Chapter 13 MJ
MJ finished the last of the clean-up, taking her steaming mug of peppermint tea to the kitchen table where a notebook and pen waited for her. Outside, the first softness of evening had started to fall in the mountains on this, the penultimate day of the year.
Since Cindy was out with Jack for a trip into town, she had time to concentrate on party plans.
Settling in her chair at the table, she looked down at her to-do list. The gathering would be intimate, mostly family, but no one had a clue that the event was anything other than a New Year’s Eve party.
That meant it would be a complete surprise to everyone when Jack got down on one knee and asked Cindy to be his wife…again.
A shiver danced over her.
Was there anything better in the whole world than a proposal? No. It was such a pivotal and thrilling moment, so packed with promise and hope and no one—absolutely no one—deserved that happy ending more than hard-working, good-hearted Cindy.
Well, she wouldn’t mind Gracie and Nicole getting that moment, too. And maybe…
“Stop,” she muttered to her imagination, which was certainly in overdrive today. She flipped to a clean page in the notebook to start a list of snacks and desserts she’d want on hand, noting what she’d have to cook.
Her pen was still while her mind…wasn’t.
Was she worried about the lodge? Yes. But this felt more…personal.
She let out a sigh, tapping her pen against the notepad. Sixty-two wasn’t old, but sometimes it felt like her heart had been retired, too. She’d had her one great love—George—and losing him had left a void she never expected to fill. She’d never thought she needed to fill it.
Was she worried that watching Jack slip that ring on Cindy’s finger tomorrow night might make MJ ache for something—
The creak of the mudroom door and a soft shuffle of footsteps made MJ glance up, heart giving a leap when she saw Matt Walker stepping in. His chestnut brown hair was slightly mussed, and he looked more serious than usual as he slipped out of a jacket and kicked off his shoes.
“Hello.” She put her cup down and straightened, smiling at him. “Is everything okay in Cabin Five this afternoon?”
Matt gave her a smile that always seemed just a touch mysterious. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve been in town all day. I was actually looking for you.”
The words sent a little delight through her chest, though she told herself not to read too much into it.
“Well, here I am,” she said lightly, forcing herself into her usual hostess mode as she pushed up. “Do you need more towels or another log for your fire?”
He shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Well…maybe a cup of tea. And”—he slid his gaze to the frosted cookies on the counter—“one of those bad boys.”
MJ laughed, grateful for the simple request. “Help yourself and have a seat. You like the lemon ginger tea, right?”
“You do know your guests’ preferences, MJ. Will that go under my picture in your book?”
“I haven’t taken your picture yet,” she remembered, snapping her fingers. “But don’t think you can get out of it. A Polaroid for every guest who’s ever stayed here. Under yours it will say…lemon ginger tea, can fix roofs, and is very…”
He lifted his brows, waiting.
“Charming,” she finished, smiling as she filled the kettle.
Charming? Oh, MJ. Are you flirting?
Maybe.
“I heard there was a lot of excitement in the paddock today,” he said. “A girl in a wheelchair rode Copper?”
“Oh, yes.” While she prepared his tea, she told him about Elise, loving that he listened so attentively and asked questions that demonstrated sympathy and heart.
She served him the tea and sat across from him, pushing the empty notebook to the side. The party could wait. Matt was too…important.
She wasn’t sure how that had happened, but it had.
His smile faltered as he lifted the mug and looked down at it, the softest sigh escaping. And all that did was make her want to know…why?
She normally didn’t really care that much about her guests’ every sigh. Oh, she worried if their rooms were warm, their bellies were full, or their beds clean and comfortable.
But she felt differently about this man, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
“Oh, I meant to tell you we’ve called the roofer,” she said after the silence lasted a beat too long.
“And? Was I right about the support beam?”
“He couldn’t come this week, but we’re on his schedule for the morning of January second. I just hope it’s…”
“A reasonable fix?” he guessed when she didn’t finish.
“We’re going to need a new roof,” she said, shaking her head. “But I don’t really want to think about that today.”
