Early the next morning, Lily Parker was in a panic. She burst into the kitchen where James and his mother lingered at the breakfast table.
“I can’t believe it,” Lily said, her gray wool coat unbuttoned and flapping behind her, her red hat askew. “I’ve got ten kids waiting out there in the snow, equipment in hand, and no instructor.”
James gestured for the PR manager to sit. “Slow down and rewind.”
Too agitated to stay still, Lily paced by the bay window, the gingham curtains swishing in the breeze she created each time she passed.
“I’ve been experimenting...with new activities for the farm...to generate extra income during the winter months. Today, I’d planned an introductory class in cross-country skiing for kids. Except the instructor I hired for the morning just called to tell me his wife went into early labor.” Lily’s voice crept up to a glass-breaking pitch. “He can’t be here.”
She held her cell phone in one hand, as she madly gesticulated with the other. “I have no idea who to call, Sylvia. Do you know anyone who can fill in on such short notice?”
James mopped up the remainder of the egg yolk on his plate with his last bite of toast. “I could teach the class.”
“Really?” Lily’s blue eyes rounded and then tapered. “Are you qualified?”
Even though she was desperate, she still wanted to do right by the kids. He liked this Lily Parker.
“Yeah, I’m PSIA certified.” She nodded, so he gathered she knew the acronym stood for the Professional Ski Instructors of America. “Years ago, I hung out at Taos Ski Valley in New Mexico, bumming around on the slopes. Worked my way up to a trainer. I mostly taught Alpine but I can do Nordic.”
“Oh, Jimmy—I mean, James—if you could step in, I’d be so grateful. I’ll give you double what I was paying the other guy. Triple.”
He collected his cup and plate and slipped them into the dishwasher. “No need. I’m happy to help out.”
She wrapped her arms around James’ neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. Yes, he liked this Lily Parker. A lot.
“Don’t let Garret catch you doing that, Lily,” his mother warned as she cuddled baby Holly, who’d taken up permanent residence on her lap. “Poor Jimmy will have to run for cover.”
Once outside, Lily introduced James to his students—children between the ages of seven and twelve. He spent a fun morning showing the kids how to shift their weight by pretending to be Abominable Snowmen, taught them how to use their core when digging in their poles, demonstrated how to stop and, most importantly, how to get up when they fell. They even did some actual skiing. Ninety minutes later, the class ended with happy children, happy parents and a very happy PR manager.
The atmosphere inside his parents’ house was a different matter. James’ dad spoke to him only in grunts and Garret avoided him completely. So, after a quick shower, James packed his bag. Might as well shove off and inspect Stephen’s proposed locations along I-89. A bit of Christmas shopping along the way wouldn’t hurt, either. With his belongings safely in the trunk of his car, James kissed his mom goodbye and headed into town to do some snooping.
It was almost lunchtime when he arrived at Kate’s Kitchen. Thankfully, Heather’s shift was over so he didn’t have to talk to her. Nicely ensconced in his captain’s chair, James chatted-up the locals over so many rounds of coffee, he thought he’d turn into a fountain. With each person he spoke to, he subtly introduced the subject of big box stores like Getalot and gauged their reactions. The results were mixed, some people saying a nearby outlet would be just what the town needed—more jobs, more shopping. Others were skeptical, with opinions similar to Garret’s. A gap as wide as the one between Democrats and Republicans.
Fortified with enough caffeine to keep him wired for a week, James dropped by the police station and asked for his sister, inviting her to lunch at the rustic Hawk & Hound Pub. Stretching to five foot eleven, Joey was almost as tall as James, so when they sat across from each other over their fish and chips, they were practically eye-to-eye.
“I want you to know, I never meant to start a fight during dinner last night.”
Joey sighed. “I guess everyone’s a little prickly worrying about baby Holly.”
Just the opening he needed. “Have you made any progress finding her parents?”
“Actually, it’s not my case.” She stirred a puddle of ketchup with a French fry and popped it into her mouth. “Kate’s younger brother, Erik, caught it.”
