Chapter 3
“He’s checking his list. He’s checking it twice.”
I woke to incessant humming and gray light filtering through the window.
My bones ached from sleeping on a couch six inches too short.
My coat lay draped over my chest like a blanket.
I didn't remember pulling it down from where I'd left it on the arm.
I wanted it to be Nick, but I suspected it was Ms. Rise and Shine.
The fireplace still glowed faintly, embers barely bright enough to register. Not out, but close. A kettle in the kitchen whistled loud enough it made my teeth shake. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I had broken out the retirement scotch.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had checked my watch before lying back on the couch. Nick had still been reading though it had been well past midnight. It wasn’t like me to fall asleep before the client, but the way he turned the pages in a book, he wouldn’t sleep until he reached the end.
I sat up and rolled my shoulder, working out the stiffness. My boots were still on. My jacket was still buttoned. I'd slept the way I always did on assignments. Ready to move if I needed to.
Charlene padded across the floor, her arms full of garland, barefoot and wearing yesterday's hoodie. She saw me and lifted one hand in a half-wave before resuming her path toward the tree. She hummed something under her breath. Carols. She couldn’t pick a somber tune.
No, she shook and shimmied as if it were a hard rock edition.
Before coffee, her perkiness was overwhelming.
I stood and stretched, then moved to the window.
The view looked out over the clearing behind the cabin.
Snow covered everything in unbroken white except for a narrow path that led to a woodshed about twenty yards away.
Fresh tracks marked the trail. Boot prints, evenly spaced, heading out and back.
Nick appeared at the edge of the clearing, arms loaded with split logs.
He moved without urgency, each step deliberate and unhurried.
He had changed from a red flannel to green.
I wanted to comment on his consistent style, but if asked, I’d say red worked better.
It brought out the warmth in his cheeks.
He reached the cabin and disappeared around the side.
Nick moved as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
If I were here as a protection detail, we’d need to discuss procedures and protocols.
Going outside in the open, where all hell could break loose, broke half a dozen rules.
It made about as much sense as everything else around here.
I heard the door open behind me. A gust of cold air swept through the room.
Nick stepped inside, snow dusting his shoulders and the top of his head.
He brushed it off with one hand and carried the wood to the fireplace.
He stacked the logs beside it in a neat row, adjusting them until they lined up perfectly. Another postcard moment.
He didn't look at me. Didn't ask if I'd slept. Just added two logs to the fire before shifting them with a poker. With a deep inhale, his chest and stomach puffed out, and I couldn’t help but admire his girth. He exhaled, and the embers grew brighter until the logs caught on fire. Perhaps somewhere along the way I drove through a portal into another dimension where everything resembled one of those holiday calendars? It wouldn’t be the first time.
Charlene reappeared from around the tree, stepping back to admire whatever she'd hung. No matter how much tinsel or ornaments she added, she was determined to add more. She tilted her head, frowned, then adjusted something I couldn't see.
"Better," she said to no one in particular. “Oh, more tinsel.” I had a feeling ‘more tinsel’ would be her answer to most problems. What exactly was she an intern of? I wanted to see her resume.
I stayed at the window. My stomach was empty, and somewhere I could smell sugar.
I assumed there were pies cooling in the oven.
Redline files were filled with oddities, but none like this.
I had a man who had barely spoken two words to me, and a girl who didn’t have a care in the world. Why did they need protecting?
“No questions,” I muttered.
Charlene bent down and opened another box, this one labeled ‘Pinecones’ in neat block letters. She pulled out a handful of small ornaments, each one painted gold and tied with red ribbon. She sorted them by size in a large wooden bowl on the table, humming as she worked.
Nick wiped his hands on his pants and moved into the kitchen.
At least with an open floor plan, I could monitor them, as long as he didn’t go rogue again.
Nick picked up the kettle and poured water into a mug.
Tea bag, no sugar. He didn't make a second cup.
It was hard not to take offense at this point.
I watched him take the first sip. His expression didn't change. Calm. Present. Unbothered. That’d be it for most people. I noted the way he rested his hand on the counter, leaning against it as his eyes dropped. Sorrow. Anguish. Pain. When he looked up, he caught me staring. I didn’t look away.