He nodded, taking a sip. “The new year will solve all your problems,” he said.
She gave a soft snort. “If only it were that easy, Matt.”
He just gave a tight, impossible-to-read smile.
“Speaking of the new year,” she said brightly, “we’re having a little gathering, just family and friends for New Year’s Eve. Will you join us?”
He raised a brow. “I’m on that VIP list?”
“Of course,” she assured him. “Just a fun celebration and…” She bit her lip. “Maybe a surprise.”
He leaned closer, intrigued. “You’re going to have to tell me.”
MJ pressed her lips together. She couldn’t ruin Jack’s big moment, no matter how tempted she was to share the secret. “I can’t. But trust me—you don’t want to miss it.”
His smile faded, and he set his mug down with a quiet clink. “I mean, you’re going to have to tell me because I won’t be here.”
Her heart thudded. “Oh. Did you make New Year’s Eve plans?”
“I’m, uh…” He shifted in his seat. “I’m leaving in the morning, MJ.”
The words landed like a blow. MJ blinked, trying to process them. “You are? But… Oh. That’s so sudden.”
“I’ve been here since Thanksgiving.” He gave a small shrug, though his eyes were shadowed. “It’s time.”
She swallowed, her throat tight. “So you’re going back to Florida?”
For a fleeting second, something flickered across his face—pain, maybe. Regret. Then he shook his head. “For a while, yes.”
The disappointment hit harder than MJ expected. She had pictured him at the party tomorrow night, a quiet anchor amid the joyful celebration.
She’d imagined—just maybe—that the new year might bring something new for her, too. She was going to dress up, sip some champagne, and…have a midnight kiss?
Now that was taking her famous optimism too far.
“Did you know this all along or did you just decide to leave?” she asked because, honestly, she was a little sad he hadn’t told her sooner.
“I just…yeah, it’s time to go.”
“Did something happen?” she pressed, so unsatisfied with that answer. With all his vague responses, to be honest.
He muttered something that sounded like, “Not really,” and picked up his mug again.
“Matt,” she said, keeping her voice level. “I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but can I ask you something?”
He looked over the rim and adjusted his glasses, barely nodding.
She chose her words carefully and said them slowly. “Haven’t we become good enough friends that you can be honest with me?”
“I’ve never lied to you,” he said simply, the statement carrying a little more weight than she actually expected.
“Well, you’re not being completely honest right now.”
He gave a low laugh, as though trying to defuse the tension. “Well, you’re keeping secrets too, remember? You just refused to tell me what tomorrow night’s surprise is.” He leaned back, his tone playful but not entirely light. “People have all sorts of reasons for keeping things to themselves.”
She conceded the point with a tip of her head, though her frustration simmered. It wasn’t the same. Not at all. And to prove that, she took a breath, then whispered, “Jack is proposing to Cindy at midnight.”
“Oh!” His eyes widened, then lit with genuine delight. “Really? That’s wonderful news.”
“It is.” MJ’s throat tightened again. “I’ve been…overjoyed, honestly. Relieved. I’ve always hoped those two would find their way back to each other.”
“Engaged,” Matt said, treating the word with appropriate respect. “How does that make you feel?”
“Me?” She drew back at the question. “I just told you. I’m thrilled for them. For all of us. I love having Jack back at Snowberry Lodge.”
“Anything else?” he asked, his tone gentle but probing.
MJ blinked. “Like…what?”
“I don’t know, maybe...that you could have something like that.”
“Romance? A proposal?” She managed to scoff lightly. “I’m sixty-two, Matt. Be serious.”
“I am serious.” He searched her face, his gaze intent like he really wanted to know the answer to this. “Is that something you’d ever want for yourself?”
What was he saying? She tried to not give away any of the fifty emotions that were ricocheting through her body and maintain a perfectly composed expression. She tried to act as though they were talking about the weather or the cookies, not…a romance.
“I’ve never really considered it,” she managed, hoping that was a neutral and natural response.
