Read Making Spirits Bright Online
Authors: Fern Michaels,Elizabeth Bass,Rosalind Noonan,Nan Rossiter
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Anthologies (Multiple Authors)
Making Spirits Bright (27 page)
Kissing Sam ... what were the chances of the two of them landing in each other’s arms?
A million to one. A bazillion to one.
But amazing things happened on God’s good Earth. One of his hands moved through the hair at the nape of her neck, sending tingles down her spine. With the other hand, he smoothed circles on her thigh, awakening sensations she had abandoned years ago. They were in their eighth or ninth heady kiss when Jo moved toward him and felt the gear shift between them. Damn!
The thought of more seemed delicious, but she knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Earning Sam’s trust was going to take time. When a guy wouldn’t let you see beneath his hat in the light of day, you had to know it would take some time for trust-building.
And that was fine by Jo’s conscience. Hell, she couldn’t really let him into her bed anytime soon, what with Ava to be taken care of. She figured she had a good thirteen years till Ava went off to college, and then maybe she could allow a romantic relationship into her life ...
He ended the kiss and leaned back slightly. “Something tells me I’ve lost you.”
He was right, but she didn’t want to admit that she’d let her conscience get in the way. “We’re steaming up the windows,” she whispered.
“S’okay. We got Windex.”
“Very funny.” Her eyes opened to see his face just inches from hers. His steely gray eyes seethed with a passion, but they were full of that complex emotion as dark and deep as a spring lake.
“I try.”
Realizing that she was holding onto his shoulders with a death grip, she relaxed her hands and gave a gentle massage. His left shoulder felt knotted and thick—the injury, she suspected.
“Oh ... does it hurt when I do that?”
He shook his head. “But it hurts when we stop kissing.”
She pressed her lips to his, loving the moist, warm contact. “Then we’ll have to keep doing this. A lot. You can call it physical therapy.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” He ran his hands up her back and held her in a solid, possessive embrace that made Jo feel as if he was claiming her for his own. “That’s just what the doctor ordered.”
Chapter 10
The next morning as Jo vacuumed the rug of the shop, she danced a little jump-step in time to a Christmas song on the playlist Molly had made, a rocking song in which a female singer lamented about not wanting to be alone for Christmas.
“All alone on Christmas!” Molly belted out as she hung slender silver icicles on a tree decked with white lights.
Jo switched off the vacuum and turned the sign to OPEN.
“Who does this song?” she called to her cousin.
“Darlene Love. Isn’t it great?”
“Love it.” As Jo used the vacuum hose to tidy up the window display, she visualized herself spending Christmas with Sam this year, all cozied up by the light of a tree. Crazy, yeah, but as she gave the snow globe of Woodstock a shake, she imagined the crackle of a warm fire and the smell of warm apple cider. There’d be a trace of cinnamon on Sam’s lips as they ...
The jingle of the door bells tweaked her out of the lovely daydream, back to reality. Pops’s face was ruddy from the cold as he came in, but Jo was reassured by his cheerful grin. Snowflakes clung to his jaunty cap and dark coat.
“ ’Morning, girls. Brought you some coffees.” He placed a cardboard tray with three cups on the counter.
“God bless you, Uncle Bob.” Molly whisked a cup out of the tray. “I didn’t get my morning jolt of caffeine yet.”
Jo wheeled the vacuum to the back room. “Mum told you I called?”
When he nodded and took a sip from his cup, she added, “I was really bugged about the Sid Diamond thing last night, but I have a plan. I’m going to talk with Earl, but I figure we should do it together.”
“That’d be a problem. Keith is driving him to the airport now. Taking the next flight back to Florida.”
“What? He can’t ... I need to talk to him.”
“I’m one step ahead of you, kiddo. Had a long conversation with the boss before he left.” He removed his cap, smacked it against his knee. “You weren’t the only one who lost sleep last night.”
Molly abandoned her tree decorating and joined them at the counter. “What’s going on?”
“Earl is thinking about selling the inn. He’s got an offer from that developer Sid Diamond—the one whose wife was in here a few weeks ago?”
Molly nodded so vigorously her hair bobbed. “Yes, I remember. And ... ?”
“Diamond has a reputation for building big spas. Super resorts ... with casinos, if the local laws allow it.” Jo pointed to the picture window of the shop. “Next year at this time, we could be looking out at a giant marquee with flashing lights.”
“Really?” Molly’s brows shot up. “Well, at least that’d give us something to do around here.”
“Moll, have another sip of coffee and come to your senses. It would be tragic.”
