Chapter 2
Daphne relaxed in the front seat of Abe’s truck, wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, and listened to the Christmas music playing over the radio.
“Are you cold?” Abe asked as he drove along the mountain road.
“I’m always cold lately.”
“Have some more hot cocoa.” He motioned toward the thermos in the center console and turned up the truck’s heat.
She poured more cocoa into her mug and sipped, enjoying the hot, sweet taste. Even in the dark, the mountains rose like ghosts out of the snow, softened by flurries that drifted across the windshield in slow, hypnotic waves.
Abe drove with one hand on the wheel and the other rested casually on the gearshift. His strong, steady fingers tapped to the rhythm of Nat King Cole singing The Christmas Song. The music barely covered the rattle of sleet disguised as snowflakes and the crunch of tires rolling across packed ice.
The mountains at night were bleak, wild, and beautiful.
She pressed her forehead against the cold side window, watching the landscape change as they climbed higher. White-dusted pines lined the narrow road. In the distance a stream had frozen mid-fall.
If it wasn’t for the half-full moon and the truck’s headlights, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to see anything.
“You sure this road isn’t going to swallow us whole?”
Abe chuckled. “It’s happened. Once. Maybe twice.”
She whipped her head toward him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Mostly,” he said, eyes twinkling.
In jeans, parka, and knit hat, he looked relaxed behind the wheel.
He was at home here. And that made sense.
This was where he came from. Not just in the literal sense, but in the deeper way.
The snow, the mountains, the woods, his uncle’s cabin they were headed to.
It all appeared written into the shape of him.
“The roads aren’t bad yet,” he said. “If necessary, I’ll chain the tires before we head out again.”
“Could we get stuck?”
“Only if the wind picks up and blows drifts across the pass.” He winked at her. “Worst case, we ration cocoa and play board games until a plow finds us.”
“You’re too calm about the possibility of getting snowed in.”
“I was an Army Ranger. I know how to handle myself in winter climates.”
“Show off,” she said, taking another sip of cocoa.
He reached over to give her knee a gentle squeeze. “I grew up in these mountains. Snowed in meant no school and Jacob—because was the eldest brother—cooking chili over the wood stove.”
She noticed the sudden shift in Abe’s posture. Tension in his shoulders. He’d been like this lately every time he spoke of his family, especially his past.
She let the quiet stretch between them and listened to the music.
Finally, she asked, “Do you think Isaiah will win his lawsuit contesting Caleb’s will?”
“Dad will drag it out as long as he can. That’s what Isaiah does. He wants the fairgrounds and has unleashed a new round of lawsuits.”
She studied Abe’s profile darkened by his five o’clock shadow. “Doesn’t Isaiah know that you and Luke are building your new outfitter business there?”
“He knows. I haven’t mentioned my conspiracy thoughts to anyone else yet, but I think Dad is doing this because the fairgrounds are where we last saw our mom.”
She reached over and rubbed Abe’s neck. She’d heard this story a few times in the past six months, ever since she’d met him on the way to a wedding in Kingsmill—the wedding where her best friend Izzy married Abe’s first cousin Hawk.
That weekend, before Izzy and Hawk said their “I do’s”, Daphne and Abe had found each other in Sleepy Hollow, New York.
She’d been visiting a friend, and Abe had been searching for clues about his mother’s disappearance.
It'd been a hot-and-heavy attraction at first sight, and for the last six months they’d had no interest in letting go.
“It was a carnival night,” Abe said. “My mother walked away from the tilt-a-whirl and never came back. The entire town searched. No one found a trace.”
“Luke told me the police believed she ran off, like Caleb’s wife sixteen years earlier.”
“That has always been the town’s theory. But my grandmother was very clear about why she left Caleb, and it was no surprise when she drove away.”
“Yet your mother didn’t take anything with her? Not a wallet? Not a coat? Not even her purse?”
He shook his head. “She just disappeared.”
“What are you going to do about this new lawsuit?”
“Luke and I have to pay another lawyer to handle this for us.”
She released a long breath. Maybe this was why he’d been so distant lately. “Will that be a lot of money?”
“Probably.”
“I thought Luke was a lawyer?”
“Corporate hedge fund stuff. Not estate.” Abe slowed the truck as they drove around a tight switchback. “I’m not sure Luke is licensed in Virginia. He hated being a lawyer.”
