Cynthia Thomason - High Country Christmas

In one moment Ava had gone from being in control, calm, even kind—a woman who searched for solutions to difficult problems. Now she almost seemed like someone who was hiding something. First, she was looking him directly in the eye and then she was looking anywhere that didn’t include him in her line of sight. Had she changed her mind about keeping Sawyer? That would be okay with him. He would take his daughter home, if he could get her to go.

He’d been so relieved when the Chapel Hill cop called with information on Sawyer. So, on practically no sleep, he’d left his house figuring he’d race to this little town of Holly River, pick up his daughter and give this parenting gig another try. He’d told Mrs. Filmore to plan on both of them being home for dinner.

He knew Sawyer didn’t care for the housekeeper, but she’d never liked any of the women he’d hired, four in the last year to be exact. They’d all come highly recommended. Strict? Conscientious? Sure. That’s what he’d wanted in a competent housekeeper, one who wouldn’t let his clever daughter make the rules, and then bend them when they didn’t suit her. He’d wanted a kindly grandmother type who could relate to Sawyer on a personal level but be able to wield a strong sword when Sawyer’s lack of discipline called for it.

Now he was on the verge of firing this latest woman who, Sawyer claimed, as always, was more wielder than relater. Maybe he’d keep Mrs. Filmore on until Sawyer decided life at the Sawtooth Children’s Home wasn’t any more to her liking than life in Chapel Hill. In fact, she might decide it was far worse. This change of heart might happen in less than a week.

True, Sawyer didn’t care for the housekeepers, and she’d probably be happier if the only person she had to answer to was her dad, but she’d never complained about the many material things her absentee father’s job provided. She couldn’t have the lifestyle she’d grown used to if she had a parent who was home all the time sitting behind a desk, but couldn’t make enough money to keep paying off a fancy home in an exclusive suburb and credit card debt. Sawyer needed to learn the meaning of trade-offs. He sure as heck had, and it was time his daughter mastered one of life’s toughest lessons.

And besides, he’d seen enough of Ava Cahill to know that she wasn’t going to be a pushover. Until he’d actually looked at her and found her reluctant to look back, he’d decided Ava was strong, authoritative and the most powerful figure at the home. Her word was apparently law, and Sawyer might decide in a few days that she couldn’t cope with the regimented lifestyle of Ava’s rules.

As the threesome prepared for the tour, Ava seemed to have returned to her role as by-the-book administrator. She hadn’t looked at Noah since they went out the front door of the administration building. The only view he had of Ava was her rigid back as she walked in front of him and her dark hair pulled tightly into a bun. He could almost believe she’d forgotten he was there.

Ava and Sawyer walked together and Noah followed. Ava kept up a steady stream of conversation with his daughter, pointing, waiting for a reaction from Sawyer that was probably never going to satisfy her. Maybe Ava loved this place, but Noah knew his daughter. She was probably already planning her next escape.

“Let’s take the golf cart,” Ava said, approaching the vehicle left by the front entrance. “It’s probably warmed up enough that we’ll be comfortable. Besides, the campus is rather large, and we need to cover quite a bit of ground.” Logical Ava, back to analyzing, deciding, but without the sensitivity of the person he’d met when he first arrived. The woman who claimed a personal and heartfelt relationship with all the children under her care. Where had this Ava gone? Had she ever really existed?

Sawyer quickly climbed in the front seat next to Ava, probably to avoid sitting with her father. Noah took the rear seat and angled his body so he wouldn’t miss any of Ava and Sawyer’s conversation. He was still the father, and he wasn’t about to give up any of his parental rights without knowing what Sawyer was getting into.

“So what’s the story of all you Cahills?” Noah said as a way of breaking the ice and asserting his presence. “How many are you? Do you more or less run this town?”

Ava drove the cart around the side of the building. She still hadn’t looked at him. Her attention was on her driving as if the windshield had asked the question. Good grief, it was just a golf cart. What’s the worst that could happen if she made a driving error? They’d have to circle a sand trap?

“I don’t see what my family has to do with your leaving Sawyer in my care, but okay,” she said. “I can satisfy your curiosity.”

“I appreciate that,” he said.

“You met my brother Carter, who is chief of police. His wife is Miranda. As Carter told you, she’s a social worker. My other brother, Jace, runs the family Christmas tree farm. His soon-to-be wife is Kayla. Then there’s Emily, Miranda’s daughter, Nathan, Jace’s son, and my mother, who lives just outside of town. Of course, we need to add in numerous uncles, aunts and cousins.” She headed toward a field where people had gathered. “Satisfied?”

“What do you think of that, Sawyer?” he asked his daughter. “In our family it’s just you and me. Do you wish there were more of us?”

Noah waited for the answer. After an uncomfortable few seconds, Sawyer just said, “No. One dictator is enough.”

Ava stopped at a grassy area. Tables were set up and folks were helping themselves to food and drinks. Many of the younger ones wore Sawtooth Home sweatshirts on which was proudly displayed a large, sturdy oak tree, obviously the origin of the name.

“What’s going on here?” Noah asked.

“This is our typical Sunday gathering,” Ava said. “The kids and the cottage parents get out of cooking and doing dishes as long as the weather is nice, and we have a picnic on the grounds.” She parked the golf cart out of the way of the festivities. “Have a walk around if you like. Grab a hot dog. I’ll just be a minute.”

With no further explanation, Ava walked toward a dark-haired young boy. The child, probably no more than five years old, trotted over to her. Noah wasn’t an expert on kids, and he couldn’t get a good look at the kid’s face, but he decided the boy looked well dressed and well cared for if not especially happy to be eating hot dogs on a crisp Sunday afternoon.

Ava knelt down in front of him, held his hand and talked to him awhile. After a short time, she stood and spoke in a loud voice. “Run off and have a good time, Charlie. It’s a beautiful day for doing anything you want.” The child didn’t run. He ambled away, and he didn’t look like he was going to have any sort of a good time.

Ava dusted off her black pants and readjusted the red sweater set she was wearing. She watched the boy for some time until Noah came up beside her. “So he’s one of the residents I guess,” Noah said.

Startled, almost as if she’d forgotten her purpose with these newcomers, Ava whirled to face him. “I thought you were getting a hot dog.”

“Actually you told us to get hot dogs, but I don’t live here and decided I didn’t have to follow your order. I don’t know what Sawyer is doing.”

A wave of her hair escaped her bun and caught on some lipstick. She quickly tucked the errant strand behind her ear. For some reason Noah was fixated on the gesture. Ava Cahill had nice lips, he thought, though he couldn’t understand why he would spend so long looking at them or imagining what a lucky man might do with those lips.

She cleared her throat, pulled the lapels of her sweater more closely over her breasts and crossed her arms, which brought her back to administrator mode. “Yes. He’s a relatively new arrival. His parents died in a plane accident.”