“I WANT TO go home,” Sophie lamented a day after Ella had returned from Noah’s. “I’m just an annoyance to everyone.”
Meaning Laurel.
“You’re not,” Ella reassured Sophie, but she wasn’t sure that was true.
Laurel hadn’t emerged from her room at all this morning, claiming she still wasn’t feeling well.
They sat in the corner on the floor of Sophie’s room, backs against the wall, sharing a chocolate bar while the kids napped. They both wore leggings and sweaters, which seemed the only way to dress in Second Chance since leggings fit beneath snow pants.
Sophie unwrapped more of the candy bar. Her glasses had slipped to the tip of her nose, but she didn’t seem to care. “Can’t you just guess what this town is worth on the real-estate market?”
“No.” Ella accepted a chocolate square. “Can’t we just go home and come back when there’s no snow on the ground?”
“No. Everyone either wants or needs this to happen now.” Sophie popped another chocolate square in her mouth. “What about those snowshoes Roy gave you? The sun’s out. The weather is clear. What’s stopping you from using those?”
“Oh, not much. The freezing temperatures. My sore muscles. Fear of falling into a snowdrift never to be found again.” Each admission pressed down on Ella’s shoulders.
“Is that all?” Sophie chuckled softly. “That’s nothing to a woman who’s given birth.” She nudged Ella’s shoulder with her own. “Pretty please.”
Add the pressure of family obligation to the weight on Ella’s shoulders. But Sophie was right. She’d come here to get the assessments done. Now was as good a time as any to start. “You’ll watch Penny?”
Sophie nodded. “Leave your door unlocked so I can get a diaper if she needs it.”
Ella got to her feet, thinking about locked doors and keys. A few minutes later and she was skulking downstairs in snow pants, carrying her neon-pink boots and listening for any sound to indicate that Mitch or Gabby were in their living quarters.
All was quiet.
She opened the door to their home and scanned the pegboard keys, the ones without wooden keychains. Many had last names or names that made little sense to her, like Clapboard or Red Roof. And then she saw four keys on one ring with a large, curling paper tag—Fur Trading, Mercantile, Church, School. She snatched up the key ring with shaking hands, shoved it in her pocket and escaped to the porch.
It took Ella a couple of tries, but she managed to fasten the snowshoes on her boots. Knit cap, gloves, Penny’s pink scarf wrapped around her neck, stadium jacket buttoned from her knees to her neck. She was ready to inspect buildings.
If only there wasn’t a snowdrift higher than the porch in her way.
She moved to the edge of the porch, eyeing the drift that stretched to the mountain above her.
“Worst case,” she muttered, “I slide to the bottom of Sled Hill.”
That wasn’t the worst case. But she clung to the idea anyway as she stepped into the drift, sinking nearly to her knees.
“Make a square. Make a square,” Ella muttered.
She stepped sideways, parallel to the road. Miraculously, she didn’t fall or sink anymore. With mincing steps, she pointed her feet toward the mercantile. “Now sidestep to the top.” That accomplished, she turned again, stepping up, sinking down, but always inching closer to the top of the drift, which was level with the porch eaves.
When she reached the top, she felt like shouting. For the sake of secrecy, she raised her arms to the sky in silent celebration, banged herself with the poles, wobbled and fell face first in powder.
Her scream was stifled by snow. And then she was practically swimming in the stuff, trying to get her feet back under her.
Once she was upright again, she glanced over at her snow staircase. Giving up would be so easy.
You, my girl, have gumption.
Grandpa Harlan may have thought so three years ago, but she’d lost it somewhere along the way. Maybe when she’d married Bryce and moved into the lap of luxury. Maybe after he’d died and she let Ian take care of everything while she grieved.
The Monroes could use a go-getter. Someone who’d climb any mountain for the good of the family. Ella needed gumption and the courage to face the world out on her own.
Ella looked at the snow-crusted bricks on the mercantile. They were big, uniquely shaped bricks that had been handmade a hundred or so years ago, not the oblong, straight-edged red ones. The mercantile had big front windows, like those in Noah’s cabin, and a covered porch with a sloping roof. Who knew what materials had been used to build either of those. Who knew what kind of shape they were in. Doubt skittered along her spine.
You can tell if the roof leaks by looking underneath.
And it was only fifty feet away. A straight shot. An achievable goal.
Worst case, I can call for help if I get stuck.
A market assessment would give Ella something to sing about.
