Maggie had never thought of herself as a fighter, but she wanted to believe she'd stand by Jameso. Could she count on him to do the same for herânot defend her with his fists, but to stick with her for the long haul? It wasn't the good times or even the bad times that truly tested a relationship, she thought, but the long, boring stretches where the lure of something better glittered on the horizon. Some people ignored the temptation, but others eagerly turned to it. Into which camp did Jameso fall?
Cassie and Gerald didn't linger over dessert. He solicitously helped her on with her coat, then escorted her out the door, one hand at the small of her back. Cassie fluttered her eyelashes like a coquette.
“Think Gerald's going to get lucky tonight?” Jameso asked.
“I don't even want to think about it,” Maggie said. Some things were better left unimagined.
“Do you want to do anything else while we're in town, or are you ready to head home?” he asked.
“Your place or mine?” she teased. After all, they lived next door.
He took her hand and kissed her palm, a tender gesture that sent a shiver up her spine. “How about yours?”
“Yes.” Suddenly, she was eager to be alone with him. He was all the things she had objected to when they first met: handsome and dangerous and dark and irresponsible. Yet somehow, crazily and inappropriately, she had fallen in love with him. She didn't trust the improbability of that love, didn't trust that it could last when other, more promising relationships hadn't.
Yet the very riskiness of her feelings made them that much more powerful and attractive.
“Do you really have to go away?” she asked.
“Only for a couple of days.”
“Promise me you'll be back in time for Christmas,” she said. “It's my first Christmas in Eureka and I want to spend it with you.”
He squeezed her hand. “I'll be home for Christmas,” he said. “I promise.”
Â
Lucille fixed her gaze on Gerald's fingers as he signed the documents that made him the owner of 100 shares in the Lucky Lady mine, at $1,000 a share. They were an old man's fingers, knotted at the knuckles and spotted by age, but the nails were neatly manicured, and the gold-nugget ring on the middle finger of his right hand was worth more than anything the Lucky Lady would ever yield. And those hands had touched her gently, in places no one had touched in decades. She shuddered at the memory, as much with regret as shame. If only he had turned out to be a different sort of man. . . .
“There you are, then. All the i's dotted and t's crossed.” He pushed the papers away, reached into the pocket of his coat, and withdrew a folded check. “And here's the cashier's check for one hundred thousand dollars.”
Lucille reached for the check, but he pulled it back. His eyes met hers, charm replaced by a harder look, an expression that made him both older and uglier, and more real than the polished façade he usually wore. “I want to make sure we're all on the up and up here,” he said. “You wouldn't try to fool an old fool, would you?”
“What makes you say that?” She tried to look hurt, though she feared the words came out sounding more annoyed than wounded.
“I know the way I left the last time wasn't the most gentlemanly way to behave toward a lady.” He leaned toward her and spoke in softer tones, as if the four other people in the room might not hear. “The truth was, my dear, being with you shook me to the core. I had to get away before my emotions got the better of me. I never believed in love at first sight, Lucille, but you have me questioning my beliefs.”
She wanted to cover her ears, to refuse to let the treacherous words, spoken with such velvety fervor, seep into her brain. The man was a liar and a thief and the worst sort of swindler. If she needed more proof, here he was now, shamelessly attempting to seduce her once more, in front of the town council, no less.
He must have done this before, she reminded herself. He knew the exact words to say; the words to appeal to the lonely woman she hid from the world, words that echoed all the foolish fantasies she'd never even admitted to herself: fantasies of a love strong enough to bring a tough man to his knees, of two people destined by fate to be together. Dreams of a man who could not forget her.
Nothing in her life had given her the slightest proof that kind of love existed, yet some part of her she had seldom acknowledged refused to let go of the foolish hope that it did. Somehow, Gerald knew those fantasies existed. Not because she'd told him, but because he'd done this before. He'd used other women for his own purposes. She would not let it happen again.
“I'm sorry I misled you,” she said, summoning the wordsâand the strength to say themâfrom somewhere deep within. She smiled, a cool, seductive smile. “We had fun together, but I never intended for it to be serious. I thought you knew that.”
He hadn't expected this response. She could tell because he failed to keep a tight grip on the check. She plucked it from his hand and allowed a warmer smile as she studied it. One hundred thousand much-needed dollars for the town coffers.
“Thank you, Gerald. We'll put this money to good use.”
He recovered quickly, the charming mask once more in place. He rose and shook hands with Reggie, Paul, Doug, and Junior. “When will you begin taking ore out of the mine?”
“We haven't established a timeline yet,” Paul said.
“Probably have to wait until spring,” Junior added.
Gerald frowned, a look that aged him, Lucille thought. “But you said the snow wasn't a problem . . . the temperature stays the same underground.”
“Yes, but we have to think about the town's liability,” Reggie said. “We can't have someone injured getting to and from the mine every day.”
“And we've got to buy equipment, take safety precautions.” Junior clapped Gerald on the back. “These things take time. After all, didn't you say it would be six months before we saw any return on the money we invested with you?”
“At least six months. And the markets have been quite volatile.”
“Exactly. But the price of gold keeps going up, and that ore isn't going anywhere while we wait for the thaw.”
This seemed to satisfy him. He turned to Lucille. “May I buy you lunch?” he asked.
“No, I don't think so.”
“Dinner, then. I've discovered a wonderful new placeâ”
“No, not dinner either.”
“Lucille, surely you're not holding a grudge against me. I tried to explainâ”
She held up a hand to forestall any more romantic hogwash. “It's the holidays, Gerald. I'm spending them with my family. People who care about me. Whom I care about.”
One eye twitched, the only sign that her words had hit home. The handsome, sexy man she'd once swooned over had vanished, replaced by this pathetic old fool who was desperate for the appearance of connections without real involvement.
