THREE DAYS LATER, Mac finished nailing the last of the fence panels he had installed along the edge of the trail. He grabbed the top of the panel and gave it a shake. Concrete anchors at the base of the poles held firm. Once the ground thawed, he’d have a fencing contractor replace it with a permanent installation, but for now this should keep the dog in and still let the skiers use the trails.
Blossom galloped along the fence line where he’d cleared the snow. She grabbed a stick and brought it to him, begging for a game. He played fetch with her for a few minutes until a raven landed on one of the new fenceposts and cackled at them. Blossom dropped the stick to bark and throw herself against the fence until the raven relocated to a dead tree across the ravine. Good. If that didn’t topple the fence, it should hold until spring.
Now, how best to let Ursula know the trail shortcut was once again available? After his insistence at keeping it closed, he didn’t want to make a grand announcement, as though he expected her gratitude. If anyone owed, it was him.
He had promised to find that website about mystery weekend kits. He took Blossom inside and removed her coat and his. The email address for Ursula’s inn was easy enough to find. He sent an email with a link to the mystery website, along with a brief mention that the gates to the ski trails were open.
He sat down in his chair and pulled out his knife to put the finishing touches on the wood spirit Ursula had started the other day. A pixie face, eyes wide in wonder. When Andi was little, sometimes they’d go outside on summer evenings, just after sunset. Her mouth would pucker and her eyes open wide like this when she watched the nighthawks perform their aerial acrobatics, dipping and swerving as they chased mosquitoes.
Blossom raised an ear, then trotted to the door. A moment later, someone knocked. Funny she didn’t bark. Mac answered the door to find Ursula on the other side. Blossom apparently now recognized her step. For once, Ursula wasn’t offering food, just a big smile. “Mac, I got your message. What’s this about opening the gates?”
“I’ll show you.” Mac grabbed his coat. “Follow me.” The three of them trooped along the path he’d beaten in the snow to the back corner of his property. “I decided if I used solid panels, I could let your skiers through and still maintain privacy.”
“Wow. How did you—oh, I see. They’re attached to concrete footers. That’s clever.”
“I suppose you’ll have to wait for a snowfall to cover the trail where I had to dig it out to build the fence.”
“No, the groomer can take care of that. I’ll give him a call and let him know the trail is open again.”
“Good. Then you’re all set.”
“This was a lot of work.” She turned to face him. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know. But I realize you’re trying to run a business, and I felt bad for disrupting it.”
“Oh, Mac.” She reached out to lay a gloved hand on his arm. “Now I feel bad.”
“What for?”
“Because I feel like I manipulated you into this. Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy we’ll be able to access the trails directly again. But I’ve since realized I was being selfish, expecting you to keep the shortcut open. It upset me to discover the gate closed, and I felt like someone had taken something from me. But it’s your property, not mine. And now I’ve guilted you into building a fence.”
“I thought this was what you wanted.”
“It was. It is.” She smiled. “I’m thrilled. But, Mac, you had no reason to feel guilty. Betty chose to allow that shortcut, and you didn’t. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“So you’re happy about the trail, but you’re unhappy because I did it for the wrong reasons?”
She chuckled. “It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that. Let me start again.” She cleared her throat. “Mac, your generosity is overwhelming. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“To show my appreciation, I’d like to make you dinner tomorrow night.”
“I happen to be free.”
“Hmm. I could make halibut, although if you grew up on a ranch, I’m guessing you prefer beef.”
He laughed. “I am quite fond of halibut, but as it happens, meat loaf is my favorite all-time meal.”
“Meat loaf it is. Six thirty okay?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Great. And bring Blossom. Rory misses her.”
* * *
MAC ARRIVED RIGHT on time, clutching a bottle of wine in one hand and Blossom’s leash in the other. “In accordance with advice from a local wine expert, I brought a Bordeaux to go with the meat loaf.”
“How thoughtful. Where did you find a wine expert?”
“The cashier at the liquor department at the grocery store had strong opinions.”
