Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“I would, but I’ll be in Denver for the next couple of weeks,” Raven said.
“That’s right. You’re in A Christmas Carol,” Casey said. “How’s it going?”
“It’s a blast.”
“That’s a first for Dickens,” Devin said dryly.
“It’s a parody,” Raven said. “Wild, irreverent, and sold out every night.”
“Sounds like something I’d enjoy,” Devin said, heading to the stacks and pulling several books.
“Come to Denver,” Raven said. “I get four free tickets.” She glanced at Casey. “You should come too. You, Devin… maybe your biker.”
Casey laughed. “I can’t picture that trio. I’d love to, but I’m slammed.”
“What about you, Devin?”
He set the books on the counter. “I can’t get away. I’m basically running the museum solo right now. It’s the low season so Amelia hasn’t been around much.”
Raven nudged Casey. “I’m serious. Bring your biker. I’ll buy dinner. Steak. Men like meat, right, Devin?”
“For the most part.” A faint smile whispered on his lips. He slid two books to Casey. “These are the new arrivals.”
She flipped through one. “You know I’m checking out both of them.”
“I know. You’re one of my best customers for this subject.”
“You’re dodging the question,” Raven said.
“I’d love to go, but I really can’t,” Casey said. “End-of-year deadlines are brutal.”
“Don’t you want a whole weekend without any distractions with your biker?” Raven waggled her brows.
“Who’s this biker you keep mentioning?” Devin asked.
“No one,” Casey said quickly.
He paused, then his eyes widened. “Wait. Is it the one from Ruthie’s? The one who kept staring at you?
Heat crept into her cheeks. “Yeah.”
“He’s one of those Insurgents,” Devin said. “Be careful.”
“It’s fine.” She slid the books across the counter. “I’ll take them.”
“Good choice. I’ve read them already. You’ll love them,” he said, scanning her card.
Raven sighed. “Curtis just texted me. He wants to know which night works.”
The last thing she wanted to do was have dinner alone with Curtis. “Next week doesn’t work,” Casey said, stuffing the books into her shoulder bag.
“Why not?” Raven asked.
“I’ve got three jobs. Everyone wants everything done before Christmas.” She glanced at Devin. “You get it.”
He nodded.
Raven held up a hand. “Okaaay,” she said with a dramatic flair.
Devin chuckled. Casey rolled her eyes.
“Done,” Raven said, looking up. “He’ll brood. That’s his specialty.”
“Curtis is… intense,” Casey said.
“I think some of it’s for effect,” Raven said.
The comment caught Casey off guard. Raven never criticized her husband. She wondered what was going on between them that Raven wasn’t revealing. And why would Curtis want to go to dinner with her alone?
“I’ve gotta get to my appointment,” Raven said. “I’ll call you before I take off for Denver,” she said, tugging on her hat.
“Sounds good. Maybe we can get lunch before you go,” Casey said.
Raven nodded, buttoned her coat with flair, and swept toward the door. “Goodbye, all,” she said, waving a hand as she bustled out into the snow.
“You have to admit,” Casey said, “she knows how to make an exit.”
Devin gave a short, dry laugh, shaking his head. “I’m surprised she didn’t ask me to dim the lights for her walk to the door,” he muttered, the amusement in his voice thin and strained.
As his voice trailed off, silence fell over them, thick and heavy, broken only by the rhythmic creaking of the wooden beams against the wind.
Casey cleared her throat. “Now that Raven’s left the building, I’m grabbing a sandwich at Savory Snacks. Do you want to join me?”
His gaze flickered toward a stack of books, then back to her. “I’d like to, but I don’t have backup today.”
“I can bring you one.”
“I’ve got one from home.”
She smiled. “How’s your mom?”
“Good. Busy decorating.”
“Do you put lights around the outside of your house?”
Nodding, he said, “Yes. Every year. Being an only child, I’ve learned to help around the house as much as I can.” He glanced at the window. “Glad I did it a couple of weeks ago when it was warm.”
“I’m sure your house looks beautiful. Is your mom cooking or are you two going out?”
“Staying home. I look forward to the holiday dishes she makes every year.”
“It’s nice having family this time of year,” she said.
An image flashed: multi-colored lights blinking on a Christmas tree, handmade presents tucked under its branches.
