A Mom for Christmas
Joan Kilby
Ski patroller Aidan Wilde doesn't get too festive during the holiday season. Not since his wife, Charmaine, fell to her death off Whistler Mountain on Christmas Eve six years ago.Though the whole town had gossiped about his failure to save Charmaine, Aidan has been able to hide the horrifying circumstances of that day from his daughter, Emily. Until Charmaine's cousin, Nicola, returns home.While digging up the truth and finding some unexpected answers, Nicola works her way into Emily's heart and unexpectedly wins over Aidan, too. Might this single dad really be ready to let go of the past and give his daughter the one thing she really wants for Christmas–a mom?
The holidays are when family comes together...
Ski patroller Aidan Wilde doesn’t get too festive during the holiday season. Not since his wife, Charmaine, fell to her death off Whistler Mountain on Christmas Eve six years ago. Though the whole town had gossiped about his failure to save Charmaine, Aidan has been able to hide the horrifying circumstances of that day from his daughter, Emily. Until Charmaine’s cousin, Nicola, returns home.
While digging up the truth and finding some unexpected answers, Nicola works her way into Emily’s heart and unexpectedly wins over Aidan, too. Might this single dad really be ready to let go of the past and give his daughter the one thing she really wants for Christmas—a mom?
“More,” Emily said sleepily. “I want to hear more.”
Nicola read on, relating Charmaine’s adventures, finishing with, “‘I miss you, Nic. Whistler isn’t the same without you. Lots of love, Charmaine.’”
Emily’s soft breathing was even and her eyes had shut. Nicola folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. She missed Charmaine, too. Her cousin had been witty and warm and fun. She’d dragged Nicola to parties and dances. They were embarrassing ordeals for a shy wallflower like her, but Charmaine always made sure some boy danced with her less popular cousin. If, in hindsight, her behavior seemed patronizing, Nicola knew Charmaine had meant well.
Nicola pulled the covers over her and Emily. In her sleep Emily wriggled closer. The girl’s small body snuggled against her sent a rush of tenderness through Nicola.
Poor Charmaine. She’ll never get to see her daughter grow up.
A Mom for Christmas
Joan Kilby
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JOAN KILBY
enjoys drawing and painting as a hobby. However, between her writing, her husband and three almost grown children, going to the gym, cooking and walking her dog, Toby, she doesn’t have a lot of spare time to indulge her other interests. Instead, she lives vicariously through her characters. Joan also loves art galleries and every year makes a point of going to see the exhibition of the Archibald Prize finalists.
Gavin Reed of the Whistler-Blackcomb ski patrol was of invaluable assistance in researching this book. All errors are mine.
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u6834949b-132d-5983-8e56-038fd0830062)
Chapter 2 (#u67a6b1d1-17de-5d15-b9b1-b29b8b762771)
Chapter 3 (#ue1f792cb-73fb-573a-8b6b-020eb14df86f)
Chapter 4 (#uaf272a8d-ac64-54d0-b54a-fca16ad1b6eb)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1
Aidan Wilde scanned the snowy slope, alert for skiers in trouble. Below the ridge, Whistler Mountain glowed silvery-blue in the fading light on this December afternoon. Every mogul, every half-submerged outcropping of granite was as familiar to Aidan as the swooshing of his skis through the crisp snow.
The eerie quality of the shadowed cliff face called forth memories of Charmaine. The place she’d fallen from was higher, in the permanently closed area near the peak, but as Aidan made his descent thoughts of his late wife skirted the edge of his mind. Six years on he could still see the look of surprise and horror in her eyes as she went over the precipice.
Lights winked on along the chairlift above him, dispelling the shadows and bringing his mind back to the present. Charmaine was gone. He’d failed her then and he could do nothing for her now, except take care of their daughter, Emily, who’d been a tiny baby when her mother had died. Keeping Emily safe, watching her grow up healthy and strong, was all that mattered.
A sudden gust of wind whipped the tops of the snowdrifts into a flurry of white. Aidan increased his speed, looking forward to picking up Emily from her grandmother’s and going home to their log house on the shores of Alta Lake. He and Emily would eat beef stew slow-cooked in the Crock-Pot then sit in front of the fire and read fairy tales of beautiful princesses living in remote towers. With no one to disturb their tranquil happiness they could wear their happy faces and pretend all was right with the world.
Outside the alpine patrol hut Aidan removed his skis and put them into the ski rack. Stamping snow from his boots, he clumped inside the bump room where the men and women of the ski patrol congregated. Several patrollers were seated at wooden tables playing cards. Others, like his partner Frederik, had come in from patrol and were removing their outerwear at wooden benches around the room’s perimeter.
“You are first on the mountain in the morning and last off in the evening,” Frederik commented good-naturedly in his precise Swiss-German accent. With his shaved head and once-broken nose he could be intimidating to those who didn’t know his gentle side.
Aidan shrugged out of the red-and-gray ski patrol jacket with the white cross on the back. “Just doing my job.”
Truth was, he lived and breathed Whistler Mountain. He’d grown up in its protective shadow and as a man viewed the world from its soaring peak, first as a downhill racer and now in the ski patrol. If not for the grounding influence of Emily he might spend all his time up here.
“Aidan!” Rich Waller strode across the room, black Gore-Tex pants rustling. His thermal undershirt clung to a well-developed torso and his thinning blond hair was stuck to his scalp with perspiration. “Christy’s looking for the incident report on the tourist with the broken leg you transported off the mountain this morning. Did you forget to log the information?”
Aidan glanced through the glass wall separating the bump room from the dispatcher’s office. Christy, seeing him look her way, tucked a long blond strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. Aidan lifted a hand in greeting and turned back to Rich. “I didn’t forget. I just got busy.”
“Oh, okay.” Rich shrugged. “I was in the dispatch office when the call came in so I started it for you.”
“You didn’t need to do that,” Aidan said.
“I don’t mind. No trouble at all.” Rich smiled and walked off toward the coffee machine.
“Rich can be too helpful,” Frederik said in a dry undertone.
Aidan sank onto the bench beside Frederik, pulled off his ski boots and wriggled his cramped toes in their thick wool socks. “He means well.”
“But he makes you look bad when you haven’t done anything wrong,” Frederik persisted. “Why do you let him?”
“Rich and I go back a long way. He was my partner for years until…until my wife died. Afterward I took a couple of months off and when I came back we’d both been reassigned.”
Rich had seen Charmaine come off the lift that tragic day on the mountain and he knew things no one else did about the circumstances surrounding her death. Aidan had walked on eggshells until Rich made it tacitly clear he wouldn’t say anything to anyone, not even the police. Ski patrol was about teamwork, camaraderie and trust. Aidan couldn’t fault Rich but somehow their relationship had never been quite the same, underscored as it was by subtle power plays on Rich’s part and tolerance on Aidan’s.
“He’s jealous of you,” Frederik said. “You’re a better skier and more well-liked, especially with the ladies.”
“Nah,” Aidan scoffed. “It’s true Rich used to go out with my late wife until I came along, but he was over that long ago.” Aidan was getting uncomfortable; time to change the subject. “Any word on your contract?”
Frederik’s face lit as he swiveled on the bench to face Aidan. “It’s been renewed for the winter season. Bob told me just before you came in,” he added, referring to the assistant patrol manager. “Feel like a drink to celebrate?”
“Thanks, but not tonight.” Aidan stood and peeled off his black ski pants. “Your girlfriend will be pleased you’re staying on in Whistler.”
“Liz is meeting me at Dusty’s,” Frederik said. “Come on, join us. I could ask her to bring a friend.”
A couple of years after Charmaine’s death, when the shock and grief had eased a little, Aidan had played the field, going out with a different woman every week. Gradually he’d lost interest in romances that went nowhere as he came to the sobering conclusion that after Charmaine, the chances of him forming a lasting relationship were slim to nil.
That hadn’t stopped his brother, Nate; his cousin, Marc; and now Frederik, from inundating Aidan with unwelcome attempts at matchmaking. Maybe if he told them the real reason he wasn’t looking to replace Charmaine they would accept he would always be a loner. But that was between him and the mountain.
“Emily’s waiting for me and I’ve got paperwork to do before I leave,” Aidan said. “Maybe another time.”
“Ja, sure,” Frederik said with cheerful skepticism. Rising, he gathered up his uniform and ski boots to carry them to his locker. “See you tomorrow.”
Aidan finished changing and went to the dispatch office to file his report. Christy glanced up from her computer screen. “Hey, Aidan, how’s it going?”
“Not bad. Rich said you were looking for the 10-40 on the woman with the broken leg.”
Rolling her eyes, Christy handed him a half-finished form. “I only asked him if you were on your way in to base. I knew you’d file when you got a chance.”
Aidan pulled a waterproof notebook from his pocket and, flipping to the correct page, began to transfer the information. The two-way radio crackled in the background and Christy turned her attention to taking the details of a call-in from another patroller. Aidan finished filling in the incident report and when Christy was free, handed it to her. Then he pulled on his gloves and lifted a hand in farewell. “Catch you later.”