Pops frowned at his niece, nodding. “If the inn goes down, I guarantee your shop won’t be too far behind. In fact, I can’t imagine much of the businesses on our main street will stay alive. A resort like that changes the nature of a place. All-inclusive. People don’t want to cross the street to use an ATM or grab a slice of pizza. They get it all under one roof. All delivered to their room, if they want.”
“Oh.” Molly’s lips puckered. “I get it. It’s about preserving Woodstock, which would be overwhelmed by something like that.”
“Exactly. The Woodstock Inn holds this town together. It’s the glue of this place.” Pops smoothed the lining of his cap, his eyes lined by gray circles. “It’d be a tragedy for this town.”
Jo was struck by his appearance. Despite his determination, Pops seemed a bit worn at the edges.
“So what did Earl say?”
“He told me the asking price. One point one million, which I think is a steal for a place like the inn, but Earl says he’s looked around, and it’s a fair deal.”
A million dollars. Although it was an unimaginable sum for people in these parts, to Jo it seemed like a small price for the future of her hometown.
“I guess I’d feel better about it if the buyer wasn’t a developer like Sid Diamond,” Jo said. “Did you ask Earl if he could put the place on the market awhile, see who comes around?”
“That’s the thing ...” Pops turned his hat in his hand. “No one knew about it, but apparently the inn has already been up for sale for six months, listed on a special website for Realtors. Earl says that Diamond is the first person to make a solid offer, and he’s afraid to let the fish slip away from his hook.”
“Fish on a hook? Old Earl has been spending too much time fishing in Florida,” Jo said, warming her hands on her coffee cup. “And it steams my clams to hear that he’s had the place up for sale without telling anyone. Without telling you. That’s just not fair.”
“His intentions are good,” Pops said. “But I can’t get over the feeling that this is one of those crossroads that determines the fate for hundreds of people.”
Her father was right; the inn was the lifeblood of this town. Which made Sid Diamond the Grim Reaper.
The door bells jangled, and four women in snow parkas entered.
Jo, Molly, and Pops turned and said, “Merry Christmas!” almost in unison. Then they turned back to face each other as the shoppers began to browse.
“Maybe Sid Diamond won’t tear the inn down,” Molly suggested. “I mean, it’s a moneymaker, right?”
“It is, indeed. We sell out during summer and ski season. The rest of the year we’re full on weekends, and the restaurant and catering business does well year-round. Yes, the inn earns a tidy profit.”
“So maybe things will stay as they are,” Molly said hopefully.
“That would be nice.” Jo clutched her coffee cup, disappointed that it had grown cold. She liked Molly’s optimism, but she couldn’t trust that a man like Sid Diamond would do the right thing. “Pops, what are we going to do?”
“For now, we just sit tight. I’m going to have another talk with Earl, once he gets settled back in Boca. Your mother and I stayed up late, going over our finances and such. We could pull together enough money to match half of the asking price, but in these economic times, that’s just not enough. We talked about selling the house—”
“Oh, Pops, not the house!” Built as a lodge in the 1800s and remodeled by Pops’s father, who was a carpenter, the house had been home to many generations of Trumans. “It’s the home of our hearts!”
“True, but if it’s a matter of saving either the house on Bull Moose or the town, you know what we have to do.” He leaned over the counter and pitched his cardboard cup into the trash. “It’s just your mother and me in the house now, and it’s worth a pretty penny, with the walnut paneling and built-in bookcases in the great room. If we bought the inn, your mother and I would have more than enough space in the owner’s cottage. It’s actually kind of cozy there.”
Jo shook her head. “Pops ...”
“I know, there’s the matter of you girls renting the space above the old carriage house.” He patted Jo’s shoulder.
“I wasn’t even thinking that far ahead. It’s just that ... the house. That’s where our family gathers. We can’t sell it off to strangers.”
“Don’t worry about it, sport. I don’t know if it would even sell in this market. In the meantime, I put in a call to Emma Mueller, down at the bank, but I’m not too hopeful about it. We all know they’re tight with loans these days.”
“If it means saving the house, I could loan you some money,” Jo offered.
“You know we’d never take from our children.” He replaced his cap and winked at her. “Besides, you’ve got a little angel of your own. It will all work out. We’ll figure a way. And speaking of the inn, I’ve got to get back to work.”
Watching him cross the snowy street, Jo bit her bottom lip. Despite Pops’s positive attitude, she could feel his hope draining.
Sit tight,
he’d said. But it was hard to sit back and watch as something you loved slipped through your fingers.
Sit tight,
he’d said. But it was hard to sit back and watch as something you loved slipped through your fingers.
