Mistletoe Mine (3 page)

“No, you can’t.”

Emma turned her head toward the full-length mirror on the far wall of the luxurious suite.
Jared. Not three pounds
. Eight. She’d gained eight pounds in the three years since she’d last seen Jared. Eleven pounds since they’d married twenty-three years ago. “Their wedding date is December twenty-eighth. How many weeks until then?”

He considered the question. “Seventeen.”

She tossed the chocolate into the nearest trash can. “I want to make him choke on his alfalfa.”

“That’s my girl.”

* * *

West Texas

The electronic tone that signaled an arriving online phone call burst from his computer speakers just as Jared Stapleton completed one last futures trade for the day. He glanced at the screen and smiled with pleasure, then connected the call. His daughter’s gorgeous face filled his monitor. “Sunshine. This is a nice surprise.”

“Hi, Daddy.”

She looked happy, and that made
him
happy—until she got to the reason for the call, that is. His baby was engaged to be married. He tried to be positive. God’s honest truth, he did try. But ten minutes later when they ended the call, he couldn’t deny the ache in his heart.

His little girl was all grown up.

And her mother wasn’t here to share the melancholy with him.

“Dammit, Emma,” he muttered.

He remembered the day Molly had been born. She’d been an “oops” baby, conceived after he and Emma were married but before she’d finished school. He’d just finished his shift waiting tables at a local restaurant when the call came that Emma was in labor. He’d rushed home, they’d hurried to the hospital, and fifteen stress-filled hours later, Emma delivered Mary Elizabeth.

It had been one of the happiest days of his life.

Those times hadn’t been easy. He’d been at UConn on a basketball scholarship when his friend and teammate Frank Rossi introduced him to his knockout of a sister. They’d dated for the next two years. After Jared’s graduation, they’d married and he’d moved to Boston, where he’d worked two jobs in order to support his little family while Emma finished school. A student at Berklee College of Music, she had taught piano lessons in her spare time, of which there was hardly any. But they’d made it, and the shared struggle had made them stronger, he’d always thought. Looking back, they’d been the best days of his life.

A knock at his ranch house office door shook him from his reverie, and his sister Shelby Montrose stuck her head in the room and asked, “Got a minute, Jared?”

“Sure. Come on in,” he replied, glad for the distraction.

Shelby was tall and lanky, with dark hair and a complexion tanned from the summertime sun. Four years younger than he, and a number geek, Shelby had dived into the muck alongside him four years ago and started shoveling. Together, they’d brought Wildcatter Farms and Ranch back from the brink of bankruptcy. She’d done a fine job as chief financial officer, and Jared was grateful that she’d agreed to move back to the Wildcatter to work after Emma’s brother, Frank, almost destroyed them.

She carried a manila file folder and wore a worried frown as she took a seat across from him. Jared didn’t like that look. “What’s wrong?”

She flipped her long, wavy hair behind her shoulder. “I’ve been running the numbers. I’m afraid we’re going to have to go back to the bank, Jared.”

His stomach sank, and he grimaced. He’d been afraid of this for weeks now.

Damned if he’d go down that road—not again. They hadn’t scraped and scrapped and scrambled their way back from the brink of losing the ranch to put it back in jeopardy again now.

They spent the twenty minutes discussing details of their financial issues, and then Shelby tossed out her verbal grenade: “I just don’t see another way around it, Jared, unless … we still have an offer on the table for the Johnston farm.”

“I’m not selling any more land.”

“Then you’ll be borrowing from the bank,” she fired back. “Even with the rise in beef prices and a strong alfalfa crop, we’re still looking at red ink come the end of the fiscal year.”

“I’ve have some money set aside that I can tap.” He named a figure, then added, “It’s not a lot, but maybe we could scrape by.”

“You’re not sinking your savings into the Wildcatter, Jared. Not again. Mom and I have already discussed it. You’ve done enough.”

Exactly. He’d almost lost the family ranch. “It’s my fault that our financial—”

“Stop it! That was four years ago now, Jared. It’s over. Done. That particular excuse has run its course.”

Jared set his jaw. If he lived to be one hundred, it wouldn’t be over. Wouldn’t be done.