“Wait, Aidan.” Christy rose and leaned over the counter, her fingers playing with the end of her ponytail. “Are you going to Dusty’s?”
“Not tonight. I’ve got to get home to Emily,” Aidan said quickly and smoothly. Christy was a good friend and he wanted to keep it that way.
Her full mouth curved downward in a disappointed droop. “You’re no fun.”
“A gorgeous girl like you will find someone to play with.” Aidan smiled warmly to take the sting out of his refusal. “Catch you later.”
He caught the gondola down the mountain and made his way through the village to his Land Cruiser, his boots crunching on the icy crusts of snow left by the plow. The streetlights came on as he drove out of Whistler Village and down Highway 99 to Emerald Estates where Charmaine’s mother, June, lived with her husband, Roy, in a two-story timber home among towering hemlock and spruce trees.
June cared for Emily after school and on Saturdays when Aidan’s shift fell on the weekend. Although she never came right out and accused him, he knew his mother-in-law blamed him for Charmaine’s death; certainly she didn’t believe his eyewitness account of her daughter’s last minutes alive.
Aidan drove through the gathering dark, picturing Emily waiting for him as she did every night, her small nose pressed against the window as she peered into the winter gloom, looking for the lights of his vehicle to turn into the driveway. Maybe Marc and Nate were right, he did need to get a life, but at the end of the day he didn’t care about anything very much as long as he had Emily.
Nicola Bond stepped off the bus at the Village Gate Boulevard, her stainless-steel camera case in hand and another camera bag slung over her shoulder. After the heat and humidity of Sydney the crisp mountain air bit her cheeks and sent her digging in the pockets of her navy down jacket for her gloves. A snowflake melted on her nose and she glanced up at the darkening sky to see fluffy white flecks drifting in the glow of the streetlight.
Instantly she was transported back to her childhood in Whistler before her family moved to Australia. She and her cousin Charmaine had gone skiing and ice-skating together, then as they’d grown older, Charmaine had taken Nicola to parties and dances. Charmaine had been beautiful, funny and smart. Everyone, including Nicola, had loved her.
“This your bag, miss?” The driver hauled her battered blue suitcase from the storage compartment beneath the bus and placed it on the hard-packed snow.
“Thanks.” Nicola’s breath came out in little puffs of condensation. With all her luggage accounted for she headed for a nearby phone booth.
She dialed her aunt’s number and glanced at her watch. Only four-thirty and it was already dark; she’d forgotten the early winter nights in Canada.
“June Greene speaking,” a cultured feminine voice said.
In the background Nicola could hear a high-pitched child’s voice. With a surge of excitement she wondered if she was listening to Charmaine’s little girl.
“Aunt June? It’s me, Nic.”
“Nicola!” her aunt exclaimed with pleasure. “Where are you?”
“In Whistler. I just arrived on the bus.”
June made a sound of exasperation. “You should have told us which flight you were coming in on. We’d have met you at the airport.”
“I didn’t want to put you out. The bus was fine. I’m calling now to let you know I’m here, instead of just turning up on your doorstep.”
“Roy is still at work and I’m stuck here at the house until Aidan picks up Emily,” June said. “If you want to find a place to have a coffee I’ll come for you as soon as he leaves.”
Aidan. Nicola had a crush on him in high school, a hopeless infatuation which she’d never even confided to Charmaine. Years later, when her cousin wrote that she was going to marry him, Nicola had thrust her jealousy aside; she could never compete with Charmaine.
She’d flown back to be a bridesmaid at Charmaine’s wedding. Aidan was the dashing groom sweeping his beautiful bride into a fairy tale life, and so handsome he made Nicola’s heart ache. That memory was in stark contrast to the snapshot June sent after Charmaine’s funeral of a grief-ravaged widower at a snowy graveside, holding his baby daughter.
Adjusting her eyes to the outside she could see the snowflakes were falling thicker and faster. “No, please don’t trouble yourself. I’ll get a taxi.”
She walked back to the Yellow Cab waiting at the taxi stand next to the bus stop and gave the driver her aunt’s address in Emerald Estates. Nicola burrowed into the corner of the back seat and peered through the window as the taxi bore her away. The tires sounded muffled on the thin layer of freshly fallen snow as they drove past expensive new condominiums and town houses. The resort had grown almost beyond recognition since she’d lived here, but the towering peaks of Whistler and Blackcomb Mountains that guarded the valley were comfortingly familiar.
June opened the door before Nicola could ring the bell. Her blond hair shining above a black cashmere cardigan, she opened her arms and enveloped Nicola in a warm embrace and a cloud of expensive perfume. “I can’t believe you’re here at last. You are staying for Christmas, aren’t you? Your father didn’t seem to know when I talked to him. He said something about a photography assignment.”
“That’s right,” Nicola said. “I’m meeting a colleague, a travel writer, here in January. I’m sorry it’s so last-minute but we just got the go-ahead on the book. I came early so I could spend the holiday with you and Uncle Roy.”
“That’s what I was hoping,” June said, releasing her. “When I heard you were coming I wrote my mother in Edmonton and asked her if she could get out to the coast, too.”
“I’d love to see Grammy.” Nicola let her camera case slide to floor. “Is she going to make it?”
“The last I heard she was trying to get a flight. Let’s not stand around in the hall. Give me that wet coat and come into the living room. Boots off, too, please—the carpets, you know. Aidan isn’t here yet so you’re in time to meet Emily.” June helped her out of her damp jacket, and hung it on the newel post at the base of the staircase.
As June spoke, Nicola caught a glimpse of a small blond head peeking around the door frame behind her aunt’s back. No sooner did Nicola meet the girl’s shy blue gaze than she ducked out of sight.
Nicola levered her feet out of her hiking boots and followed June into the elegant and formal living room, eager to get to know the little girl she’d thought about so often over the years. June had sent photos of Emily to Nicola’s mother every Christmas, but without Charmaine’s chatty letters Nicola knew few details about the girl. Nicola had written to Aidan after the funeral to express her condolences, but he’d never answered her letter and she hadn’t pursued further correspondence.
“Emily,” June called, glancing around. A toy tea set laid for two had been abandoned near the base of an artificial Christmas tree with silver needles and red ornaments. “Your cousin Nicola’s here from Australia. Come out and say hello like a good girl.” June met Nicola’s gaze apologetically, explaining in an undertone, “She’s bashful at first but once she gets to know you, she’s very charming, just like her mother.” Speaking louder, she tried to coax Emily, “We’re not playing hide-and-seek now, sweetheart.”
“Leave her,” Nicola begged, knowing firsthand how painful it was to be shy. “She’ll come out when she’s ready.”
“I suppose so,” June said. “If only her father would encourage her to be more social instead of hiding away with her like a hermit.”
Nicola was surprised at her aunt’s disapproving tone. She nodded to the sofa where the girl crouched out of sight. “Is there a problem?”
“Not with her. It’s him. I won’t go into it now. Little pitchers have big ears, if you know what I mean.” She gestured to the antique sofa. “Sit down and tell me all about your work. I must say, you haven’t changed. You look exactly the same as the day you left Whistler.”
Considering Nicola had been fifteen when she’d left and was now twenty-seven she wasn’t sure her aunt’s assessment was entirely complimentary even if it was largely accurate. She had the same chin-length blunt cut brown hair and the same waifish figure clad in bulky clothes of neutral shades that tended to blend in with her surroundings. Not that she was exactly color-coordinated with the pale-pink brocade covering June’s sofa.
In a few words she related the highlights of her career so far; taking photos of children with Santa Claus, graduating to studio portrait work, evolving to calendars and tourism assignments and finally culminating in her present job, freelance travel photography.
As she spoke she could hear faint scuffling sounds coming from behind the sofa where Emily was hiding. June went out of the room after murmuring something about coffee and Nicola was tempted to peek over the back to say hello. Instead she waited to see what Emily would do. The girl didn’t emerge.
Before long June returned with a tray bearing a pair of bone china coffee cups. Nicola glanced around for something to protect the polished surface of the pie-crust table at her elbow. She’d forgotten how intimidating her aunt’s home could be for someone used to putting her stocking feet up on the furniture and eating her dinner off her lap in front of the TV.
June supplied her with a coaster and sat beside her. “Tell me more about this book you’re working on.”
“Reiner’s been commissioned to do a coffee-table book on the ski resorts of Canada and the United States. He’s asked me to take the photos. It’s a fantastic opportunity professionally, plus I get to travel, visit my family and ski all the best mountains in North America.” Nicola paused to sip her coffee. “I haven’t done much skiing since moving to Australia and I miss it. Charmaine and I used to spend all our spare time on the mountain when we were girls.”
June’s face tightened, her smile freezing. “I remember.”
“I’m sorry,” Nicola murmured, kicking herself for referring to her cousin in the context of Whistler Mountain. “Her loss must still be painful for you.”
“It always will be.” The awkward silence was broken by the sound of a car turning into the driveway. June exhaled in relief and rose to go out to the hall. “That will be Aidan. Don’t worry, he won’t stay long.”