Because nothing in her felt neutral or natural right this minute.
He just looked at her. “Never? Not once? Not…lately?”
“What are you asking me, Matt?”
“I think you know, MJ.”
Well, he’d be wrong about that. She didn’t know and she hated anything cryptic, ambiguous, or confusing. “You’ll need to be blunt,” she said.
He didn’t answer, but visibly swallowed. Maybe he was really shy. Maybe he didn’t know how to say what he wasn’t saying.
“Listen, Matt,” she started slowly. “This friendship has meant…something to me. More than I expected. But the truth is, I hardly know anything about you, and you know my whole life story. You’ve listened a lot, but haven’t told me much. Nothing deep, anyway. And now you’re leaving.”
“Oh, there’s nothing to tell.”
“No, that’s not true.” She leaned forward, a bolt of determination shooting through her. “Start with who are you.”
“Who I—”
“What is your story?” she interjected before he could derail her. “Why did you stay here all these weeks, alone? And, excuse me for my inexcusable directness, but where did you get all this money if you were just a plumber?”
Her words tumbled out in a rush, years of carefully measured composure cracking under the weight of his vague and cagey responses.
He didn’t say a word in response.
“Do you have any idea how frustrating this is?” she asked. “To care about someone who has to be hiding something?”
His expression fell and he reached over the table and put his fingers over hers.
“MJ,” he said, his voice as gentle as his touch. “I’m so sorry. But some things can’t be explained. Not yet.”
Her gaze dropped to his hand, seeing his wrist, where the gleam of his watch caught the light.
“How about the fact that the back of your Rolex says Graham Walker? Can you explain that?”
“It’s my”—he tugged his sleeve over the watch face—“legal name.”
“Okay. Why do you go by Matt? Is that a story about your past you might share? And why did you pick this lodge? Can you tell me that? And—”
He put a light finger over her lips, the touch nearly sending electricity through her, and instantly stopped her words.
“Would you give me one year?”
“Excuse me?”
“Just one year,” he repeated. “Would you…wait for me?”
“Wait for…what? Why?”
He closed his eyes, clearly struggling to find the right words. “You’re right, MJ. I’m not being completely honest, but I promise you, I have a good reason.” He sighed, then took her hand again. “I need one year. It’ll take that long to…” He swallowed. “I need to…change my life.”
“Change your life? How?”
“I have some…things.” He exhaled, in obvious torment. “Things I need to…to…get rid of—for lack of a better word—before I can be the man I want to be…for you.”
Chills rose over her arms. Was he married? Was a wife something he needed to get rid of? Was a divorce what would change his life? That would take a year. Or maybe he had to do time for something he’d done?
Was Matt a criminal? About to go to prison? Or…maybe it was witness protection.
“What are you talking about, Matt? You have to tell me.”
“I can’t,” he said. “You’d never look at me the same and I need you to…like me.”
“I do like you,” she replied. “At least, I did.”
“Then you can again. In a year.”
“Matt—”
“I like you, too, MJ.” His thumb brushed her knuckles, his eyes fierce and earnest. “But I have a…a burden I have to deal with before I can start something real. Please. Just give me a year.”
“I don’t know if I can do that without answers.”
“You’ll get the answers,” he said, anguish threading his voice. “Until then, can you trust me?”
Honestly, she wasn’t sure, but she was certain of one thing—her heart was tearing in two.
Their gazes locked, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the whole world held still. Then, slowly, he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
“Goodbye, Mary Jane.”
She couldn’t speak. She sat frozen in shock and sadness as he stood, hesitated, then walked back to the mudroom, donned his jacket and boots, and stepped outside.
When the door clicked shut, MJ sank back, staring at the empty room and closed door, feeling a hollow, heavy ache in her chest.
Tears pricked her eyes, and she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. Tomorrow night, the lodge would be filled with laughter and celebration. Jack and Cindy would start their new life together.
She needed to cling to that, not her girlish hopes of…a midnight kiss.
MJ closed her eyes, letting a single tear slip free.