Winter in Wonderland Page 7

  “How tall do you want it?” Sam whispered just behind her.

  “I’m not sure.” How had he known these were the ones?

  Before she could ask the question, he answered it. “Every other kind, you’ve made excuses before we reached them; these, you just stopped and looked. I figured we’d finally hit the jackpot.”

  “I think I’d like to be able to reach the top, so that if I have to take it down by myself, I can.” Because she probably would. Once the house was done and Christmas was behind her, she was still going to get out of Wonderland.

  “So you’ll need help if it’s too tall? Nine-footer it is.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her down the row.

  She tried to keep her footing on the uneven ground as Sam rushed to the far end where the taller trees were. He’d hardly touched her intentionally since she’d arrived, and the simple act of holding her hand was doing crazy things to her insides. Not that she could complain, especially after his little mind-reading act before, but she did have to put her foot down. “No, Sam. I want a short tree. Like me.”

  She regretted her tug immediately as his hand slipped away from hers. “You’re still dead-set on leaving?”

  Ohh, she couldn’t take those puppy-dog eyes. He’d break her heart. She was sure of it. “Yes. Right after Christmas.”

  “I was hoping we’d gotten along well enough that you didn’t have to run.”

  But what happened if she stayed? It might be fine until someone said something about her. Would he run off again without even talking? A leopard couldn’t completely change its spots. “We’re getting along fine, but how do you expect me to make money in Wonderland? I can’t flip houses here. I can’t even flip houses in most of South Dakota – people want older, rustic homes here, not renovated ones.”

  “So stay and run the greatest B&B in Wonderland. You don’t need me to do that.” He walked past her, back the way they’d come.

  “I couldn’t do that without you, Sam.” The dream had been theirs, not just hers. She couldn’t handle thinking about it alone, or she would’ve started one in the last seven years.

  “Why not? You’ve always been the leader. You think of something, start it, ask for my help, but you don’t need it. If anything, I stood in your way. You’d be great.” He adjusted something around his neck and kept walking.

  She jogged after him and grabbed his arm to stop him. “Sam, no. That’s not how it was – at least not how I saw it. I asked you to help me because I didn’t want to do anything alone. When I left and had to start flipping houses, I reached out to Evelyne because I couldn’t do that alone. The dream of owning a B&B … that was ours. It holds no appeal at all without you.”

  “Really?” He didn’t smile or soften his features at all - if anything, he looked pained. “You’d still want to own a B&B with me?”

  She nodded, the lump in her throat not letting her speak. It sounded so easy, made so much sense … if she just could forget the last seven years. If she could let go of the hurt. But time machines didn’t exist and forgiveness was sometimes messy, especially in the deepest regions of her heart.

  He stepped closer, his cheeks and nose rosy from the cold. All she could think about was what it would feel like to really let go, to turn her back on all that had happened and let him kiss her. He put his free arm around her waist, and for a blissful few moments she forgot about everything but him and the glorious tension between them.

  She held the front of his coat, refusing to let go of the moment. Her mind would regret it later. Right now, she just wanted Sam, the Sam she should’ve been married to by now, the Sam who should’ve made her a mom by now. Her knees went weak, thinking of all they’d lost because neither had been willing to reach out after the hurt. “Sam, I am so sorry …”

  “What?” He pulled away and leaned the saw against a tree. “That’s all you can say?”

  “No, let me finish. I’m not going to let a misunderstanding ruin this like before. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to find out what happened. I’m sorry I ran away. I was just so hurt and you didn’t tell me why, yet you were so angry, accusing, and I was afraid. I’m sorry.”

  He pulled her back into his arms, holding her tight. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have listened to the rumors, or to Evelyne. I should’ve kept trying to reach you. I was sure you’d never take me back and that it would be useless effort. I …”

  A voice tore through the quiet of the trees. “Sam? Is that you I hear?” The sound of breaking twigs and clomping feet preceded Chelsey in the row. “Oh, my. Well, looks like I’ve interrupted something, haven’t I?” She stomped over anyway and stood uncomfortably close.