Emily popped up from behind the sofa and pressed her nose to the window, her small hands shielding her eyes to peer into the darkness. Her entire attention was on her father’s arrival, as if she’d been waiting for this moment the whole day. Nicola thought she seemed small for her age, more like a four- or five-year-old than a child of six. Odd, since Charmaine had been tall and Aidan was at least six foot two. Before Nicola could say hello Emily squeezed out from behind the sofa and in a blur of pink wool and purple corduroy, ran to the front door.
Nicola listened to June’s brisk report to Aidan about Emily’s day—what she ate for lunch and how much TV she’d watched after school. Aidan replied in curt phrases interspersed with instructions to Emily to get her snowsuit and boots. Clearly he was as impatient to be gone as June was to have him leave.
Nicola stayed where she was. She was disappointed at not getting a chance to talk to Emily but she didn’t particularly care if she met Aidan. She’d gotten over her crush a long time ago. At Charmaine’s wedding he’d looked right through her; chances were he’d do the same now. Attractive men like Aidan tended to treat her as if she were invisible.
“Wait, Daddy! I’ve got to get the tea set Grandma gave me.” Emily raced around the corner into the living room. Throwing Nicola a swift glance she knelt on the carpet to gather up the child-size china cups and saucers.
“Another present?” Aidan, sounding exasperated, said to June. “It’s not Christmas yet.”
“I saw it in the store and knew Emily would love it,” June replied. “Don’t spoil my fun.”
Nicola had to strain to hear Aidan’s next words. “I wish you wouldn’t spoil her.”
Then unexpectedly, Aidan stood in the open double doorway, his athletic frame topped by windblown chestnut hair and searching green eyes. Despite her claim to indifference Nicola found her attention caught.
Aidan’s gaze skimmed over the sofa where she sat and came to rest on his daughter. “Hurry, Em. Let’s get going.”
Generally Nicola ignored such minor snubs but something made her stand and force him to notice her. “Hi, I’m Nicola.”
“Nic is Emily’s second cousin,” June explained coming into the room. “My brother Stan’s daughter from Australia. She’s in town to take pictures of the ski resort.”
Aidan’s face changed, registering recognition if not interest. “You were in the wedding party.”
So he had noticed her. Amazing. “I was maid of honor.”
Emily tugged on his pant leg. “Can we go now, Daddy?”
“I’ll get her backpack,” June said and left.
“Did you say hello to Nicola?” Aidan asked Emily.
Emily glanced shyly up at Nicola and whispered, “Hi.”
Nicola dropped to a crouch. The little girl looked astonishingly like Charmaine, with glowing pink skin and huge blue eyes. “Hi, Emily. Your mommy wasn’t just my cousin, she was my best friend. She was a year older than me and we shared everything, just as if we were sisters. She wrote me lots of letters and I brought them with me because I thought you might like to hear what she had to say.”
Emily buried her face in her dad’s jacket.
Aidan lifted his daughter’s chin. “Remember what I said about putting on a happy face?” he said. She nodded and gave Nicola a brief, forced smile. “Good girl. Now finish packing up your tea set.”
Emily ran back to her tea set and resumed placing the cups and plates into the box so carefully they barely made a sound.
Nicola turned to Aidan. “I never got a chance to say so in person but…” She lowered her voice out of respect. “I’m sorry about Charmaine.”
“Thank you.” His clipped response discouraged further conversation but she thought his gaze softened a little.
The two of them waited awkwardly, watching Emily. Nicola shoved her hands into the back pockets of her pants, tongue-tied. Aidan wasn’t helping in the least; he looked as though his thoughts were a million miles away.
June’s footsteps approached and Nicola turned with relief, only to groan inwardly when the phone rang in the kitchen and her aunt’s steps changed direction.
Emily finished packing up. Aidan stooped to pick up the box. “Go get your snowsuit on.”
Emily skipped out to the hall. Nicola trailed after. The girl climbed into her one-piece snowsuit then sat on the floor and struggled to get her foot into a boot.
“Where did those boots come from, Em?” her father said as he came through the doorway with the box under his arm.
“Grandma gave them to me. She said my old boots were ugly and she threw them away.” The new boots had fake fur around the top and a zipper up the inside which Emily hadn’t noticed. She was getting more baffled and defeated by the second.
Aidan muttered something about “too much,” then said, “Pull the zipper down first.”
Emily tried once and failed. “I can’t.”
“Try again,” Aidan urged.
“I’m sorry I took so long.” June appeared and handed Aidan a small bright pink backpack. Noticing Emily tugging at the zipper she kneeled and unzipped it for her.
“You should let her do it herself, Aunt June,” Nicola said, sympathizing with Aidan’s evident frustration.
June rose and folded her hands at her waist, smiling genially. “I’m sure when you have children of your own you’ll do a marvelous job, but I know my granddaughter.” She turned to Aidan. “Candace Taylor called to ask if I’d help on the Christmas Ball committee. I had to tell her no, of course, because I look after my granddaughter during the day.”
“I suppose I could make other arrangements for Emily,” Aidan began slowly.
“I’ve got free time while I’m here,” Nicola interrupted. “I’d be more than happy to look after her.”
“No, dear, that’s out of the question,” June replied. “We can’t rope you into baby-sitting during your visit.”
“I don’t mind, honest,” Nicola countered. “Aidan, what do you think?”
Chapter 2
Aidan glanced over Nicola, really seeing her for the first time. She seemed an unlikely best friend for Charmaine, who would have outshone her younger cousin by a million watts. He would never have remembered Nicola except that she was in the wedding photo on his bedroom wall. However, she looked sensible, responsible and not in the least frivolous—the perfect antidote to his mother-in-law as caretaker for his overindulged daughter.
Besides, Nicola had been very close to Charmaine—who would be more fitting to care for Emily?
“I think it’s a good idea,” he said. “I appreciate your offer.”
“She’s here on business. She won’t have time,” June protested, clearly upset at being replaced so easily.
“I don’t start work until after New Year’s,” Nicola insisted, her husky voice betraying a faint Australian accent. “Go ahead and join the committee, Aunt June. I know how much you enjoy getting your finger stuck into the community pie.”
“You could use a break from baby-sitting, June,” Aidan added. And Emily needed a break from being spoiled rotten. At times he was tempted to put his daughter in day care but June was still the child’s grandmother and, though she could barely conceal her dislike of him, there was no doubt she adored Emily. “I insist.”
“Well, if you put it like that,” June said stiffly. “Thank you, Nicola, for your help. I do enjoy working on the Christmas Ball.”
As June left the room to call her friend back Aidan felt compelled to warn Nicola, “Emily may look like Charmaine but she isn’t as outgoing as her mother. She doesn’t take to newcomers readily.”
Nicola brushed off his warning with a skeptical lift of one olive-drab shoulder. “She’s just a little shy. We’ll be friends in no time.”
Part of him wanted badly to believe that. For years they’d been a unit, complete within themselves. Now that Emily was going to school he’d begun to realize she needed other people, even if he didn’t.
“I usually bring Emily over before I go to work in the morning then pick her up here after school,” Aidan explained.
“What if I took her home to your house after school, instead?” she suggested. “That way she wouldn’t have such a long day.”
“Even better. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at five-thirty.” He smiled wryly as Nicola’s eyebrows shot into her bangs. “I’m on avalanche control.”
Beneath Emily’s snowsuit she wore one-piece pajamas the color of bubble gum with feet and a hood. She looked like a little pink cat without the whiskers.
“Be very quiet,” Nicola said as they tiptoed up the stairs to the second-floor bedrooms. “Aunt June and Uncle Roy are still sleeping.”
Emily made a motion as if zipping her lips. Nicola smiled; the child couldn’t be too loud if she tried. Nicola paused beside a shut door to the left of the landing. “That was your mom’s room when she was a girl. Maybe you can sleep in there until it’s time to get up for school.”
Emily’s blue eyes widened as she shook her head vigorously. “I’m not allowed to go in there.”
“Oh.” Probably June had made it into a sewing room or something, with objects she didn’t want disturbed by small sticky hands. Nicola turned to the right and opened the door to her room. “In that case you can crawl into bed with me.”
The dresser was cluttered with cameras, film containers and lenses. Her suitcase was open on the chair beside the queen-size bed, her clothes spilling out. Hastily she gathered them up and stuffed them back in, flipping the lid shut.
Emily dutifully got under the covers and lay back on the pillow. “I’m not sleepy,” she whispered in a lisp.
“You can talk in a normal voice now,” Nicola told her with an encouraging smile. “I don’t think Aunt June and Uncle Roy can hear you through these thick walls.”
“I am talking normal,” Emily said, barely audible.
“I see.” Nicola paused. “Do you ever talk louder? Or laugh?”
Emily shook her head and regarded Nicola with a puzzled expression. “Why?”
“Just for fun. Because it makes you feel good.”
“Like putting on a happy face?”
“Hmm, maybe. Show me your happy face.”
Emily scrunched up her eyes and bared her gums, revealing the absence of her two front teeth.
