The Cottage on Juniper Ridge (7 page)

Whatever happened to the good old days when people spent time
cuddled up with each other instead of their techno toys?
Hey, Santa, in the new year, do you think you could give me back my
family?

* * *

Christmas in the Thomas household had been perfect.
Stacy had done everything possible to make sure the kids enjoyed their visit
home—baking their favorite treats, putting her espresso maker to work making
eggnog lattes for everyone each morning, playing Christmas music, hauling out
all their favorite holiday movies.

It had been late afternoon the day Autumn arrived and she’d
taken in the lit tree and the glowing candles on the mantel with a happy smile.
“It’s so good to be home,” she’d said, and hugged Stacy.

Ethan had been more interested in the aroma of melted chocolate
wafting from the kitchen, but his girlfriend had been seriously impressed.
“Gosh,” she said, “everything’s so...Christmassy.”

“I told you, it looks like a department store in here,” Ethan
had said to her.

Stacy hadn’t been so sure that was a compliment but she’d let
it pass.

She’d found it harder to ignore his lack of enthusiasm for the
Christmas surprise she’d set under the tree for him. His girlfriend had been
delighted with her Target and Gap gift certificates, but Ethan had left his
latte maker behind.

“I can just go to Starbucks,” he’d informed Stacy when she saw
he was leaving home without it. “Hang on to it, Mom.”

Autumn had made the same request regarding the Victorian
village starter kit Stacy had given her—a snow-frosted house and an
old-fashioned church complete with stained-glass windows. Of course, Stacy had
expected that. She’d known she’d end up storing the decorations until Autumn
graduated from college and had her own place.

Still, graduation was only three and a half years away so the
time to start was now. Stacy had gone out the day after Christmas and purchased
more on sale to tuck away for next year. There was so much to get when you were
building a village—houses, shops, trees, old-fashioned streetlamps, people,
little gates and fountains and snowmen.

Stacy frowned as she looked at her own village. It was fun to
put out but such a pain to put away. It was now New Year’s Day, the day she
always took down her decorations. Dean had promised to help her, but he’d gotten
lured next door to watch a football game and, rather than wait for him, she
decided she’d get started on this year’s disappearing act on her own. By the
time Dean got home, she’d have everything packed and ready for its return to the
attic.

She went up there to fetch the boxes for her treasures. The sea
of containers stretching across the floor made her sigh. This was going to take
all day.

Oh, well. That was the price you paid when you had a lot of
decorations. And a lot of decorations was the price you paid to set the scene
for a happy family Christmas. When everything looked festive, everyone felt
festive. She grabbed a couple of boxes and climbed back down the stairs. Why was
it so much less fun putting things away than it was putting them up?

Several trips later, she was ready to begin stowing her
treasures. She picked up a ceramic Santa. This little guy had sat on the dining
room buffet when she was growing up, and her mother had given him to Stacy for
her first Christmas with Dean. It was vintage, possibly valuable. She wrapped it
in bubble wrap and stowed it carefully in the box.

She lifted a second Santa from the herd of Clauses. She and her
mom and older sister had met in Seattle and hit the postholiday sales together
three years back, and her sister had insisted on purchasing the little guy for
her. She blinked back tears as she remembered her sister. Sue had died suddenly
from an aneurysm ten years ago. This little guy got protected with two sheets of
bubble wrap.

A third Santa was one Dean had bought for their tenth
Christmas, back in the days when he didn’t complain about all her “stuff.” She
had the accompanying note he’d written in her scrapbook.
“I’ll always be grateful to the old guy for bringing us together,” he’d
written, alluding to when they’d first met at a friend’s Christmas party.

Yes, Christmas was special. And all these little mementos
served to remind her of it. Obviously, they didn’t serve the same purpose for
her husband. Well, he was a man. There were some things men simply didn’t
get.

She worked for the next two hours, packing away both her
decorations and her memories. By the time she was done, the living room looked
positively naked.
It won’t be once you get your other
decorations back up,
she reminded herself. That in itself was a
daunting job.

But not nearly as daunting as hauling these decorations back up
to the attic. She wished Dean would come home. It would be nice to get this
done.

So why wait? She wasn’t helpless. She could take all this to
the attic herself, and be spared listening to any complaining.

Stacy picked up the box containing the nativity set and went
upstairs. She left it in the hallway under the trapdoor to the attic and
returned to the family room for another load. Upstairs went the candles, then
the tree decorations, followed by the long, heavy box containing the tree.

They were followed by many more boxes. Dean
had
been right. A person could drop dead lugging all
of this around. Of course, she’d never admit that to him. He’d see it as some
sort of capitulation and be ready to take everything away—to the dump.

Once all the boxes were stacked in the upstairs hall, the next
step was to take her treasures to the attic. She pulled the chain to the
trapdoor and let down the ladder. “You’re almost done now,” she told
herself.

