snowstorm worsened, the downfall so thick it hid all signs of the parking lot, but not the woman standing beside him.
“Where’s your car?” Chelsea in her navy coat said as she forged ahead. “This way?”
“Yes.” He squinted to keep her in sight. She walked easily through the whiteout conditions, graceful as the snowfall. There was something about her that was poetic as the night.
Not that he was given to poetry. He fished his keys from his coat pocket, careful not to jostle Macie. She sniffled against him, fighting her tears. Maybe there was a way to avoid the emergency room. He beeped his remote, and the SUV’s lights flashed through the veil of storm. Chelsea surprised him by opening the passenger door, holding it against the gusts of wind so he could settle Macie into her seat. He brushed the snow off her the best he could.
“Here.” Chelsea shook out the second blanket and shouldered past him. He caught a faint scent of vanilla and strawberry. Light-chestnut-brown hair spilled out from beneath her hat as she spread the afghan over his daughter, tucking it snug around her. “How does the snowgirl story work out? Does she live happily ever after at the north pole?”
“Yes.” Macie sniffled. “Her daddy turns into a snowman so she’s not alone.”
“Sounds like a fantastic story to me.” Chelsea’s smile could light up the darkness. “I’ll see you around, Macie.”
“See ya around.”
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat, but the gruffness remained. The woman’s kindness touched him and drove some of the ice from his heart, on this of all days, the three-year anniversary of his wife’s death. “The blankets. I’ll need to return them.”
“I live at the end of Wild Rose Lane. It says McKaslin on the mailbox. You can’t miss it.” Her gentleness vanished when she turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield.
Yeah, he’d made a good impression, all right.
“I’ll be praying for Macie, that her arm is all right.” Chelsea McKaslin stalked away, her boots squeaking in the snow.
Before he could answer, the thick veils closed around her, the shadows claimed her. She was lost to him and he was alone in the storm.
Chapter Two
What a gorgeous morning. Chelsea breathed in the crisp, icy fresh air, stomped the snow off her boots and tromped through the backyard of her family’s property. She blinked against the sun’s bright glare and glanced over her shoulder at the horse barn. For as far as she could see, white fields rolled and preened beneath a pale blue sky. Wow, it was good to be back for keeps.
The frigid air burned her lungs as she trudged toward the door. Slow going through the accumulation, but much easier since the blizzard had stopped. Last night’s trek home had been interesting. Drifting snow made it impossible to drive, so she’d pulled over on Wild Rose Lane and walked a half mile. She’d nearly turned into a snowman, too—well, a snow-woman. Thinking of Macie, Chelsea smiled to herself as she clomped up the porch steps.
“Ha! I saw you coming.” The door swung open and Meg, her younger sister by four years, crooked one slim brow. “What are you doing up at this hour? You got in so late. You should be sleeping in. Taking advantage of your time off.”
“What can I say? I needed a horse fix.”
“I totally get it.” Meg braced one slim shoulder against the open door, model-gorgeous with her lean looks, beautiful face and long brown hair. “Good news. The county snowplow just finished clearing the road.”
“Yay. Now I can rescue my car.” Her eighteen-year-old Toyota might not be snazzy, but she’d gotten attached to it over the years. She’d inherited it from Mom when she’d gone off to college. She tromped through the doorway and into the warm house. “Do you know what I really need?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Someone to give me a lift.”
“Sorry, I can’t pick you up.” Mischief twinkled in Meg’s brown eyes before she disappeared into the kitchen. “But I can give you a ride.”
“Really? Isn’t it a little early in the morning for puns?”
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Sara Beth is rummaging around in the basement. Thought I should warn you.”
“Okay.” Chelsea shouldered the door shut. Sara Beth was sister number two in the McKaslin lineup, Chelsea’s younger sister by two years. “I guess the real question is what she’s looking for?”
“House lights. We’re putting them up today.” Meg’s voice echoed from the kitchen, leaving a lot unsaid. This would be the first Christmas they would be stringing up the lights without Mom.
Chelsea swallowed against a tide of emotion and plopped down on the nearby bench. She could do this. She could face this Christmas without Mom. “Are you going to hang the dangly icicle ones or the multicolor ones?”
“Not my call. The person who puts up the lights gets to decide.” A clink sounded from the kitchen. “I can tell you, it won’t be me. Remember what happened when I was on a ladder last?”
“Was that when you got stuck on the roof?”
“Putting up the big star, per Mom’s directions, remember? And it totally wasn’t my fault the stupid ladder decided to fall over. I haven’t trusted one since.”
“You think the rest of us should?”
“Sure, as long as it isn’t me.” A clunk of a stoneware mug being set on the granite counter punctuated her humor. “I strung the lights the last time with Dad, if you remember. Sara Beth said she’s not partial to ladders, and Johanna is at the vet clinic working with Dad and who knows when they will be back, so that only leaves—”
“Me.” Great. She wasn’t fond of ladders either. She tugged off her boots. This is what she got for being the oldest and out of town when her sisters were planning Christmas. “Why don’t we wait for Dad?”
“Because I think it will be too tough on him to have to do it.”
“Right.” Because he’d always put them up for Mom. Boy, this Christmas wasn’t going to be easy. She unzipped her barn coat and hung it in the closet. “Guess it’s my turn, then.”
“I knew you’d do it. I kinda think it’s best to surprise Dad with the decorations, you know, like a new tradition. Now it’s our turn to put up the lights for him.”
“I like it.” She followed her sister’s voice into the kitchen. Bayly, one of their two dogs, opened an eye to watch her enter the room, let his lids fall shut and went back to snoozing on his bed near the family room’s crackling fireplace. “But before I do anything, I’ve got to fetch my car and I have a few things to do in town.”
“What things?” Meg set a teacup on the breakfast bar. The scents of cinnamon and spices wafted upward on the steam.
“Go to the bank. Hit the bookstore. Check up on a few people.”
“What
