Let It Snow Read online

  “Sampson won’t bite you.”

  “It’s not his mouth I’m worried about.”

  “He’s harmless.”

  “So is flying.”

  Surprised, Shelly dropped her hand from Sampson’s hindquarters.

  Slade strolled over to the stall, a grin curving up the edges of his mouth. “From the look on your face when we landed, one would assume that your will alone was holding up the plane.”

  “It was!”

  Slade chuckled and tentatively reached out to rub Sampson’s ebony forehead.

  Shelly continued to groom the horse. “Is your chess match over already?”

  “I should have warned your father. I was on the university chess team.”

  Now it was Shelly’s turn to look amused. She paused, her hand in mid-stroke. “Did you wound Dad’s ego?”

  “I might have, but he’s regrouping now. I came out to meet the horse you spoke of so fondly. I wanted to have a look before I headed for Seattle.”

  “Sampson’s honored to make your acquaintance.” I am, too, her heart echoed.

  Slade took a step in retreat. “I guess I’ll get back to the house. No doubt your dad’s got the board set for a rematch.”

  “Be gentle with him,” Shelly called out, trying to hide a saucy grin. Her father wasn’t an amateur when it came to the game. He’d been a member of the local chess club for several years, and briefly Shelly wondered at his strategy. Donald Griffin seldom lost at any game.

  * * *

  —

  An hour later, Shelly stamped the snow from her boots and entered the house through the back door, which led into the kitchen. Shedding the thick coat, she hung it on the peg and went to check the roast and baked potatoes. Both were done to perfection, and she turned off the oven.

  Seeing that her father and Slade were absorbed in their game, Shelly moved behind her father and slipped her arms around his neck, resting her chin on the top of his head.

  “Dinner’s ready,” she murmured, not wanting to break his concentration.

  “In a minute,” Don grumbled.

  Slade moved the bishop, leaving his hand on the piece for a couple seconds. Seemingly pleased, he released the piece and relaxed. As though sensing her gaze on him, he lifted his eyes. Incredibly dark eyes locked with hers as they stared at each other for long, uninterrupted moments. Shelly felt her heart lurch as she basked in the warmth of his look. She wanted to hold on to this moment, forget San Francisco, Margaret, the snowstorm. It became paramount that she capture this magic with both hands and hold on to it forever.

  “It’s your move.” Don’s words cut into the stillness.

  “Pardon?” Abruptly, Slade dropped his eyes to the chessboard.

  “It’s your move,” her father repeated.

  “Of course.” Slade studied the board and moved a pawn.

  Don scowled. “I hadn’t counted on your doing that.”

  “Hey, you two, didn’t you hear me? Dinner’s ready.” Shelly was shocked at how normal and unaffected her voice sounded.

  Slade got to his feet. “Shall we consider it a draw, then?”

  “I guess we better, but I demand a rematch someday.”

  Shelly’s throat constricted. There wouldn’t be another day for her or Slade. They were two strangers who had briefly touched each other’s lives. Ships passing in the night and all the other clichés she had never expected would happen to her. But somehow Shelly had the feeling that she would never be the same again. Surely she wouldn’t be so swift to judge another man. Slade had taught her that, and she would always be grateful.

  * * *

  —

  The three chatted easily during dinner, and Shelly learned things about Slade that she hadn’t thought to ask. He was a salesman, as she’d suspected. He specialized in intricate software programs for computers and was meeting with a Seattle-based company, hoping to establish the first steps of a possible distribution agreement. It was little wonder that he’d considered this appointment so important. It was. And although he didn’t mention it, Shelly was acutely aware that if this meeting was successful, Slade would be that much closer to achieving his financial and professional goals—and that much closer to marrying dull, dutiful Margaret.

  Shelly was clearing the dishes from the table when Slade set his napkin aside and rose. “I don’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a meal more, especially the sourdough bread.”

  “A man gets the feel of a kitchen sooner or later,” Don said with a crusty chuckle. “It took me a whole year to learn how to turn on the oven.”

  “That’s the truth,” Shelly added, sharing a tender look with her father. “He thought it was easier to use the microwave. The problem was he couldn’t quite get the hang of that, either. Everything came out the texture of beef jerky.”

  “We survived,” Don grumbled, affectionately looping an arm around Shelly’s shoulder. The first eighteen months after her mother’s death had been the most difficult for the family, but life goes on, and almost against their wills they’d adjusted.

  Slade paused in the living room to stare out the window. “I can’t ever remember it snowing this much in the Pacific Northwest.”

  “Rarely,” Don agreed. “It’s been three winters since we’ve had any snow at all. I’ll admit this is a pleasant surprise.”

  “How long will it be before the snowplows are out?”

  “Snowplow, you mean?” Don repeated with a gruff laugh. “King County is lucky if they have more than a handful. There isn’t that much call for them.” He walked to the picture window and held back the draperies with one hand. “You know, it might not be a bad idea if you stayed the night and left first thing in the morning.”