After lugging four cartons up to the attic, she realized she
needed to work smarter, not harder. Rather than go all the way up the stairs and
cross the attic to deposit each box separately, she’d be better off climbing the
ladder and piling them nearby. Then, once they were all up there, she could
arrange them as she wanted.

This plan worked really well until she decided to pile one box
on top of another...while holding a plastic garbage bag filled with a stuffed
Santa, his sleigh and reindeer. Somehow—who knew how these things happened?—she
lost her balance. Santa went flying and she dropped the box. She missed her grab
for the stairs and tumbled backward, tipping over the remaining pile of boxes as
she went. She landed on the bag containing her Christmas quilt, giving herself a
nice, soft landing. And she provided an equally soft landing for the boxes of
decorations. One whacked her in the head and another landed on her middle. Both
spilled their contents, surrounding her with Santas and candles. Ho, ho, ho.

Groaning, she clambered out from under the wreckage and
assessed the damage. Other than a twinge in her back and a smarting head she was
okay. And it looked as if the Santas had all survived. Except... Oh, no. There
lay the newest member of the Claus family, decapitated.

It took some searching among the tissue paper and bubble wrap
to find Santa’s missing head, but she did. She packed up the others, carefully
inspecting them to see that they were well wrapped, but set him aside. Dean
would say, “It’s broken. Why keep it?” But Dean didn’t get that a treasure was
still a treasure, even if it got broken. A little glue and Santa would be
fine.

Back up the ladder she went, now taking one box at a time. For
a millisecond she entertained the thought that maybe her husband was right and
they didn’t need quite so many decorations, that perhaps Muriel Sterling’s book
on simplifying one’s life might actually make a valid point.

But only for a millisecond. Treasures equaled memories, and
memories were priceless. And if it took some work storing hers, so what? One day
her family would thank her for all the trouble she’d taken to surround them with
pretty things.

And one day her son would actually want that latte maker.

Wouldn’t he?

Chapter Seven

A new beginning is also a new adventure.

—Muriel Sterling, author of
Simplicity

E
verything had worked out. Jen had been able to rent her condo in Seattle for enough to cover her mortgage and most of her rent. Now, the first weekend in January, she was moving into her charming mountain cottage with the help of her sister and family.

She’d nearly put dents in the steering wheel driving up the mountain in the snow, but once Wayne had gotten the chains on her tires she’d been able to relax a little. As they neared town, the roads weren’t bad, and he had taken the chains off again. That had been enough to make Jen hyperventilate until Wayne pointed out that the roads had been cleared and they were now all level. This, she had to admit, was a nice improvement over Seattle, which was a city of hills.

Still, she breathed a sigh of relief when they made it to the cottage in one piece. Garrett Armstrong met them there with the key and offered to help unload. He was just as gorgeous as she remembered, and obviously kindhearted. It would be so easy to fall for this man.

“That’s awfully nice of you,” she told him.

“No problem,” he said, shrugging off her praise.

Now Jeffrey had bounded out of his parents’ SUV, which had been stuffed to the roof with boxes. “Can we go tubing?”

“Maybe after we’re done unloading everything,” his father told him.

As Jen was making introductions, Jeffrey picked up a handful of snow, made a snowball and hurled it at his sister, who was standing huddled inside her coat, waiting for her father to open the small trailer they’d been pulling.

It hit her in the chest and she snarled, “Cut it out, you butt.”

Of course, being a boy, Jeffrey ignored her request and started forming another snowball. And that was enough to make Jordan forget she was now officially a sophisticated teen girl and start doing the same. “Come on, Aunt Jen, help me.”

Well, why not?

“Okay, five-minute fight,” Toni said, heading for the cottage with a box. “Then we’re going to get the work done.”

Jen was happy to join in and release the last of the tension from her scary trip up the mountain. She’d just stuffed a ton of snow down Jeffrey’s back when she realized she was the only grown-up playing. Toni was inside the cottage, probably stowing things away in the kitchen cupboards where Jen would never find them, and Wayne, who’d tossed a few snowballs, was now pulling a box out of the trailer.

“Okay, I’ve got to go work now,” she told the kids and herself.

“Aw, come on, Aunt Jen,” Jeffrey pleaded.

“Sorry, guys,” she said, and went to open the trunk of her car.

She stepped inside with her load in time to hear Toni asking Garrett, “You don’t like snowball fights?”

“Not when there’s work to be done.”

She felt her cheeks heating. Way to make a good impression on a gorgeous man. Now she looked like a slacker. But she felt so much better. Just a few minutes of fun had reenergized her.

“Work is important,” she said as she set a box of food on the counter, “but sometimes you need to take a break and get in touch with your inner child.” The expression was kind of lame, she supposed, but as hard as she’d been working, she deserved a break.

