Highlander for the Holidays (15 page)

“HAS THE MOUNTAIN AIR AFFECTED YOUR BRAIN?” ME
RISSA asked, slamming through the door laden down with grocery bags. “You were supposed to tie one piece of ribbon on one branch of
one
tree, not use the entire roll to decorate half the forest at the end of the road.” She set the bags on the counter and turned to Jessie, her eyes dancing with laughter. “I hope nobody drove by and saw you, or word’s going to spread that an insane woman just moved to town. What in hell possessed you to drape all that ribbon on all those trees? I swear some of those branches are over thirty feet in the air.”

Jessie stood in the doorway of the downstairs hallway, blinking in surprise and no small amount of confusion. “But I didn’t . . . I never got . . .” Not sure how to explain that she’d been ambushed by a crazy old man and never even made it to the main road, Jessie simply shrugged. “I guess I didn’t want the movers to miss the turn.”

Merissa snorted. “Subtlety never was one of your strong suits.” She waved at the bags on the counter while heading to the door she’d left open. “You’d better start putting stuff away to make room for what’s still in the car. I heard them saying in the grocery store that a huge storm is coming tonight, so I bought enough food to last us at least a month on the off chance we get snowed in.”

Jessie rushed over to the pegs the moment Merissa disappeared outside, and drove her hands into her coat pockets looking for the roll of ribbon. But all she found was her cell phone.

Then where in hell was the ribbon? Jessie slowly backed away, certain she’d put it in her pocket before she’d left. But then she sighed in relief, realizing the ribbon must have fallen out—probably when she’d steadied Roger as he’d struggled with the wagon. And Roger must have found it, and he had . . . decorated all the trees.

Except she couldn’t remember mentioning why she’d been walking to the main road, so how would he have known?

“Come on, Jess,” Merissa said, striding in with another armful of bags. “I saw a van with the name of your moving company on it parked at a diner in Greenville. We have to put the groceries away before they get here.” She set the bags on the counter, then turned with her hands on her hips. “Hello? Earth to Jessie. Is anyone
home
?”

Jessie snapped out of her stupor. “I guess that would depend on whether or not you saved me some of whatever’s smeared all over your chin.”

Merissa used her sleeve to wipe the chin in question, her cheeks turning pink around her smile. “It’s icing off three of the best damned éclairs I’ve ever had. Don’t worry; I bought enough of them to last us through the blizzard. And I bought hot cocoa and some baby marshmallows, and a pound of big fat hot dogs.” She gave Jessie a salute. “I’ll play Girl Scout and go cut us each a stick before it starts snowing, and we can open the doors on the woodstove and cook them over the flames.”

Jessie walked to the counter and started pulling items out of the bags. “Jeesh, if I’d known it was sugar withdrawal making you so cranky this morning, I would have taken you to the Pine Lake Bakery and Bistro.”

“I have not been cranky.”

Jessie looked over her shoulder with a laugh. “
Toby
was running for cover this morning, Mer.” She sobered. “Are you missing Duncan?”

“I wish someone would tell me what’s so all-fired exciting about running around the woods with a bunch of men and shooting innocent deer. I only got one night with Duncan, and I’ll be gone before he gets back. The guy friggin’ lives here and can go hunting anytime he wants.”

“Ian told me they always spend the week after regular hunting season to black-powder hunt together.” Jessie shrugged at Merissa’s frown. “I didn’t know what that meant, either, but he explained there’s a special season to hunt with muskets like Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone used, where you pour gunpowder down the barrel and then cram a lead ball behind it.” She laughed when Merissa’s frown turned ugly, and held up her hand. “Don’t say it. I know these guys can’t seem to decide what century they’re living in, but Ian explained that having only one shot is more sporting.”

“And during his little lesson, did he happen to explain why Duncan couldn’t spend the week with me instead?”

Jessie snorted. “Only women are willing to cancel plans they’ve made with their girlfriends to be with the opposite sex, Mer. And Ian said their trip this year was special, since it’s the first time he’s been home in over four years. As it is, he and Robbie each have brothers missing out because they’re in Afghanistan.”

Merissa’s shoulders slumped and she headed back outside, muttering something about hoping the jerks got snowbound in the mountains until spring.