And contracted the love bug for Joey, if their mother’s suspicions were correct. James doubted Erik’s feelings were reciprocated, though. No man had captured Joey’s interest like James’ high school buddy, Noel Fletcher, who left Carol Falls the year Joey turned sweet sixteen.
“So you have nothing to do with Holly’s case?”
“No time. I’m investigating the town’s mischief problem,” she said, absently poking the tight bun she wore to restrain her shoulder-length hair.
“Got any leads?”
“Off the record? It’s a strange case. At first, the pranks were laughable, but folks are getting tired of them and the resulting property damage. Slapping up a poster might not seem like much, but when it’s on your garage door and it takes you the better part of the morning to scrape it off, you start to get testy. The incidents are escalating, too. I suspect we’ll see some real destruction soon. But don’t worry. I’ll find the culprit. I always do.”
“What if you got a tip on the Baby Holly Case? Would you be the one to it follow up? Or would you pass it to Wedge?”
Joey leaned forward, eager. Maybe too eager. “Jimmy...do you know something?”
He didn’t answer.
“This is serious. The mother may face abandonment charges. More importantly, we want to make sure she gets medical attention. If you know who she is, you need to step forward.”
Could he trust Joey to keep his involvement confidential? At least until he could verify his paternity? Or would he be placing his sister in an awkward position, forcing her to choose between her job and family loyalty?
He laughed, hoping she didn’t notice how hollow it sounded. “I’ve been in town less than forty-eight hours. I haven’t had time to play father confessor.”
“Why all the questions then?”
Another opening to tell her the truth. James finished his soda before answering. “I’m curious, that’s all. Must be my CSI addiction.”
She pounded her fist on the table and went on a harangue about crime shows raising the lay person’s expectations. “People think we can run fingerprints or DNA in five minutes and produce the criminal before the next commercial break. Typical Hollywood.”
Joey dotted her lips with a napkin and pushed away from the table, patting her flat stomach. James mopped up as well, and slipped enough cash to cover their bill under his plate, along with a generous tip. He walked Joey back to the cop shop, disappointed that he hadn’t learned more from her, namely some inside information that would have let him off the hook in regards to Holly’s parentage.
To take his mind off his troubles, he threw himself into his work, scouting alternate land opportunities along the interstate. None were quite as well situated as April’s. And she’d mentioned she’d tried to sell her farm. If he could help her with that, wouldn’t it be a good thing? Though Stephen Harker had taken James’ advice in the past, with favorable results, there was always the possibility the boss would choose a different location. No sense getting April’s hopes up about a purchase before James had an offer to make. He ended up at her place, armed with his camera, ready to take photos of the area and email them back to Stephen.
He aimed for some flattering shots of the house. Difficult, because at almost any angle, it was clear the place needed a lot of work, which would lower the market value. Of course, April could always subdivide the land, sell a parcel to Getalot, and keep the home. If so, she’d need someone to fix the roof, at least. And James sure didn’t want her getting stiffed by an unscrupulous contractor. If nothing else, he could give her some practical advice on that subject.
He knocked on the door, scanning the yard as he waited. The kid’s toys from the day before were gone and Marcus was nowhere to be seen. James banged again and got the same results. Nothing.
As he turned away, he almost tripped over that darned cat, who again hissed at him.
“I missed you, too.”
Bandit turned up his feline nose at the sarcasm and trotted off to the nearby barn. Maybe April was there.
James walked over, following a well-tread path through the snow. Nearing the structure, he heard...ocean waves...and then bird calls...with some classical music thrown in between.
The cat, who’d raced him there, sat by the door glaring at him, as if daring him to knock. He did but doubted anyone heard, so he took the liberty of opening the door. Bandit squeezed in between James’ legs and ran ahead, to warn his mistress that trouble was on its way, no doubt.
Peering inside, James found April sitting at a potter’s wheel, Marcus at her side watching it spin round and round. James closed the door behind him, sealing winter out, and shouted over the canned sound effects of a sudden rainstorm.
April’s head jerked up, her mouth forming a surprised O.
“Sorry,” he shouted. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I did knock.”