“Jimmy?” She chuckled. “I heard through the grapevine he accidentally doubled his order on the Bordeaux, and he’s been recommending it to everyone. I happen to be quite fond of Bordeaux, though, so thank you.”
“Are they here?” Rory burst through the kitchen door. “Blossom!”
Mac unsnapped the leash, and the dog dashed across the room, their greeting involving a frenzy of face-licking, hugging, tail-wagging and giggles.
Ursula hung up Mac’s coat and led the way through the great room and into the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind eating in here. I don’t have guests tonight, so we could use the dining room if you like but it’s a little cavernous for three.”
“This is fine. In my experience, the best meals always take place in the kitchen.”
Rory and Blossom followed them. Ursula opened the gate to let the dog into the dining area. Blossom hurried over to sniff noses with Van Gogh, who had been sleeping on the seat of a chair. Rory stroked the cat’s back with one hand and hugged the dog with the other.
Ursula handed Mac a corkscrew. “Dinner’s almost ready. If you’ll open the bottle, I’ll get some glasses.”
Mac poured the wine and carried his into the dining area where Blossom was now lying on her back on the rug, encouraging Rory to rub her tummy. Van Gogh rubbed against Rory and then against Blossom, purring loudly. Mac chuckled. “You’re quite the pet whisperer.”
“What’s that?” Rory asked.
“That means you know how to treat animals, and they trust you.”
“Blossom likes it when I rub her here.”
“She does. Let me show you her secret spot.” Mac knelt beside Rory and scratched Blossom’s belly between her front legs. Her back leg twitched.
Rory’s eyes opened wide. “Let me try.” She scratched, and the dog’s leg shook harder. Blossom raised her head to look at her leg as though she couldn’t understand why it was moving on its own. Rory laughed. “Why does she do that?”
“She can’t help it. It’s like laughing when you get tickled.”
“Daddy used to tickle me sometimes.” Ursula held her breath, expecting tears, but Rory spoke matter-of-factly, still smiling. “It was fun.”
They continued to talk about what kinds of toys Blossom liked and what tricks she could do while Ursula got dinner on the table. Since losing her parents, Rory sometimes acted shy with adults she didn’t know well, but she chattered away with Mac as though they were old friends. Ursula almost hated to break up the conversation, but dinner would get cold. “It’s ready. Time to wash up.”
“I’ll show you where.” Rory took Mac’s hand and led him through the doors to the bathroom.
Rory entertained Mac all through dinner, talking about the art project she was doing in school, and how they couldn’t go out for recess yesterday because of the moose on the playground which was good because she’d been in trouble for not following directions and had to stay in five minutes late, but since everybody had to stay in the teacher forgot all about it and today she got to go outside with the rest of the class. She only paused long enough to gulp down her dinner while Mac asked her questions.
Ursula listened in amazement. She would have had to drag this information from Rory, piece by piece, but with Mac it all came pouring out. She would follow up on that not following directions comment later, but right now she wasn’t willing to let anything spoil the mood. Mac listened, only shifting his attention away from Rory long enough to accept Ursula’s offer of second helpings. Finally, when Ursula was serving dessert, Rory seemed to run out of things to say.
Ursula smiled at her. “Do you want whipped cream on your pudding?”
“Yes, please. Can I squirt it?”
“Go for it.” Ursula handed her the can of cream. “Mac, would you like coffee?”
“Do you have decaf?”
“I do.” She made coffee while Rory built a mountain of whipped cream on top of her pumpkin custard.
Mac laughed. “I’d like cream on mine, too, please, but only about a third that much.”
Rory concentrated, the tip of her tongue caught in the corner of her mouth, and managed to create pretty mounds on top of Mac’s and Ursula’s ramekins before tasting her own. “This is good.”
“Thank you, sweetie. Did Mac tell you he fixed the gates so we can take the shortcut to the ski trails again?”
“You did?” Rory dropped her spoon, slid from her chair and hugged him. “Thank you.”
Mac seemed surprised by the hug, but not displeased. “You’re quite welcome.”
Rory grabbed Ursula’s arm in excitement. “Can we go skiing tomorrow after school?”