  “Yes,” Ashley replied. “You did.”

  Chelsey didn’t respond, just looked at Sam. “I’ve got your music ready and the rehearsal schedule with me. Make sure you take lots of time to practice. Since the snow came so late, the Ladies are full, so we’ll start caroling right away on Monday. You don’t want to look like a fool by not practicing.” She smiled and gave Sam an air smooch.

  “I didn’t know you were still part of the choir – that’s great,” Ashley said numbly. She couldn’t help but compare herself to Chelsey – blonde, rich, expensively dressed . Ashley had broken nails from hard work, wore sweaters or flannel with boots, didn’t own much or have much left in the bank. And she was confused about Sam, which Chelsey certainly wasn’t.

  “Actually, I’m not going to be caroling this year – sorry.” Sam turned back to Ashley as smoothly as if he were on casters. “So do you like this one?” He pointed to the five-foot tree they happened to be next to.

  Part of her wanted him to fight for the nine-footer, to make her have to call him to take it down. But she loved how he was not only conceding to her wishes, but had barely reacted to Chelsey. He was still with her. Could new Sam be even better than old Sam? She had one week left to find out. “Yes, I do believe it’s perfect.”

  “Let me get the saw.” Sam walked toward it, leaving Chelsey sputtering – and Ashley grinning.

  Chapter Eleven

  His alarm hadn’t gone off. Sam dashed through his house, putting on his glasses instead of his usual contacts. No time to shave. But he was still pretty pleased about the previous day’s encounter. He’d shown Ashley he didn’t want anything to do with Chelsey. But Chelsey’s dad was on the town council, and she could be underhanded. Neither she nor Sam had extra money for fines this close to the end of their work on the reno house.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. He whipped it out and fumbled it in his haste. “Sorry, Ash, I know I’m running late. I’ll be right there.”

  “How sweet.” Chelsey purred. “But you won’t be able to go work on the house today. Practice starts at ten and we start our first round of caroling to each house tonight. At five, we’ll all go down to Molly’s for a burger. As you know, on kickoff night they light the Christmas lights on Main Street early for us so we can carol at each business. Then we walk to each of the Ladies. I don’t think we’ll be done until about eight or so, maybe nine if we’re luckily.”

  The nerve of the woman … “I told you I’m not caroling this year.”

  “ But you have to. All this week the schedule is the same every day. Christmas is one of our biggest times of the year. The rest of the Black Hills towns close or cut hours after Labor Day. And we are known for Christmas. Last year, so many people just didn’t practice, so we had to make sure this year everyone was committed. All day. All week. No excuses.”

  “I repeat, I’m not doing it this year.”

  “Are you sure you want to pull out now? You’d be impossible to replace. It would be a shame if someone pushed through this new city ordinance on Daddy’s desk making it impossible for anyone to start new bed & breakfast establishments. We want to protect our current businesses from upstarts coming in and offering substandard accommodations. Wouldn’t that be terrible, Sam? So can I count on you to be at practice?”

  All the work they’d done would be for
nothing. The house couldn’t sell as anything but a B&B after their renovations. But he wouldn’t negotiate with a crazy woman, not even a crazy woman he went to high school with. “No, you can’t.”

  Now she took the condescending tone he was used to hearing from people who considered themselves above him. “I’ll see you at the community center in two hours. You’ll be there.” She hung up.

  He stared at his phone for a minute. Hadn’t he told himself he needed to protect Ashley? Wasn’t that one of the few things he could offer her? He had to choose – one last week with Ashley to get her to stay and probably lose the ability to sell their house, or a week in torment with Chelsey, ensuring that Ashley would feel abandoned, but at least be able to get her money back.

  He pressed her ring against his chest. He hadn’t protected Ashley against the rumors before, rumors that Chelsey had probably started. But he could now … except that doing so might make things worse. How was he going to do this? Was Ashley going to be angry that he wasn’t helping her? Was she going to be angry that he was helping Chelsey? Was …?