Jo’s visits to the garage became a nightly occurrence, missed only on those rare occasions when Molly was out late—once for a celebration with other students after a semester final, and once for Christmas shopping down in Concord. Of course, Molly needed to be home for Ava. And Jo always waited until her little one was fast asleep before she tiptoed down the stairs to cross the snowpack of the lane.
A leading psychologist prescribed that single parents refrain from bringing a partner into their lives until their children were grown, and Jo saw the logic in that. Her Ava wasn’t going to feel threatened by men her mom was seeing. There would be no “transient daddies” in their lives. Jo had a daughter to raise, and Jo could wait.
But Jo’s heart trilled to have a secret love on the side.
On her end, Molly was the only one who knew about Jo’s developing relationship with Sam, and she didn’t ask nearly as many questions as Jo had anticipated. Jo suspected that her cousin understood how tenuous was the thread that connected them, and she gave Jo some space.
Since Tommy was never around at night, Jo suspected that Sam had hinted to her brother to keep his distance from the family garage. Tommy had never mentioned anything to her, but then again he did have a wife and kids at home, and it was Christmastime. Still, when they ran into each other, Tommy’s quiet smile and averted eyes gave Jo the message. He knew, but thank God he wasn’t saying anything.
For the most part, they talked. Although he didn’t like to discuss it, she learned that his good friend, a guy nicknamed Cackalacky, had been killed in the explosion that had injured Sam. Sam seemed to think that Cackalacky had more to live for than he did, and somehow they should have switched places. Hearing that made Jo vow to show Sam that he had so much to live for.
She snuck him a plate of leftover meat loaf and mashed potatoes from dinner, and he gave her a Christmas gift for Ava, a sign specially made for Ava’s room depicting a cow jumping over the moon, from her favorite nursery rhyme. Another night she brought him a tin of homemade cookies, and he assembled a small bicycle for Santa to put under the tree for Ava. She brought him a small decorated tree to take with him and cheer up his ma’s house, and he brought a small space heater to take the chill off the garage attached to her parents’ house.
Tonight he unrolled a sleeping bag on the floor of the garage and told her to stretch out, facedown, jacket off.
“Okay, this is a little weird,” she said, peeling off her down jacket. “I’m not a camper, and spiders are not my friends.”
“First off, this garage is cleaner than Betty Crocker’s kitchen. Besides that, what species of spiders can live through a New Hampshire winter?”
“Point taken.” She balled up her jacket and used it to cushion her face, then lay down. “But I’m still a little hinky about this.”
“I’ll stop whenever you feel uncomfortable. Just say uncle.”
“Uncle.” She punched her jacket and rolled to her side. “I’m not psyched about stretching out on the floor of the garage.”
“Okay. I was going to give you a massage, but I’m not the kind of guy who pushes a woman to do anything ...”
“A massage?” She flopped back onto her stomach. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Giddyup.” She felt a slight, warm pressure on her buttocks, and realized he had kneeled over her and lowered himself to straddle her. Such an intimate contact ... intimate yet innocent for a massage.
“Giddyup is right.” His voice was husky as his warm hands outlined her shoulder blades. “You are tight, just as I figured. You’re letting this deal with the inn eat away at you.”
“Yeah, I’m stressed. I can’t help it. There’s a lot at stake. But really—shouldn’t I be the one massaging you? You’re the one with the injured shoulder and all.”
“I got plenty of that during physical therapy. It’s payback time.”
Even as he spoke, his hands melted the iron set of her shoulders, infusing warmth. “It’s twenty degrees out there. How do you keep your hands so warm?”
“I run hot,” he said. “Didn’t you notice? I’m a hot guy.”
“Mmm.” She closed her eyes and imagined that her sweater and bra were stripped away. No boundaries between them. That would be great, but it was a little too chilly in here to go that far.
As he pressed into tender muscle, she took the fantasy a step further, with the two of them in her bed. Her head was pressed into the down of her pillow as he worked on her back.
Only, neither of them was clothed. And her tender nerves could clearly define every part of Sam as he straddled her ...
“Does that feel okay?” he asked.
“It’s amazing.” A warm glow emanated through her entire body, fired by thoughts of what they could do in another place and time.
Was Sam thinking of that, too?
Did he wonder how their relationship was going to progress beyond Mom and Pops’s garage? Although he hadn’t pushed her in any way, she sensed that he, too, wanted to take their relationship to the next level. Jo could think of nothing more delicious than a sensual romp with Sam, but she would have to be careful—and not just with birth control. Her relationship with Sam would have to remain a secret to protect Ava.
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