Chapter 19 Cindy #2
“He’s back,” she whispered, reaching for MJ’s hand, hope rising up in her. “He knows that was a lackluster goodbye and he’s back. He did say he loves me and I never…” She pushed out of her chair, her heart clobbering the underside of her ribs.
MJ caught Cindy’s arm as she got up. “Wait.”
“Wait?” Cindy choked. “That’s all I’ve done for ten years.”
“Just wait,” MJ insisted. “Do not fling yourself onto him like a golden retriever who’s been left alone for five minutes. He can do the work of saying it twice.”
“He already said it once,” Cindy whispered, but she paused, her pulse pounding in her throat.
She could see the whole moment unfolding in her imagination…Jack on the porch with snow in his hair, breathless words about not being able to leave on Christmas again, the kiss he hadn’t given her because he was, yes, a fool.
“I’ll get the door,” MJ said, then wiped her hands, smoothed her hair, and headed down the hall.
Cindy followed, but hovered in the archway, closing her eyes to listen to the greeting. What would MJ say? What would—
“Hello.” Her sister sounded pleasant and puzzled. “I’m sorry, I know you…give me a second…your name is—?”
“Henry Lassiter.”
Cindy slapped her hand against her chest, shocked.
“Ms. Kess—Cindy—invited me. I apologize for the late hour, but I thought I might catch her. It’s not too late, is it?”
At eight o’clock on Christmas Eve? Cindy frowned, trying to handle the physical ache of disappointment in her gut.
It didn’t matter. Jack hadn’t returned, and she had to handle this.
Taking a breath, she breezed down the hall to the entryway, catching MJ’s expression as she turned. To her surprise, her sister’s features had gone still, her color shifting from creamy pink to…blanched gray.
Cindy stepped into the foyer. “Henry. I didn’t expect you…tonight.”
“You did invite me.” His smile was fast and bright, the kind that had probably opened a thousand doors.
“I’m sorry for the holiday timing, but it’s critical that we get the paperwork into process this week.
There are some very advantageous considerations if we formally file before the new year, but we need a certain number of business days. Time is tight. May I come in?”
He didn’t quite wait for the response, stepping inside with his overcoat open as he wiped his feet on the mat.
“Five minutes, max,” he added with a smile as he made his way into the great room.
Cindy started to follow, but turned to her silent and shocked sister to make the appropriate introduction—these two hadn’t even met yet—but MJ was shaking her head, her eyes wide.
“What’s the—”
MJ held up both hands and shot off to the kitchen, leaving Cindy’s jaw open. Why would she do that?
Henry cleared his throat to get her attention.
She turned to find him at the antique credenza under the window, a leather portfolio open. He extracted a sheaf of crisp papers and a pen.
All around him, Christmas had the room lit to a soft glow—the lights still glimmering on the tree, and more outside the darkened window glass, the fire settled into friendly embers.
Everything felt a little…odd. The fact that he’d come now, his rushed style, his lack of even acknowledging MJ.
“Here’s the agreement exactly as we discussed,” he said, with no preamble or small talk.
“I put in two hundred fifty thousand by year’s end, and you transfer the fifty into the investment account now.
That’s returned to you with the first draw, before January first. From a tax standpoint, that timing is hugely beneficial.
We just sign and initiate the transfer tonight, and everything’s in place. Easy.”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said, her voice raspy.
“I know, but we need five business days to avoid massive and so-unnecessary taxes. You’ve had enough of those this year, don’t you think?” His voice was warm butter, his smile sheer confidence.
“But…it feels rushed.”
“That’s how these things are, Cindy.” He angled his head in apology. “And it’s on me, I’m afraid. I was stuck in New York far longer than I expected. I literally landed in Salt Lake an hour ago and came straight away. These things always go down to the wire. But let’s get it signed and scanned.”
He held out his pen.
“But…don’t you want to…say hello to my sister?” Cindy heard herself ask, stalling. “She’s my partner. You’ll need her signature.”
“One will do, especially once we have the account loaded and ready. You’ll be able to start the renovations in early January, and be booking the hikers for spring and summer.
” Henry tapped the line for her name. “You can sign anytime, of course, but this is the last window for the tax advantage. Sign here, we’ll move that money, and we’ll be done.
You will have two hundred and fifty thousand more dollars before the end of the year. ”
Wasn’t that what she’d started the holiday season wanting? No, she wanted the tax bill covered and Benny, of all unlikely people, accomplished that. But December’s awesome income could not sustain them forever. This could.
She took a step closer, reaching for the black and gold pen he held. Mont Blanc, she thought absently as she closed her fingers around the expensive tool. It felt heavy and slick and final between her fingers.
“Cindy,” MJ said from the doorway.
She froze, mostly at the icy tone packed into that one word. Turning, she looked at her sister, who clutched a book—one of the photo albums?—against her chest.
“Can I speak with you, please?”
“Of course, but let me introduce you to—”
“Now.”
Cindy shuddered at the tone, still gripping the pricey pen. Without even looking at Henry, she walked toward her sister, pulled out of the room by the sheer force of her insistence and the warning in her eyes.
“In the kitchen,” MJ said, taking her there.
Cindy’s heart pounded with each step, her lips closed as if she wasn’t supposed to talk.
At the table, MJ dropped the photo album with a thud and flipped it open. Like every one of these stored in the hutch, the page had Polaroids pasted in with a name and a date underneath, creating a visual record of every guest who’d ever spent even a single night at the Snowberry Lodge.
