Candlelight Christmas

Two unbreakable rules:

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and should never be skipped.

There is nothing—repeat, nothing—that cannot be improved by the addition of bacon.

Maple Bacon Bread Pudding

Nonstick baking spray

1 pound bacon

Maple sugar or brown sugar, to coat bacon slices

1½ cups cream

½ cup pure maple syrup

1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

Pinch of salt

6 eggs

8 slices brioche or challah bread

Preheat the oven to 375° F. Coat a 9-inch round or oval pan with baking spray.

Dredge bacon slices in maple or brown sugar. Bake the bacon on a sheet tray between two pieces of parchment paper until crispy, 15 to 20 minutes. Then crumble the bacon.

Mix the cream, maple syrup, pumpkin pie spice, salt and eggs. Line the pan with the bread and pour the egg mixture over it. Sprinkle with bacon crumbles. Cover and refrigerate a couple of hours or overnight. Then bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until eggs are set. Serve with warm syrup.

[Source: adapted from Food & Wine magazine]

Chapter Nine

The week after Darcy finished the Lake Placid photo shoot and returned to the city, her sisters took her to lunch. It was their annual pre-Christmas planning-and-strategy lunch during which secret Santa names were drawn, menus and venues were planned and general excitement over the upcoming holiday reached a fever pitch.

Darcy dreaded it.

She used to look forward to the tradition as the kickoff to her favorite time of the year. The five sisters, knowing all their lives that they had more brains and creativity than money, used to delight in coming up with innovative ways to make the holidays merry, and planning things was half the fun. The Collinses, forever known as the “boys next door,” always celebrated with the Fitzgeralds, and the tradition was solidified when Lydia married Badgley ten years before. When Huntley was married to his first wife, she’d been included in the joint celebration, as well. After their children—Amy and Orion—had come along, Darcy had happily crocheted them little caps and booties, never dreaming she’d one day be their stepmother. The year the marriage had ended, Darcy had joined her sisters in consoling Huntley. The year after that, she’d become his wife. She’d loved Huntley and his children with all her heart.

She’d loved the combined family holiday, too—the Christmas Eve feast, the caroling trek to midnight services, the Christmas morning breakfast, the opening of the presents, the gift-stealing game and the silly pickle prize, each moment steeped in tradition, becoming part of the cherished fabric of memory. Now that she was divorced, she understood how friable that fabric was, disintegrating at the slightest touch, like a burned veil. The love she’d started out with had simply gone away.

“Thanksgiving wasn’t the same without you,” said Kitty.

“That’s right. We made a new rule. No more going our separate ways at the holidays, no matter what,” said Lizzie.

“I don’t remember voting on that rule,” Darcy said.

“We made it with you in mind. Part Two of the New Rule is that if you’re uncomfortable with the guest list, you get to speak up.” Lydia eyed the mimosas that came to the table, but settled for orange juice and sparkling water.

“And you’ll actually listen? What a concept. So, what brought this about?” Darcy paused. “Oh, wait. Don’t tell me. Huntley’s kids were horrible.” She pictured Amy and Orion at their worst—obnoxious, making a mess, squabbling with each other, fussing about the food. Back when she was married to Huntley, she had known how to take charge of the kids. They complained about her being bossy, but when she was around, they behaved.

“I think they miss you,” said Mary.

I miss them, too, Darcy thought. Yes, they’d been impossible the past couple of years, but they were kids, hurting kids.

“However, we decided it’s not fair to include Huntley if it means you won’t be there for the holidays.”

Did they have any idea how small that made her feel? How petty and selfish? She pictured what it might be like, with Huntley and his children barred from the traditional celebration. Would Huntley’s parents defect, as well? His brother? And then Lydia? The entire holiday would come apart at the seams, all because Darcy didn’t want to be anywhere near Huntley.

“It won’t work,” she said. “Badgley and Huntley are practically joined at the hip. I can’t imagine Badgley would agree to this.”

“Badgley doesn’t get a vote,” Lydia said simply, folding her arms. “Please, Darcy. This is a really important time for us.”