  Slade hesitated. “I don’t know. If I miss this meeting, it’ll mean having to wait over the Christmas holiday.”

  “You’ll have a better chance of making it safely to Seattle in the morning. The condition of the roads tonight could be treacherous.”

  Slade slowly expelled his breath. “I have the distinct feeling you may be right. Without any streetlights, Lord knows where I’d end up.”

  “I believe you’d be wise to delay your drive. Besides, that will give us time for another game of chess.”

  Slade’s gaze swiveled to Shelly and softened. “Right,” he concurred.

  The two men were up until well past midnight, engrossed in one chess match after another. After watching a few of the games, Shelly decided to say good night and go to bed.

  She lay in her bed in the darkened room, dreading the approach of morning. In some ways it would have been easier if Slade had left immediately after dropping her off. And in other ways it was far better that he’d stayed.

  Shelly fell asleep with the insidious hands of the clock ticking away the minutes to six o’clock, when Slade would be leaving. There was nothing she could do to hold back time.

  Without even being aware that she’d fallen asleep, Shelly was startled into wakefulness by the discordant drone of the alarm.

  Tossing aside the covers, she automatically reached for her thick housecoat, which she’d left at her father’s. Pausing only long enough to run a comb through her hair and brush her teeth, she rushed into the living room.

  Slade was already dressed and holding a cup of coffee in his hands. “I guess it’s time to say good-bye.”

  Chapter 5

  Shelly ran a hand over her weary eyes and blinked. “You’re right,” she murmured, forcing a smile. “The time has come.”

  “Shelly—”

  “Listen—”

  Abruptly they each broke off whatever it was that they had planned to say.

  “You first,” Slade said, and gestured toward her with his open hand.

  Dropping her gaze, she shrugged one shoulder. “It’s nothing really. I just wanted to wish you and Margaret every happiness.”

  His gaze softened, and Shelly wondered if he knew what it had cost her to murmur those few words. She did wish Slade Garner happiness, but she was convinced that he wouldn’t find it with a cold fish like Margaret. Forcefully, she tossed her gaze across the room. For all her good intentions, she was doing it again—prejudging another. And she hadn’t even met good ol’ Margaret.

  His eyes delved into hers. “Thank you.”

  “You wanted to say something,” she prompted softly.

  Slade hesitated. “Be happy, Shelly.”

  A knot formed in her throat as she nodded. He was telling her good-bye, really good-bye. He wouldn’t see her again, because it would be too dangerous for them both. Their lives were already plotted, their courses set. And whatever it was that they’d shared so briefly, it wasn’t meant to be anything more than a passing fancy.

  The front door opened and Don entered, brushing the snow from his pant legs. A burst of frigid air accompanied him, and Shelly shivered.

  “As far as I can see, you shouldn’t have a problem. We’ve got maybe seven to ten inches of snow, but there’re plenty of tire tracks on the road. Just follow those.”

  Unable to listen anymore, Shelly moved into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of hot black coffee. Clasping the mug with both hands, she braced her hip against the counter and closed her eyes. Whatever was being said between Slade and her father had no meaning. She was safer in the kitchen, where she wouldn’t be forced to watch him walk out the door. The only sound that registered in her mind was the clicking noise of the front door opening and closing.

  Slade had left. He was gone from the house. Gone from her life. Gone forever. Shelly refused to mope. He’d touched her, and she should be glad. For a time she’d begun to wonder if there was something physically wrong with her, because she couldn’t respond to a man. Slade hadn’t so much as kissed her, and she’d experienced a closeness to him that she hadn’t felt with all the men she’d dated in San Francisco. Without even realizing it, Slade had granted her the priceless gift of expectancy. If he was capable of stirring her restless heart, then so would another.

  Humming softly, Shelly set a skillet on the burner and laid thick slices of bacon across it. This was the day before Christmas, and it promised to be full. She couldn’t be sad or filled with regrets when she was surrounded by everything she held dear.

  The door opened again, and Don called cheerfully, “Well, he’s off.”

  “Good.”

  “He’s an interesting man. I wouldn’t mind having someone like him for a son-in-law.” Her father entered the kitchen and reached for the coffeepot.

  “He’s engaged.”

  Don snickered, and there was a hint of censure in his voice when he spoke. “That figures. The good men usually are snatched up early.”

  “We’re about as different as any two people can be.”

  “That’s not always bad, you know. Couples often complement each other that way. Your mother was the shy one, whereas I was far more outgoing. Our lives would have been havoc if we’d both had the same personalities.”

  Silently Shelly agreed, but to admit as much verbally would reveal more than she wished. “I suppose,” she murmured softly, and turned over the sizzling slices of bacon.

  * * *

  —

  Shelly was sliding the eggs easily from the hot grease onto plates when there was a loud pounding on the front door.

  Shelly’s gaze clashed with that of her father’s.

  “Slade,” they said simultaneously.

  Her father rushed to answer the door, and a breathless Slade stumbled into the house. Shelly turned off the stove and hurried after him.

  “Are you all right?” The tone of her voice was laced with concern. With her heart pounding, she checked him for any signs of injury.

