounds as if I have more to thank the good Lord for in regard to Lucy’s safekeeping—and your father’s—than I originally thought I did.”

“Amen.” Cody cracked a smile of his own. “And I don’t use that word lightly.”

She tilted her head in question.

“It’s a long story, but suffice it to say that my name is now recorded in God’s Book of Life.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Before he could stop her, she reached up to loop her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a quick hug. “Happiest day of your mother’s life.”

“And my old man’s luckiest.”

Sharon chuckled. “You’ve always been a good boy, Cody. Deep down, I mean. You had some rocky years and I know things were rough what with your father and those two brothers of yours setting the stage. This may never be a place you want to call home, but I know your mother’s thrilled you’re here now to help out however you can.”

He ducked his head. He wasn’t worthy of Sharon’s praise. He wasn’t in town because he wanted to be but because that scripture he’d come across last weekend had punched him in the gut. Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their own household, has denied the faith.

Yeah, he’d seen to Ma’s needs as much as he could, as much as she’d let him. But God had impressed on him to be here as His representative in the flesh this time.

“Well, I’d better get going. There’s lots of work to be done at their place.” He needed to find out what was up with Ma and the charity event, too.

“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.”