“What the heck do you mean, really important?”

“We’re...” Lydia’s eyes misted. She slowly sipped her mimosa. Her virgin mimosa, made with sparkling water.

“Oh my gosh,” Darcy said. “You’re pregnant!”

Lydia nodded, her smile soft, aglow with pride and mystery. “Yes. Finally.”

Darcy reached over and hugged her so hard they nearly fell off their lunch counter stools. “That’s fantastic, Lyddie. I’m so excited for you.”

The other sisters squealed and hugged, and Lizzie, always the most emotional of the bunch, teared up.

“You’re all the first to know,” Lydia said, dabbing at her eyes. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad yet. Badgley and I are going to make an announcement on Christmas. That’s why it’s so important to have everyone present.”

Darcy took both her sister’s hands and squeezed them tight. “I couldn’t be happier for you. I’m completely thrilled for you and Badgley. But I want your announcement to be a wonderful moment for the whole family, one you’ll always remember. My being there, having to endure Huntley, would only cast a shadow over your good news.”

“Darcy—”

“I’m going to do everyone a favor and make this simple.”

“No,” said Mary and Kitty simultaneously.

“My friend India invited me to spend the holidays with her and her family, and I’ve accepted.”

“But you did that at Thanksgiving,” Lydia pointed out.

“And we all survived.” Darcy still thought about that magical weekend, far more than she should. In the middle of Manhattan’s freezing rain and winter darkness, she would often catch herself gazing out her office window and conjure up memories of the sunshine warm on her skin, surfing on a private beach, swimming with friendly dolphins, kissing Logan O’Donnell....

“This is different,” said Kitty. “This is Christmas. Nobody skips out on Christmas.”

“I’m not skipping out. I’ll just be...elsewhere.”

“This is not happening,” said Lizzie, doodling with a red pen in her dayrunner. “We have to stick together at Christmas. We have to.”

“Otherwise the world will come to an end, right?” Darcy touched her sister’s arm. “Look, I don’t want to make trouble. I’m trying to save everyone the tension and awkwardness of me being in the same room as Huntley.”

“Just don’t be tense and awkward around him, and all will be well,” Mary said simply.

“Sure,” Darcy snapped. “I’ll just forget that he still shows up for family holidays as if he deserves to be there.”

“We don’t want him there, either,” said Kitty. “We want you. That’s why you should come, and we’ll tell Huntley he’s not welcome.”

Darcy could imagine this conversation going round and round, never finding a conclusion. She was sorely tempted to tell her sisters about the cheating, but that would open yet another avenue of conflict. They would take sides, they’d gang up on Huntley, they’d create a rift between the families, just at the moment Lydia was going to deliver a new Collins baby. Darcy clenched her jaw, unwilling to be the architect of that.

“My mind is made up,” she told them. “I’m going away for Christmas. I’m going to have a fantastic time.”

“With your friend India? Doesn’t she feel guilty, stealing you away from your family? What kind of friend is she?” Mary asked.

“The best sort. The kind who’s there when I need her, offering what I need. In this case, I need to do something fun and different, like surfing at Thanksgiving.”

“She’s got a point,” Lizzie said. “Surfing sounds fun.”

“Totally fun,” Darcy assured her. “They might not be surfing, though. According to India, the O’Donnells are negotiating where they’ll be spending Christmas, too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Lydia. “Where are they taking you?”

“They’re deciding between sunshine and snow.”

“You mean they have more than one fabulous vacation spot?” Kitty nudged Lydia. “Maybe we should all make friends with the O’Donnells.”

“Maybe you should,” Darcy said. “One faction of the family wants to spend Christmas in the Florida sun. Another wants a white Christmas in the Catskills.”

“What sort of place in the Catskills?”

“India’s brother, Logan, is a partner in a ski resort in Avalon, up in Ulster County.” Darcy knew which location she preferred, but she didn’t get a vote.

Lydia gave a low whistle. “There’s a brother.”

“And this brother,” said Lizzie, “does he happen to be single?”

“And does he happen to have red hair and green eyes and a killer smile, not to mention a set of abs like a cheese grater?” asked Mary.