Nicola laughed and gave her a hug. “Snuggle down and keep warm. I’ll read to you.”
Nicola pulled a sheaf of old envelopes from the pocket of her suitcase then crawled into bed and puffed up the pillows. She chose a letter at random and adjusted the table lamp so it shone on the thin blue airmail paper. “This is a letter your mom wrote to me, let’s see, eight years ago. She used to tell me all about her life and what she was doing. I saved all of her letters because they reminded me of her and of home. Your dad’s in here, too.
“Dear Nic,” she began. “We had a blizzard yesterday and we’re snowed in. I was afraid it would be days before I saw Aidan again but he skied over to the house. He looked so handsome with the snow in his hair....”
Nicola recalled him on the doorstep this morning, thick snowflakes falling on his green knitted hat, melting in his black eyelashes. Briefly she tried to imagine Aidan skiing miles in a blizzard just to see her. Huh. As if that would ever happen.
“He asked me to go to the Christmas Ball just as I knew he would. Your mom had a lot of confidence when it came to guys,” Nicola said in an aside to Emily and gave a small wistful sigh for her own lack of it. “Last weekend I bought a new dress—red and slinky with a rhinestone circle in the center front and cut so low you can almost see my— Ahem!” Nicola broke off. “Your mom was the most beautiful girl in all of Whistler and that dress…wow!”
Emily’s eyes were aglow. “Did she look like a fairy princess?”
“Absolutely.” A sexy young princess intent on making her Prince Charming lose his mind, Nicola thought dryly. Which Aidan had, according to the juicy bits Nicola wasn’t going to read aloud. She skipped ahead, past the ball, to a ski trip up Whistler Mountain. “Today Aidan and I skied from The Cirque down the Glacier Bowl to Camel Back then all the way down the mountain on McConkey’s.”
Nicola fell silent, thinking about the sketchy account she’d been given about Charmaine’s death. Those trails were all advanced runs for expert skiers which made her cousin’s fall all the more difficult to understand.
“More,” Emily said sleepily. “I want to hear more.”
Nicola read on, relating Charmaine’s adventures both on the mountain and après skiing, finishing, “I miss you, Nic. Whistler isn’t the same without you. Lots of love, Charmaine.”
Emily’s soft breathing was even and her eyes had fallen shut. Nicola folded the letter and tucked it back in the envelope, recalling the old days in Whistler. Her cousin had dragged Nicola to parties and dances, embarrassing ordeals for a wallflower like herself, but Charmaine always made sure some boy danced with her less popular cousin. If in hindsight her behavior seemed patronizing Nicola knew she’d meant well.
Nicola pulled the covers over her and Emily, checked that the alarm was set and turned out the light. In her sleep Emily wriggled closer. The girl’s small body snuggled against her sent a rush of tenderness through Nicola.
Poor Charmaine, never getting to see her daughter grow up.
Aidan moved carefully across the dark wind- swept ridge near Whistler’s peak, testing the stability of a fresh fall of snow with his ski pole. He and Frederik had come up the mountain on snowmobiles before dawn. Four inches of snow had fallen overnight, creating the possibility of the top layer sliding over the one beneath and starting an avalanche.
Aidan jammed his pole deep into the snow. The top layer shifted a couple of inches and stopped. He watched it a moment more then sidestepped up the slope, moving on.
Down in the valley half an hour earlier, the blurry lights of the snowplows had been traveling slowly up the highway when Aidan, half asleep, bundled Emily into the Land Cruiser. Side roads were blank white rivers and the branches of the trees lining them were weighed down with thick white clumps. At the entrance to Emerald Estates they’d gotten out at the bottom of the hill and walked up the unplowed road to June’s house where a light burned over the snow-blanketed porch.
Nicola, shivering at the gust of chill air, opened the door to his knock in a thick terry-towel robe that dwarfed her slight figure. Her smile had warmed the frigid predawn in a welcome for Emily and his daughter had readily taken her hand after hugging him goodbye.
Here on the peak, all was cold and dark. Close by, Frederik prodded another section of the ridge, working his way toward Aidan. They always operated in pairs, keeping a sharp eye out for each other. Over on Blackcomb Mountain he could hear a series of muffled booms as other members of the avalanche team “shot” the slope with sticks of an explosive emulsion.
White breath wreathing around his head, Frederik trudged across the ridge line toward him. “What do you think? Seems a little unstable to me.”
“A few sections are marginal,” Aidan agreed. “We’ll ski-cut it.”
Pink tinged the sky as Aidan made the first adrenaline-charged crossing of the pristine slope to trigger a small avalanche of the unstable surface layer. The low rumbling tremor of sliding snow made him glance over his shoulder. Balls of snow the size of small boulders tumbled down the mountain behind him. Seconds ahead of the slide, he whooshed to safety on the far side of the bowl. He lifted a hand to Frederik, giving his partner the all-clear signal. Every day Aidan took calculated risks, requiring him to think on his feet; it’s what kept the job interesting.
And a good thing, too, since he took absolutely no risks in his personal life.
By the time Aidan was making his last run the sun had risen above the mountain, turning Whistler Bowl into a glittering crystal goblet. He and Frederik returned to the bump room where the rest of the patrol was arriving for duty. The assistant patrol manager, Bob, a fit-looking fifty-year-old, briefed them on snow conditions then broke the patrollers into groups and assigned them zones. They were to ski the runs, checking for problems and fixing them before the lifts started operating.
Bob paused and a few people began to stir, thinking he was finished. Then he held up a hand. “I have an announcement. You’re all aware I was on sick leave last month. What you may not know is the reason. I suffered a minor heart attack.”
He was forced to pause while people turned to each other with expressions of shock and disbelief. When the noise died down, Bob continued. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since then, weighing up my options. I’ve decided to take early retirement, as of the new year.” Again, Bob had to hold up his hands to quell the clamor. “Anyone interested in my job is invited to submit an application to Human Resources. Now, let’s get out on the mountain before the skiers arrive.”
Everyone stood where they were, still stunned by the turn of events until Aidan drew on his hat and gloves and headed for the door. Then, in a swish of Gore-Tex and clumping of ski boots on wood, the ski patrollers shuffled out of the bump room.
“Aidan.” Rich’s voice brought Aidan to a halt.
Aidan signaled to Frederik to go ahead. “Hey, Rich. What’s up?”
“I can’t believe Bob’s retiring,” Rich said. “How could he have a heart attack? He’s so healthy.”
“I gather heart problems run in his family,” Aidan said. “We’re losing a friend as well as a great boss.”
Rich pulled on his gloves and took out the knitted hat stuffed in his pocket. “Will you apply for the job?”
“Probably,” Aidan said. “And you?”
“Of course. It’s a great opportunity.” He paused and squinted sideways at Aidan. “You don’t think…nah, never mind.”
“What?” Aidan glanced through the open door to where Frederik was waiting.
“I just wondered if management would give you a hard time over what happened, you know, with Charmaine.”
“That was a long time ago,” Aidan protested. But the mere reminder started a gnawing feeling in his stomach.
“You’re right. Forget I mentioned it.” Rich tugged his hat over his head and clapped Aidan on the shoulder. “Catch you later, buddy.”
He strode off, leaving Aidan in turmoil. Would the Whistler Mountain management team have forgotten, or at least forgiven, the cloud that surrounded him over what happened six years ago? Now that Emily was old enough to understand the rumors that still circulated about him, the last thing he wanted was for the circumstances of Charmaine’s death to be raked up again.
Frederik was waiting for Aidan outside by the ski rack. He took one look at Aidan’s face and said, “Something is wrong, ja?”
Aidan put on his mirrored sunglasses. He literally trusted Frederik with his life, he had to in this job, but he couldn’t bring himself to confide in him. “I was just thinking about Emily.”
Frederik slid his skis out of the rack and dropped them to the ground to lock his boots into the bindings. “You worry about your daughter too much. Relax. Whatever is the problem, everything will be okay,” he advised. “Kids are tougher than you think.”
For Emily’s sake, Aidan hoped he was right.
Nicola got behind the wheel of June’s Suburban and familiarized herself with the controls. Emily was sitting in the back, blond hair braided and tucked under her bright multicolored hat. June sat in the front passenger seat and clasped her gloved hands tightly together as if to stop herself from reaching over and taking control of the car.
“Are you sure you know how to drive on the right side of the road?” June asked nervously. “It’s not like Australia.”
“No problem,” Nicola replied breezily. Her aunt had arranged a ride home with a neighbor, leaving Nicola use of the vehicle; and Nicola refused to be stuck home simply because she’d learned to drive on the left-hand side of the road. The snow-packed streets added an unexpected challenge, but she’d bluffed her way through more difficult situations than this.
“Well, okay,” June said doubtfully. “Turn right when you get to the highway.”
“I know.” Nicola turned off the radio, the better to concentrate, and backed out of the driveway. Emerald Drive had been plowed while they were having breakfast but was nevertheless more like one wide lane than two. She pointed the vehicle downhill. So far so good.