“I’m sorry, Abe.”
He swallowed. “Caleb left that land to me and Luke because he knew we wouldn’t sell it off or turn it into a parking lot.”
“Then why is Isaiah contesting it?”
“My dad thinks that, as the eldest of Caleb’s six sons, he should’ve gotten first pick of all of Caleb’s properties.
When my dad didn’t get first pick, he took that as a personal affront.
He’s been dragging us through court ever since.
Now Luke and I need to prove that while Caleb was ruthless, he wasn’t careless with his estate.
He knew about our plans. His leaving us that land was no mistake. ”
She watched the trees blur into each other, hating this setback pressing on him. He and Luke weren’t just building a business. They were trying to reclaim something that had been lost a long time ago.
Her phone buzzed in her coat pocket.
She pulled it out, thumb swiping over the lock screen. The signal bars flickered like a dying candle. The text was from Valerie, the woman who owned the dance school where Daphne had been teaching for the past six months.
Valerie: In Florida with mom. Studio’s being sold. Buyers lined up but can give you first dibs. Call me.
Her pulse fluttered, but her limbs felt like they were sinking into sand, a sensation she hated but one that had become more frequent lately.
She typed back:
Driving. Talk soon.
Then she silenced the phone and shoved it into her coat pocket. She didn’t have the physical or mental energy to deal with Valerie now. Brain fog had been her constant companion for the past few weeks, and she just wanted to get to the cabin and rest.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing I can deal with right now.”
Suddenly, a static sound came over the radio and he turned up the volume.
“This is an emergency winter weather bulletin from the National Weather Service. A severe blizzard warning is in effect for Shenandoah County and surrounding areas. The storm is intensifying and moving with sustained winds of 40 to 55 miles per hour. Whiteout conditions expected within the hour. Snowfall rates of two to three inches per hour will make travel dangerous. Wind chills will drop to -20 degrees Fahrenheit or lower overnight. Seek immediate refuge and prepare to remain indoors for 12 to 24 hours. Repeat: shelter in place and do not attempt travel. This storm is life-threatening.”
The two-story cabin came into view, and Daphne leaned forward.
Its log frame, draped in fresh snow and tucked beneath towering pines, looked like something from an old Christmas movie.
Smoke curled from the chimney, and warm light shimmered behind frosted windows.
A wooden porch wrapped around the front, its railing strung with holiday lights that blinked beneath the falling snow.
“It’s lovely.” She hopped out of the truck and breathed in air so clean it almost burned. Snowflakes spiraled around her like tiny prayers. Everything was quiet. Like time had slowed to a hush.
“Uncle Gage and Aunt Lily recently renovated it.” Abe came around the truck with a soft smile. “Used to be nothing but drafty boards, bad wiring, and mice.”
“Now it looks like a fairy tale.”
Inside, it was even better. The entry opened into a cozy sitting room with wood-beamed ceilings and an open hearth.
The fireplace stood like a backbone between the sitting area and a bedroom beyond, visible through a rustic doorway.
A knit throw hung over the arm of a leather sofa flanked by two cozy chairs.
Everything smelled like pine, cinnamon, and cloves.
“The fire looks like it was lit a few hours ago.” She set down her overnight bag, pulled out her phone charger, and plugged it and her phone into the outlet near the coffee pot.
“Gage and Lily came up this afternoon. He checked the power while Lily put on fresh sheets. She likes taking care of people.”
Daphne took off her parka and wandered toward the kitchen while Abe brought in the rest of their things. The kitchen was small but modern, with soapstone counters, warm wood cabinetry, and a dining nook beneath a window dusted in snow.
She opened the fridge to find neatly packed containers with notes on each one.
Turkey chili – reheat slowly.
Sweet potato biscuits – best warm with honey.
Cocoa mix – use milk, not water.
She smiled. “Lily really likes taking care of people.”
“She’s the best cook in the county,” Abe said, coming in behind her with his emergency supplies backpack in one hand and her pink ballet bag slung over his shoulder.
“Abe, why did you bring in my ballet bag?”
Instead of answering, he set it on the counter and unzipped it.
Her stomach tightened when she saw what he’d packed.
Pink ribbons and elastic ready to be sewn. Darning thread and needles. And new pointe shoes, their soft pink satin gleaming and scuff-free.