“If the groomer’s had a chance to set track. If not, we could snowshoe.”
“You’ll come with us, won’t you?” Rory bounced on her toes, waiting for Mac’s response.
“Me? I don’t know how to cross-country ski.”
“You don’t?” Rory was aghast. “Everybody knows how to ski.”
“Where I used to live, snow didn’t last long. I’ve done some downhill skiing but never cross-country.”
“Can you snowshoe?”
“I’ve never tried.”
“It’s easy. I’ll show you how.”
“I don’t have snowshoes.”
“Actually, you do.” Maybe Ursula shouldn’t put him on the spot, but it was so good to see Rory excited about something. “There are snowshoes hanging on the wall in your garage.”
He chuckled. “In that case, I guess I’m in.”
“Yay!” Rory beamed at him. “You’ll like it. It’s fun.”
“Sweetie, you need to finish eating and get to work on your homework,” Ursula said. “You have a math worksheet, remember?”
“But Blossom’s here.” Rory tried the sad eyes but Ursula didn’t back down. Rory sighed and finished her dessert. “Don’t leave before I can tell Blossom goodbye, okay?”
“All right,” Mac promised. Rory stopped to rub the dog’s ears before disappearing through the door.
Ursula set a cup of coffee in front of him. “Thank you for your patience. I haven’t seen her talk this much in a long time. Not since...” She trailed off.
Mac gave her a sympathetic smile, but didn’t answer. After a moment, he tried a bite of dessert. “Say, this is good. It’s almost like crème brûlée, but with pumpkin and pecans.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“The whole dinner was excellent. Best meat loaf I’ve had in a long time. Your husband was a lucky man.”
“I was the lucky one.”
“How long were you married?”
“Eighteen years. Sam was a senior in high school when Tommy died.”
“I’m surprised you never remarried, especially with all the men here in Alaska.” He looked up. “Sorry, that was an inappropriate comment. Pretend I didn’t say that.”
Ursula laughed. “It’s okay. I had a few men who showed some interest but it always felt...forced. Maybe I was spoiled.” She smiled and shook her head. “I felt like I’d had my allotment. One happy marriage per customer.”
“So you found the perfect man.”
“Tommy?” She laughed. “He was far from perfect. He flipped channels between different ballgames so I could never figure out who was playing. He would only eat three vegetables. And he couldn’t dance to save his soul. Worse, he didn’t know he couldn’t dance.”
Mac chuckled. “So what was it about this ungraceful, channel-flipping, meat-lover you found so attractive?”
She thought back about all the things that made Tommy special. “He was smart. He liked to look at a situation from different angles, to come up with original solutions to problems. And he was kind. The sort of man who stops to help stranded motorists and takes in stray dogs.” She stared at the wall, picturing Tommy’s face. “But mostly it was because of the way he loved me. Every time he walked into a room where I was, his eyes would seek me out and he would smile, as if seeing me was the highlight of his day. Losing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever survived.” She turned her eyes to Mac. “But you know what I’m talking about. You lost your wife, as well. Is that why you never remarried?”
“It wasn’t the same.”
“No. You had a baby daughter. That makes it doubly tragic.”
“It was tragic. But not for the same reason.” Mac sighed. “Just the opposite, really.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I was in the navy, assigned to an aircraft carrier, but stateside at the time. Carla and I had been dating for a few months, but the relationship was nearing its expiration date. She was bored, and frankly, so was I. But I was two months away from shipping out, and she was keeping me on the line until she could find a better prospect. Then she discovered she was pregnant.”
“Oh, dear.”
He gave a wry smile. “That’s not exactly the way she worded it. Motherhood was the last thing she had in mind, but I persuaded her to marry me, so she could live on base and get medical care, even while I was away. I did my best to be a good husband for those two months but...” He shrugged. “We lived together in reasonable harmony until my unit shipped out. Six months later, the navy informed me I was a father.”
He set down his spoon before he continued. “My wife sent a picture taken in the hospital. She was smiling, holding this tiny bundle with a red face and a swatch of dark hair. Carla looked so happy. Three months later, she left the baby with a sitter and drove off a bridge.”