Once they were on the highway it was easier; she could follow other cars. She dropped June off at the Whistler Conference Center for her committee meeting before taking Emily on to Myrtle Philip Elementary.
“My other grandmother lives there,” Emily said, pointing down the road toward the Tapley Estate.
Nicola remembered attending a prewedding dinner at Aidan’s parents’ house in one of the older subdivisions in Whistler. His father’s business was building log homes and his mother was a public health nurse. Aidan had two brothers—no, one brother and a cousin who had grown up with them. She remembered being overawed by the three handsome athletic young men.
Cars were lined up along the school road for parents to drop their children off. Nicola maneuvered the big vehicle into a vacated slot and parked. Snowballs flew in the playground and some of the children were sliding down a small hill on plastic disks.
Nicola took Emily’s hand and walked up the scraped and salted paved walk to the front doors of the school. “Your grandmother called to tell the principal I’d be picking you up,” she explained to the girl. “I’ll come in and introduce myself to your teacher so she knows who I am.”
“I’ll take you to my classroom,” Emily said importantly. “You can see my picture of a snowman.”
As they entered the building a striking blond woman came out. Her bright red hat and tailored winter coat trimmed with black fur matched the color of her lips. She wore black leather gloves and leather fashion boots.
“Hi, Emily.” She smiled at the girl and eyed Nicola with friendly curiosity. She hesitated as if she would have stopped to talk, but Emily tugged on Nicola’s hand, leading her into the school.
“Who was that?” Nicola glanced over her shoulder to see the other woman also looking back.
“My auntie Angela.”
“Is she married to your dad’s brother?” Nicola guessed.
Emily nodded. “Uncle Nate.”
“Do her kids go to school here, too?”
“She doesn’t have any kids, but sometimes she drops off Ricky. He’s in grade six. She’s his aunt, too, but he’s not my cousin.” Emily gave a puzzled sigh. “Grandma explained it but I don’t really understand.”
Nicola was still trying to work out the family tree when Emily stopped in front of a classroom. The walls were covered with wobbly snowmen with black pipes and bowler hats and folded paper cutout snowflakes. “That’s mine,” Emily said, pointing to one of the drawings.
“It’s very good,” Nicola commended. “After school we can build a snowman in the backyard.”
Nicola glanced through the open door. An older woman dressed in black pants and a red and green sweater with a Christmas motif was seated at a desk at the front of the room, marking papers. She looked vaguely familiar. “What’s your teacher’s name?”
“Mrs. Winston.”
“Mrs. Winston?” Nicola laughed in surprise. “She was my teacher in Squamish, before they had schools in Whistler.” Although the older woman’s hair was now gray, she wore it in the same smooth page-boy style as she had years ago. Nicola knocked on the door to announce her presence.
Mrs. Winston glanced up and asked politely, “May I help you?” Then she noticed Emily. “Good morning, Emily. Is this your cousin who’s looking after you for a while?”
“Second cousin, actually,” Nicola said coming into the room. “I’m Nicola Bond. You probably don’t remember me. I was in your grade five class back in—oh, I can’t remember the year. Emily’s mother, Charmaine, was my cousin.”
Mrs. Winston rose and came forward, hand outstretched. “Nicola! I remember all my students. You were a quiet thing but you had such neat handwriting. I thought your family moved to Australia.”
“That’s right, Mrs. Winston. My parents bought a small farm outside Sydney. I’m here for work and to visit my aunt and uncle.”
“Please, call me Sara,” she said, smiling. “Is this the first time you’ve been back?”
“I was a bridesmaid at Charmaine’s wedding.” Her smile faded and she cast a quick glance toward Emily. The girl had gone to her desk midway down the far row. “I didn’t get back for her funeral.”
Sara shook her head and commiserated in a low voice. “A terrible tragedy. Poor Emily, only a baby. And the way Aidan’s been pilloried by the community.”
“What do you mean?” Nicola asked. “Why would he be pilloried?”
Sara frowned, as if suddenly realizing she’d said too much, and went back to her desk. “Nothing. It was just mean-spirited gossip.”
“Gossip about what?” Nicola persisted.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Sara replied, shifting a pile of her students’ printing exercises to one side. “I thought you’d know all about it since you’re part of the family.”
“My father and June are brother and sister but they’ve never been particularly close. The most they communicate is a card and a family photo at Christmas.”
“You should talk to your aunt,” Sara told her. “It’s not my place to say anything.”
“June isn’t comfortable talking about Charmaine.” Nicola put a hand on her teacher’s arm. “I’m probably going to run into this again and I have to deal with Emily’s father. Please tell me what’s going on.”
“Well, all right,” Sara said but with obvious reluctance. “It’s not as though it’s a secret. Everyone in Whistler talked about your cousin’s death for years afterward. The case still divides the town. The coroner’s inquest came back with a finding of death by misadventure. But although some people swear he’s innocent, others are equally certain that…well, her death was no accident.”
Nicola stared at the woman, hoping she wasn’t hearing correctly. “You mean,” she said carefully, “Aidan had something to do with Charmaine’s death?”
Sara Winston’s worried gaze met Nicola’s scrutiny and she chewed her lip. “Aidan is a wonderful father and a supportive member of the school community. He—”
Her next words were cut off by the ringing of the school bell. “I’m sorry,” Sara said, rising. “You’ll have to excuse me. The children will be coming in any second.”
A door banged open down the hall and suddenly the air was filled with chattering, laughing kids and the drumming of booted feet on linoleum.
Nicola moved closer to be heard above the noise. “If Charmaine’s fall from the mountain wasn’t an accident—”
“Some say she was pushed,” Sara whispered.
Nicola felt the blood drain from her cheeks. Her ears rang with echoes of the school bell. “Who would do such a thing?”
Long seconds passed while Sara Winston hesitated, clearly wishing she’d never started this conversation. At last she said, “Aidan was the only one there.”
Chapter 3
Nicola had no chance to respond to the implied accusation. Children, red-cheeked and damp with snow, were pouring into the classroom, shrieking with high spirits.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to go,” Sara said above the din. “It was nice to see you again.”
“Thanks for filling me in.” I think.
Nicola waved goodbye to Emily who was already surrounded by her friends and pushed her way through the surge of grade ones. Sara’s shocking declaration rang in her ears louder than the metallic clang of the school bell. Charmaine’s fall was no accident.
That made Aidan a murderer.
Nicola stepped outside onto the concrete steps and shivered violently as the freezing air and the implication of Sara’s words hit her simultaneously.
No, she thought in a violent rejection of the very idea. Aidan had been deeply in love with Charmaine and she, with him. They had a brand-new baby and a bright future. Why would he kill her?
Nicola continued on her way back to the truck. Gossip was rife in the aftermath of dramatic events. People said all sorts of things without any evidence just to make life seem more interesting. Charmaine’s letters were a testament to Aidan’s devotion; proof of his adoration abounded in every line.
Still deep in thought Nicola started the engine and pulled out onto the road. A horn blared and she snapped into alertness to see a car coming straight at her. She swerved to the right at the last second and June’s big vehicle fishtailed across the road, coming to rest with the front wheels embedded in a barrier of plowed snow.
“Stay on your own side of the road!” yelled the man in the red sedan whose car she’d almost hit head-on. He blasted his horn again as he went past.
Shaken, Nicola leaned on the steering wheel, bent head resting on her arms while her heart pounded furiously. She had to be more careful.
A rapping at her window made her lift her head. The blond woman, Emily’s aunt Angela, was outside, peering in anxiously. Nicola rolled down the window.
“Are you all right?” Angela said. “That guy was a jerk.”
“I was on the wrong side of the road,” Nicola admitted. “But thanks.”
“I’m Angela, Emily’s aunt. Forgive me if I’m being nosy, but are you a friend of Aidan’s?”
Nicola smiled. “Not exactly. I’m Nicola. Emily’s mom, Charmaine, was my cousin and best friend when we were younger. I’m staying with my aunt for a while and offered to look after Emily while June helps on some committee.”
During this speech Angela’s bright blue eyes had widened. “I know who you are. You’re the one who went to Australia.” She glanced over her shoulder at a car trying to get past. “You’re sticking out onto the road so we’d better not stand here yakking. How about getting together sometime soon? We never see much of Emily’s other family.”
“That’d be nice. What do you suggest?”
“Come for dinner tomorrow. Say, seven o’clock.” Angela pulled out a card from her purse. “Here’s the address.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you then.”
Angela waved goodbye and picked her way through the clods of snow to her car. Nicola checked the rearview mirror and put the Suburban into Reverse. Its wheels spun, emitting a high-pitched whine. She shifted into four-wheel drive and tried again. The wheels caught and she backed jerkily onto the road. Chanting keep to the right, keep to the right under her breath, Nicola shifted into Drive and headed into Whistler.
She spent the day browsing the shops and taking photos of the picturesque village with its pedestrian-only streets decked out in pre-Christmas splendor. Later that afternoon she picked up Emily from school without mishap and drove south of Whistler, a short distance to Aidan’s single-story log house on the shores of Alta Lake.
