RaeAnne Thayne - Christmas in Cold Creek

She gazed around at the small, dingy house with its old-fashioned wallpaper and the water stains on the ceiling. She had a sudden memory of her elegant town house in an exclusive gated Scottsdale community, trim and neat with its chili-pepper-red door and the matching potted yucca plants fronting the entry. She suddenly missed her house with a longing that bordered on desperation. She would never have that place back. Her mother had effectively taken it from her, just like she’d taken so many other things.

She pushed away her bitterness. She had made her own choices. No one had forced her to sell her town house and use the equity to pay back her mother’s fraud victims. She could have taken her chances that she might have been able to slither out of the mess Monica had left her with her career—if not her reputation—intact.

Again, not the issue here. She was as bad as Gabi, letting her mind wander over paths she could no longer change.

“If you flunk out of fourth grade, my darling sister, I’ll have to homeschool you and we both know I’ll be much tougher on you than any public school teacher. Come on. Four more questions.”

Gabi gave a heavy sigh and picked up her pencil again, apparently tired of pitting her formidable will against Becca’s. She finished the problems without any noticeable effort and then set down her pencil.

“There. Are you happy now?”

As Becca expected, her sister finished the problems perfectly. “See, that wasn’t so tough, now, was it?”

Gabi opened her mouth to answer but before she could get the words out, the doorbell rang, making them both jump. The sudden hope that leapt into Gabi’s eyes broke Becca’s heart. She wanted to hug her, tell her all over again that Monica wasn’t likely to come back.

“I’ll get it,” the girl said quickly, and disregarding all Becca’s strictures about basic safety precautions, she flung open the door.

If ever a girl needed to heed stranger danger, it was now, Becca thought with a spurt of panic at the sight of the Pine Gulch chief of police standing on her doorstep. Trace Bowman looked dark and dangerous in the twilight and all her self-protective instincts ramped up into high gear.

Gabi looked disappointed for only a moment before she hid her emotions behind impassivity and eased away from the door to let Becca take the lead.

“Chief Bowman,” she finally murmured. “This is … unexpected.”

Not to mention unfortunate, unwelcome, unwanted.

“I know. Sorry to barge in like this but I’ve been charged with an important mission.”

She glanced at Gabi and saw a flicker of curiosity in her sister’s eyes.

The police chief seemed to be concealing something out of sight of the doorway but she couldn’t tell what it was from this angle.

“What sort of mission?” Becca was unsuccessful in keeping her wariness from her voice.

“Well, funny story. My niece, Destry, apparently is in the same school class as your daughter.”

She couldn’t correct his misstatement since she was the one who had perpetrated the lie. She shot a quick look at Gabi, willing her to keep her mouth shut. At the same time, she realized how rude she must appear to the police chief, keeping him standing on the sagging porch. She ought to invite him inside but she really didn’t want him in her space. On the porch was still too close.

“Yes, Gabi’s mentioned Destry.”

“She’s a great kid. Always concerned about those she counts as friends.”

And he was telling her this why, exactly? She smiled politely, hoping he would get to the point and then ride off into the sunset on his trusty steed. Or maybe that pickup truck she could see parked in the driveway.

To her surprise, he appeared slightly uncomfortable. She thought she detected a hint of color on his cheekbones and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Anyway, Destry said Gabrielle told her you didn’t have a Christmas tree yet and your daughter didn’t know if you’d be putting one up this year.”

She narrowed her gaze at Gabi, who returned the look with an innocent look. They had talked about putting a tree up. She’d promised her sister they would find something after payday the next week. She had to wonder if the concern from Chief Bowman’s niece was spontaneous or if Gabi had somehow planted the seed somewhere.

“I’m sure we’ll get something. We just … between moving in and settling into school and work, we haven’t had much free time for, um, holiday decorating. It’s not even December yet.”

“I tried to tell Destry that but when we went up into the mountains this afternoon to find a tree for the ranch house, she had her heart set on cutting one for you, too. Look at it this way. One less thing you have to worry about, right?”

Finally he moved the arm concealed around the door-jamb so she could see that he was indeed holding a Christmas tree, dark green and fragrant.

“You don’t get any fresher than this one. We just cut it about an hour ago.”

A tree? From the chief of police? What kind of town was this?

She hadn’t put up a Christmas tree in, well, ever. It had seemed far too much trouble when she was living alone. Besides, she had never had all that much to celebrate, busy with clients and contracts and court filings.

For an instant, she was transported to her very best memory of Christmas, when she was seven or eight and Monica had been working to empty the bank account of a lonely widower who had either been genuinely fond of Becca or had been very good at pretending. He had filled his house with Christmas decorations and presents. A wreath on the door, stockings hanging on the mantel, the whole bit.

She had really liked the old guy—until he’d called the police on Monica when he began to suspect she was stealing from them, and Becca and her mother had had to flee just a few steps from the law.

Now here was the chief of police standing on her doorstep with this lovely, sweet-smelling Christmas tree. “I … oh.”

She didn’t know what to say and her obvious discomfort must have begun to communicate itself to Trace Bowman.

“I can find another home for it if you don’t want it,” he finally said as the pause lengthened.

“Oh, please.” Gabrielle clasped her hands together at her heart as if she were starring in some cheesy melodrama and trying desperately to avoid being tied to the railroad tracks by some dastardly villain. It was completely an act. The part of Pleading Young Girl will be played tonight by the incomparable Gabrielle Parsons.

Becca had no choice but to give in with as much grace as she could muster. And then figure out how she was going to afford lights and ornaments for the dratted thing.

“A tree would be lovely, I’m sure. Thank you very much.” She was grateful. Her half sister might have the soul of a thirty-year-old con artist in a nine-year-old’s body, but she was still a child. She deserved whatever poor similitude of Christmas Becca could manage.

“I didn’t know if you would have a tree stand so I snagged a spare from the ranch house. If you’ll just let me know where you want it, I can set this baby up for you.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“Have you ever set a real tree up before?”

Real or fake, she didn’t know the first thing about a Christmas tree. Honesty compelled her to shake her head.

“It’s harder than it looks. Consider the setup all part of the service.”