Are you ready, Hezzie?
A deep breath and a pledge to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and Ella was off.
Unlike the hike she’d made the day before, her route hadn’t been packed down by Noah and Roy. Ella had to blaze her own path and occasionally sunk to her knees in the powder, which drove snow up her snow pants and then down into her inexpensive boots. Her long jacket hindered movement up the hill and soon became too warm for a sweaty, out-of-shape mom.
She reached the mercantile’s front porch, also covered in snow—although only a few feet—and packed it down with her snowshoes, which she removed at the door. She paused to take in the view of Second Chance and the miles of uninterrupted snow on the valley floor. If the snow was plowed and the stores all open, the area would be a wonderland. It was probably just as charming when the snow melted.
All those stores… She counted at least twenty.
All her footprints… And she’d be making more trails to reach the other three buildings. There was no way Mitch wasn’t going to find out she’d taken those keys.
She unlocked the door to the mercantile and peered inside, feeling a little creeped out. The wood floors were in bad shape and in need of refinishing. The entire place was covered in cobwebs and smelled unfit for living in. Fluorescents had been installed overhead. Glass display cases lined one wall near built-in shelves, some still filled with dust-covered wares. There were bolts of cloth, a hat rack and an old dressmaker’s mannequin in the far corner, surrounded by cardboard boxes. The ceiling didn’t look to have any leaks, but Ella walked forward with careful steps anyway in case the floorboards were rotted, but they held firm beneath her feet.
If the floor gives way, there’s no telling what’s living underneath.
Maybe she’d find those missing documents about the purchase of this building. More likely, she’d find hibernating rodents.
Ella shivered and increased her pace. She found a small office and tiny restroom, both extremely outdated. She took pictures of everything with her phone and wrote pithy property descriptions in her head to make light of the creepiness: High country fixer-upper with great views. Excellent business opportunity or convert to loftlike living.
A mouse carcass rotted in the corner.
Perfect for the adventurous buyer.
“Where did you get those keys?”
Ella nearly jumped out of her snow boots. She whirled, expecting Mitch.
“The guilty always jump.” Noah stood at the door, dark eyebrows raised on his handsome, bearded face. In his thick jacket, knit cap and snow pants, he looked sturdy and unshakable. The kind of man who’d sweep up varmint carcasses without complaint—although he might kibitz a little.
“The guilty always sneak up on you,” Ella countered, as she marched toward him on shaky legs. “You scared me to death.” She hadn’t heard Noah approach or seen him snowshoeing her way when she’d been on the porch. And she wasn’t going to admit his presence made the mercantile less spooky.
“Did you want me to knock?” Noah lowered his voice to a whisper. “Is that wise? Sound carries in the mountains and I get the feeling from the way you jumped that Mitch doesn’t know you’re here.”
Ella wasn’t buying his concern. Somehow he knew she’d “borrowed” Mitch’s keys.
“Don’t worry. My family owns this town.” Best to keep that in mind. Maybe then her hands would stop trembling. She shoved them in her pockets and lifted her chin. “I can open up whatever door I want.” As long as she stole the right key. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw you nosedive from my window.” He tsked. “Remember me? My role in town is to keep people alive.”
“I’m fine.” She seemed to say that a lot when he was around.
“This time,” Noah said with a reproachful look on his face. “Don’t you know? Nobody snowshoes alone. That’s a high-country rule.”
Ella rolled her eyes. “I’m in town. Within shouting distance of everybody.” As he’d been kind enough to point out.
“And the river is down, down, down that slope.” Noah pointed. The river didn’t seem an awfully long way away. “You know how a steep slope worked out for you last time.”
Ella hadn’t seen him for a day. A mere twenty-four hours. And yet, she’d missed their back-and-forth. She’d missed him.
Please don’t tell him that.
Ella shooed him outside and was about to follow when she noticed a small plaque above the door. “Lee. Established 1905. Isn’t Lee above your door, too?”
He nodded. “Maybe he built these buildings?”
“Maybe she owned these buildings?” The mercantile had items women might shop for. She imagined the ladies of Second Chance choosing dresses and matching hats there back in the day. Ella locked the door. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to go home. I have work to do.” And he was a distraction, plain and simple.
“Nope.” His grin was infectious. “The buddy system is in effect.”
“In that case, you go first and break that trail.” Ella pointed to the fur-trading post and then strapped her snowshoes back on.