Nicola put the key Aidan had given her in the lock and opened the door to inviting smells of savory cooking, cedar and a wood fire. She hung her coat on a hook by the door and helped Emily out of her boots and snowsuit then followed the little girl to the great room whose high, wide windows overlooked the frozen lake.
Separating the living and dining areas was a large aquarium filled with colorful tropical fish. Facing the windows on the opposite wall was built-in shelving containing a TV, books and skiing trophies. A stone fireplace with an airtight insert was surrounded by an odd collection of mismatched furniture—a big comfortable-looking recliner, a cozy love seat and a carved French walnut settee covered in ivory damask of the type favored by June, and presumably Charmaine.
Above the mantel hung a studio portrait of Charmaine. Her perfect features and lustrous long blond hair sparked a familiar upwelling of envy and admiration. Ridiculous, Nicola thought, to feel jealous of a dead woman but there it was. At the same time, she wished Charmaine were here, filling the house with her infectious laughter and outrageous schemes for fun.
Emily crouched before the fireplace, hands up to the feeble warmth given off by the barely glowing embers. “It’s cold.”
Nicola pulled the heavy drapes shut against the gathering dusk, tucking in the voluminous lace curtains that had grown dusty through neglect. Then she took a handful of kindling from the basket by the fireplace and levered open the stove’s door to throw them in. A few healthy blows with the bellows and the kindling crackled into flames. She stacked a couple of larger logs at angles and shut the door.
Emily inched closer and sat on her heels, holding her hands in front of the heated glass.
Nicola got out her Nikon single lens reflex and perched on the settee. The couch was hard, as if it had been stuffed with horse hair, and so high Nicola’s feet barely touched the floor. Moving to the love seat, she sank into the soft cushions and began to rewind the film she’d shot that day.
“Were those your mother’s?” she asked Emily even though she could tell at a glance the crystal figurines ranged along the mantelpiece were pure Charmaine. There was a prancing unicorn, a ballerina balanced delicately on one pointed toe, a pair of leaping dolphins in a spray of blue crystal water and many other dainty and fragile designs.
“Yes,” Emily said, nodding solemnly. “Daddy says we have to take care of them and make sure none get broken.”
Nicola removed the spent roll and clicked a new film into place. Then she raised the camera and snapped a photo of Emily, capturing the warm flicker of orange and yellow illuminating her round face. Emily looked up in surprise at the flash and smiled. Nicola refocused and clicked again.
Setting the camera on the coffee table, Nicola said, “What do you usually do after school?”
“It’s my job to feed the fish.” Emily got the container of fish food from the cabinet beneath the tank. She sprinkled a pinch on the surface of the water then watched the fish swim up and snatch at the flakes.
“What kind are they?” Nicola asked, bending over, hands on knees to watch, too.
“There’s two angelfishes, five neon tetras and a sucker fish. We used to have a Siamese fighting fish, but he kept biting the angelfishes’ tails so Daddy took him back to the store.”
Nicola straightened and wandered over to the shelving unit. Her fingers grazed the ivory glaze on a large ceramic pot with a lid. “This is pretty.”
Emily gazed up at her solemnly. “Mommy’s in there.”
Nicola snatched her hand away and pressed it to her heart. “Oh, you mean her ashes.”
Slightly shaken she moved across to where Aidan’s trophies were displayed. Judging by the inscriptions on the gilt cups he’d had some impressive wins in major national and international competitions. “Does your dad still race?”
Emily said something in her soft voice Nicola didn’t catch. “Pardon?” Nicola asked.
“No, he doesn’t race,” the girl said a little louder.
Nicola sat on the wide arm of the chair. “Sometimes little girls have to roar to make themselves heard.”
Emily smiled uncertainly. “Like a lion?”
“Exactly. Let me hear you roar.”
“Roar,” Emily said in just a slightly more powerful than normal voice.
“No, I mean, roar,” she said, making a hearty growl. “Like that.”
Emily giggled. “Roar!”
“That’s better.” Nicola smiled.
Emily pretended to pounce on her. “Roar! Roar! Roar!”
Nicola laughed. “Okay, that’s enough for now. Shall we go make that snowman?”
“First I need a snack. Toasted cheese. Come, I’ll show you.” Emily took her by the hand and led her to the kitchen.
Nicola was an indifferent cook, but she followed orders well. Her toasted cheese made under the broiler and hot chocolate with three marshmallows were happily in accordance with Miss Emily’s exacting taste.
“I don’t have school tomorrow,” Emily announced. “It’s a curr-curr—”
“Curriculum day?” Nicola guessed.
Emily nodded. “There’s a notice in my backpack.”
“We could go up the mountain,” Nicola suggested. “Would you like that?”
Emily’s eyes lit and she smiled, her chocolate moustache widening. “Yes, please!” Her smile faded. “I don’t know if Daddy will let me.”
“You be sure and ask him tonight. Do you have skis?” Emily shook her head. “Never mind, we can rent.”
When they were warmed inside and out, they put their outdoor clothes back on. Nicola slung her camera over her neck and they went into the front yard. Snow was falling in big fluffy flakes.
Aidan pulled into his driveway to find a half-finished snowman crouched fatly on the buried lawn, its head at its feet. Aidan’s glance went automatically toward his study window but no small nose was pressed against the pane. A small surge of panic, quickly repressed, tightened his chest.
Then a snowball hit the Land Cruiser with a resounding thwack. Aidan started and peered into the dark corners of the yard. Thwack. Another snowball and another. Then girlish squeals of laughter.
Aidan got out of the truck and Emily appeared and openly threw snowballs. “Roar!”
Nicola was hiding behind the snowman, making more to hand to her.
Aidan advanced in a hail of snowballs and scooped up an armful of snow. Laughing, he charged his daughter and dumped his load on top of her head. “That’ll teach you to mess with your daddy.”
A snowball struck the back of his neck, sending an icy trickle down his collar. Slowly he turned. Nicola had her hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing in the porch light. In her down jacket and snowpants her body looked bulky and shapeless. Slowly he started walking toward her, not sure what he was going to do, but aware he wasn’t going to let her get away with that!
Hands raised now, she backed away. “Just kidding! We can stop now. I’m done.”
“I’m not.” He gathered up more snow and advanced on Nicola. Behind him Emily giggled and pelted him with tiny snowballs that splatted against his back. Nicola continued to retreat until she came up against the prickly branches of a blue spruce.
He lunged, grabbing her around the waist in an iron grip and washed her face with snow.
“Hey!” Spluttering and laughing, Nicola struggled and kicked. One booted foot connected with his shin and he leaped back, yelping in pain as he clutched his leg and hopped about. Emily threw herself at him, knocking him off balance. He fell into a snowdrift. Nicola seized the advantage and piled more snow on him.
“Two against one. No fair,” he protested, attempting to fend off Emily. He lifted her in the air, arms and legs waving, and got to his feet.
Aidan set his daughter down and glanced from her to Nicola. “Truce?”
Emily jumped up and down. “We won! We won!” She tugged on his jacket. “Help us finish the snowman, Daddy.”
“Did this poor fellow lose his head over a woman?” Aidan asked, picking up the basketball-size lump of snow.
“It is a woman,” Emily shrieked. “Can’t you tell?”
He stood back. Sure enough, on second glance, the snow figure had a distinctly matronly shape. Teasing, he said, “No wonder she hasn’t got a brain.”
“Them’s fightin’ words,” Nicola warned, reaching for more snow.
Grinning, Aidan sidled toward her again, hefting the snow woman’s head in one hand.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Nicola’s eyes widened in alarm.
“Wouldn’t I?”
“Daddy!” Emily planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Put the snow woman’s head on her body!”
“Okay, you little tyrant,” he said good-naturedly. He balanced the head on top of the body and packed extra snow into the groove to keep it attached. “How was school today?”
“We made Christmas cards and colored in a big picture of Santa and his reindeer....” Her words trailed off as she busily rolled snow into a ball across the lawn. “Now I’m making a snow baby.”
Nicola bent to pick up a scarf lying on the ground and tied it around the snow woman’s neck. Aidan found a few pieces of gravel at the edge of the driveway and pressed them into the head, creating a face.
“How did everything go today?” he asked.
Nicola glanced up. “Fine. I had a chat with Emily’s teacher. Sara Winston taught me fifth grade way back when.”
“Oh?” he said warily. Sara was great with the kids, but he’d noticed in his parent-teacher meeting she had a tendency to be indiscreet, often blurting out information about other families she had no right to pass on. “What did she have to say?”
Nicola lowered her voice and looked him directly in the eye. “She said there was some controversy surrounding Charmaine’s death.”
Great. Nicola’d been here barely twenty-four hours and already the rumor mill had found fresh ears. “There was a lot of unsubstantiated gossip. What exactly did she tell you?”
“That some people think you pushed Charmaine off the mountain.” Nicola, her wet hair plastered to a thin oval face with a pointed chin, looked like a mere girl but her clear-eyed gaze was anything but ingenuous. “Did you?”
Her directness caught him off guard. But in some ways it was easier to deal with than oblique looks and innuendo. Returning her gaze steadily, he replied, “No.”