He didn’t look like a man needing protection. The slow movements and weathered lines on his face looked like exhaustion. This didn’t come from hauling firewood or swinging an axe. Something had eaten away at him little by little and all that remained was the husk of a man he once was.
Charlene held up one of the pinecones. “Nick.” She shouted as if he were her grandfather who had forgotten his hearing aid. “Do you remember where this one came from?”
He glanced over. Nodded once.
"Vermont?"
"New Hampshire."
"Right." She set it aside. "The year with the ice storm."
At least his reserved demeanor hadn’t been meant just for me. This dynamic duo was the most unlikely of pairs. She held up another pinecone from the box. Narrowing her eyes, I could hear her mutter, “Definitely Maine.”
He took another sip of tea and didn't respond.
She turned toward me and then spun her chair toward Nick. Charlene let out an exasperated sigh as if she had been mildly inconvenienced. “You two are gonna kill me with this energy.”
I said nothing. Nick returned his attention to his mug.
Charlene sighed. “I see your point, Charlene. You’re so wise.” She slid the box aside and moved onto the one marked ‘Snow Globes.’ Tearing it open, she eyed me again. “Are you going to be a statue the whole time?”
“Yup.”
“Oh, he talked! I thought you two were playing the Quiet Game. Careful now, next thing you know, we’ll be having a conversation.”
I shifted my weight, ignoring Charlene’s rambling.
I turned my attention back to the room. Everything in the cabin had a place.
Labels on every box. Shelves organized by category.
Holiday materials sorted by size and color.
The cabin could have been an advertisement for label makers.
It was too perfect. That’s what unnerved me.
The cabin suggested Nick was a man of ritual.
A specific spot for the firewood. A specific mug for tea.
Even his book rested on the end table as if it were being staged for potential buyers.
At first, I thought this might be a well-guarded safe house.
The familiarity said otherwise. This had been Nick’s home for quite some time.
Nick set his mug on the counter and disappeared down the hall without a word. His footsteps were soft against the floor. A door opened and closed somewhere deeper in the cabin. Then silence.
I stared at the empty hallway.
While I wasn’t looking, Charlene had found a pair of brightly colored nutcrackers. She stood next to me, eyes focused on the hallway. "He's not much of a talker," she said.
"Noticed that."
“You get used to it. He’s not trying to be rude. He just… is. It’s hard to explain. Don’t take it personally.” She snapped the Nutcracker’s mouth in my direction. “I can only imagine how difficult it is at that age. You’d think he just wanted to fade away.”
I didn't need to ask what she meant. The red sharpie on the calendar had greeted me for months every time I opened my locket. I wanted to vanish into the background and become a distant memory.
“What’s your story?”
“My cousin Janet got me this job. She claims to know Nick from back in the day.”
“Job?”
“It’s complicated.”
I wasn’t supposed to ask my client questions. Thankfully, the longer I spent with these two, the more I believed he was the one who needed protecting. From what, I wasn’t sure.
“Not an answer.”
“It’s not.” She grinned as she glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “See, I can do it too.”
“Can you—”
“Whoa. I’m going to stop you right there, cowboy. I’m an extremely underpaid intern.” Why did he need an intern? Live-in Nurse I could understand. “I keep him hydrated and take passive-aggressive notes. Want more? Stop being such a dude and go talk to Nick.”
Her right sleeve pulled back and revealed metal.
It was the first time something had disrupted the quaint cottage vibe.
I recognized an operation’s gauntlet. A similar model locked onto the suit in my duffel bag.
I had been trying to find a break from the marshmallows and hot cocoa.
It wasn’t much, but it was the first thing that had felt real since I had arrived.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. The space between my shoulder blades tightened. Some people had a knee that let them know when the pressure dropped before it rained. I had thoracic vertebrae capable of sensing danger.
Crossing the room, I checked the door. I reached for the lock and froze. There was no lock, no keyhole. Even in the middle of nowhere, a stranger could stroll in. I tested the handle. Solid. Old, but functional and capable of stopping my grandmother.
Charlene watched me from across the room. "Expecting company?"
"Always."
“You’ve got a weird job.”
“Look who’s talking.”