“Why not? It’s a better workout than at a gym.” He hadn’t taken off his snowshoes and moved off the porch, being careful not to let his pole catch on the wood.
“Why do you only carry one pole?” She’d noticed yesterday that both he and Roy only employed one pole.
“Besides the obvious?” He held up his right hand and shrugged. “I can carry things like firewood or groceries.”
Or little girls.
Penny. Her family. Their biases and expectations.
Bryce.
Ella hadn’t moved, but she must have made a noise, because he glanced back at her, a trace of that distance in his eyes she’d seen on the first day they’d met. “What’s wrong?”
“This.” She gestured between them. “I can’t do it.”
Without taking a step, he moved miles away.
Ella’s heart ached, but she had to say it. “I’m not ready.”
His blue gaze took on a chill that had nothing to do with the wind blowing down the mountain.
“Not for hand-holding or kisses or…” She let the sentence go unfinished.
“The natural course of things,” he finished for her sharply.
Ella nodded. “I fell in love too quickly with Bryce. Everyone questioned whether it was real.”
“Everyone?” He’d been a successful surgeon. He knew she didn’t have a family of her own. He could do the math himself, but he wanted her to say it.
“The Monroes,” she whispered, wishing she could fall into a snowdrift and disappear, because she’d never questioned her love for Bryce until Noah came into hers.
“And what did you think?” he demanded in a low, authoritative voice. “Because from what I know of love it’s only the opinion of the two people involved that matters.”
He was right, but that didn’t mean she was ready to answer.
He turned his back on her and moved with athletic grace across the snow toward the large log cabin that had been the fur-trading post.
Ella assured herself she’d done the right thing by telling Noah where she was emotionally. She needed to protect her place in the Monroe family and not look like a woman who fell instantly for any man who paid her notice.
They reached the building quicker than if Ella had tracked through the snow by herself, possibly because Noah was angry and set a quick pace. More likely it was that he was better at walking in deep snow than she was.
He snapped off his snowshoes and leaned against the porch railing, staring out at the valley. His profile was as hard as the man himself, as unmoving as the thick, round logs forming the cabin.
“Your technique is improving,” Noah said as she struggled with her straps. “Despite those hot-pink boots.”
“Leave my boots alone.” Ella was grateful he didn’t resume their conversation about the natural course of things and true love. “They were the only pair Mackenzie carried in my size.”
“They look like Woof treats.”
“Woof has better taste than that.” When Ella unlocked the door, she was unable to resist glancing over her shoulder at Noah. “Are we okay?”
His gaze swung to the inn across the road and then back to her. “We’ll get there.”
Not in the natural course of things.
The door swung inward on squeaky hinges. If she’d thought the mercantile was dark and creepy, the fur-trading post was positively hair-raising.
“Why aren’t you going in?” Noah asked.
“I’m doing a mental recording of my first impression.” Ella leaned back, bumping into his chest. “It’s only got high tiny windows out here.” She peered inside once more. “And two high tiny windows on each side wall.”
Large cabin with lots of investment potential!
Noah brushed past Ella and into the darkness, although he couldn’t go far. Someone had packed the building with stuff. “The windows are small enough to keep a bear or the boogeyman outside.” He shot her a grim smile. “Hmm. A pretty girl. A dark, spooky cabin. If this was a horror movie, this is where the pretty girl would meet her fate.”
Ella forced out a chuckle and forced her legs to move forward, trying to nudge him out of her way. “Let’s hope that pretty girl chose the town hero and not the boogeyman to go exploring with. Otherwise, she’d be a goner.”
“Wait.” He held her back, producing a small flashlight from his pocket and illuminating the cabin inch by inch. There were boxes and barrels amid the counters and shelves, leaving trails to wander through. “One wrong move and we’ll both be goners.”
“Who would have left the place like this?” Curious, she glanced to the interior door frame, but it was too dark to see anything clearly. “Shine your light up there a minute.”
He did, brushing his hand over the round log. “It might say Lee and there might be a date, but I can’t be sure of either.” Keeping the light above the door, Noah dropped his gaze to her. “Somebody’s knife penmanship needed work.”
Ella craned her neck. “I need to see more.”
“Are you sure?” Noah ran the flashlight beam across the piles and stacks.