Shelby plowed on. “You hire me to do a job around here, Jared. You need to let me do it. It is my recommendation that you sell that farm and the mineral rights that go with it. We still have fifteen hundred acres at the Wildcatter. We don’t need those three hundred and—”

“Molly called a few minutes ago,” he interjected, hoping to change the direction of conversation.

Shelby hesitated, tilted her head, and studied him. With a knowing note to her tone that signaled her awareness of his ploy, she asked, “And what did the squirt have to say?”

“She’s getting married.”

Shelby sat up straight and smiled with delight. “Go, Charlie! I admit I was a little worried when her birthday came and went without a ring. Better late than never, though, right?”

Jared tried to smile, but it must have been a sickly one, because his sister’s expression dimmed. “Oh, Jared. Don’t tell me you have something against Charlie.”

“No, not really. He’s a good guy.”

“I know that Molly loves him very much.”

“Yeah,” he agreed glumly.

Shelby offered a sympathetic smile. “Feeling a little daddy sad, are you?”

“I guess so. Seems like just yesterday she was playing hopscotch on the driveway. I’ll never forget the time that she and Emma—” He broke off abruptly and snapped his jaw shut.

Emma
. That’s twice in the course of an hour that he’d spoken her name aloud. Bet he hadn’t done that in a year.

Shelby didn’t mention his slip, but the look in her eyes revealed that she’d noticed. “Have they set a date yet?”

“December twenty-eighth. She told me she wants a destination wedding in Lori Reese’s hometown.” It saddened him that she wouldn’t get married here, but he wasn’t surprised. He doubted her mother would return to the Wildcatter, even for their daughter’s wedding.

“Eternity Springs,” Shelby said, nodding. “Lori showed me pictures of it when I visited Molly last spring. It looks like a charming little place.” She hesitated, then asked, “You will go to the wedding, won’t you?”

“Of course I’ll go to the wedding!” Jared scowled at his sister. “I’ll pay for it, too. I am her father.”

“One more reason you need to keep that nest egg available. Weddings are expensive.” Shelby studied her fingernails. “And I assume her mother will be there.”

Jared couldn’t sit still any longer. He pushed to his feet and paced to the bar, where he poured himself a scotch. “Do you want something to drink?”

Shelby sighed as she rose from her seat and gathered her papers. She crossed the room to her brother, went up on her tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, Jared. You are a great brother and a wonderful father. Before Frank screwed it up, you and Emma were more in love than any two people I’ve ever met. I know what happened was horrible for you both. I know that each of you had a right to be angry. But hasn’t the silence gone on long enough? It’s time you and Emma talked. Molly’s wedding can give you that opportunity.”

“I love you, too, Shelby,” he replied.

She waited for a long moment and when he didn’t address the rest of her comments, she sighed and left his office. Once he was alone, he finished his drink, then exited the ranch house. The night was dark, and the sky had a million stars. Jared looked above into the starlit heavens and wondered where in the world his wife was tonight.

Did he even care?

Part Two

December
21
Eternity Springs, Colorado

Emma Stapleton clutched the wheel of her rental SUV with a white-knuckled grip as she drove over the summit of Sinner’s Prayer Pass. Although the snow was piled high on either side of the road, the plow had been out and the road was dry. She had experience driving in the mountains in winter, so the drive itself wasn’t the reason for her nervousness. She didn’t fear sliding off the hill and crashing to her death. What scared Emma was the knowledge of what awaited her arrival in the town nestled in the valley below.

A family reunion. A family Christmas. A family wedding.

It promised to be a week from hell.

“At least I look good,” she murmured to her traveling companion, a three-month-old mixed-breed puppy who’d been abandoned by his owners in the suite next to hers at the Hotel Imperial in Vienna. Emma’s life of frequent travel made it silly for her to own a dog, but after listening to his pitiful whines and the hotel staff’s tales of animal shelter overcrowding, she couldn’t turn her back on the pup. She’d named him Mozart and allowed him to sleep at the foot of her bed.

She awoke every morning to find him snuggled against her.

Now, Mozart lay snoozing in his pet carrier, so he didn’t respond to her observation. That didn’t prevent her from continuing the conversation.