Garrett said nothing to that, which made her feel mildly chastised. And that made her feel mildly irritated. This guy didn’t know her. Was he making some sort of snap judgment about her? If so, he needed a life.

“I think the kids have had enough of a break,” Toni said, and went outside to order the troops back to work.

“So, when was the last time you had a snowball fight?” she asked Garrett as he walked out the door.

He paused for a moment, then shook his head. “Can’t remember.”

“Me, neither,” she said, but he was already on his way down the porch steps and obviously hadn’t heard her.

Jen had asked Garrett to remove the ratty twin beds and the offensive living room furniture that had originally been in the cottage so she could use her own furniture. All that was left of the old stuff was the kitchen table, which she figured she could dress up with a cute tablecloth.

Now he and Wayne unloaded her white leather couch. Ah, couch, sweet couch. She had them put it down at an angle so she could sit on it and simultaneously gaze out the window and enjoy a fire in the woodstove. She smiled, pleased with how it looked. This cottage was going to be her little corner of heaven on earth.

Toni had packed food for the day, including hot cocoa mix, and she set about heating water while Jen put her perishables in the fridge.

Meanwhile, the guys had returned with more boxes. “It’s starting to snow,” Wayne announced. “Jen, you’re going to have to learn to ski.”

“With no job I can’t afford to take that up,” she said. She saw her landlord frowning, probably wondering why he was renting to a woman who was unemployed.

Sure enough. “I assumed you had a job lined up here.”

“I’m going to find one,” Jen assured him. “But if you’re concerned about how I’m going to pay the rent...”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“As I mentioned when you called, I’ve got my place in Seattle rented. That’ll cover what I owe you.”

Well, almost. Thanks to the Christmas money her parents had given her, she’d be fine for a while, but she’d have to get something part-time to make up the difference. Money also came in pretty handy if you wanted to eat. She was confident that wouldn’t be a problem, though. As soon as she’d settled in, she’d call the shops where she’d seen those help-wanted signs.

He nodded, taking in what she’d told him. He still wasn’t exactly smiling in approval.

“Don’t worry. I’m not a deadbeat. I’ll pay my rent,” she said with a smile.

He just nodded and went outside to fetch more boxes.

Jen watched him go and frowned. “He thinks I’m a flake.”

“Wait till he spends a little more time with you. Then he’ll
know
you’re a flake,” Toni teased.

“There is nothing flaky about getting your priorities straight,” Jen muttered. “Anyway, I’ve got enough money to tide me over for a little while.” A very little while. Maybe she should’ve lined up a job before moving here.

The men were back in the cottage now. “This is the last of it,” Wayne said.

Jeffrey came in behind them and dropped a bag of towels on the living room floor. “I’m hungry. When can we eat?”

“Right now,” Jen replied. “We’ve got plenty of sandwiches,” she told Garrett. “I hope you’ll stay for something to eat.”

“I’ve got to get going, but thanks for the offer,” he said. “You’ve got my cell number. If you need anything, call.”

“How about if I
want
something?” Jen teased.
Like you.

He smiled but didn’t look comfortable doing so. “You’ll meet lots of people who can help you find what you want in Icicle Falls.”

There must’ve been some clever remark she could use. Too bad she couldn’t come up with one. Instead, she smiled. “Thanks again for helping.”

“No problem.” He shook hands with Wayne, waved farewell to Jen and Toni and then took off.

“That man is so gorgeous,” Toni said as Garrett trotted down the steps.

Wayne turned and frowned at her. “Hey, do you mind not drooling over other men in front of your husband? That could give a man a complex.”

Not that Wayne was lacking in the looks department. He was a little overweight, but he had a nice face, and blue eyes, which he’d passed on to both of his children.

Toni shot her sister a grin. “It pays to keep ’em on their toes,” she joked.

But Jen knew she hadn’t been joking about Garrett. He truly was an eyeful—in a good way.

After lunch the kids convinced their dad that they needed to do some serious tubing on Snow Hill, and they left the sisters on their own to set about putting the kitchen to rights. “You know,” Toni said as they worked, “I thought you were nuts to move up here.”

“I know you did.” Garrett Armstrong seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“But I can see why you did. You’re getting to completely reinvent yourself.” Toni gestured to the snowy scene outside the cabin window. “And you’ve picked a beautiful place to do it. There’s something about leaving the city behind. And I swear, my family’s had more interaction in one day than we’ve had at home in the past six months.” She glanced around with a half smile. “This place is a dump but there’s something kind of retro and homey about it.”

Yes, there was. “You know what we need now? We need a fire in the woodstove. That’ll make it really cozy,” Jen decided.

“Great idea,” her sister said.

