Joan Kilby - A Mom for Christmas

“Liz is meeting me at Dusty’s,” Frederik said. “Come on, join us. I could ask her to bring a friend.”

A couple of years after Charmaine’s death, when the shock and grief had eased a little, Aidan had played the field, going out with a different woman every week. Gradually he’d lost interest in romances that went nowhere as he came to the sobering conclusion that after Charmaine, the chances of him forming a lasting relationship were slim to nil.

That hadn’t stopped his brother, Nate; his cousin, Marc; and now Frederik, from inundating Aidan with unwelcome attempts at matchmaking. Maybe if he told them the real reason he wasn’t looking to replace Charmaine they would accept he would always be a loner. But that was between him and the mountain.

“Emily’s waiting for me and I’ve got paperwork to do before I leave,” Aidan said. “Maybe another time.”

“Ja, sure,” Frederik said with cheerful skepticism. Rising, he gathered up his uniform and ski boots to carry them to his locker. “See you tomorrow.”

Aidan finished changing and went to the dispatch office to file his report. Christy glanced up from her computer screen. “Hey, Aidan, how’s it going?”

“Not bad. Rich said you were looking for the 10-40 on the woman with the broken leg.”

Rolling her eyes, Christy handed him a half-finished form. “I only asked him if you were on your way in to base. I knew you’d file when you got a chance.”

Aidan pulled a waterproof notebook from his pocket and, flipping to the correct page, began to transfer the information. The two-way radio crackled in the background and Christy turned her attention to taking the details of a call-in from another patroller. Aidan finished filling in the incident report and when Christy was free, handed it to her. Then he pulled on his gloves and lifted a hand in farewell. “Catch you later.”

“Wait, Aidan.” Christy rose and leaned over the counter, her fingers playing with the end of her ponytail. “Are you going to Dusty’s?”

“Not tonight. I’ve got to get home to Emily,” Aidan said quickly and smoothly. Christy was a good friend and he wanted to keep it that way.

Her full mouth curved downward in a disappointed droop. “You’re no fun.”

“A gorgeous girl like you will find someone to play with.” Aidan smiled warmly to take the sting out of his refusal. “Catch you later.”

He caught the gondola down the mountain and made his way through the village to his Land Cruiser, his boots crunching on the icy crusts of snow left by the plow. The streetlights came on as he drove out of Whistler Village and down Highway 99 to Emerald Estates where Charmaine’s mother, June, lived with her husband, Roy, in a two-story timber home among towering hemlock and spruce trees.

June cared for Emily after school and on Saturdays when Aidan’s shift fell on the weekend. Although she never came right out and accused him, he knew his mother-in-law blamed him for Charmaine’s death; certainly she didn’t believe his eyewitness account of her daughter’s last minutes alive.

Aidan drove through the gathering dark, picturing Emily waiting for him as she did every night, her small nose pressed against the window as she peered into the winter gloom, looking for the lights of his vehicle to turn into the driveway. Maybe Marc and Nate were right, he did need to get a life, but at the end of the day he didn’t care about anything very much as long as he had Emily.

Nicola Bond stepped off the bus at the Village Gate Boulevard, her stainless-steel camera case in hand and another camera bag slung over her shoulder. After the heat and humidity of Sydney the crisp mountain air bit her cheeks and sent her digging in the pockets of her navy down jacket for her gloves. A snowflake melted on her nose and she glanced up at the darkening sky to see fluffy white flecks drifting in the glow of the streetlight.

Instantly she was transported back to her childhood in Whistler before her family moved to Australia. She and her cousin Charmaine had gone skiing and ice-skating together, then as they’d grown older, Charmaine had taken Nicola to parties and dances. Charmaine had been beautiful, funny and smart. Everyone, including Nicola, had loved her.

“This your bag, miss?” The driver hauled her battered blue suitcase from the storage compartment beneath the bus and placed it on the hard-packed snow.

“Thanks.” Nicola’s breath came out in little puffs of condensation. With all her luggage accounted for she headed for a nearby phone booth.

She dialed her aunt’s number and glanced at her watch. Only four-thirty and it was already dark; she’d forgotten the early winter nights in Canada.

“June Greene speaking,” a cultured feminine voice said.

In the background Nicola could hear a high-pitched child’s voice. With a surge of excitement she wondered if she was listening to Charmaine’s little girl.

“Aunt June? It’s me, Nic.”

“Nicola!” her aunt exclaimed with pleasure. “Where are you?”

“In Whistler. I just arrived on the bus.”

June made a sound of exasperation. “You should have told us which flight you were coming in on. We’d have met you at the airport.”

“I didn’t want to put you out. The bus was fine. I’m calling now to let you know I’m here, instead of just turning up on your doorstep.”

“Roy is still at work and I’m stuck here at the house until Aidan picks up Emily,” June said. “If you want to find a place to have a coffee I’ll come for you as soon as he leaves.”

Aidan. Nicola had a crush on him in high school, a hopeless infatuation which she’d never even confided to Charmaine. Years later, when her cousin wrote that she was going to marry him, Nicola had thrust her jealousy aside; she could never compete with Charmaine.

She’d flown back to be a bridesmaid at Charmaine’s wedding. Aidan was the dashing groom sweeping his beautiful bride into a fairy tale life, and so handsome he made Nicola’s heart ache. That memory was in stark contrast to the snapshot June sent after Charmaine’s funeral of a grief-ravaged widower at a snowy graveside, holding his baby daughter.

Adjusting her eyes to the outside she could see the snowflakes were falling thicker and faster. “No, please don’t trouble yourself. I’ll get a taxi.”

She walked back to the Yellow Cab waiting at the taxi stand next to the bus stop and gave the driver her aunt’s address in Emerald Estates. Nicola burrowed into the corner of the back seat and peered through the window as the taxi bore her away. The tires sounded muffled on the thin layer of freshly fallen snow as they drove past expensive new condominiums and town houses. The resort had grown almost beyond recognition since she’d lived here, but the towering peaks of Whistler and Blackcomb Mountains that guarded the valley were comfortingly familiar.

June opened the door before Nicola could ring the bell. Her blond hair shining above a black cashmere cardigan, she opened her arms and enveloped Nicola in a warm embrace and a cloud of expensive perfume. “I can’t believe you’re here at last. You are staying for Christmas, aren’t you? Your father didn’t seem to know when I talked to him. He said something about a photography assignment.”

“That’s right,” Nicola said. “I’m meeting a colleague, a travel writer, here in January. I’m sorry it’s so last-minute but we just got the go-ahead on the book. I came early so I could spend the holiday with you and Uncle Roy.”

“That’s what I was hoping,” June said, releasing her. “When I heard you were coming I wrote my mother in Edmonton and asked her if she could get out to the coast, too.”

“I’d love to see Grammy.” Nicola let her camera case slide to floor. “Is she going to make it?”