There were antlers mounted to the far wall and a counter made of unfinished wood. The bark was still clinging to it in spots. An old cash register sat on top, half buried by boot-size boxes. There were shelves from floor to ceiling along one wall and tables in the middle of the floor, every surface piled, every cranny stuffed. The ceilings were high and open-beamed without evidence of leakage. An old horse saddle straddled one of the beams. There were more cardboard boxes here than there had been in the mercantile.
“No, I’m not sure.” Ella grimaced.
“This is packed tighter than the storage unit I left in New York.” Noah ventured in a few steps, bumping his elbow on chains hanging from the wall, making them rattle. “But the ambiance is a bit different.”
The chains were attached to a large trap.
“That’s big enough to snap me.” Ella shivered. The entire building reflected a feeling for the rugged mountain life. She much preferred the femininity of the mercantile. “I wonder who the last owner was.” She nudged a box with her boot, not brave enough to look inside. “It’s like they started to prepare for closing and then just left everything.”
“The air… It’s like breathing in sadness,” Noah said, sounding surprised at the poetry of his observation.
Ella nodded. “Not even the town teenagers would sneak in here and make out in this place.”
“There are no town teenagers.” Noah’s beam caught on a large stone fireplace with a hearth that rivaled the inn’s in size.
Something scuttled in the corner.
Ella shimmied backward. “You should have brought Woof.”
“That dog has a live-and-let-live policy.” Noah turned, holding the flashlight beneath his face in an effort to look ghoulish. “Seen enough?”
Ella heaved a sigh. “No. I need to know when it was last updated. Roughly.”
“How can you tell that?” He lowered the flashlight and clicked it off.
“The proper way to check would be to contact the county about a building permit. But I’ve found I can generally date improvements within a decade by looking at the state of the bathroom or kitchen.”
“That sounds like an exceedingly accurate way to put value on a property.” He stood in shadow, but there was enough teasing sarcasm in his voice for her to know he wore a hint of a smile.
Ella couldn’t find a comeback. She was too busy listening to the tiny voice in her head that whispered dire predictions of mice being attracted to pink boots.
There was a moment of silence where neither of them moved.
The wind whispered through the pines behind the cabin and somewhere in town a child laughed.
“What are you waiting for?” Noah asked.
“An exterminator.” No lie.
Noah stepped into the light from the doorway, a tender look in his eyes. “I can beat back anything that tries to attack you.”
Nervous laughter escaped her lips. “With what?”
“With this.” Noah held up his flashlight, which was the size of four ballpoint pens taped together. “Come on.” He reached for Ella’s hand and tugged her inside, weaving through the debris. “The plucky heroine always makes it out alive in horror movies.”
“At the cost of her brave boyfriend.” She wasn’t proud of the fact that she held on to Noah with both hands.
Her fears receded as they progressed through the trading post and she recognized cast-iron skillets, an old icebox, a lumberjack saw and a bench made of logs.
“Watch out.” Noah slowed as they neared the far wall. “Ghost.”
Four feet tall. Draped in canvas.
Ella laughed. “That’d be a short ghost.” She was courageous enough to lift the canvas. It was another dress form.
Noah led her into a narrow hall, stopping at an open door.
Ella peered into a small bathroom, which had a green sink and toilet similar to her bathroom at the inn. “It’s been winterized. There’s no water in the toilet.”
“That’s Roy’s job. He’s always puttering around the old buildings.”
“He’s done a good job.” That might explain why there’d been no roof leaks.
Beyond the hallway, there was a kitchen with one high window and a narrow door. Ella didn’t let go of Noah as she looked around.
“Black-and-white checkerboard flooring. The sink doesn’t have any cabinetry around it and the counter space is more like tables with skirts to hide the shelves beneath. Based on this and the green colored fixtures in the bathroom, I’d say it was last updated in the nineteen thirties.” She felt his gaze upon her and glanced up at him.
“That’s an impressive parlor trick,” Noah said in an intimate voice. He stroked her cheek.
It would be so easy to step into his arms, but the smart thing to do would be to say goodbye.
With difficulty, Ella held on to her resolve.
She nodded. Assembled a smile. Backed away. “I like old buildings. Or, I used to think I did. They give me a feeling of home and permanence.” She took her phone out of her jacket pocket and snapped some shadowy pictures, making sure to stay close enough to Noah that he could take a swing at any territorial critter should one appear. When she was done, she tucked away her phone and grabbed hold of him once more. “I’m ready to go now.”
Noah waited until she glanced up at him before nodding and leading her back to the sunshine and snow. When they reached the porch and she’d locked up, he said, “I survived. Looks like we weren’t in a horror movie after all.”
