Maybe partnering with Igloo hadn’t been such a good idea.
Ella got up from the stool, her stiff joints protesting with every move. She stretched her muscles, reaching for the ceiling then pressing her fingers into the small of her back and leaning backward.
She’d spent far too long in the icehouse, but she didn’t have much of a choice. The time it took to fashion new peacock feathers for Mr. Henderson had cut into her cow sculpting time, putting her behind schedule. She was heading into the third day of the fair, and she had only gotten the basic form of the cow done. By now, she should have been finishing off the fine touches on the head. The people who’d been coming by to watch her do that had been disappointed to find the icehouse doors closed. She had to open up to the public tomorrow. But first, she needed to warm up.
Stepping outside, she was shocked to find she’d worked so long, the sun had gone down and now the moon was out, grinning like Lewis Carroll’s Cheshire cat. Papa had brought her food at some point, though Ella didn’t know exactly when. He’d admonished her not to work too hard then had gone off to meet some farmer friends whom he only saw once a year.
Ella sighed. It would probably be another night of sleeping on the cot. A low moo got her attention, and she walked over to Geraldine’s stall.
“You want my attention, too, do you?” She rubbed the cow’s nose. “Don’t worry. Tomorrow, you’ll get all the attention you want.”
“Miss Daniels!” A voice boomed behind her. “A word.”
She whirled to see Max. He looked decidedly unhappy, which unnerved her almost as much as the fact that he’d called her Miss Daniels.
“Being rather formal tonight, aren’t you?”
Max’s frown deepened. “It seems we’ve gotten to that point. After today, you made it clear that there’s nothing between us anymore but animosity.”
“Oh, that.” Ella sighed. “Max, I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about it, and I realize I may have gone a bit too far.”
“A bit? You altered a food product.”
“What are you talking about?”
Either he didn’t hear the question or he chose to ignore it. “Thanks to you, at least a dozen people are now convinced that margarine is abhorrent. But even worse, that man almost choked to death on the sample I gave him. Is that what you wanted? To kill somebody?”
Now Ella was getting upset. “I was apologizing for the words we exchanged earlier. I have no idea what you’re talking about. You should know there’s no power on earth that could make me touch margarine.”
Even in the moonlight, Ella could see the red on his neck rising from beneath his collar. “But you have no issue with touching the dye bottle, do you?”
“You are making no sense whatsoever. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more work to do. Good night, Mr. Sinclair.”
She marched right back into the icehouse, only to have Max follow her inside.
“Oh no,” he said, pulling the door shut behind him. “We’re not finished.”
Ella pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead, trying to hold back the dull throb that was becoming an incessant pounding. “Please, listen to me. I didn’t do anything to your margarine, or your dye, or anything you own. You have to believe me.”
“Really? The same way you believed me when I told you I didn’t paper the walls of this building with libelous posters?”
What did he mean by that? “Are you finally admitting that you did it?”
“No!” Max ran his fingers roughly through his hair. “I’m saying that I did not do it, and you had no right to do what you did today.”
Ella jammed her fists on her hips. “I didn’t do anything!”
They stood that way for a moment, fuming and glaring at each other.
“This is ridiculous,” Ella said. “I will not engage in a screaming match with you. Stay here all night if you wish. I’m going to the storage room, and if you follow me in there, you’ll find yourself at the pointy end of a pitchfork.”
She stormed past him to the door and gave it a good push. Except it didn’t budge, and Ella bounced backward, stumbling over her feet.
“What in the world?” This time, she approached the door with caution and pushed. Still nothing. Then, as panic began to rise, she grabbed the handle and shook the door.
“Step aside,” Max said. “Sometimes, you just need a man to handle things.”
The glimmer of satisfaction she felt when his try was as useless as hers quickly faded as the reality of their situation sunk in.
“We’re locked in here.”
“How does something like this happen?” Max paced from one end of the building to the other. “Why would the door to an icehouse lock on its own?”
“It doesn’t.” Ella stood in the corner, hugging herself against the cold. “Someone must have come by and put the lock on.”
“With us inside? No one is that stupid.”
“Whoever it was must have thought the building was empty.”
“Then that person was deaf, because there’s no way he could have missed us yelling.”
Ella shrugged. “I have no idea. But it looks like we’re stuck in here until my father comes back in the morning. No amount of pacing is going to change that.”
Max stopped short and looked around, assessing the situation. Thankfully, the building wasn’t completely full of ice. Because of the need to leave space for Ella to work on the butter cow, a good-sized section was empty, the floor covered in straw.
“You’re right.” He walked up to her. “We won’t freeze to death in here, but it’s going to be rather uncomfortable. I suggest we stay close to each other to keep warm.”
Her eyes flicked away from him. “As long as we’re in here, I could keep working on the cow. That would be the reasonable thing to do.”
“Or, we could sit on the floor together and try to get a little shut-eye,” Max said. “You look exhausted.”
That was all it took to convince her. “I am tired. All right.”
As Ella settled herself on the floor against the wall, Max looked around for anything he could use as a covering. There was a coat, a smock, and a pair of gloves in her work area.
“Here you are.” He draped the coat over her knees and handed her the gloves.
Her nose wrinkled. “Those gloves are stained with butter. No matter how much I wash them, it never all comes out.”
“Put them on. You’re trying to stay warm, not going to a ball.” He sat down next to her and covered himself with the smock.
Now that they were sitting together, their sides pressed against each other, he had no idea what to say. So he made inane conversation.
“It’s too bad you don’t keep wood and matches in here. We could build a fire.”
“Then all the ice would melt. And the cow.”
“But it would be cozy.”
She chuckled. “I suppose. And if the butter melted off the cow, then we could burn the wooden frame underneath.”
