“SMELLS DELICIOUS.” Penelope perched on a wooden stool, watching Stefan make dinner. A fire crackled in the stone fireplace, chasing the chill from the log cabin. She rubbed her hands together to warm them.
“Just your standard mountain fare.” Over a searing heat on the old stovetop, Stefan quickly stirred vegetables in a battered wok, added Chinese sauces and spices, and then turned them out over a bed of brown rice and quinoa.
She laughed. “Hardly. I thought you’d be eating biscuits and gravy and a slab of venison up here.”
“Not anymore.” He made a face. “Healthy body, healthy mind.”
“What else have you got in here?”
“Help yourself,” he said, nodding toward the refrigerator.
Opening the freezer, she exclaimed. “You’re well stocked. Cherry Garcia and Chunky Monkey. Guess you can’t be all good all the time.”
“Ice cream soothes the soul. And it’s great with baked apples.”
“That sounds yummy. Have any apples?”
“Frozen, like the vegetables. For anything fresh this time of year, we have to go to the market. Friends have gardens after the thaw, but I’m not here often enough. The one year I tried it, the wildlife ate better than I did.” He slid two steaming plates across the sturdy wood bar, poured wine, and pulled up a stool. “Bon appétit.” He clinked her wine glass.
“This mountain man lifestyle is a lot more glam than I thought.”
“Then you can split the next batch of firewood.”
She swept her hair back. “Sure, I’ll give it a try.” When she caught him grinning at that, she pressed her lips together. “You’d be surprised at what I can do.” When they’d left the city, she’d been distraught over the incident at the producer’s office, but now, having slept on the way, she felt her energy returning.
“I haven’t forgotten. You’re an amazing woman, Penelope. What’s happening to you right now isn’t fair.”
His brilliant blue eyes caught the firelight, and she remembered how she’d once thought she could stare into those eyes forever. She averted her gaze and picked up the chopsticks he’d laid out. “You know me. I’m not one to whine about things not being fair.”
“Always liked that about you. How we deal with the unfairness life lobs at us is the true test of our character.”
“I’ve always prided myself on being a strong person, but lately I feel like I’m cracking under pressure.” She slid her hand across the bar and squeezed his hand. “I’ve said things to you I regret, and I’m sorry.”
“Being a strong person doesn’t mean being strong all the time.” He lifted their entwined hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “Humans need intervals of time away from stress for periodic recovery. Builds resilience, the ability to bounce back from stressful situations.”
“That makes sense, counselor.” Movement through the window caught her eye. “Look, it’s snowing.”
“That happens a lot here.”
She poked him with a chopstick. “Don’t be a smart ass.”
“Those aren’t weapons. Eat the dinner I slaved over for you.”
Penelope laughed. What a day she’d had. Her emotions had run the gamut, from the high of landing a meeting with a producer to the lowest dejection. Stefan was right; she was mentally exhausted and needed a respite.
As they ate and talked, Penelope remembered how it used to be between them, when he was in law school and she was climbing the rungs of her career ladder. They’d both had dreams, but life had intervened and it hadn’t been fair. As he’d said, over the years she had become more resilient, but had she recovered enough to give their relationship another chance?
After dinner, Penelope helped him wash the dishes, and then they sat in front of the fireplace and played Scrabble, a game they’d both liked to play years ago.
Rearranging her last letters—S, L, K, E, R, E—she raised her eyes to Stefan and smiled.
“Elsker.” She placed all her remaining tiles on the board game and said, “Voilà.”
Stefan lifted an eyebrow. “Danish? No fair.”
Laughing, she folded up the game. “Let’s go to bed.” She didn’t mention that the word meant love.
Stefan guided her to the larger bedroom and showed her where everything was. “Get a good night’s sleep,” he said. “You’ve got a lot of wood chopping to do in the morning.”
When Penelope woke the next morning, she pushed the drapes aside and gazed outside, struck by the beauty of fresh fallen snow against a blue crystalline sky. She pulled on a thick flannel robe and tucked her bare feet into furry slippers she found in the closet.
Shuffling into the living area, she saw Stefan outside on the porch on his phone, his breath forming puffs in the cold air. The coffeemaker was just finishing its brew, so she poured two cups, stirred in creamer, and took them outside.
“Then her house will be ready by the time we return.” His face lit up when she handed him a cup of coffee made exactly as she knew he liked it.
He clicked off the phone and turned to her. “My team is still working on the installation of your security system. The cameras are in place and functioning, and there have been no more incidents at your house.”
Penelope wrapped her hands around the coffee cup to warm them. “I suppose that’s good, under the current circumstances.”
“Once the police find the perpetrator, the media storm should die down. I’ve got Josh following up on that.”
“Think they’re still working on my case? New York’s a tough city.”
“They’ve got a good force there.” He swiveled toward her, his eyebrows drawn together. “Is there anything else you can think of that might be helpful to the police?”
Penelope shook her head. “I wish I could.”
“I don’t mean to upset you, but could Monica have anything to do with it?”
“What on earth…?” Why would he ask about Monica? What could she have to do with what happened in New York? Other than seeing Monica there—and that certainly wasn’t out of the ordinary—she couldn’t think of anything. “Do you think she is jealous enough to have set up a stunt like that in public? For starters, I don’t think she’s smart enough.”
“I had to ask. Let me know if you think of anything. Hopefully, your life can return to normal soon.”
“Except that I’m virtually unemployed. Once you’re replaced on the runway, it’s hard to get back in the lineup, especially at my age.”
Stefan leaned against a porch timber and draped his arm around her. She leaned into him, appreciating the warmth of his body against hers.
“That’s a tough business you’re in,” he said. “Have any other ideas?”
“A few, but the producer shot them down.”
“You’ll keep trying.”
“You bet.” Penelope leaned her head on his shoulder, watching brown squirrels scampering at the edges of the clearing. “Like those squirrels, I have a few nuts tucked away for cold periods.”
She sipped her coffee, thinking. After the disastrous meeting she’d been to yesterday, she’d given more thought to what she could do differently. Producers wanted shows that were sensational, or focused on something new.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled the delicious scents of morning. Coffee, pine, snow…Stefan. She opened her eyes and shivered, reminding herself not to get too comfortable around him. “I’ve got to get dressed.”
“Need anything from town?”
“I’ve got all I need for chopping wood.” She was determined to show him what she was made of.