“Of course, you’d claim that even if you had,” she said matter-of-factly.
He shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter one way or another. “True.”
“Don’t you care what people say about you?”
He’d rather they talked about him than discover the truth about Charmaine. “I learned long ago that people will think what they want to think.” He paused as Emily came back their way pushing a lumpy sphere of snow. “This discussion isn’t appropriate in front of my daughter.”
“Of course.” Nicola scooped up more snow to pack onto the snow woman’s torso, sculpting it into an arm.
“Will you be looking after Emily again tomorrow?” he asked.
Nicola nodded. “Apparently the Christmas Ball is bigger than King Kong. June’s taken charge of half a dozen subcommittees.”
“I’m not surprised.” He couldn’t hide a trace of rancor. “With her need for control she should have been CEO of some big company.”
Nicola was silent a moment. “You don’t like her.”
“She doesn’t like me.”
“Why?”
This was the oddest conversation he’d had in a long time. He shrugged. “It has to do with Charmaine.”
“In what way?”
Couldn’t she tell it was personal? Did she really think he was going to unburden himself about Charmaine after knowing her for twenty-four hours when he’d spent the past six years bottling things up inside, not confiding even in his family?
He created a smoke screen by elaborating on a pet peeve. “June means well but she spoils Emily. She’s already given her enough presents for two Christmases and the holiday is still weeks away. I was glad you took over, even temporarily.”
Nicola smiled. “I’m loving it. Emily’s a doll.”
“She seems to have taken to you.” He paused. “I understand you and Charmaine were very close. Forgive me, but it seems odd when you and she are so…different.”
“Like night and day,” Nicola said dryly. “Charmaine got all the boys—when she was around no one noticed me.”
“Come on, I’ll bet a cute girl like you must have had swarms of guys hanging around,” Aidan said gallantly.
“If I was so cute why weren’t you hanging around?”
Flummoxed, Aidan stared. “Me? I didn’t know you—”
“Existed?” She smiled wryly and turned to Emily who was trying to heave a large ball. “My point, exactly. Don’t worry, I got used to living in Charmaine’s shadow. It doesn’t bother me anymore.” She turned to Emily who was trying to heave a large ball of snow onto the base she’d made. “You’re making that snow baby all by yourself. Can I help?”
“Yes.” Emily stopped and panted. “Put that on top. And it’s not a snow baby anymore, it’s a snow lion.”
“I’ve heard of snow leopards,” Aidan said.
“No, it’s a lion,” Emily declared. “Honestly, Daddy.”
Nicola’s amused gaze met Aidan’s over his daughter’s head.
“You’re not in high school anymore,” he said. “Are you married?” She shook her head. “Boyfriend? If I’m being too nosy just tell me to mind my own business.”
“That’s okay,” she said easily. “I don’t have time for a boyfriend. This photography assignment will keep me busy for quite some time.”
“Where do you go after here?”
“Banff, Tahoe, Vail, Aspen—I can’t remember the entire itinerary. We’re covering all the major resorts in a coffee-table book for ski buffs.”
“Pity it won’t be ready in time for Christmas.”
She smiled. “It will be. Next year.”
“What am I going to use for whiskers?” Emily demanded.
Aidan turned only to find she was asking Nicola. One day, he marveled, and this quiet woman had completely won over his daughter. He watched Nicola help Emily gather needles from a clear patch of ground near the base of a pine tree and press them into the cat’s face.
Leaving the child, Nicola got up and came back to where he was standing. “I’d better get going,” she said. “You look half frozen and your dinner is waiting.”
“Why don’t you stay and eat with us?”
“Thanks, but June and Roy are going to be home late and I told my aunt I’d make dinner.” She turned to Emily. “Bye, possum. See you tomorrow.”
Aidan walked Nicola to her car, thinking back to the first part of their conversation and feeling the need to convince her of his innocence. He opened the door for her, but before she could climb in, he touched her shoulder, stopping her. “I loved Charmaine with all my heart.”
Her brows came together in a puzzled frown, her searching gaze quietly alert. “Everyone loved Charmaine.”
Aidan watched her get into her vehicle and start the engine. Although she hadn’t said so, he got the distinct impression Nicola was reserving judgment about him. He got that a lot from people he didn’t know and over the years he’d learned not to care. For some reason, it bothered him coming from Nicola.
Chapter 4
Nicola arrived home to a dark and empty house. Pushing aside thoughts of Aidan’s warm fire and delicious-smelling stew she peeled off her wet outer clothing and went to the kitchen to start dinner.
June seemed to have every gadget known to man lining her granite countertops, but from the pristine condition of the appliances, Nicola deduced she rarely used them. Luckily the ingredients for one of Nicola’s small repertoire of foolproof dishes—spaghetti bolognese—were on hand. Nicola got out onions, garlic and mushrooms, had a look at the food processor, and decided a knife and chopping board were easier to clean.
Aidan had been forthright about the rumors surrounding Charmaine’s death, she mused as she peeled the papery skin off the onion. Yet she had the feeling he was hiding something regarding Charmaine.
Six years was a long time. Aidan was a good-looking man. Why hadn’t he married again? Nicola didn’t think it could be due to a lack of interested and available women. Was he still grieving? Or did he find it hard to move on because he was guilty?
Tears from the onion vapors slid down her cheeks and she wiped her eyes with the cuff of her long-sleeved thermal shirt. She quickly chopped the mushrooms and green pepper and added them to the pot along with the hamburger meat and a couple tins of tomatoes. The big stockpot of water she’d set on the stove was boiling so she dumped in a package of dried spaghetti and gave it a stir.
That done she ran upstairs to get a book to read while she waited for June and Roy. Her footsteps slowed as she passed Charmaine’s closed door. The cuckoo clock on the wall behind her ticked loudly in the silence. Why wasn’t Emily allowed in her mother’s old room?
Nicola reached out and turned the handle. The room was dark and with no light on in the hall she could only make out the vague shapes of a bed and dresser, desk and chair. She felt for the light switch and flicked it on.
Nicola gasped.
Charmaine’s room looked exactly as it had in high school, from the frilly pink curtains and matching bedspread right down to old pop-star posters and her cheerleader pom-poms. Incredulous, Nicola went farther into the room, drawn to the dressing table where her cousin had spent hours practicing applying makeup and the latest hairstyles. Unlike in high school when the dressing table’s surface was a jumble of mascara tubes, lipsticks and hairbrushes everything was meticulously arranged like a…a shrine.
A large, framed photo of Charmaine’s graduation portrait, forever young, eternally beautiful, held center stage. She was heartbreakingly lovely, Nicola thought. Would it be any wonder if Aidan had fallen so deeply in love he couldn’t get over her, even six years later?
To the right of the photo was a lock of golden curling hair tied up in a pink ribbon, to the left a cluster of dried rosebuds—from her prom corsage? In front, a baby bracelet with the letters of her name picked out in black on tiny white beads. Bronze baby shoes, a heart-shaped locket, a smaller photograph of Charmaine with her mother and father, a cone of incense in a small brass slipper.
Nicola held the incense to her nose. Jasmine. She smiled, remembering Charmaine’s youthful passion for everything jasmine—incense, tea, perfume…she’d even wanted to change her name to Jasmine when she grew up.
Replacing the incense Nicola picked up the locket. Inside were tiny photos of Charmaine and her. Tears of sorrow and loss washed away the last bitter traces of the onion. In spite of their different personalities she and Charmaine had indeed been inseparable, confiding in each other all their girlish dreams and desires. Somehow she’d never found another friend that had been able to match the closeness she’d had with Charmaine. She snapped the locket shut with a small click and set it carefully back on the dressing table.
Nicola sat on the bed and picked up a teddy bear from the lace-edged pillow. She couldn’t imagine Uncle Roy, austere and remote in his insurance man’s suit, arranging teenage memorabilia or—Nicola wiped a finger across the polished maple bedside table—dusting regularly. No, June must have done this. She and Charmaine had always been close, the more so because Charmaine was the only child and took after June in looks and temperament.
The front door opened. Nicola heard footsteps moving between the hall and the kitchen and got up to go greet her aunt and uncle. As she came out of Charmaine’s room she heard a commotion of clattering pots and excited voices. Oh, no! The pasta.
Nicola raced downstairs and stopped dead in the kitchen doorway. The spaghetti was boiling over, froth and scalding water pouring down the sides of the pot and onto the floor. June was at the stove, sliding the pot off the heat.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” Nicola exclaimed. “Where’s the mop?”
“It’s in the cupboard in the laundry room,” June called.
Nicola grabbed the mop and raced back to the kitchen. June turned around to face Nicola and her face went white.
“It’s all my fault,” Nicola apologized again. “I wanted to have dinner ready when you and Uncle Roy came—”
June shook her head, speechless, and pointed her finger at Nicola. Nicola looked down. She still had Charmaine’s stuffed bear clasped in one arm.
“Oh, that,” she said, relieved no further harm had been done. “It’s just a teddy bear.”