“If we had some bread, we could make toast and soak up all the butter.”
Ella looked up at him, and for the first time in longer than he could remember, she laughed. Not a fake, polite laugh, but a real chortle that came from deep down. It warmed him more than any fire could and gave him the courage to take a chance.
“Would it be all right if I put my arm around you? To conserve warmth, of course.”
Her laughter dying down, Ella nodded. “Seems that would be the sensible thing to do.”
He draped his arm over her shoulder, tucking her in under his arm. It only took a moment for Ella’s tense body to relax, and she leaned against him, resting her head on his chest. They stayed that way for a while, quiet, with nothing but the sound of their breathing in the space. Max shut his eyes and let himself remember another time, when the only thing he’d wanted was to be with her and he couldn’t imagine a future without her. How had everything gone so wrong?
“Max?”
He opened his eyes. “Hmm?”
“You really didn’t put those posters on the icehouse, did you?” She didn’t move as she asked the question.
“No. I really didn’t.”
“I believe you.”
It was as though someone had lifted a great weight from his shoulders he hadn’t even known he was carrying. All the energy he’d put into defending himself and being upset with Ella had pressed down on him, making him unhappy and unreasonable. With her belief in him came a sense of calm and clarity.
“And you didn’t do anything to ruin the margarine sample, did you?”
She gave her head a slight shake. “No. I would never.”
“I believe you.” Without even thinking, he lowered his lips and kissed the top of her head.
“Max?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you just kiss my head?”
He heard the humor in her voice. “As a matter of fact, I did.”
“That’s what I thought.” She pressed a little closer to him.
Perhaps getting locked in an icehouse together wasn’t such a bad thing. Max didn’t know if it was the frigid temperature or the fact that they had no choice but to talk to each other, but they were finally talking about things that mattered.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Ella asked.
He squeezed her shoulder. “Of course.”
It took her so long to speak, he thought she’d changed her mind. But then she took a deep breath. “I really don’t like butter.”
Max was at a loss. Saying she didn’t like butter was like a singer saying she didn’t like music. It didn’t make sense. But he had to say something. “You don’t? Well. That’s … surprising.”
She pushed away from him just enough so she could look up into his eyes. “It’s awful, I know. The butter sculptures were my idea, but I thought I’d only do it once or twice, and then the novelty would wear off and I could move on to something else.”
Now he understood. “Instead, they just became more popular, and you felt you couldn’t stop.”
Shaking her head, her eyelashes fluttered as if she was trying not to cry. “I love my father, and I love the dairy. I do. But I don’t know how much longer I can stand this.”
“Have you said any of this to Walter?”
“No. It would break his heart.”
Max didn’t agree. “He might be disappointed, but he’d understand. I think what’s most important to your father is your happiness.”
“I suppose.” Her eyes shifted and she looked past him, as if seeing something in the distance. “But I can’t help but think of my mother. She wouldn’t quit on Papa. How can I?”
Ah, now they were at the crux of it. “Your mother was a remarkable woman. The dairy was her life. That was her choice. But it doesn’t have to be yours.”
She looked back at him. “What do you mean?”
“Ella, you have a great talent. You should be exploring that, creating art in clay, marble, stone, anything else. Just because your family dedicated their lives to the dairy doesn’t mean you have to. You need to decide what will make you happy. That’s the life you should have.”
“Like you did.”
There was accusation in the statement but also something else. An unspoken question.
“I did what I had to.”
“Why?” She blinked, and a tear escaped and ran down her cheek. “We made plans together. You told me you loved me. What was so wonderful about working for a margarine company that you had to leave?”
“It wasn’t a farm. I grew up on a farm, and I knew I didn’t want that life. Then I tried the dairy, but it didn’t fit me any better. I had to find a way out.”
“Without me.”
Max huffed out a breath. “When your mother got sick, I watched you. How you took care of her. How the less she could do, the more you did, trying to take her place at the dairy. You were as determined as she was not to leave there. If I’d asked you to come with me, that would have put you in a terrible position.”
“You should have let me decide for myself.”
“Maybe, but I didn’t want to hurt you more by making you choose between me and your family.”
Every fiber of Max’s body wanted to touch her, even as his mind screamed it was a bad idea. He ignored the screaming. Caressing her cheek, his fingertips wove into the hair at the base of her neck. Her eyes widened in surprise.
“Ella?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Her lips parted slightly, and she nodded.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but the biggest one was leaving you.”
His head dipped, slowly, giving her time to stop him if she wanted. Instead, she leaned toward him. Their lips were so close, he could feel her breath. Just another fraction of an inch—
A heavy pounding on the outside of the door made them jerk apart from each other. Then a voice called out.
“Ella! Are you still in there?”
It was Walter.
Ella scrambled to her feet. “Papa! Yes, I’m in here. So is Max.”
“What? Wait a second. Hold tight.”
As Walter did something on the outside, Ella stripped off the gloves and the coat, returning them to where they’d come from. Slowly, Max stood up. He was glad they wouldn’t have to spend the entire night in there, but the timing was abysmal.
When Ella turned to look at him, her face was flush, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “I’m glad we were able to talk.”
He nodded. “Me, too. Think we can pick this back up later?”
Her smile widened. “Absolutely.”
There was the sound of a key scraping in the lock. A moment later, Walter was standing in the open door, looking like he’d found an elephant in the icehouse.
“How did you two end up locked in here?”
“It’s a long story.” Max moved to the door, clapping Walter on the shoulder as he walked by. “I’ll let Ella tell you. For now, I need to get some sleep.”
As he walked down the path, he could hear them talking, although he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Max smiled. He should have been thinking about who’d put the lock on the icehouse door, but it was the last thing on his mind.
For now, all he could think about was the kiss that almost was, and the promise of the kiss to come.