“Oh, no. Was it an accident or...?”
He shrugged. “Nobody knows for sure, but when I went home I discovered she’d been suffering from severe postpartum depression. And I’d had no idea.”
“So sad.”
“My fault.”
“How could it be your fault?”
“I convinced her to have the baby. Convinced her to marry a man she didn’t love. I swore to love and honor her, but I wasn’t there when she needed me.”
“You were on duty.”
“Yes, but I still should have known. We wrote letters, talked on the phone when we could. I should have realized something was wrong.”
Ursula shook her head. “So you’d never met your daughter in person?”
“Not until I came home for her mother’s funeral.” He looked down at the table. “The first time I saw that little face, I fell in love. I got a hardship discharge so I could care for her.”
“Is that when you started writing?”
“No, I’d been writing for years. I’d had a few short stories published while I was in the service and written two novels that will never see the light of day. Once I left the navy, I worked the security desk for a big office building. I took the night shift, which allowed me to be with Andi during the day and gave me time to write. It was two years before I sold my first book, five before I quit that job and took up writing full-time, when Andi started kindergarten.”
The door opened and Rory ran into the room, waving a paper. “I finished. Can I play with Blossom now?”
Ursula held out her hand. “Let me check it over while you give Blossom a dog biscuit and tell her good-night. It’s time for your bath and bed.”
Mac followed Rory to the dog-shaped cookie jar. “Why do you have dog treats? You don’t have a dog, do you?”
“I allow guests to bring dogs if they like, and sometimes dog-sit for my son.”
“Sam’s dog, Kimmik, is a chocolate Lab. He’s not really made of chocolate, though. He’s just brown,” Rory explained as she let Blossom take the biscuit from her hand. “He likes to play fetch.”
“So does Blossom. Maybe after snowshoeing tomorrow, you can throw the ball for her.”
“Okay!”
“Good job on the math worksheet.” Ursula put her hands on the girl’s shoulders and squeezed. “Bath time now. Say good-night to Mac and Blossom.”
“Good night.” She hugged Blossom once more and trotted off to the bathroom without further argument. Miracles never ceased.
“I guess we’d better head home, as well,” Mac said. “Thank you for making me meat loaf.”
“You’re welcome.” Ursula had packed up the rest of the meat loaf and another helping of dessert while Mac was talking with Rory. “Here’s lunch tomorrow.”
“Mmm. The only thing I like better than meat loaf is meat-loaf sandwiches, but I feel bad taking all the leftovers.” He grinned. “Or am I not allowed to feel guilty about that, either?”
She laughed. “I realize guilt is a hot button for me. It’s just that I’ve seen guilt drag people down and destroy families.”
“Surely guilt is positive. It might be a good thing for society if people felt more guilt about their misdeeds.”
“Yes, if someone has been cruel or negligent, they should feel guilty. But you had every right to close the gates on your property. I’m the one who pushed for something I wasn’t entitled to. If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me.”
Mac shook his head. “How’s this? I saw how hard you work and how you take care of people, and I wanted to help, so I found a way to open the trail. Just a neighbor helping a neighbor. Okay?”
Ursula smiled. “Okay. This neighbor thanks you.”
“Oh, and speaking of neighbors,” Mac dug a card from his pocket, “here’s my cell phone number. You know, in case you need to call on a neighbor.”
“Thanks.”
Mac shrugged on his coat and they stepped onto the porch. “It’s nice out here, tonight. Not so cold.”
Ursula gazed up at the sky. “No stars. It’s getting ready to snow.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and clicked on something. “Hmm, the forecast is for seven or eight inches, starting around midnight. Last I heard, they thought this storm would miss us. We might have to delay that snowshoe outing. You probably shouldn’t plan on going anywhere tomorrow.”
“Why? Won’t they plow the highway?”
“Eventually. But with that much snow, it might take a while. Better to be prepared.”
He hefted the plastic box. “Meat loaf for sandwiches and dessert. I’m good. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”