“I wasn’t going to bring those,” she said.
“I know.” He met her eyes. “But your PT said you’re strong enough to dance on pointe again for more than a few minutes. That it’s time to start easing back into longer rehearsals.”
She ran her fingers along the smooth arch of the shoes, then zipped the bag.
“Daphne,” he started in a soft voice, “I thought maybe being up here—no pressure, no mirrors, no one watching—you’d feel safe enough to try again. Just if you want to.”
He said it so gently. So sincerely. But his gesture pressed something deep and terrifying in her chest.
Before she could reply, he glanced toward the counter where she’d left her phone. The screen lit up with the preview of Valerie’s text visible.
He picked up her phone, frowning. “Valerie is selling the dance studio? Weren’t you going to tell me?”
“I just found out. Besides, while I have savings and a retirement account, I don’t have the money to buy the studio outright.”
He set the phone down, not slamming it, just too carefully. Like he didn’t trust himself.
“Did you not think to ask me for help?”
“First,” she pointed to her phone, “I literally found out on our drive up here. Second, all of your savings is going toward your new outfitter business and that new lawyer, as it should. Third,” she turned back to the fridge, opening and closing the door, not sure if she wanted a cold soda or hot cocoa or a shot of whiskey, “I don’t know if I want to teach full-time when there’s a chance I can dance professionally. ”
“Except you won’t even try on your pointe shoes.”
She grabbed her phone, her overnight bag, and went into the bedroom dominated by an enormous bed. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
He followed her, but stayed within the doorway. “Daph.”
“No, Abe.” She kept her voice soft, but firm, and unzipped her overnight bag.
“I need time to figure this out. Except you’re now acting like this is some huge betrayal because I didn’t jump at the chance to rescue a business that doesn’t belong to me, I can’t afford, and I’m not sure I want to run. ”
She took out her clothes and dropped them on the blanket, next to her phone. Then she tossed her bag onto the floor. Not hard. Just deliberately.
He took her hand and forced her to sit on the edge of the bed, next to him. “Eventually you’ll have to choose a path forward. Do you want to stay here in the mountains and teach dance in your own studio? Or do you want to reclaim your career as a professional ballerina?”
“It’s possible the prima ballerina door has already closed.”
“Is that what your PT said when you saw her a few days ago?”
She stared at the dark window near the bedside table. The reflection of the room shimmered there like a ghost in firelight. Her face. Abe’s beside her.
She’d been traveling to a clinic in Manhattan that specialized in rehab for elite athletes and dancers.
It’d been grueling work, the constant travel and the physical therapy and corresponding workouts.
“My PT said it’s now up to me. If I’m willing to work harder than I ever have before, then I have a chance at reclaiming my career. ”
He stood to pace the room, his irritation obvious by the way he ran his hands through his hair, back and forth, like he was trying to yank it all out. “Why didn’t you tell me that when you got home a few days ago?”
She shrugged and threw herself back on the bed, one arm over her eyes.
She couldn’t bear the sadness in his voice.
“I also saw the director at the American Ballet Theater. I need to give them an answer after Christmas. If I choose to jump back in, with my therapist’s blessing, then I can stay with the company. If not, I’ll be on my own.”
“As a professional dancer?”
“Yes.” She moved her arm and met his dark brown gaze. “While freelance professional dancers have more freedom, it’s not the same thing as dancing with a company.”
He nodded before leaving the room.
He returned with her ballet bag and set it on a chair near a small desk in the corner. “I brought your pointe shoes because I thought they might help you feel like yourself again. Not to push you.”
She nodded, throat tight.
He started toward the door again. “I’ll start dinner.”
She hated that he’d put up another invisible wall. A wall she now realized was partially her fault.
“Wait.” The pink bag sat in the chair like a memory she wasn’t ready to hold. Valerie’s text glowed on her phone screen. Her heart pulled in opposite directions.
But when she saw the soft flicker of firelight dancing against the bedroom wall. And Abe, standing just beyond it, waiting, she held out her hand and said, “Don’t leave.”
He took one step toward her, his head tilted, his gaze hard on hers. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She stood, unbuttoned her white cardigan, and slipped it off her shoulders. Then came her cami, her jeans, and her socks, until all she had on were her white lace bra and panties. “I’m sure.”