She flicked a switch on her portable boom box and the storm ended mid thunder crash, plunging the room into silence. A nervous laugh bubbled up from her. “That’s okay. I go into my own little world when I’m working with clay.”
“That’s quite a diverse selection you were playing.”
“Sound therapy for Marcus. Autistic kids tend to be sensitive to noise. I’m trying it as an experiment.”
What James saw of the interior of the barn didn’t look like a science lab. It was fully insulated and downright cozy, a large corner of it set up as a classroom. Not the austere, intimidating ones of his youth. This school looked kid-friendly. Cool.
Small multi-colored chairs surrounded low tables, a variety of games, building blocks and puzzles spilled over every flat surface, inviting play. There was a blue pup tent, an inflatable mattress inside—the perfect kids’ nest. A row of whiteboards lined the intersecting walls, drawings and letters sprawled across its face. A giant-sized, three-dimensional mobile of the solar system acted as a canopy to it all, the planets rotating slowly in a beautiful ballet suspended from the barn’s high roof.
“This place is incredible.”
“Thanks.” She stood and stretched, her sweater rising up and exposing a flash of skin that made him miss her next sentence. He pulled it together in time to hear her say, “It’s a work in progress, but it’s coming along.”
With the potter’s wheel no longer in motion, her son moseyed over to a half-completed jigsaw puzzle, oblivious to the fact that a third person had joined them. Between the boy’s disinterest and the cat’s disdain, James’ ego took a bruising. He sloughed it off and approached April.
“Is all this for Marcus?”
“For now. Except for my tiny corner here.” April gestured with gooey hands to the mound of clay she’d been shaping.
“When did you take up pottery?”
“A few years ago. I thought it might be a good therapy for the children.”
“Children?” He swallowed. Did Marcus have siblings? How many? James pictured himself as the Steve Martin character in Cheaper by the Dozen, surrounded by a food-splattered brood.
“I want to turn the farm into a center for kids who have learning challenges, much like the Greenwood School in southern Vermont, but for younger children, of both genders. For autistic kids, too. If they don’t live nearby, they’ll be able to board here. There are certainly enough bedrooms. Of course, I’ll need to hire more staff, more teachers. I don’t want any child to fall between the cracks.”
“Wow. That’s quite a project.” One perfectly suited to April. It combined two of her greatest strengths—academic smarts and an endless supply of patience. Instantly calmer knowing that a horde of young people weren’t set to attack, James appraised the various pots and mugs on the shelves behind April. “These are good. Really good.”
Her cheeks pinked, the way they used to when he told her she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. “Thanks,” she said, again.
“I’m not surprised. You were always skillful with your hands.”
When her color deepened, he realized what he’d said could be taken two ways. And, with a sudden rush, he remembered exactly how it felt when she’d threaded her fingers through his hair, and the sweet explorations they’d made of each other as teens while remaining fully clothed.
James unbuttoned his jacket. With the kiln blazing from its cordoned off nook, and the direction his thoughts had taken, the room’s temperature jumped several degrees.
“Is there something I can help you with? Or are you just passing by?”
Could he say he was drawn to her like a magnet and not sound cliché? Maybe that he was a kite, tethered to her by a length of twine. How corny would that be? Her nearness made him feel good all over, as if he were high on a cocktail of sugar and sunshine. Plus, he wanted to give her a hand with the plans she had for the house. But Kate had said April was too proud to accept help.
“I got into an argument with Garret,” he found himself confessing.
She nodded, as if the subject were old hat. James’ disagreements with his brother were legendary. “That’s too bad. Did you apologize?”
Hold on. Wasn’t she supposed to be on his side? “What makes you think it was my fault?”
Her smile had a been-there-done-that tilt. “You don’t have to be in the wrong to make peace.”
“True. But we both need some space to cool off before treaty talks can begin. Thought I’d stay in a hotel for a few nights, until things settle down.”
“I hope you have reservations, because Christmas is the busy season.”
James hadn’t thought of that. Damn. “There’s always my car, I guess.”
