Snow Crystal Trilogy: Sleigh Bells in the Snow / Suddenly Last Summer / Maybe This Christmas. Sarah Morgan
her dislike of Christmas than the inconvenience of the holiday season.
He remembered how pale she’d looked decorating the Christmas tree. She’d seemed as fragile as the frosted silver decoration she’d held in her hand.
“I’ll try to make sure you’re not subjected to too much Christmas during your stay.”
“Oh—” she smiled, back to being her detached, professional self “—it’s really not that much of a big deal.”
It was obviously a huge deal. He heard it in her voice and saw it in the way she held herself.
“So let me give you some tips about skiing tomorrow—” He steered the conversation in a different direction, entertained her with stories about skiing exploits when he and his brothers were growing up and saw the tension gradually ease out of her shoulders.
By the time they reached dessert—a delicate trio of French patisseries that would have shattered anyone’s resolution to forgo dessert—she was even laughing.
And she was still laughing as he drove her back to her cabin, regaling her with stories about Tyler.
“Seriously? He did that? It’s a wonder he wasn’t killed.” Smiling, she pushed open the gate. She’d pulled on her snow boots in his car, and she walked confidently now, but he noticed that when he took her hand she didn’t pull away.
The moon sent a ripple of silvery light over the snow-covered trees and she stood for a moment and breathed.
“It is beautiful here. Like being in our own world. The land of Snow Crystal.”
“Occupied by aliens,” he said drily, and she laughed.
“Occupied by brave fighters who refuse to be defeated by the big bad economy.”
The smile stayed on her face all the way to the cabin. It stayed in place until she glanced into her glassfronted living room and saw the enormous Christmas tree twinkling with lights and silver stars.
“Oh.” Her tone was flat. “Who put that there?”
Jackson held his breath to prevent himself venting every swearword in his vocabulary.
“I’m guessing it was Alice.”
“Your eighty-year-old grandmother dragged a six-foot tree through the forest? That’s impressive.”
“I heard her talking this afternoon when she came back from her shopping trip. She thought you were upset because you weren’t home for Christmas.” And his mother had tried to talk her out of it, he remembered. Somehow, his mother had known Kayla wouldn’t want one. “She must have had Tyler help her or something. Hell, Kayla, I can—”
“No.” She turned, her smile as fake as the spray snow they used on the windows of the village store. “She was being thoughtful and I don’t want to offend her. I’ve done more than enough of that. It’s fine. It’s just a tree.”
But he could see it was so much more than a tree. It was a reminder of a time of year she hated, and it had killed their brief moment of camaraderie.
The laughter, the humor, the connection—it had all gone. She’d pulled herself back, like a turtle retreating inside the protection of its shell.
“Kayla, if you don’t like Christmas then you don’t want to be walking around that damn thing each time you go to the kitchen. I can—”
“I’ll just tune it out.” She was already walking up the steps, pulling away from him physically and mentally. “I won’t even notice it’s there when I’m working.”
Jackson wanted to ask how the hell she planned on tuning out something that was almost the size of the Empire State Building, but she had the door open and was giving him that fixed, formal smile she’d perfected. “Thank you for a lovely evening. I’ll get to work on that proposal.”
“JESS?” TYLER THUMPED his fist on the door and wondered whether this whole parenting thing would have been easier if he’d had Jess living with him all her life. At least he would have had more practice. “Open this goddamn door right now or I swear to God I’ll break it down and I’ll be patching up the wood with those skis of yours.”
That threat received the same lack of response as the others he’d thrown at her.
Ash and Luna whined as they watched him from the top of the stairs.
“What?” He glared at the dogs. “If you know something, for fuck’s sake tell me.”
He’d started patient. Then patience had given way to manipulation. Turned out he wasn’t above bribery—hell, he’d tried everything from promises of hot chocolate to new skis, but he still couldn’t get the girl to open the door.
She’d been locked in there all afternoon, since he’d arrived back from guiding that group of powder hounds. He’d nipped out for an hour to cut down and deliver the tree to Jackson’s woman from New York on his grandmother’s instructions, and when he’d arrived back Jess had still been in her room.
Tyler planted his hand on the door frame and cursed. “Jess? If something is wrong, just give it to me straight. I can read the weather, I can read the snow, but I sure as hell haven’t ever been able to read a woman’s mind, so cut me some slack, will you?”
Still no answer.
Irritation mingled in with unease.
There was no sound from inside the room. Nothing.
In his experience a quiet woman was a dangerous woman.
Turning the air blue and trying not to think how much extra work this move was going to cost him, Tyler raised his leg and kicked the door hard with his boot.
It flew open and Ash barked loudly, bounding forward to investigate the source of the drama.
The room was empty except for a pile of scrapbooks on the bed.
Wasn’t she too old for scrapbooks?
He flipped one open and saw a picture of himself standing on the podium receiving a medal.
“Shit.” He sank onto the bed and carried on turning the pages until he realized that what he was looking at was basically a chronicle of his life.
Jess had kept a record of his entire skiing career. And there, in the front of the book, were two words written in a childish scrawl.
My dad.
His throat felt scratchy and raw.
He’d thought she didn’t want to be here. He’d thought Janet had poisoned her against him, but the contents of those scrapbooks said otherwise.
He was about to close it when he saw the photograph of the baby.
And he saw something else.
Jess O’Neil.
Not Carpenter. O’Neil.
Unease turned to panic. “Jess? Where are you, sweetheart?” Closing the scrapbooks, he glanced around him, searching for clues. He yanked open doors, wondering if she were hiding. “If this is some sort of game, I’m not close to laughing so just—” He shivered as cold air brushed his skin and saw what he hadn’t immediately seen when he’d walked into the room.
The window was open.
And Jess was gone.
KAYLA LAY CURLED up on the shelf, staring into the forest, watching the snow glisten in the light of the moon. She decided if there was anything lonelier than being on your own at Christmas, it was being on your own while surrounded by a big happy family.
For the O’Neils, it was clearly the highlight of the year. A time to get together and celebrate being a family.
Unable to sleep, she dragged on the luxurious robe that had been left for her use and went downstairs.
There,