Darcy smacked her. “Hey, you’ve been snooping.”

“I call it research,” Mary stated. “Is it a secret?”

“No, but it’s...new. It might be nothing. Or it might be a thing.” She knew she was blushing furiously now, because she kind of wanted it to be a thing. She’d even scheduled a shoot for a sports gear client at Saddle Mountain next week, hoping she’d run into him.

“Now it all comes clear,” Lydia said, laughing at Darcy’s flaming cheeks. “We know what Darcy wants for Christmas.”

“Hey—”

“And you can’t smack me,” Lydia said. “No smacking the pregnant sister.”

Chapter Ten

Logan paced back and forth on the train platform, stomping his feet and swinging his arms across his chest in order to stay warm. A cold front had arrived the night before, and it hovered like an alien spaceship, beaming wintry weather down on Willow Lake. A fresh dumping of new snow blanketed the town, and the sun was trying to break through, offering glimpses of frigid blue sky. The fresh snow was a boon for Saddle Mountain, which had opened with great fanfare the first Saturday of December. The place had been busy ever since, teeming with locals and tourists, visitors from the city, people who loved the bright chill of winter and the exhilaration of a day on the slopes.

He hadn’t taken a day—or even more than a few hours—off since the ribbon had been cut by the town mayor at the base of the main chairlift. This day was special, though. In a kind of terrible way. Maya Martin was bringing her kids to stay with him for the next two months.

The cold bit at his earlobes. He tugged his hat down lower and paced a little faster, stimulated by nerves as well as the temperature. He couldn’t imagine what Maya must be feeling right now. How did you tell your kids goodbye for two whole months? Sure, he had a similar challenge with Charlie every time he sent him to his mom’s, but the circumstances were never as extreme as Maya faced.

They would not be allowed to visit her. She had insisted on this. She didn’t want her children brought to the concrete-and-razor-wire-surrounded facility to be frisked and questioned and then ushered into some cheerless, monitored holding room where they would undoubtedly watch her fall apart, only to be escorted away in tears.

After agreeing to take the kids, Logan had gone down to the city a couple of times to see André and to meet Angelica, his younger sister, so she wouldn’t feel so completely foisted off on a stranger. He’d submitted to screening questions and a background check by social services, intrusive but understandable. He couldn’t imagine what the children were feeling right now.

He checked his phone, scrolling through the photos on the screen to a shot of the little girl. She was aptly named, completely angelic, as beautiful as her mother, though in a tiny, seven-year-old-missing-two-front-teeth way.

The first time he’d met her, she had sung a song to him—her own rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way.” Little kids singing and smiling never failed to tug at the heartstrings. Little kids who had to be taken away from their mothers at Christmas didn’t just tug at the heart. They yanked until that fragile organ broke.

The train arrived, lumbering into the station with a steamy hiss and screech of brakes. Logan’s heart sped up. He wanted this to go well. He prayed the kids wouldn’t cry or worse, burst into hysterics.

He and Maya had a plan. They would drive together up to his new place on the mountain, get the kids settled in and then she’d say goodbye to them there. It seemed the least traumatic way to handle the situation.

The passenger car disgorged an eclectic mix of people—tourists and travelers, everyone bundled up for the cold. He was gratified to see a good number of skiers and snowboarders heading up to Saddle Mountain. The chalet was booked solid through the holidays.

Logan was determined to make not just a success of the resort, but a major success. He wanted to do it for the sake of accomplishing something, and to build something for the future. For Charlie. And yes, he could admit this—to prove to his father that it could be done.

“Well, well,” said a bright, cheery voice. “Now I feel like a VIP. It’s really nice of you to meet my train.”

Logan was amazed to see Darcy Fitzgerald, of all people, pulling a roll-aboard along the platform toward him. What the hell was she doing here?

His heart skipped a beat when she smiled at him. In the space of that one missed heartbeat, everything came back to him—the laughter and fun they’d had last time they were together. Surfing in the Florida sunshine. The beach. The kiss. He had thought about that kiss for days.