June swallowed with apparent difficulty. “No one. No one,” she emphasized, “is allowed in my baby’s room.”
Oh, dear. “I didn’t move anything except for the bear,” Nicola told June apologetically. “I’ll put it back right now.”
“I’ll do it.” June crossed the kitchen and took the bear from Nicola’s unprotesting grasp.
Her uncle Roy, solid in blue pinstripe, came into the room. “When will dinner be ready?” Silence followed his query. He looked over his glasses at his wife holding the bear. “Never mind.”
Nodding vaguely, he went to the glass-fronted cabinet beside the fridge and took out a crystal tumbler. “Er, Scotch, anyone?”
June brushed past him into the hall without reply.
“No, thanks.” Nicola ran upstairs after her aunt then paused in the doorway to Charmaine’s room.
June was bent over the bed, carefully positioning the bear in his place atop the satin-cased pillow. Tenderly she adjusted the pink bow around his neck so the loops were perfectly flat and not twisted.
“Aunt June…”
June straightened and turned, her face calm. “It’s all right, Nicola. No harm done. I should have mentioned that this room was off-limits. I thought the shut door was indication enough.” She glanced around as if checking that everything else was in place. Apparently satisfied, her shoulders relaxed.
Nicola stepped inside the room and shut the door. “Can we talk?”
June stiffened again. “Dinner—”
“It can wait a few minutes.” Nicola took her hands. “Please.”
“Your uncle is allowed one drink before dinner,” June informed her, maintaining her erect posture. “If the meal is delayed, he’ll have two. It’s not good for his heart. The doctor said—”
Nicola dropped her aunt’s hands and pulled her into a hug. “You poor thing. Losing Charmaine must have been so awful for you.”
June sagged in her arms and drew in a long ragged sigh. “Oh, Nic, I miss her so much. She was my beautiful little girl. Why did she have to die?”
“It was an accident,” Nicola said, holding her. Even as she spoke, she wondered if that were true.
June drew back, shaking her head. “Aidan was right beside her when she went off the cliff. Why couldn’t he have saved her?”
“I don’t know,” Nicola said miserably. “Didn’t anyone ask him?”
“He said it all happened too quickly.”
“Maybe it did. If she slipped and lost her balance…” She trailed off, shuddering at the image those thoughts conjured. Charmaine falling off the cliff onto rocks. A powder-blue ski suit, stained red. Golden hair matted with blood.
“Why was she off the groomed ski trail?” June went on doggedly. Nicola got the impression she’d asked these same questions a million times. “Why was she even in the permanently closed area?”
“Was she?” Nicola said sharply. “I didn’t know that.”
Her aunt nodded. “Aidan knew better than to take anyone there, even an expert skier like Charmaine.”
“Why did he?”
“He says he didn’t. He says he found her there and was trying to get her to come out.” June plucked a tissue from the box on the dresser and blew her nose. “Charmaine wouldn’t have gone out of bounds. She never did anything against the rules.”
Nicola thought of the times her cousin had coaxed her into skipping school to hitchhike into Squamish and hang out at the Dairy Queen. “We don’t always know people as well as we think we do.”
“I know my little girl,” June said firmly. “She was a loving wife and devoted mother. I know that if Aidan had taken proper care of her she would be alive today.”
There was a long silence during which Nicola worked up the courage to ask in a cracked whisper, “Do you believe he pushed her?”
“Yes. No. Maybe. Oh, I don’t know what to believe. He should have taken better care of Charmaine,” June complained. “He left her alone too much.”
“Could she have committed…” Nicola could hardly bear to say the word suicide. She didn’t need to. One look at her aunt’s horrified expression told her June knew what she was trying to say—and disagreed vehemently.
“Absolutely not,” June said. “Charmaine had it all—a devoted husband she adored, a brand-new baby she loved to distraction. Even with Emily’s health problems—”
“Emily had problems?” Nicola asked. “Dad never told me that.”
“It was nothing serious,” June said dismissively. “I didn’t tell Stan—what could he do down there in Australia?”
“He’s family, and would want to know,” Nicola demurred quietly. “What was wrong with Emily?”
“Oh, I hardly remember,” June said. “Something to do with her spine, a developmental thing. She’s fine now.”
“Still, Charmaine would have been upset,” Nicola said. “She was so squeamish about sickness or injury.”
“Charmaine was strong,” June contradicted. “She was devoted to that baby.”
“I’m sure she was,” Nicola said soothingly. She thought of the letters her cousin had written during her pregnancy, full of happiness and anticipation. Nicola had thought it odd the letters had stopped once Charmaine had given birth but had attributed it to the heavy demands of a new baby. Now the lapse made even more sense; Charmaine was busy caring for a sick child with no time to write.
“Well,” June said, blotting her eyes with another tissue. “Let’s have dinner before Roy gets sloshed. I don’t want to lose him, too.”
Nicola went out and waited for her aunt to turn off the light and close the door behind her. “He’s a grown man. Can’t he self-regulate?”
June rolled her eyes. “My dear, he’s a baby. If it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t get dressed in the morning.”
Nicola said nothing, thinking it was sad that June overestimated her late daughter and underestimated everyone else.
Aidan dished up beef stew on bone-china plates; Charmaine had refused to eat off anything less and Aidan had never gotten around to buying stoneware. The plates, like the crystal figurines, weren’t to his taste, but he kept them. The self-help books his mother had given him after Charmaine’s death suggested he not make major changes in his life for at least a year. One year had turned into six and Aidan had fallen into a deadly inertia, oblivious to his surroundings.
“Stew again,” Emily complained with a quiet sigh. “Nicola said she was going to make spaghetti for their dinner.”
“We had spaghetti last week,” he reminded her.
“Yes, but not like Nicola’s.”
“What is Nicola’s spaghetti like?” he asked patiently.
“I don’t know. It’s just different.”
“Eat up, sweetheart, or we’ll end up having stew tomorrow, too.”
Emily sighed and went back to her meal. Aidan’s thoughts went back to revolving around his dilemma. Should he apply for the assistant manager’s position or should he let it go? He wanted the job, rather badly, he realized, for the recognition of his expertise and experience. Also it would give him a chance to implement his ideas for improving conditions for the patrollers and safety for skiers. Last but not least, he could use the extra money the promotion would bring.
He leaned over and twitched back the lace curtains, another legacy of Charmaine, to reveal the snow-covered expanse of Alta Lake visible under a rising moon. The neighborhood children had cleared a makeshift skating rink complete with two battered, netless goals. Sometimes he wished he was a kid again, with nothing more on his mind than looking forward to playing hockey after school.
“Can I, Daddy? Nicola told me I should ask you,” Emily said in her soft voice.
“Sure, honey,” Aidan replied automatically then realized guiltily he’d been so lost in thought he didn’t know what she’d said.
Before he could find out what he’d just agreed to there was a knock at the door. A second later it opened and his brother Nate called out. “Anybody home?”
“In the dining room,” Aidan said. “Grab a plate from the kitchen.”
Nate, his dark hair tousled from pushing the hood of his heavy parka off his forehead, appeared in the doorway. “Can’t stay. Angela and I just got back from Vancouver and I wanted to drop off the book on tropical fish you ordered.” He tugged on one of Emily’s blond braids. “How’s my girl?”
Emily dimpled up at him. “Fine, thank you, Unca Nate.”
“How’s the new store doing?” Aidan asked. Nate’s Whistler Village mountain-bike shop had proven such a success that he’d recently expanded his business with a second store in Vancouver. Due to Angela’s job as marketing director at a businesswoman’s magazine, they spent a few days a month in the city, staying at an apartment Angela had before she and Nate got back together.
“Turnover is brisk thanks to a great location and Rachel’s proving to be an excellent manager.” Nate started to leave then paused. “Almost forgot. Angela wanted me to ask you and Emily for dinner tomorrow.”
“I don’t know about a late night for Emily,” Aidan began.
“It’s Friday and Emily can always go to sleep in our bed if she gets tired. I’ve got to warn you, though, Angela’s trying out a new recipe.”
“Uh-oh.” Aidan knew all about Angela’s disastrous cooking attempts and considered his health-food-conscious brother not only brave but lucky to have survived so far unscathed. The problem in Aidan’s opinion was that Angela was too ambitious, cooking complicated dishes while lacking basic skills.
“She’s getting better, honest,” Nate said, grinning. Outside, a horn tooted. “She ran into Nicola at the school and invited her, too. So will you come?”
The prospect of meeting Nicola there tipped the scales. If she got to know him in the context of his family and friends she’d see he wasn’t the bad person June had no doubt painted him. Maybe he shouldn’t care what Nicola thought, but he did.
“All right,” Aidan said. “Thanks.”
In bed that night Nicola reread Charmaine’s letters from start to finish, looking for any evidence, no matter how slight, that despite June’s assurances to the contrary, her cousin might have been tempted to take her own life. The notion was far-fetched but not completely implausible. If Aidan had witnessed his wife’s suicide that might be what he was covering up. But Nicola could find nothing to suggest Charmaine had contemplated such a thing for even one second. Nicola sighed and put the letters away.
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