to while we’re cooking. How does that sound?” Grace asked, adding an extra dollop of cheer to her voice.
“Okay,” Amanda said. “But I would really, really rather build a snowman than cook. Just so you know.”
Grace burst out laughing. She was shocked when she heard Max’s slight laugh. She didn’t think he had it in him. Wrong again.
“I’ll try to remember that, kiddo. Now why don’t the pair of you run upstairs and get dressed. I’ll need your help in a few minutes.”
The girls raced upstairs, shrieking and laughing. Grace was thrilled to hear their childish gibberish because she knew it was a sign that they would eventually be fine despite the traumatic home life they’d only recently escaped. Kids bounced back quickly after tragedy struck. Too bad some of their lightheartedness couldn’t rub off on Max. Permanently.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grab her keys where she’d left them, turn, and head for the front door, allowing the dogs to come inside after a quick but brisk run.
“Be careful,” she called out to his silhouette, framed in the sunlight. She watched him walk down the steps she’d used just hours ago.
Max Jorgenson was a loner, a wounded man who obviously wanted nothing more than to live his life here on this mountain in the middle of nowhere, undisturbed. So why did she feel the urge to count the minutes until he returned? Why did she feel as if a hummingbird’s wings fluttered against her rib cage when she looked at him? Telling herself it was nothing more than middle-aged lust, she stepped outside and removed a slab of bacon from the bag she’d placed there earlier that morning.
Grace couldn’t have predicted the last twelve hours if her life had depended on it. Reliable, steady, sure of herself, she remained coolheaded and in control of almost any situation she found herself in. Now she found her thoughts wandering and was having trouble focusing. The past few hours had been almost surreal. She’d never been in a situation where she’d felt so totally out of control. Until now. Saying a silent prayer that Max or someone would contact Stephanie, Grace returned to the kitchen to make breakfast.
Locating a radio station playing Christmas carols, she searched through the cupboards until she found a well-used iron skillet, which surprised her. Must be what he used for his bacon and eggs. Using a fork to pry the frozen bacon apart, she lined the frying pan with several slices. She found a cookie sheet and brought it over to the fireplace. Having placed the baking sheet on the logs, she waited until she could see that it was steady, then set the skillet on top. Within minutes the scent of bacon frying permeated the room. Grace realized she was hungry. “Girls,” she called up the stairs, “I need your help.” She didn’t really, but wanted to include them hoping it would take their minds off venturing outside in the freezing cold.
“Here we are! We don’t have a toothbrush, Miss Grace. Mommy tells us to brush our teeth first thing in the morning. And nighttime, too. But we can’t without a toothbrush. Do you think our teeth will fall out?” Amanda asked in one giant breath.
“No, I think you’ll be just fine. When we finish breakfast, we’ll clean our teeth with a washcloth and baking soda if we can’t find any toothpaste. That should do until we get you two home.”
“No! We can’t go home, Miss Grace! Mommy said Daddy might really hurt her bad next time,” Ashley explained, as tears filled her brown eyes.
“Oh, honey, I meant back to Hope House.” Grace steadied the skillet before standing up and taking the two girls in her arms. “Listen up. As long as you’re with me, I promise you’ll both be safe. Max is going to try to call your mother and tell her you’re okay. As soon as I’m able to get to the van, we’ll leave. Deal?” she asked.
“And we can still decorate the Christmas tree, right? Ashley says it’s only five more days till Christmas. Is that true?” Amanda asked, changing the subject so fast Grace had to pause to count the number of days in her head.
“Yes, that’s right. Five more days, and Santa will be here.” Grace still had gifts to buy, plus a tree to decorate. She hoped to be off the mountain in time to get everything ready before Bryce arrived Christmas Eve.
Amanda started to cry hard. Giant tears spattered on her dress. She hiccoughed a few times before she could talk. “But…we…won’t…be…home. How…will…Santa…know…where…to…find…us?”
“He’ll find us, won’t he, Miss Grace? Mommy says he always finds little children. Right?” Ashley asked.
Some parents didn’t believe that instilling a false image of Santa was healthy. She’d seen it more than once when she was in practice. Grace was all about honesty, but in this case she couldn’t come up with one reason, professional or personal, why a child shouldn’t be indulged in such a fantasy. She’d believed in Santa Claus until she was twelve and remembered the disappointment when she’d learned the truth. But as her mother and father always told her, Santa Claus is alive and well. He just moves to your heart when you’re older.
“Absolutely! He’ll find you both I’m sure. Now, if I don’t get some help, I’m going to burn breakfast.”
She removed the skillet from the fire and took it to the kitchen. In minutes, she and the girls were seated at the table, munching on crispy bacon and soft white bread slathered with strawberry jam. With both dogs acting as guards around the table, Grace laughed, watching as Ice-D and Cliff inhaled every morsel that fell to the floor.
Grace couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed breakfast as much.
Chapter 7
Max blasted down the mountain like a stick of dynamite. Slivers of ice zoomed past his head as he plowed through a snowbank. He couldn’t put sufficient distance between himself and Grace fast enough. He wanted her out of his house. And the kids, too.
Emotions he’d put on ice long ago were starting to thaw. He knew what that meant but didn’t want to acknowledge it, telling himself it was too soon. He’d felt guilty the moment he laid eyes on her. All thoughts of bachelorhood, the promises he’d made to himself would be null and void if she remained in the picture. Good thing she was just passing through.
He was halfway down Blow Out Hill when he spied Eddie’s shiny black Hummer parked next to a county snowplow. Thinking there could’ve been an accident at Maximum Glide, he twisted the throttle to wide open and the snowmobile skyrocketed recklessly to the bottom of the hill. He braked quickly, sending a shower of freshly packed snow shooting through the air like a blaze of fireworks.
He shut the engine off, leaving the keys in the ignition. He saw Eddie talking to a group of men gathered around the Hummer. Max shook his head. The man adored his ride, never missing an opportunity to pay tribute to the vehicle’s superiority over other four-wheel-drive transport.
Eddie saw him and waved. “What brings Muhammad down from the mountain in this kind of weather?”
Max gave a short laugh. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Everything okay at Maximum Glide?” He wanted to tell Eddie three snow angels on a mission appeared on his doorstep last night, but thought that a bit too drastic even for Eddie. “A woman broke down somewhere around here late last night. Has a couple of kids with her and needs to get word to her family that they’re okay. You see any gray vans on the side of the road?”
“Place runs smooth as silk, thanks to me. Funny you should ask about the van. We”—he