He should have called her. But he’d let himself get busy. First there was the process of getting Charlie on his flight to his mom’s. Then there was the return to Avalon to oversee the opening of the resort. He also had to work with Maya on the plan to take care of her children. Time had gotten away from him, and eventually, it just seemed awkward to chase Darcy down. She probably didn’t want to hear from him, anyway.

And yet here she was, appearing without notice, like a surprise delivery.

She gave him a quick hug, her breath warm on his frozen cheek. Even through the layers of their jackets, he could feel her taut, athletic body. What the hell—? He tried to figure out the meaning of the hug. Was it the hug of his sister’s friend...or of a girl who was interested in him?

“I guess India told you I was coming.” She spoke rapidly, as if she was nervous. Or maybe just excited.

“Actually, I—” He stopped himself. Okay, this was crazy. She seemed to think he was here at the station for her. Trying to explain the situation with Maya’s kids would take more time than he had.

“This week turned out to be perfect timing for one of the firm’s clients.” Darcy definitely sounded excited now. “We’re going to shoot some video and photos of their snowboard gear with a holiday theme. I took your suggestion and organized everyone to come here instead of Gore or Whiteface. You were right about this place being perfect at the holidays.” Her eyes sparkled as she pushed back the hood of her parka and looked around the station. It was decked with swags of fresh greenery, lights and shiny ornaments. Carols streamed from hidden speakers.

“Anyway,” she said, “the photo crew we’ve booked is the best. They’ll make Saddle Mountain look like a dream, I swear. Everyone else drove up yesterday to get organized for the shoot, but I had some work stuff to take care of. We’re all going to rendezvous at the resort. Your assistant’s been really helpful in coordinating all this.”

Finally Logan put the pieces together. He had extended the invitation to Darcy, never dreaming she’d take him up on it. His assistant, the superefficient Brandi, had one mission—to deal with everything he didn’t have time to deal with, including public relations, which was probably why he hadn’t heard anything about Darcy’s project.

Suddenly he found himself getting very excited about this new wrinkle. Christmas was coming early this year, it seemed.

“That’s great,” he said.

“Which way is your car?” She looked toward the exit.

Oh shit. She was expecting him to offer her a ride.

“Uh, yeah. I’m actually meeting someone else today,” he said, supremely uncomfortable. “I didn’t realize—”

“Oh!” Her cheeks turned red—even redder than they were from the cold. “Oh my gosh, that was totally presumptuous of me, to assume you’d come to give me a ride.”

“Any other time, I’d love to offer you a lift.” He cast about, trying to figure out when he could get together with her. With the arrival of Maya’s kids, it was going to be hard to carve out time to do anything. “It’s just that today, someone special is coming.”

“Oh.” The smile left her eyes, yet stayed frozen on her lips.

Those delicious ripe lips. He knew how soft they were, he knew they tasted like berry lip gloss; the memory had haunted him since he’d kissed her. He was an idiot. “I mean, not that you aren’t special, but, I mean—”

“Logan,” called Maya, waving from down the platform. She came walking toward him, towing her kids along behind her. Her face taut with nervousness, she put her arms around him and gave him a hug. He knew why she clung; he could feel her shuddering intake of breath and sensed she was about to shatter.

“Hey,” he said, stepping back. In the realm of awkward moments, this one definitely ranked.

“So,” said Maya with forced cheerfulness, “are we going straight to your place or—”

“My place,” he said, then stepped farther away from her. It was too late, though. His foot was already planted deep in his mouth. “Er...Maya, this is Darcy.”

“Hi,” said Darcy; then she shifted her glance at Logan. “Sorry, I’d better be on my way. I’ve got...you know, that work stuff going on.”

“Sure. Of course.”

“Good to meet you,” she murmured, and hurried away, practically running as she followed signs to the taxi stand.

Logan suppressed a groan of frustration. He couldn’t let himself worry about her for the moment. Shifting gears, he focused on the kids, trying to figure out how in God’s name to make this easier for them. He couldn’t. No one could. “Okay, gang. To the mountaintop. You’re going to love it there.”