“That ride of yours is pretty hot, but not when it dips below freezing, I’ll bet.”
He took a step closer. “You mentioned your house has spare bedrooms.”
April’s smile disappeared. Her voice came out with a squeak. “You want to stay here?”
She made it sound like a life sentence. “Just for the week I’m around town. I can pay you room and board.”
She turned and busied herself, washing her hands at the nearby sink. “I don’t want your money, Jimmy.”
Her tone speared him, her words cold and flat, dismissing more than his cash. With one sentence, she’d brushed James off, as well. He almost walked away, and then spotted the throbbing at the base of her neck. He bet her eyes would be green too, but with her looking down, he couldn’t tell.
“How ’bout I help out with some chores then,” he continued, pleading his case. “I noticed your roof could use a patch job.” He pressed himself against the counter, only a breath away from her, yearning to feel that pulse point against his lips. “You’re not the only one who’s good with their hands.”
That blush was back. She dipped her head to conceal it. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
“I promise to be a gentleman. You’d really be helping me. Garret even more so.”
She reached for a towel, mulling over his proposition, he assumed. He gave her the time she needed and held his tongue, picturing what he might do with it to drive her wild. While knowing he had no right to, until he settled things with Heather.
Hands dried, she took a big breath and swiveled to face him. “Okay, Mr. Frost. You can stay in the bedroom off the kitchen. But know this...I plan to work you like a dog.”
“Woof.”
His comeback earned him a laugh. The best sound he’d heard all day. While the pulse in her neck kept jumping, daring him to kiss it.
And, yes, her eyes were green.
What have I gotten myself into now?
The line ran through April’s mind as she led Marcus and Jimmy to the house. She could feel the man’s closeness behind her, the heat of him warming her back and making her brain fuzzy. How was she supposed to think straight with him around?
She’d always been a sucker for a hard luck story, and he’d drawn her in with his tale of woe. What a sap she was. All because Jimmy wasn’t prepared to eat a little crow.
Still, she could use a handyman. Especially one that came free of charge.
Heading for the snow-covered porch, she saw the place through a stranger’s eyes. A year of sitting vacant hadn’t helped the exterior of the old home, and there were pressing matters to take care of inside, as well.
She’d been oblivious to it all, too focused on the schoolroom in the barn. The schoolroom and Marcus.
She ushered the boys through the front door. They all kicked off their boots and then April helped her son remove his coat, hanging it beside hers. Jimmy took the hint and grabbed an empty hanger for his jacket, which he shrugged out of with a nice rippling motion, muscles flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt.
Lord, help her. The man was fully clothed and had her drooling. How the heck was she going to safeguard her heart while they were under the same roof?
Thank goodness for Marcus. He could play chaperone. If only he’d stop lining up their boots.
Gently, she took the footwear from him and placed it in the hall closet—out of sight, out of mind. Unfortunately, her own obsession wasn’t as easy to forget. Especially when he, Jimmy, stood mere inches away, giving her a smile that could melt the North Pole. She imagined that mouth on hers, those lips trailing down her neck to her...
“Where would you like me to start?”
She choked and covered it with a cough. “I beg your pardon?”
“With the chores. After I run into town and get supplies, it’ll be too dark to patch the roof. Is there something I can do inside tonight?”
April could think of a lot of things. She reminded herself he was talking about the repairs. “You choose. The upstairs toilet leaks and the vinyl tiles in the kitchen have seen better days.” Jimmy had always been handy, but she had no idea what he was capable of fixing, so she figured she’d leave the work up to him.
“You got any tools?” he asked.
“Whatever my grandfather owned will be out in the shed. It’s locked but I have the key. Hang on to the receipts for anything else you need and I’ll reimburse you.”
She’d applied for a line of credit to cover the renovation costs it would take to make her dream of a school a reality. Might as well start putting those funds she’d arranged into the buildings now.
“Consider it payback for my lodgings,” Jimmy said and added, “I insist,” before she could protest. “I’ll take a peek at that upstairs bathroom now. Figure out what I need to fix the problem.”