“Then I'll ask Cassandra.” The words held a challenge, as if he sought to make her jealous.
She held back laughter. “That's a wonderful idea.” Though she suspected he'd find no greater welcome from Cassie.
He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but she cut him off. “If we have no more business, gentlemen, I have to get back to work.” She picked up her gavel to adjourn the meeting, but before she could bring it down, the door to her office burst open.
D. J., black watch cap dusted with snow, goatee dripping with ice, surveyed them. “I didn't mean to interrupt,” he said. “I just wanted to let you know the pass is closed.”
“Which pass?” Reggie asked.
“Both of them. Avalanches on both sides of town. Took out the cell tower on Black Mountain, too. Until the state gets us dug out, we're cut off from the rest of the world.”
“You mean I'm trapped here?” Gerald asked.
“Looks that way.” Bob clapped him on the back. “Cheer up. You'll be able to watch the snowmobile races and enjoy a real small-town Christmas.”
From the expression on his face, Lucille could tell that this was Gerald's idea of hell.
Â
When word arrived at the newspaper that avalanches had sealed the passes on either side of the town, isolating them from the rest of the world, Maggie moaned in despair.
“It's not so bad,” Rick said. He rubbed his hands together and grinned. “We've got everything we need to have a great Christmas here. The grocery and liquor deliveries made it through yesterday. Let the rest of the world get along without us for a few days.”
“Jameso left town early this morning,” she said.
“Where was he off to so close to Christmas?”
“He said he had business in Montana.” Mysterious business. Or had that merely been an excuse to get out of town without her putting up too much of a fuss?
“Well, maybe the state will get the plows out here before Christmas,” Rick said. “If not, I'm sure he'll be fine until the roads are open.”
“Barb and her husband were supposed to drive in today,” Maggie said. The thought of spending Christmas without her lover and her best friend was too depressing to contemplate.
She snatched up her phone and hit the speed dial for Barb's number. Rick retreated to his office.
The phone emitted its electronic beeps and buzzes, then fell silent.
“The police scanner says the slide on Black Mountain took out the cell phone tower.” Rick emerged from his office and came to lean on her desk. “And the land lines are out, too.”
She glared at the phone screen, the words
NO SERVICE
mocking her. “How is it possible in this day and age for a town to be cut off from civilization this way?”
“It's good to be reminded every once in a while that we don't need the rest of the world,” he said. “Didn't anyone tell you this happens a couple of times almost every winter?”
She vaguely remembered some mention of the possibility, but it had seemed a wild fantasy, like the tales of her father's exploitsâcolorful and entertaining and not based in any reality she knew.
“How long is this going to last?” she asked.
“The pass could open up tomorrow or it could be two weeks.” He shrugged. “It all depends on the snow. Might as well sit back and enjoy it. I hope you got all your Christmas shopping done.”
He sat on the edge of her desk, arms crossed, hair mussed as usual, relaxed. How could he be so complacent? “Don't you worry we'll run out of food?” she asked. “Or fuel?”
“Most folks have learned to stock up, and they'll share with anyone who runs short. And you don't need much fuel if you don't have anywhere to go. There's plenty in town to keep us entertained. The snowmobile races tomorrow, for instance.”
“What is Barb going to do?” Her voice quavered dangerously and she bit her lip, determined not to burst into tears in front of Rick, who would never let her hear the end of it.
“She'll have to stay somewhere else until the pass opens.” He patted her arm. “The state patrol will help her find a place. It might not be the best Christmas she ever had, but it will make a great story to tell the folks back in Texas.”
Maggie tried to smile, imagining Barb regaling her society friends with tales of her snowbound Christmas in the wilds of Colorado. Barb could make friends and have a good time anywhere. Meanwhile, Maggie was stuck in Eurekaâalone.
“No sense moping.” Rick stood. “Come on, I'll buy you lunch.”
“I don't feel like eating,” she said.
“The baby needs food. Besides, how often do you get a free meal out of me?”
“Twice in twenty-four hours, apparently, since you paid for dinner last night.” She studied him critically. “Are you all right? You're not usually this free spending.” In fact, Rick was known for his miserly ways.
“Guess I'm just feeling the Christmas spirit. Come on, get your coat. Sitting here moping isn't going to clear the passes or rebuild the cell tower.”
He was right. She shrugged into her coat and followed him into the street. Fat flakes of snow drifted down over them, and for the first time since arriving in Eureka, Maggie wanted to curse the white stuff, which had blocked the roads and shut down the phones.
The Last Dollar was packed with half the residents of the town, who had apparently gathered to talk about the avalanches. Danielle, curves encased in a bright red sweater tunic and gray leggings, her black hair covered by a green and white knit hat with pom-poms dangling about her ears, rushed to envelop Maggie in a hug. “Come on in,” she said. “Good thing we stocked up yesterday.”
“What is your special today?” Rick asked.
“Today we have an avalanche special: a mountain of our homemade mashed potatoes, smothered in chicken and dumplings.”
Reggie and Katya waved at them from a booth at the back. “Come join us,” Reggie called.
“We just heard the news,” Rick said as he slid into the booth next to Katya.
“I drove up to Black Mountain as far as I could go just now,” Reggie said. “It's a mess. A solid wall of ice and trees and rocks as far as I could see. With the snow still coming down I was getting a little spooked about setting off another avalanche, so I came on down. But it will be a while before they dig us out of this one.”
“I thought the highway department set off explosives to keep the snow from building up above the road,” Maggie said. “Isn't that supposed to prevent avalanches?”
“It works when there isn't so much snow,” Katya said. “But when it builds up by the foot, it has to go somewhere, and sometimes that somewhere is the highway.”