“I’ve been to your house,” said André. “Last summer. Remember? I got to have a sleepover with Charlie before camp started.”

“You’re right. But that was a different house. The one in town. I sold that house and moved.”

“Where do you live now?” asked Angelica.

“On the mountaintop, like I said. There’s a big old house up there that will hold everybody who’s coming for the holidays. You get to sleep in a bunk room with Charlie and his cousins.”

“Cool,” said André. “I get the top bunk.”

Logan opened the back door of the Jeep and loaded in their luggage. “Buckle up. It takes about half an hour to get to the new place. Even Charlie hasn’t seen it yet. He doesn’t arrive for two more days.”

The kids chattered nonstop on the drive up the mountain. They seemed excited and, to Logan’s relief, not terrified that their mother was about to leave them.

“Mama has to go away for a job,” said Angelica.

Logan glanced at her in the rearview mirror. The little girl looked guileless. He didn’t blame Maya for fudging the details. No point in scaring the kids by telling them their mom was headed for a frightening place. A quick scan of André’s face revealed a different story. Logan suspected the boy wasn’t fooled for a minute. André’s skin was stretched taut across his cheekbones, and his eyes were narrowed as he watched out the window.

“So, Charlie is really excited about having Christmas with you guys,” Logan said. “He can’t wait to see you. He’s coming all the way from Oklahoma.”

“He’s moving to Japan,” said André. “He wrote me an email about it.”

“That’s cool that you guys email each other.” Logan was glad to hear it. He received regular emails from his son, too, filled with briefly stated facts—the world according to Charlie. “I got a haircut today.” “There was a field trip to the Vehicle Operations Center.” “Sushi was invented in Japan. I ate one sushi roll and it was yucky. When I move to Japan I will not eat sushi.”

Logan always wrote back promptly. It was not the same as being with his son, but with the emails and daily video phone calls, they managed to stay connected.

“Why did you move to the mountaintop?” asked André. He kept staring at the winter woods out the window. The black lines of the bare trees etched the hillside.

“It’s not exactly the top,” said Logan, “but close enough. I live there because it’s near my work, a resort called Saddle Mountain.”

“What kind of resort?” asked Angelica.

“In winter, it’s a place to go skiing or snowboarding, or sledding. You can also take a nature hike if you bundle up and stick to the trails. We can put on the snowshoes.”

“That sounds like fun,” said Maya. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“How will Santa Claus know where we are?” asked the little girl.

“Kids always wonder that,” Logan said. “He just does, that’s all. It’s one of the special things about Christmas.”

“Really?”

“When I was your age, my parents took me to Florida at Christmas. And Santa always found me, and I always found what I was wishing for under the tree.”

“I don’t get how that works,” said Angelica.

“It just works,” said Maya.

“Your mother is right. Sometimes it takes a miracle. What do you want from Santa?” Logan asked.

“I’m not telling,” André said. “I’ll only tell Santa.”

“Good plan,” he said.

“I’ve heard if you tell too many people, it might not come true,” André pointed out.

Logan carefully navigated his way up the winding mountain road. The town fell away, yielding to the fantastic scenery of the winter woods with sunshine peeking through. “Tell you what. We’ll put up a special light display to give Santa a landing indicator. Just in case.”

“If we live with you while Mom is away, who will take care of us?” asked Angelica.

“I will,” said Logan.

“But who’ll be the mom?”

“I can do everything a mom can do, except I’m a little better at certain things.”

“What things?”

“Singing, for one. Snowboarding.”

“Really? What else?”

“Cooking, for sure. Wait until you taste my homemade hot chocolate. You’ll be like, Logan, you should make this for everybody on earth. Then there would be world peace. And global warming would end.”

A giggle erupted from the backseat. “What else?”

“Armpit farting. I’ll teach you how.” As they drove past the resort on the way to the house, he pointed out the highlights. “That’s the main lodge, where you can get a mean bowl of chili and the best French fries known to man. The ski school is on the end there. All the instructors wear neon lime-green parkas so you can find them. The chalet is like a hotel, and it’s got an outdoor pool and two hot tubs.”