Her grandmother stood at the stove, smiling ear to ear as she served pot roast and mashed potatoes, spooning out Jello salad—green and red, studded with pineapple and cherries—onto mismatched plates.
Her cousins crowded around the kitchen table, voices overlapping, laughter spilling everywhere.
It was the same every time she was lucky enough to spend Christmas with her grandmother.
It was familiar and warm and imperfect in all the ways that mattered. And gone.
A lump rose in her throat. She swallowed it down.
“Are you okay?” Devin asked.
Devin’s voice cut through the images of her past. She shook her head slightly, and the memories scattered to the far corners of her mind. “Yeah. Just drifted for a second.”
“Let’s do dinner before Christmas,” he said.
“I’d like that.”
“Would your Insurgent?”
She laughed. “Probably not, but we’ll do it anyway.”
Devin smiled. “I’ll leave it up to you.”
She glanced outside. “The snow’s really coming down.”
“I might close early if it doesn’t let up,” he said. “I added three extra weeks to your due date.”
“Thanks. See you later.”
“Be careful out there.”
The cold slammed into her like jagged ice, biting sharper than it had earlier in the day.
She looked down the street at the brightly lit Savory Stacks sign reflected in the snow surrounding it.
A cup of mushroom bisque and their signature gourmet grilled cheese, made with Gruyère, sharp cheddar, and fontina, tugged at her, but the thought of walking another two blocks in the frigid air held her back.
I’ll just open a can of soup when I get home.
At this point, she’d already made up her mind to take off early. She turned toward the theatre.
By the time she reached her office, her fingers ached inside her gloves and her cheeks were numb.
As she untied her scarf, the wool brushed her throat, and she absently pulled it loose, suddenly aware of how tight it felt.
A sliver of unease crawled up her spine, and she frowned.
Then she hung her coat, shook snow from her boots, and dropped her purse beside the desk.
The quiet was familiar and steady. She suspected most of the crew had already taken off, eager to avoid being caught in a major snowstorm.
Casey packed what she needed to work from home: grant folders, her laptop, a notebook already half-filled with notes.
The snow came down harder, thick flakes tapping against the windows.
It was better to finish up at home where it was warm, quiet, and safe.
She could even take a break and curl up with a glass of chardonnay and one of the books she’d checked out from the library.
After she packed everything up, she slipped on her coat, stuffed the scarf into her briefcase, switched off the lights, and headed out.
The drive home took longer than usual due to the ice-slicked roads and the number of traffic lights knocked out by the storm.
She entered through the garage door, discarded her boots and coat in the mudroom, padded across the kitchen floor, dropped her briefcase on the breakfast counter, then headed upstairs to change into her favorite fuzzy lounger.
After a glass of wine and a small plate of cheese, crackers, and dates, she settled into her desk chair and began to work.
Dusk sneaked in without warning, the last weak rays of sunlight snuffed out by a dense layer of clouds.
Not even the moon or early stars made an appearance.
Casey stretched in the chair, then stood and walked toward the window.
The snow had eased since she’d left work.
The trees lining her street were silhouettes against the creeping darkness, their branches swaying and creaking in the gusting wind.
She leaned against the wall, rubbing the back of her neck.
It had been a long day, and it didn’t help that she hadn’t eaten anything since the night before.
She pushed away from the window and walked into the kitchen.
After pouring another glass of wine, she stared at the cans lined up in the cupboard.
She wished Savory Stacks delivered, but even if they did, she doubted they were still open.
With a sigh, she snagged a can of corn chowder with poblano peppers.
While the soup heated on the stove, she took a deep drink of wine and thumbed through an interior-decorating magazine.
Casey loved the feel of a printed magazine: the glossy pages, the way the words sat on the paper.
Zoe and Raven thought she was crazy for keeping a subscription, but it was one of her guilty pleasures, along with dark-chocolate almond clusters and a couple of shots of amaretto once in a while.
She jumped when her phone chimed. Expecting Zoe’s name, her stomach fluttered when she saw Rags on the screen.
“Hey,” she said, pressing the phone to her ear.
“Hi, beautiful. You at home?”
“I am. I left early and brought work with me. It’s nasty out there.” She took a sip of wine.
“Good. I wanted to make sure you made it home okay.” His deep, low voice caressed her.
“You’re sweet. How’s Throttle doing with his rehab?”
“Bitchin’ and fightin’ it every step of the way.” A low laugh melted over her.