“No boogeyman.”
“No rodent of unusual size and touchy temperament.”
Look at that. They could keep their hands off each other while she was here and enjoy a laugh the same way she joked with Sophie.
Ella allowed herself a small smile. “How about checking up on the church and schoolhouse?”
“Did you steal the keys from Mitch to those, too?” Noah gently tugged a lock of her hair. “You shouldn’t be unsupervised. Ever.”
“That’s very judgmental of you, Doc.” She snapped on her snowshoes, trying to ignore the flip and flutter in her chest at his touch. “Let’s go.”
“Quickly, before we’re discovered.” Noah was more proficient at putting on his snowshoes than she was. He was down the steps and heading out before Ella stood.
She huffed and puffed a good distance behind Noah down a gentle slope that led to the intersecting highway and up another to the white church.
“Tell the truth.” Noah waited for her on the small side porch. “You hated phys ed in school.”
Was he digging at her physical abilities?
“I might have mentioned the only exercise I get is run-walking after Penny.” Ella reached the porch steps and plopped down on one. “But I didn’t hate PE. I’ll have you know my mother played softball in school. She taught me how to throw and catch.”
“I liked lacrosse.”
“Of course you did.” She stuck her snowshoes in the nearest drift, next to his, so they wouldn’t slide down the hill, and then got to her feet. “I bet you played all the country-club sports—golf, polo.” She couldn’t think of any others.
“If you’re trying to set the stuffy standard at my door, I suggest you look to those Monroes of yours. I bet they host an annual charity golf tournament.”
“And a yachting race,” she admitted, stomping her boots on the porch. “I don’t have the skill to participate in either.”
It took some fumbling of gloved fingers, but she finally found the right key to open the door.
The church pews were still in place. The altar was flanked on either side by two oblong stained-glass panels depicting doves. A clear glass window fit into the arch. So much light came through the windows that dust motes danced like a Broadway chorus line.
“It’s beautiful.” Ella snapped pictures while Noah poked around the rear of the building.
“There’s nothing in here. No bathroom or kitchen for you to date this.”
“Which means it’s old. Really old.” Ella went to stand on the altar. “The roof and the floors seem in good shape.”
“You can tell a lot about a town by how well they keep up their place of worship.” Noah ran a hand over the back of a wooden pew. “There’s no sign saying this was built by Lee.”
They locked up and plowed across the snow to the schoolhouse next door.
Ella unlocked the door and stopped. Had Woof been with them, he couldn’t have gotten inside. It was stacked nearly to the ceiling with stuff. Boxes. A bicycle. Cans of oil. An old sewing machine. “I can’t see anything.”
Noah peered over her shoulder. “My grandfather used to have a shed in his backyard that looked like this.”
“Was he a doctor, too?”
He nodded. “Pediatrics. Gramps loved kids almost as much as he loved accumulating stuff.”
“Whose stuff is this?” Ella wondered aloud. “The schoolteacher’s?”
“I’ve never seen Eli over this way.”
Ella took pictures before she closed and locked the door.
They walked around the building, looking for a second door. There wasn’t one. Or tall windows that might have hinted at a bathroom.
“Do you know what you should include in your market assessment?” Noah pointed to the view of the broad valley and the snowy Sawtooth mountain range.
“It’s breathtaking.”
“You steal my breath,” he said artlessly, longing in his eyes.
They were on the south side of the schoolhouse. He moved in closer, kissing clearly on his mind.
She held up a hand, planting her palm on his chest. “Noah, I can’t.” No matter how much she wanted to.
“I bet you didn’t tell your husband that. I bet you followed your instincts and your heart.” There was no sarcasm in his tone. No hurt, no anger, no accusation. “No one in town can see us, not even with binoculars. Follow your instincts, Ella. Follow your heart.”
She hesitated, torn. “But what about later?”
“Later?” His hands settled on her waist. “I promise to behave as if we’re just good friends.”
“Really?” That didn’t seem like Noah. He was more of the get-what-I-want type.
“Cross my heart,” he murmured, closing the distance between them.
Sentimental, instinctual romantic that she was, Ella welcomed his kiss.
A strong wind whipped behind her and sent them tumbling into a drift.
Ella landed on top of Noah. “Holy mackerel, it’s so cold.” She tried to get up.
“I’ll keep you warm.” Noah drew her close and did just that.