“Can we use the pool?” asked André.

“Sure. We get special privileges because we run the place,” said Logan.

“Sweet.”

Logan liked having the kids with him, even though they reminded him of how very much he missed Charlie.

Pulling up in front of the garage of his place, he looked at it as a stranger might, and was struck by how large the residence was. It had been the original resort lodge, later repurposed for the owner’s family and a number of resident workers. In recent years, it had served as a rustic B and B. It had the same old-world vibe as the rest of the resort, with shutters on the windows and brown painted railings all around, a chimney on each end of the building and lights glowing in the windows. When he was by himself in the big old place, he felt like a marble in a pinball machine, rolling around aimlessly. Having the kids with him was going to fill a void, for sure.

“Here we are,” he said, getting out and gathering their bags. “Come on in, and I’ll show you around.”

“Who’ll look after us when you’re at work?” asked Angelica.

“Her name’s Chelsea,” said Logan. “She’s coming up to meet you later this afternoon. You’re going to love her.” Chelsea was a friend left over from his married days. After the divorce, the friends tended to divvy themselves up: Friends of the ex-bride, friends of the ex-groom. Chelsea was one of the few who straddled the line, staying in touch with both Logan and his ex.

“Your house is really big,” said Angelica, stepping through the front door. She glanced up at her mother, who nodded reassuringly.

“Lots of room for everybody,” Maya said.

Logan gave them a quick tour—the kitchen and great room, TV lounge and boardinghouse-sized dining room with a long table lined with seating for sixteen. He had never eaten at that table, not once. It made him feel ridiculous, one guy in all this space. The second and third stories featured bedrooms and bathrooms of all sizes, including a bunk room for eight.

“Here’s where you’ll sleep. When Charlie and his cousins get here, there’ll be seven kids.”

“Cool,” said André, climbing like a monkey to a top bunk.

“That’s a houseful,” said Maya.

“I’m up for it,” Logan told her.

She kept checking the screen of her phone. As they walked through the rest of the house, exploring nooks and crannies, dormer windows with views of the snowy woods, she seemed to grow more and more tense. He then gave them a quick tour of the resort.

In the main lodge, he spied Darcy Fitzgerald from afar, but she seemed busy with her friends or work associates, so he steered clear of them. Maya was clearly unraveling, and he needed to focus on getting the kids settled in. He led the way back to the house.

“Doing all right?” he murmured, holding the door for Maya.

“Freaking out,” she said. “My doctor gave me something for anxiety, but the pill I took this morning is wearing off.”

“Who’s hungry?” he asked, turning to the kids.

“Starving,” André said.

“Let’s go make some sandwiches.”

While the kids debated PB&J versus grilled cheese, Maya watched them with her heart in her eyes. Logan hurt for her. He ached all over, imagining how hard this was going to be. “Eye on the prize,” he said to her in a low voice. “Keep that February release date in mind.”

“It’s the only thing keeping me sane,” she said, and checked her phone again. “My ride back to the station should be here by now.”

Adam Bellamy had volunteered to drive her back down to the station.

“He’ll be here soon,” Logan assured her.

“I almost want to get it over with.”

Logan nodded. “The sooner you get going, the sooner you’ll be back.”

“Yes. Oh my God, how could I have been so stupid?” she asked, moving to the foyer, where the kids were out of earshot. “So, so stupid?”

“Hey, take it easy. You’re only human.”

“I thought I loved him. I kept thinking...I wasn’t thinking. Love makes us do such stupid things. Why is that?”

“No clue. I’ve made my share of mistakes.” He noticed her watching her kids, devouring them with her eyes. “I swear on my life, I’ll take good care of them,” he told her.

“I know, Logan. I can’t thank you enough.”

When her ride pulled up in front of the house, she wobbled a little on her feet, and Logan took her gently by the arm to steady her. “Easy,” he murmured. “It’s going to be all right.”

“Hey, guys,” she called to her kids, “I gotta go. Come give me hugs and kisses.” Her face was stiff with the battle against tears as she sank down on one knee and opened her arms to them.

