Colorado Christmas. C.C. Coburn
Chapter Two
“That went better than I expected,” Will said as he and Matt walked outside into the crisp winter morning.
Snow had fallen overnight, turning the town into a perfect Christmas card scene. Skiers trudged along the sidewalks, headed for the slopes, while sightseers gazed into shop fronts, admiring the Christmas displays. Carols sounded merrily from the tourist office. The holidays were only a couple of weeks away—Will’s favorite time of year.
Matt sighed. “Define better than you expected. You’ve been assigned fifty hours of community service and had the judge very publicly turn you down for a date. Doesn’t anything ever get you down?”
Will shrugged. “Nothing I can think of at the moment—apart from losing those old buildings.” He couldn’t tell Matt about the avalanche and the nightmares. Not yet.
“Don’t you feel humiliated?”
“Nope. I deserved the punishment and I’ll enjoy spending time at the old folks’ home. Lots of interesting characters there. As for the delectable judge, she’ll come around.”
Matt rubbed his chin. “I’m not so sure. She keeps to herself.” He paused. “And don’t you dare even think of pursuing her and then take off on another one of your crazy adventures, leaving the rest of us to pick up the pieces.”
Will opened his mouth to answer the accusations but, as usual, Matt hadn’t finished telling him off. “And what the hell was all that, ‘I’m going to marry that woman someday,’ nonsense?”
Will grinned and said, “Bashert.”
Matt’s eyes narrowed. His voice dripping with mock sarcasm, he said, “You spent two weeks skiing in Israel last winter and now you speak fluent Hebrew?”
“Actually, it’s Yiddish. And I’m far from fluent. Bashert is the instant recognition of one’s soul mate.”
“I’m aware of what it is! It happened for me with Sally,” Matt said testily, referring to the deep and instant love he’d felt for his wife. But a drunk driver had killed Sally two years earlier. She was seven months pregnant at the time.
“And Dad with Mom,” Will said, trying to distract Matt from grieving over Sally. He wasn’t comfortable with deep emotion. “Seems like bashert’s an O’Malley tradition.”
“Not where Luke’s concerned.”
Their oldest brother’s ex-wife, Tory, had made Luke’s life a living hell. Although he’d been divorced for a couple of years now, Luke was still a grouch.
“True. But I’m positive about the judge.”
Matt raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Really? You haven’t checked out her other assets. For all you know, hidden behind that bench might be three hairy legs and a pointed tail.”
Will grinned at his brother’s rare attempt at levity. “You’ve been reading too many of those kiddie fantasy novels to young Sash.” Sasha was one of their much-adored nieces and Luke’s oldest daughter.
“Speaking of children, the judge has one of her own.”
“She’s married?” Will felt sick to his stomach.
Matt placed a hand on his shoulder. “Relax. She’s divorced. But I’m sure the thought of having to compete with another child—” Matt emphasized the word “—for the judge’s attention, should be enough to quench your fires.”
Ignoring the jibe, he said, “A kid? How d’you know?”
“Because I listen to people.”
“So you’ve had the opportunity to chat with the object of my affections?”
“I have.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Is she as immune to your charms as she’s trying to be to mine?”
“I think you could confidently say she’s completely immune to your charms.”
“On the contrary. I think she’s intrigued.”
“Yeah. Right. Face it, buddy, Judge McBride is way too disciplined for someone as unruly as you. Still, stranger things have happened—especially in Spruce Lake.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to go back to work, but before I do, I’ve got to ask—this protest movement you’re getting together…who’s heading it up?”
Will puffed out his chest. “Me, of course. And we’ve called it Save Our Buildings or SOB, ’cause it’d be a crying shame to lose them.”
Matt shook his head. “Trust you to come up with such an absurd acronym. Can I be blunt with you?”
“Fire away.”
“There seems to be a groundswell of support for your crazy idea—”
Will threw up his hands. “It is not crazy!”
“Okay…let’s call it well-meaning but totally irrational.”
Will nodded. “That’s much better.” He enjoyed sparring with Matt.
“What I’m trying to get across to you is that this protest—if you can get enough support for it—has the potential of becoming huge, and if you walk away without following through, you’re going to disappoint a lot of people. No, more than that, you’re going to hurt them because they believe in you.”
“I told you I’m here to stay. Why do you doubt me?”
“Because I know your past record! And when it finally gets through your thick skull that the judge isn’t interested, you’ll head off to the ends of the earth on another harebrained adventure.”
Will was about to repeat that he was here to stay, but Matt was on a roll.
“You breeze into town, stopping for a few days, before you fly off to make yet another movie in some far-off location,” Matt ranted. “You’ve never shown any interest in sticking with anything worthwhile. Why change now?”
Although his tirade stung, Matt was right. Not so long ago, Will wouldn’t have been ready to hear it, or to agree with Matt. But his brush with death had changed Will’s view of the world and his place in it. The avalanche had made him realize the carefree days of his extended youth were over. Did he really want to spend his life flying around the world, engaging in increasingly more daring stunts, living out of a suitcase? The answer was a resounding no.
He’d come home—to the certain safety of Spruce Lake—determined to settle in his hometown. Unfortunately, he hadn’t figured out how he’d make a living here. The judge had underlined something he already knew: Apart from being able to ski near-vertical cliffs, he didn’t have any real skills. And therefore no alternative career prospects.
However, discovering that the old buildings were threatened with demolition had confirmed Spruce Lake was an intrinsic part of him and saving them was a cause worth fighting for. “I won’t have our town’s heritage destroyed by a bunch of shiny Tonka toys!” he declared.
“That’s what you say now. Next week might be a different story.”
Will gritted his teeth. “I said I’m here to stay.”
“Fine.” Matt’s curled lip told Will he doubted his convictions. “If you’re as determined as you claim to be, I’ll do whatever I can. And if you’re so hell-bent on dating the judge, then let me talk to her on your behalf. I’ll tell her you’re a generally well-behaved citizen who’s temporarily taken leave of his senses. She’d believe it coming from me. She might even let you date her, then.”
She probably would, but that’d be cheating. His big brother couldn’t help sticking up for him. Protecting him—protecting anyone—came naturally to Matt.