  His phone buzzed again with a short text from Ashley: You coming?

  He sighed and closed his eyes. Chelsey had won the first round and now it looked like she’d win the second round too. What should he do?

  Wait … why did it have to be just him? He had someone he could trust – Ashley herself. When he’d hurt her before, hadn’t it been precisely because he didn’t talk with her? And wasn’t she the better planner? She might have an idea that hadn’t occurred to him. He dialed her up immediately – together they could work this out.

  “Hey, Sam. Everything okay?”

  Sam sighed. “No, definitely not.” He laid it all on the line – Chelsey’s expectations, her threat, the whole thing. It felt so good to tell someone else about it and know it wouldn’t get back to the Mileses. It just felt good to vent.

  When he finished, there was a long silence before Ashley responded. “That … that … I don’t want to be childish and call her anything, but I want to.”

  “I would, but what would it help?”

  “Yeah. She really has you – has us, really – over a barrel.”

  “She certainly isn’t leaving us with many options,” he added.

  She took a deep breath, let it out, and asked, “So what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” he groaned. “I was hoping you had some ideas.”

  “I wish I did. Dry rot I can deal with. Paint stripping I can do. Blackmail is outside my skill set … Sam? Will you be honest with me? Is there anything between you and her?”

  That, he had an answer for. “No. No, a hundred times no. She’s manipulative, she’s mean, she’s a gossip. I’ve been trying to blow her off for a decade, and she keeps coming back. I’d have felt like I could’ve done something about her long ago if her daddy wasn’t holding the town council in his fist. I’d sooner date a porcupine.”

  She laughed again. “Don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel.”

  “But what do I do about this? I don’t want to sing carols with her. I want to be with you.”

  Another silence. For a moment, he thought he heard a sniffle. Then: “I don’t think we have a choice. But … I trust you, Sam. Go ahead and do the caroling thing, and help me work on the reno when you can squeeze it in.”

  “But you’re only going to be here another week or so, and … no, you’re right. We don’t have a choice. But know this – every moment I’m stuck singing ‘Sleigh Ride’ or whatever, I’ll be thinking of you. And I’ll be free tonight about nine – want my help then?

  “That’s fine – come right on over.” They said their goodbyes and hung up.

  But Sam was still seething. He didn’t want to spend one moment with Chelsey, but Ashley deserved to finish her project and move on. She’d said she wanted to keep flipping, and there were no houses to flip in Wonderland. If she was going to run a B&B, she’d want to do it with him, but she hadn’t come right out and agreed to do it.

  At least he could do this for her, throw himself on whatever mercy Chelsey had. Even if it meant Ashley would leave him again.

  Ashley shivered despite the space heater next to her. Sam wasn’t coming until late, and wouldn’t be around as much the next week. Though she could understand why, she certainly didn’t like it. Thankfully, the house was almost finished. The team that was putting the new siding on was supposed to come this week, barring a blizzard. By Christmas Eve, the house would be ready to put on the market.

  Would someone want another bed and breakfast in Wonderland? Well, probably – there had to be someone in town with a dream like they’d had. Sam had wanted it, and wanted to work with her.

  She glanced around the main floor at all the little things he’d done: the crown molding in the rooms she’d finished painting; the refurbished center island in the kitchen – though it didn’t look period, it was perfect for a buffet-style breakfast for guests; the rich burgundy paint in the sitting room, which she’d hated until she put it on the walls, then immediately saw he was right … it had all come together so fast, and so well.

  But it was a tie to Wonderland, and she was trying to get rid of those ties. She was gone once she sold this place and Grammy Jean’s and told Sam goodbye. If she could sell them. If she could tell him goodbye.