Logan’s heart felt ripped in two as he watched her tell them goodbye, breathing deeply as though to inhale their essence. The kids clung, but relinquished their hold readily enough, innocent of her true destination.

“Be strong,” he told her. “You’re going to get through this.”

She practically fled to Adam’s truck, and she didn’t look back. The kids stared after her, stricken.

Logan burst into action. “I’ve got a surprise for you two.”

“What’s that?”

“We’re going to decorate Christmas cookies. Ever tried it?”

André looked skeptical. “You mean with icing and stuff?”

“Icing and sprinkles and everything good. You should see the stuff I bought. But these aren’t just any cookies,” Logan warned him.

“Yeah? Then what are they?”

“They’re Walking Dead Christmas cookies.” Logan went into zombie mode, with a stiff, swaying gait as he growled ominously, taking swipes at both kids.

Angelica squealed and they both ran for cover. Logan herded them into the kitchen, cranked up the music on the stereo and hoped for the best.

Chapter Eleven

Darcy was distracted in the worst way when she met up with her team for the video shoot. Everyone bustled around with excitement, and normally she would share that energy, reveling in the sense that they were about to do something very, very cool. There were few things more exciting than being chosen to test gear and show it off for the client.

But today she had something else on her mind—Logan O’Donnell. She’d made a fool of herself over him at the train station. What a boneheaded move, showing up, unannounced, on a transparent pretext. And then to jump to the conclusion that he’d come to meet her at the station... She shuddered in horror and wondered how she was going to smile for the camera.

It was a total bummer to find out that her crush—her very inappropriate crush, as it turned out—was now dating a woman with kids. A woman who happened to look like Sofía Vergara. How nice for him.

Darcy felt like a grade-A idiot, chasing after him even though he hadn’t called or sent a text or even a freaking one-line email since Florida. Bringing her team to Avalon for the shoot was hopelessly transparent, the equivalent of a junior high girl riding her bike past the cute boy’s house to get his attention.

Come to think of it, she had tried that ploy in seventh grade and it hadn’t worked then, either.

No wonder he hadn’t called after Florida.

One kiss was hardly an obligation.

Even if it was an amazing kiss.

Even if it happened after a moment of shared magic, like when the dolphins appeared.

Even if it was the kind of kiss she couldn’t stop thinking about, long after it was over.

“We’re ready for you, Darcy,” said the shoot coordinator. “Oh my gosh, you look amazing.”

“Two hours of hair and makeup, and I’m a natural beauty,” she said, flourishing her fashionably gloved hand.

“Ha-ha.”

“Where do you want me?”

“Top of the long chairlift. The light’s perfect today. This resort is ideal, by the way. Whose genius idea was it to shoot here instead of Lake Placid?”

“That would be me,” Darcy said. Me and my dumb ideas.

“It’s great. I’ll bet we can wrap this up in a day.”

That was a relief, Darcy thought as she rode the lift, sharing the ride up with a guy named Jeff, who said he was local and had been skiing Saddle Mountain since he was a kid.

“I like what the new owner’s doing,” he said, pushing his ski goggles up on his helmet.

I don’t, thought Darcy. But to be polite, she said, “What’s that?”

“He’s keeping what people like about the resort and building on it, instead of changing everything all at once.”

At the top of the lift, the crew waited with a woman called Brandi, who was Logan’s überefficient assistant. She’d coordinated everything via email. She wore retro stirrup ski pants with a tight sweater, and she was pinup model pretty. She was soon joined by the resort’s director of operations, a striking redhead in a green jumpsuit who was causing the videographer to drool. Apparently Logan liked surrounding himself with beautiful women. No wonder he wasn’t interested in Darcy. Plain old girl-next-door Darcy.

“Ready?” asked the camera guy.

“Ready,” Darcy said.

“Go make our gear look pretty,” said the snowboard company rep.

“I’ll do my best.” Darcy was no supermodel, and she knew it. But when she was on the snow, she felt the same magical rush she felt when surfing. All the beauty of the world flowed through her, and the joy of the ride was a tangible thing, an element that could be seen and photographed. Today there was a bonus—the Christmas season had arrived.