  “I’m fine. I’m just out of breath. That was quite a hike.”

  “How far’d you get?” Don wanted to know.

  “A mile at the most. I was gathering speed to make it to the top of an incline when the wheels skidded on a patch of ice. The car, unfortunately, is in a ditch.”

  “What about the meeting?” Now that she’d determined that he was unscathed, Shelly’s first concern was the appointment that Slade considered so important to him and his company.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Dad and I could take you into town,” Shelly offered.

  “No. If I couldn’t make it, you won’t be able to, either.”

  “But this meeting is vital.”

  “It’s not important enough to risk your getting hurt.”

  “My truck has been acting up, so I took it in for servicing,” Don murmured thoughtfully. “But there’s always the tractor.”

  “Dad! You’ll be lucky if the old engine so much as coughs. You haven’t used that antique in years.” As far as Shelly knew, it was collecting dust in the back of the barn.

  “It’s worth a try,” her father argued, looking to Slade. “At least we can pull your car out of the ditch.”

  “I’ll contact the county road department and find out how long it’ll be before the plows come this way,” Shelly inserted. She didn’t hold much hope for the tractor, but if she could convince the county how important it was that they clear the roads near their place, Slade might be able to make the meeting.

  * * *

  —

  Two hours later, Shelly, dressed in dark cords and a thick cable-knit sweater the color of winter wheat, paced the living room carpet. Every few minutes she paused to glance out the large living room window for signs of either her father or Slade. Through some miracle they’d managed to fire up the tractor, but how much they could accomplish with the old machine was pure conjecture. If they were able to rescue Slade’s car out of the ditch, then there was always the possibility of towing the car up the incline.

  The sound of a car pulling into the driveway captured her attention, and Shelly rushed onto the front porch as Slade was easing the Camaro to a stop. He climbed out of the vehicle.

  “I called the county. The road crew will try to make it out this way before nightfall,” Shelly told him, rubbing her palms together to ward off the chill of the air. “I’m sorry, Slade, it’s the best they could do.”

  “Don’t worry.” His gaze caressed her. “It’s not your fault.”

  “But I can’t help feeling that it is,” she said, following him into the house. “I was the one who insisted you bring me here.”

  “Shelly.” His hand cupped her shoulder. “Stop blaming yourself. I’ll contact Bauer. He’ll understand. It’s possible he didn’t make it to the office, either.”

  Granting him the privacy he needed to make his phone call, Shelly donned her coat and walked to the end of the driveway to see if she could locate her father. Only a couple minutes passed before she saw him. Proudly he steered the tractor, his back and head held regally so that he resembled a benevolent king surveying all he owned.

  Laughing, Shelly waved.

  Don pulled to a stop alongside her. “What’s so funny?”

  “I can’t believe you, sitting on top of a 1948 Harvester like you own the world.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Don teased.

  “We’ve got a bit of a problem, you know.” She realized that she shouldn’t feel guilty about Slade, but she did.

  “If you mean Slade, we talked about this unexpected delay. It might not be as bad as it looks. To his way of thinking, it’s best not to appear overeager with this business anyway. A delay may be just the thing to get the other company thinking.”

  It would be just like Slade to say something like that, Shelly thought. “Maybe.”

  “At any rate, it won’t do him any good to stew about it now. He’s stuck with us until the snowplows clear the roads. No one’s going to make it to the freeway unless they have a four-wheel-drive. It’s impossible out there.”

  “But, Dad, I feel terrible.”

  “Don’t. If Slade doesn’t seem overly concerned, then you shouldn’t. Besides, I’ve got a job for you two.”

  Shelly didn’t like the sound of that. “What?”

  “We aren’t going to be able to go out and buy a Christmas tree.”

  Shelly hadn’t thought of that. “We’ll survive without one.” But Christmas wouldn’t be the same.

  “There’s no need to. Not when we’ve got a good ten acres of fir and pine. I want Slade and you to go out and chop one down like we used to do in the good old days.”

  It didn’t take much to realize her father’s game. He was looking for excuses to get Slade and her together.

  “What’s this, an extra Christmas present?” she teased. From all the comments that Don had made about Slade, Shelly knew that her father thought highly of him.

  “Nonsense. Being out in the cold would only irritate my rheumatism.”

  “What rheumatism?”

  “The one in my old bones.”

  Shelly hesitated. “What did Slade have to say about this?”

  “He’s agreeable.”

  “He is?”

  “Think about it, Shortcake. Slade is stuck here. He wants to make the best of the situation.”

  * * *

  —

  It wasn’t until they were back at the house and Slade had changed into her father’s woolen clothes and heavy boots that Shelly believed he’d fallen so easily in with her father’s scheme.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she told him on the way to the barn.

  “Did you think I was going to let you traipse into the woods alone?”

  “I could.”

  “No doubt, but there isn’t any reason why you should when I’m here.”

  She brought out the old sled from a storage room in the rear of the barn, wiping away the thin layer of dust with her gloves.