“New hairstyle, new makeup, new clothes—two sizes smaller, thank you very much. I have muscle definition in my arms and a spring in my step because I am confident. I am bursting with self-confidence.” As she headed down the mountain, she broke into song, channeling her inner Julie Andrews playing Maria on the way to meet the Von Trapps. She sang with as much heart as she could manage—considering that her heart was all but in her throat.

Was Jared already at Angel’s Rest? They’d managed graduation without setting eyes on each other. Would he see her when she arrived? Would he come out to meet her car? Would he wait for her to approach him? Was she arriving before him? If so, would she see him when he arrived? Would she go out to meet his car? Would she wait for him to approach her?

“Besides which, you see, I—” Emma quit singing as her SUV negotiated the final switchback before the road leveled out and led into Eternity Springs. She croaked out, “I am confidently scared to death.”

Her GPS guided her down what appeared to be the main street in town. She had to admit Molly’s description of “charming” was spot-on. Eternity Springs was a scene right off a Christmas card. Snowdrifts hugged the base of Victorian storefronts bedecked with evergreen garlands and wreaths sporting bright red ribbons. Potted fir trees stood beside entry doors trimmed in decorations in keeping with the business conducted within. Toothbrushes and dental floss decorated the tree in front of a dental office. The library’s tree was hung with dozens of miniature books. The tree at a barbershop was wrapped in red and white ribbon and plastic combs in red and green. Emma couldn’t help but smile in spite of her nervousness.

At the intersection of Spruce and Fifth, her GPS instructed her to turn left. However, she spied a church steeple and the sign for St. Stephen’s, the church where next week’s ceremony would be performed. “How lovely,” she murmured to her dog.

It was another greeting card view—a white wooden church with a black steeple, with evergreen wreaths on the doors and a manger scene in the yard. Picture perfect. Molly had chosen a wonderful venue for the wedding. As happened so often lately when Emma thought about her little girl getting married, her throat tightened and she blinked back tears.

“I hope I make it through this, Mozart,” she said, then she made the block and continued up Fifth toward a quaint wooden bridge that spanned a frozen creek, and saw the beautifully carved wooden sign that read
Angel’s Rest
just beyond.

Angel’s Rest Healing Center and Spa was a large estate with numerous structures, including landscaped, hot-springs pools whose steaming surfaces looked infinitely appealing. The centerpiece of the estate was a large multistory Victorian mansion that sat proudly at the base of a mountain. Cavanaugh House, Emma knew, since it was listed on the wedding invitation.
What a grand old mansion
.

She pulled her car around the circular drive and beneath the porte cochere. Switching off her engine, she took a deep bracing breath, then picked up Mozart’s carrier and her purse and opened the door.

The cold mountain air smelled like Christmas.

The door opened, and an older woman wearing red velvet trimmed in white fur stood smiling and waving and saying, “Welcome to Angel’s Rest.”

Never mind Julie Andrews and
The Sound of Music
. This was Rosemary Clooney in
White Christmas
—just a little older. “What a great dress,” Emma said, as she stepped inside.
Not to mention a great distraction
.

“Thank you. Tonight is the Christmas party for our quilting bee, the Patchwork Angels. Attending in costume just puts me right in the party spirit. I’m Celeste Blessing, and you must be dear Molly’s mother.”

“Yes. I’m Emma Stapleton.”

“If you’ll allow me to go fan girl for a moment, I saw you perform at Carnegie Hall three years ago, and I must say that your interpretation of Tchaikovsky brought tears to my eyes.”

“Thank you.” Emma glanced cautiously around, and when she didn’t see Jared, she relaxed a little bit.

“Molly and Charlie have gone snowmobiling with some of the other young people in town. She told me your husband is due to arrive around five. She’s reserved our private parlor for a family meal at seven, and we’ll be serving tasting portions of the menu you have chosen for the reception. Is that acceptable to you?”

“That will be wonderful.” It was almost four now. That gave her three hours. Emma felt as if she’d just been awarded a temporary stay of execution, and the fact that she felt that way annoyed her. It was high time she and Jared found a way to interact. This avoidance campaign they’d engaged in for so long was nothing short of childish.