It had always been her favorite time of year, and she was absolutely determined that no one steal the pleasure from her. Even though she’d bowed out of the whole family thing with the Fitzgeralds and the Collinses, the prospect of Christmas buoyed her spirits. Even her realization that Logan was dating someone was actually good news, Darcy decided. Now she didn’t even have to decide whether or not she had a crush on him. There was no decision to be made except to remain happily single. It was further proof that she wasn’t ready for a relationship of any sort, not at this juncture, and she was particularly not interested in a man with a kid.

Even if that man was wildly attractive and kissed like a dream lover.

So there, she thought, and pushed off the slope into a sunny, powder-dusted glade. It was a day made for floating. The sky was the color of a bluebird’s wing. The hill was bejeweled by last night’s snowfall, sparkling in the sun.

The joy of the ride overtook her. She could feel it in every movement, in the speed and in her stance. As she wove between the bare maple trees and birches, the cold wind on her face and the sun in her eyes made her feel alive, and full of the special energy of a brilliant winter day.

“Awesome,” said Kyle Bohner, the videographer, who was on skis and down the hill from her, draped in camera equipment. “This is going to be rad.”

The sunshine today was a rare gift, its rarity making it all the more special. She was able to forget everything as the day progressed. The crew had found her a backcountry run that was untouched, a powdery headwall of snow creating a brilliant natural sculpture on the cheek of the hill, bordered by craggy Catskills granite.

The client’s signature gear, from the helmet to the snowboard’s colorful underside, would look fantastic in this light, against the dramatic backdrop. They did shot after shot of Darcy floating down the steep terrain, popping up into some trick moves, including her signature Fitz Twist.

By the end of the shoot, the sheer volume of adrenaline pumping through her had chased away the awkward encounter at the train station. The sun was just riding the crest of Saddle Mountain when the shoot coordinator declared it a wrap. They all trooped into the resort lodge for a warm-up before packing up to return to the city. Darcy took off the helmet and was running her fingers through her hair when she spied Logan with his girlfriend and her kids, leaving the lodge. He was holding the door for them as they trooped out.

He looked up and spotted Darcy—how could he miss her, the season’s bold color being apple-green—and offered a wave of the hand.

Whatever, she thought, waving back. She’d had a damn good day and she was not about to let him or anyone else ruin it.

She joined the crew in the bar, a rustic spot with Adirondack furniture and a big central river rock fireplace, good music streaming from hidden speakers. She chastised herself for getting her hopes up about Logan O’Donnell. She should’ve known better.

“Something’s on your mind,” said Bohner. “What are you thinking?”

“That if you never get your hopes up,” she said, taking a sip of hot chocolate, “you’ll never be disappointed.”

“Ouch,” he said. “Not sure I’m down with that.”

“Sometimes you need to protect yourself,” she said. “No, not sometimes. Always.”

“But if you’re always protecting yourself, you miss out on the good things as well as the bad.”

“At least you’re safe,” she said.

“Interesting that you’re willing to risk life and limb on the ski hill but not emotionally.”

“I had no idea you were an armchair psychologist.”

He laughed, the movement shaking his shoulder-length dreadlocks. “Just used to looking at people, I guess.”

While they were settling the tab, she wondered if this little incident would change her plans for Christmas. She had been totally excited about spending the holidays with the O’Donnells. Fun in the snow, a small-town celebration, good food and good friends. The fact that Logan was apparently hooking up with a superattractive woman should not matter.

Oh, she wished it didn’t matter.

Maybe she should change her plans. Maybe she should go overseas and find a country where they’d never heard of Christmas.

Her phone made a glissando sound, signaling an incoming text message.

She checked the screen. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw who the message was from—Logan O’Donnell. She felt very tentative as she touched the screen and read the message: FYI, she’s not my girlfriend.

Just that. Nothing more. What the hell was he telling her this for? Was it the truth? Did he think it mattered?

She tapped out a response. FYI, neither am I.