“Good idea. Check it out.” While I check out the way you fill those jeans, she thought, fanning herself as she watched him climb the steps.
James peered around the bathroom. The toilet needed replacing, and the lone window required weather-stripping and new caulking at the very least. Worse, from the condition of the ceiling, it was obvious the roof was leaking. He’d certainly stayed in sorrier places but he hated to see April living this way.
Especially with a child. And during the Christmas season.
His mother had the Frost homestead done up with lights, ornaments, the works. April had nothing—not even a tree in the living room—and, considering how much time she devoted to her boy, probably hadn’t given a thought to her surroundings.
At least that was something he could do—make things more habitable for her and Marcus, while helping with renovations for the school she’d planned. And, if he could sell Stephen on the location, April would soon be right next door to a Getalot outlet. She wouldn’t even need to cross the street to buy groceries.
Packing all that work into one week would keep James hopping, but he wasn’t about to complain. A busy schedule was just the thing he needed to steer his thoughts away from kissing the lady of the house.
Over dinner, April marveled at what Jimmy had accomplished. He’d used her van to swing by Clark’s Hardware and purchased a new toilet, which he’d already installed. For that alone, he deserved more than meatballs and cherry tomatoes.
“I’m sorry,” she said, apologizing to him again. “I tend to buy only round foods, because that’s all Marcus will eat. Peas, blueberries, apricots—”
“How ’bout Brussels sprouts?”
“They might as well be square because, like most kids, he won’t touch them.”
“We have that in common then. Don’t we, Marcus?”
He looked at her son expectantly, as if this one similarity might be enough to form an alliance. The disappointment on Jimmy’s face tugged at her heart. He was trying so hard to reach out to Marcus, to include him in the conversation, but her boy was too busy lining up the food on his plate to notice the guest at their kitchen table.
“Is that usual for autistic kids? To eat only round things?”
“Nothing’s really usual when it comes to autism, although the children can share similar traits. There’s also another challenge that limits Marcus’ food choices. I’m weaning him off gluten and casein.”
“Casein?”
“It’s a protein found in dairy products, along with other food items.”
Jimmy’s brows weaved together. “What’s the deal with gluten and casein?”
Did he really want to know or was he being polite? She didn’t want to bore him.
“Autistic children tend to have related stomach ailments. And for some, gluten acts almost like a narcotic.” She rose from her chair and walked to the kitchen counter to retrieve a couple of pamphlets on the subject, ones she’d kept to use as examples in creating her own literature about the new school. She held them out to him. “If you’re interested, these provide some of the basic facts about the disorder.”
He sat back in his seat, eying the glossy brochures as though they might bite. She should have gone with her gut instinct.
He was being polite.
Still, he took them from her. April hoped he’d read them, too. She needed someone she could talk to, a friend with a sympathetic ear. She missed having a support system, another adult to help her celebrate the victories and commiserate with her when those triumphs were few and far between.
Could Jimmy be that person? If only for a week?
April craved the closeness they used to share. Seeing him again made her realize that a part of her heart was missing. Hollowed out and empty. Jimmy had filled that void, that loneliness and made her feel whole—loved and wanted in a way no one else ever had.
But that was a long time ago.
There may not be a future for them as a couple now but, sadly, if Jimmy didn’t understand what she was going through and the challenges of her son’s daily life, there wouldn’t be much of a present for them as friends, either.
Alone in the small bedroom off the kitchen, James sank down on the single bed, still holding the pamphlets. He flipped through the top one, his old inadequacies surfacing as he viewed the dense print.
He focused. April wanted him to learn more about her child, and James wasn’t going to let her down. He soldiered through the first brochure. It took a while and he was bleary-eyed by the end, but he finished it. He planned to read the other pamphlet the following night.
James reached for his cell phone and, after checking his emails using a text-to-voice app, he pressed the icon for his old friend—YouTube.
“Autism,” he said into the device’s microphone, and spent the next hour teaching himself more about Marcus, until both he and his cell ran out of juice.
As he stripped and got under the covers, he formulated a way to help April and her boy. A scheme James intended to put into action come morning.