Many of them included MJ’s notes, like “Loves Cabin Three,” and “Always wants extra blankets,” and “They got engaged!”
“Didn’t he look familiar to you?” MJ demanded.
Cindy drew back, remembering the sensation when she’d first met the man. “Yes, he did. I thought he reminded me of…” Her voice trailed off as she looked down at the open page and the picture MJ pointed to.
“Well, I never forget a face,” MJ said. “The moment I saw him I knew he’d stayed here before.
I couldn’t place it with the suit and the haircut and the big-city polish but—look.
” She jabbed a finger at a Polaroid from eight winters ago.
A man leaned against the porch rail in an old ski jacket, chin tucked into his scarf, his smile a shade less practiced but unmistakable.
The handwritten note beneath read:
Glen Avery…February 2017
And MJ’s scribbled notes said: Solo. Charming. Interested in local lodges.
“Glen Avery?” Cindy stared at his face, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was the same man currently standing in her great room waiting for her to sign a contract…and transfer fifty thousand dollars to him.
All the blood drained from her head, making the room nearly spin.
“I did a search on Glen Avery’s name,” MJ continued, her voice sharp as steel. She held out her phone so Cindy could read the words, but they were just swimming, everything underwater.
The article headline finished the gut punch…
Big Elk Lodge in Sawtooth Mountains Swindled Out of Thousands, Forced to Close
There was a photo of him, attached to the story, the same smile, the same eyes, with a caption that read, “Glen Avery, consultant.”
“He went to prison for five years and now he’s out and doing the same thing.” MJ ground out the words. “He must stay at these places all over the mountains and sniff out a victim.”
Cindy’s knees went a little watery. She braced on the counter, the relief so intense it left her lightheaded. She hadn’t signed. She hadn’t moved the money. She hadn’t lost the lodge out of desperation and blind faith.
“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay. I’ll go tell him to leave right—”
The front door closed softly and they both gasped, hurrying out of the kitchen and down the hall.
They caught sight of the car lights heading out, and turned to see the great room completely empty, but one piece of paper must have fluttered to the floor when he rushed out.
MJ made a sound that was half victory, half fury.
“I’m so grateful for you, MJ,” Cindy whispered. “You’re usually the trusting one and I’m pragmatic.” She bent over and picked up the agreement, which was just a page of legal gibberish she suspected meant nothing.
It was merely a trap to steal a lot of money, and she’d almost stepped right into it.
Tossing the pen on the table, she walked to the hearth and fed the page between the logs, watching the neat letters curl and blacken as the fire flickered back to life.
MJ stood behind her, one hand warm on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out,” she said simply.
Cindy nodded and stepped away. “I better go get the puppy,” she said softly. “I’ll be back.”
MJ didn’t offer to go with her, probably understanding she needed to be alone. In the mudroom, she grabbed her jacket and that stupid red hat and slipped them on, walking out into the stillness of the Christmas-lit night.
She looked at the two sets of car tracks—Henry’s and Jack’s—and fought the urge to get a little dramatic over how those two men just rode right over her second chances.
Well, they did. And she needed to get out of her fairytale dreams and go back to pragmatic and sensible. That worked better for Cindy Kessler.
She took a few steps and paused at the sleigh, reaching out to jingle one of the bells, the sound taking her heart for a ride.
Taking a breath, she stepped on the running board, then pulled herself onto the front seat. This beautiful sleigh would forever and ever remind her of Jack. Of his maybe offer to sort of try again and hopefully…
She bit her lip, vaguely aware of car lights on the road, then an engine, a door, and the thud of footsteps on the driveway.
Her heart tripped. Was Henry coming back? Did he have a gun? Was she in danger?
She ducked below the seat but sneaked her head out to look and see…
“Jack?” She popped up, stunned to see him hauling his suitcase.
He dropped the bag and walked directly toward the sleigh without saying a word.
“What are you doing here?”
She stared at him, her head spinning and her poor, poor heart racing in high gear.
Still silent, he hoisted himself up in one graceful move, took the seat next to her and put his cold bare hands on her cheeks.
“I’m not going.”
She blinked at him.
“I’m not leaving you again,” he said, his voice gravelly and emotional. “I’m not walking out on Christmas or ever. And I’m not hoping we can make this work in the spring.”
She let out a whimper of disbelief.
“I am in love with you, Cindy Starling. I’ve missed ten years and I’m not missing another minute.”
“But…Vermont…your mom…”
“I already told her I’m staying, and even at two in the morning on the East Coast, she cheered this decision. She said if I didn’t come back to you before Christmas morning, she’d disown me. She told me the whole retirement home was rooting for us to get back together.”
For some reason, that was the thing that brought tears to her eyes.
“This is where I belong, Cin. With you, with Nic, at Snowberry Lodge. Please, please let me stay, let me love you again, and let me be the man I know I can be. Start tonight. Now. On this sleigh, on this mountain, with me.”
“Jack…”
“Just say yes.”
“Yes.” She barely whispered the word and his lips covered hers, warm and familiar. He kissed her with the same passion and promise as the first time. Only tonight, she knew this was forever.
Christmas morning dawns at Snowberry Lodge—but the season of love, laughter, and surprises is only just beginning. As snow drifts through the canyons and blankets the mountains in winter magic, hearts will be tested, new connections will spark, and family bonds will grow stronger than ever.
Nicole finds herself swept into a romance that changes her whole perspective about life. MJ’s friendship with a mysterious guest stirs curiosity and concern. And Gracie hopes that her plans for Benny and his new puppy don’t come back to bite her.