Garrett had kindly left some wood and a small amount of kindling in a metal basket by the stove. Jen grabbed some of the newspapers they’d used for packing. She hadn’t had a ton of experience making fires, other than one time at camp. Whenever their family went to the beach, her father had always been in charge of building the bonfire. But she’d watched. She remembered what to do. First you laid down paper and kindling to get the fire going. You set a match to that and then when you had a nice flame you put in a bigger piece of wood.

The stove door screeched in protest as she opened it.

“That obviously hasn’t been used in a while,” Toni said. “It is safe, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be in here,” Jen replied.

She crumpled the papers, added the kindling and then searched for matches, which she found in an old coffee can. “All right. Here we go,” she said as she held the match to the paper. “Now it’s going to be really cozy.”

“Did you open the damper?”

“The damper?” Jen looked at the stove. Why was that smoke curling out from around the door?

“You have to open the damper,” Toni said.

Jen examined the stove. The smoke began to come at her more aggressively. “Where is it?”

“Down below,” Toni said, and rushed over. She pushed in a rod at the bottom of the stove.

But there was still so much smoke. “That can’t be right,” Jen said. “You just told me you have to pull it out,” she added, and pulled the rod back out.

“I said you have to
open
it. Get the door,” Toni commanded, and pushed it in again.

“It’s still smoky,” Jen wailed as she threw open the front door. Her eyes were starting to sting.

“It’s going to take a minute,” Toni said, and coughed.

“That
can’t
be right,” Jen said again, and pulled the rod out once more. More smoke billowed up at her. In or out, the stupid thing didn’t seem to be working. Coughing, she ran to the kitchen counter and got her cell phone, quickly dialing her new landlord. In spite of the open door the room was filling with smoke and now the smoke detector was going off.

“Hello?” he said.

“Garrett, I’m sorry to bother you but—”

“What’s that noise? Is that the smoke detector?”

“Yes, I’m afraid we’re having a little trouble—”

“I’ll be right there,” he said, and ended the call before she could finish.

Meanwhile, her sister had pushed the rod in again. “We had this same stove in the old house. I wish you’d listen to me.”

“Well, you could’ve said that,” Jen retorted, waving her arms at the cloud around her head.

“Get your towels,” Toni commanded. “Let’s try to fan some of this smoke out.”

Jen pulled two towels from the bag and they set to work. “So much for my cozy fire,” she groaned. “Now it’s going to be freezing in here.”

“Better cold than dying from smoke inhalation,” Toni said.

A truck pulled up in front of the cabin, spewing snow in all directions. Garrett Amstrong burst out of the cab and came flying up the stairs.

“What happened?” he asked, racing to the woodstove.

“We couldn’t figure out which way the damper opened,” Jen explained.

He inspected it and stood up. “You’ve got it right now,” he hollered over the smoke detector. “Got a broom?”

“A broom?” Jen repeated.

Toni dashed to the kitchen and seized the broom from the corner where Jen had propped it and handed it over. He began waving it in front of the smoke detector, which was hanging toward the top of the opposite wall. At last the thing settled down.

“That’s great,” Jen said. “Thank you.”

“You’ll want to open the back door,” he said as he threw open the living-room window.

Jen nodded and hurried to the back of the cabin to open that door. What kind of idiot tried to turn herself into a smoked ham the first day in her new home? “I’m sorry,” she said as she returned down the hall.

“It’s okay,” he said, but from the expression on his face she could tell he was wondering whether he’d rented to a total dingbat. “For future reference, always check the damper before you start a fire.” He pointed to the rod. “Make sure this is in.”

Jen nodded, refusing to look in her sister’s direction. Toni wouldn’t exactly gloat, but she’d have that I-told-you-so frown on her face.

“Don’t burn anything waxy in there,” he continued, “and don’t burn cardboard. Don’t use any liquid, like barbecue starter fluid.”

“I won’t,” Jen promised. “This won’t happen again.”

“You’d be surprised how easily problems can happen,” he said sternly. “Heating fires account for thirty-six percent of residential home fires in rural areas every year.”

“Oh, my,” Jen said weakly. “How do you know all that?”

“I’m a firefighter.”

“Here?” she asked.
No, on the moon. Duh.

He nodded. “Be careful. I’d hate to have to come out here with my fire truck.”

Don’t make me bring my fire truck.
“I will,” Jen said. She felt about ten years old. “Sorry we bothered you.”

He gave the broom to Jen. “No bother,” he said, but she wasn’t sure he meant it.

“Thanks again,” she said as he turned for the door.

“A firefighter,” her sister said as he drove off. “That man just gets sexier and sexier.”

Yes, he did.

The smoke eventually vanished, and by the time Wayne and the kids returned, the cottage was almost back to normal. Jeffrey sniffed as they walked in. “It stinks in here.”

“Not half as bad as it did,” Toni told him.