Jessie walked around, opening every cupboard door except the two over the dishwasher, then started taking items out of the bags and placing them on the shelves. Half an hour later, wondering if there was any money left in her checking account, she had just finished when Merissa walked in carrying two skinny sticks and announced the moving van was coming down the road.

It was nearly seven o’clock before the three-man crew finally left, their pockets lined with all the cash Jessie had in her wallet as thanks for being so careful with her belongings—that they’d patiently moved several times throughout the house until Merissa was satisfied everything was exactly where
she
wanted it.

“Did you see how that one guy kept making a wide circle around Toby?” Merissa asked from the cushion she’d stolen off the couch and plopped down in front of the woodstove. She pulled her flaming hot dog out of the fire and blew on it. “And you, you dastardly dog,” she said, pointing the blackened hot dog at Toby. “I saw you watching his every move as if you expected him to steal your kibble.”

Jessie walked over with two mugs of cocoa laced with tiny marshmallows and sat one on the hearth in front of Merissa. “Toby probably remembers him from when they packed up my condo in Atlanta,” she said, pulling her tapestry footstool in front of the stove to sit on. “Apparently someone packed his squeaky toy, and that guy started shouting when he walked in and caught Toby tearing apart one of the boxes.”

Merissa’s eyes widened. “He actually had the balls to scold Toby? I mean, you and I both know the big lug’s only dangerous if someone is threatening
you
, but the guy couldn’t know that. What sane person yells at a hundred-pound rottweiler?”

Jessie set her own mug of cocoa on the hearth and picked up the stick Merissa had cut her. “I wish you could have seen his expression when Toby backed out of the shredded box with his squeaky toy in his mouth. That’s when the guy decided he probably shouldn’t be yelling at a dog with fangs the size of his little finger.” She skewered a hot dog over the forked end of her own stick. “Did you happen to hear how much snow we’re supposed to get?” she asked, glancing out the window at the snowflakes blowing past the deck floodlight.

“Duncan and Ian weren’t kidding when they said it’s not measured in inches up here,” Merissa said, wiping her fingers on her pants. “I heard two feet is predicted, and that the storm will probably last into Wednesday.” She pushed another hot dog down over the charred end of her stick. “There’s a good chance I’ll be your houseguest for a little longer than we’d planned.”

Merissa started to hold her hot dog over the flame, but stopped to look at Jessie. “On the drive to Greenville I thought about what you said before I left, and . . . well, I decided you’re right. I’ve never seen you happier, Jess,” she said quietly. “Only it’s not just since we got to Maine; I swear you turned into a brand-new woman the moment we left Atlanta’s city limits. Even when we stopped in New York to have Thanksgiving with your parents, and they spent the entire two days trying to talk you out of coming here, you just kept smiling and nodding.” She shrugged. “I’ve seen you depressed and angry and frightened over the last four years, but I’ve never seen you so . . . well, so peaceful.”

Merissa turned back to stare at the fire, smiling sadly. “Duncan told me that if I truly love you, then I need to let you go. So I guess it’s time I rejoin the living, too, even if that means risking having my heart tromped on by some no-good rotten jerk again.”

“Maine needs good nurses, Mer. And I don’t think Duncan is the kind of man who would tromp on a woman’s heart.”

Merissa snapped her head around, her expression horrified. “Are you nuts? I could never get serious about Duncan. The guy’s a . . . He’s too . . . I couldn’t . . .” She burst out laughing. “Ohmigod, Jess; having an affair with an alpha male is one thing, but I couldn’t ever live with one.” She sobered and looked down at the stick in her hand. “No, I need someone who’s a little less . . . well, someone like Andy.”

“Andy the computer geek?” Jessie asked in surprise. “The same Andy you said had the sexual prowess of a two-year-old?”

Merissa’s cheeks turned as red as the fire. “Hey, just because he thought I was talking about computers when I mentioned that I like hard drives doesn’t mean he’s not trainable. But you know what really makes Andy perfect for me? Whenever we went out, he never even
realized
there were other women in the bar, so I sure as hell didn’t have to worry about him asking for their phone numbers when I went to the bathroom so he could have sex with them in
my
bed while I was at work.”

“Oh, Mer,” Jessie whispered. “Greg was a world-class idiot.”