  She held the handrail as she went up the staircase, the scent of paint hanging thick in the air. They’d finished the largest suite Friday, and two of the other rooms before that. She had four rooms still to paint and trim. The job would’ve been a breeze with Sam here more often, but now his time would be more limited—thanks to Chelsey. Still, it wasn’t like she hadn’t done this type of work alone.

  She mixed the paint with a special bit on her pneumatic drill, poured it into the paint sprayer, put on her mask … and her phone buzzed. Of course it did. She tugged the mask down and answered it. “’Lo.”

  “Ashley, this is Evelyne. Good news! Derrick and I have decided to come to Wonderland this week. It’s been years since I’ve been there, and I haven’t seen you since you got here. This is just perfect.”

  It was pretty perfect – Evelyne would love the reno house. “That’s great – you’ll get to see what we’ve been working on.”

  “We’ve?” Evelyne prodded. “Do tell.”

  “Just as you predicted, Sam and I have been working together. Honestly, we’ve both worked so hard we’ll have the whole house ready for the market in a few days.”

  “Don’t rush it – the market will stink until at least February. Stay a little longer if you need to.” Evelyne’s voice went flat. “But I am excited to hear it. I assume you’re not talking about Grammy Jean’s – there’s no way you could finish a place that big in so short a time.”

  Ashley nodded as she spoke. “No, this is the old house Sam and I bought to make into a bed and breakfast.”

  “Ah, that house.”

  She laughed. “Yes, that house, and you’ll love it. I can’t wait to see you and meet Mr. Belle.”

  “That’s right, you’ve never met my real estate hunk! Though he’s really more like my Clark Kent.”

  “Well, Clark was sweet. Not everyone needs a Superman.” She certainly didn’t. Give her Clark Kent any day, as long as he could reach high ceilings.

  “Well, Derrick certainly is. We’ll be staying at the Marguerite. I’ll call you once we’ve checked in tomorrow. Talk to you later!”

  Ashley hung up and smiled as she pulled the mask over her face. Evelyne might be able to give her just the push to leave – or to stay. At this point, she wasn’t sure which she wanted.

  Chapter Twelve

  At 9:47 p.m., Sam pulled out of the parking spot he’d taken that morning and accelerated up the street. A day of singing had left his throat ragged. He’d tried to keep as far from Chelsey as possible, even brushed her hands off when she’d come up behind him and tried to cling to him. She’d given him the side-eye and asked another council member how that new rule wa
s looking.

  The one positive from the day was that he’d learned most of the council didn’t want it. But Chelsey’s father was the real power, and if Daddy’s girl demanded it, he’d sign it and put pressure on the others too.

  He drove to the reno house and saw half of the siding had been put up. Once that was finished and the construction dumpster hauled away, the house would look like any other on the street – until spring, when they’d have to kill all the weeds and either put in sod or seed some grass. For the first time in years, he was excited to see it. Hopefully with Ashley by his side. But the lights were off – Ashley must have already knocked off for the day.

  He headed up the hill to Grammy Jean’s as his phone buzzed. He ignored it. If it was Ashley he’d be there in a minute anyway, and he didn’t want to deal with anyone else.

  When he got there, he could see the glow of the kitchen window near the back, so he parked and walked around the house. After a long day of putting up with Chelsey’s flirting and others rolling their eyes, he was ready for Ashley’s quiet personality, the way she just let him be himself without pushing him to respond. He was really glad Ashley knew there was nothing between him and Chelsey, and knew they could laugh about her antics now that he’d told her.

  For now, he shoved all thoughts of the day behind him and knocked on her back door. The light above his head popped on, and a moment later Ashley opened the door, her hair damp from showering. She didn’t wear makeup, or need to. After a day of Chelsey – whose makeup application was just short of spackle application - her natural beauty just looked all the better. He suddenly wished he’d brought flowers or something else suitably apologetic. “Hey. Can I come in?”

  Ashley smiled and stepped back so he could kick the snow off his boots. “It was so strange working without you today. Wow, I haven’t seen you in glasses since the fifth grade.” She sat at the kitchen table and curled her legs under her.