“And even though I haven’t spoken to Andy in almost three months,” Merissa continued through her scowl, “this morning while I was standing in front of the milk case trying to remember if you prefer 1 percent or skim, he suddenly texted me out of the blue. So I texted him back and told him I was in Maine, but that I was flying home Thursday. Then I mentioned that my plane was landing at one in the morning on Friday, and that I really hate taking taxis in the middle of the night.” Merissa’s eyes started sparkling with amusement—or maybe that was lust. “And the big sappy geek immediately texted me back saying he would love—and he capitalized
love
—to pick me up and take me home.”

Stifling her own smile, Jessie arched a brow. “To your home or his?”

“I don’t care which one,” Merissa growled, shoving her hot dog into the flames. “Just as long as he doesn’t roust me out of bed at four-friggin’-A.M.”

 

 

IDLING THROUGH THE SURPRISINGLY BUSY STREETS OF
Greenville late Thursday afternoon, Jessie marveled at how a three-inch snowstorm practically shut down Georgia but a two-foot blizzard appeared to be nothing more than a nuisance to Mainers. Thus Merissa’s plane had departed on schedule, and more than once during the eerily silent drive back from Bangor, Jessie had found herself experiencing pangs of doubt over what she honestly expected to accomplish by moving here.

It didn’t help that she kept thinking about her encounter with Roger and all the cryptic things he’d said. She’d explained finding him selling his wares on the side of the road when Merissa had asked where she’d gotten the beautiful walking stick and scarf, but Jessie hadn’t mentioned their crazy conversation. Nor had she asked Mer if she hadn’t seen Roger when she’d covered all his wares with dust on her way by, a little afraid Merissa’s answer might have been no—which is why Jessie had hidden the stick and scarf in her bedroom closet before her friend had arrived home with the groceries.

But she’d been forced to dig them back out the next day because it had been ‘storm’n something fierce’ just like Roger had predicted, and eager to try the snowblower, she and Merissa had gone outside when it stopped snowing Wednesday evening. Toby, however, had been content to watch from the safety of the porch as they’d wheeled the scary-looking machine out of the garage.

They’d been trying to figure out how to start the blower when Jack Stone had arrived not five minutes after the town plow had created a snowbank at the end of the driveway higher than her car. Jack had made short work of it with the plow on his pickup, though, telling Jessie that Ian would likely be the one digging her out next time. He’d also suggested that even though her station wagon had four-wheel drive, she might want to get studded tires put on it the first chance she got—which she had done today, right after watching Merissa’s plane lift off the runway.

Jessie had also intended to find a pharmacy in Bangor and replace the simple aluminum cane she’d given Roger; because honestly, she really couldn’t see herself going around town with a five-foot-tall walking stick. But it had taken so long to get the studded tires put on that she hadn’t bothered, wanting to get home before dark—which at this time of year and this far north happened around four P.M., apparently.

“Home,” Jessie whispered into the silence broken only by the soft canine snores coming from the backseat, feeling the word resonate deep in her chest. Fifteen miles to go and she’d be
home
. She’d been on her own since college, but her apartments had always felt transient, with someone else’s paint colors and draperies and hand-me-down furniture her parents and aunts had donated. Even when she’d married Eric, it had been
his
home she’d moved into.

But not two weeks after Eric Dixon had placed a diamond-encrusted gold band on her finger in an over-the-top chapel in Las Vegas, Jessie had decided that a woman suffering from pregnancy hormone overload probably shouldn’t be making life-altering decisions. With the clarity of twenty-twenty hindsight, she’d realized the honeymoon had ended on the flight back from Vegas, with her turbulent marriage ending three short months later—just about twenty minutes before the intruder had murdered Eric and then come after her with the same bloodied knife.

At least, that’s what the police detectives decided had happened, since the last thing Jessie remembered about that night was Eric pulling things out of her suitcase as fast as she’d been throwing them in it. When coaxing her to stay hadn’t worked, he’d started threatening to spend every last dime of his substantial wealth to get sole custody of their child the moment it was born. The same wealth, the detectives had said, which had likely been the motive for the home invasion that had left her widowed and crippled and childless, and suffering from trauma-induced memory loss.