Dancing in Lake Mistletoe (Lake Mistletoe #4)

Chapter Four

Dutch

I pick up Josie, and we head to the Snow Bird Café for cheeseburgers and fries.

When we enter, I lead her to the counter in front of the grill. I pick her up and place her on one of the red leather stools. The owner, Joe Walsh, greets us as I scoot her up close to the ledge.

“Hello there. How’s my favorite ballerina this evening?” Joe asks as he places two fountain Cokes, loaded with maraschino cherries, in front of us.

“I learned how to do a-sheppy today,” Josie tells him.

“ A-sheppy ? That sounds fun,” Joe says.

“It is! See, you jump and open your legs and make a house, and then you jump and bring them in and make a diamond.” She gets down from the stool and demonstrates the move for him. Her little feet turn out to the sides, and her arms go over her head as she jumps in the air.

“Wow! That was something else,” Joe says as he claps.

Josie grins at him as I lift her back onto the seat.

“I bet you worked up an appetite, learning that. Do you need a double cheeseburger tonight?” he asks.

She giggles. “No, silly. My tummy isn’t big enough for a double cheeseburger.”

He nods. “You’re right. Your dad over here is the one with the big belly. I’ll make him a double and get you the usual petite cheeseburger and fries,” he says.

She scrunches up her nose as she looks at me. “Daddy doesn’t have a big belly. He’s just big and tall and strong.”

Joe shrugs. “Oh, that’s why he can eat so much.”

He winks at me and goes to make our food.

“Mindi,” the girl behind the cash register calls out.

A girl in white running tights and a long-sleeved shirt, covered by a hunter-green down vest, approaches the register. Her brown curls with caramel highlights peek from under a white cable-knit cap and fall around her shoulders. Pink, caused by the chilly air, tints her cheeks and the tip of her nose.

She hands the cashier a credit card and pays before taking the brown paper sack. She turns to leave, but she stops and gracefully swivels back around on her toes.

She looks at Josie and smiles. “That was an excellent échappé.”

Josie beams at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the girl says before her eyes come to mine. She smiles, and then she takes her to-go order and disappears just as Joe returns with our plates.

“Joe, who was that?” I ask as I watch her cross the road through the window.

“I haven’t seen her before. She must be a tourist,” he says.

Pity.

On our way home, we stop at the mercantile to purchase a few bags of Halloween candy.

“Daddy! Can we get these too?” Josie holds up a package of ghoulish temporary tattoos.

“Tattoos, huh? Sure, put them in the basket. I’ll be everyone’s mom’s favorite,” I mutter.

“Everyone’s mom already loves you, Daddy,” she says as she tosses the cellophane bag into the basket.

“Is that right?”

“Yep, they ask about you all the time, and they think you’re handsome,” she tells me as she skips over to the next aisle.

I chuckle as I follow her.

There aren’t that many bachelors in Lake Mistletoe, so my relationship status has been a matter of public interest since I arrived back in town with my two-year-old in tow.

My wife, Lexi, and I had only been married three years when she started getting bad headaches with blurred vision and drowsiness, which kept her in bed for days. We assumed they were post-pregnancy migraines. Her mother had suffered from them. She even stopped breastfeeding in hopes of leveling her hormones and easing the frequency.

But after a month of her in constant pain and then the added nausea, her doctor sent her to get an MRI, just to be safe. Within days, we had a diagnosis of glioblastoma multiforme, which I had never heard of. It’s a malignant tumor that affects the brain and spine, and it grows and spreads rapidly. By the time we got in to see an oncologist and decided on a treatment plan, she had suffered two separate strokes and was very weak.

Before they could schedule the first radiation treatment, she was gone.

It was quick, which was a blessing, I guess.

But it left me reeling. Grieving and with a toddler who wasn’t quite two years old.

My mother and sister rushed to Boston to help me with Josie. They took turns staying a month at a time while I coped with the loss. As much as I appreciated their presence, I knew it wasn’t fair to keep pulling them from their lives. So, after Josie’s second birthday, I packed us up and moved back to Idaho.

It took a minute—and I can’t say I don’t still rely on my parents a bit—but I finally got the hang of this single-dad gig. Josie and I have a good life. Busy and at times chaotic, but a happy life.

There hasn’t been much time to dive into the dating pool. I won’t deny that I’ve dipped my toes in from time to time, but it’s been fleeting moments, shared with ladies just passing through on vacation or the occasional seasonal staff member at Sun Valley. The truth is, my hands are full with Josie, and my wants and needs are on the back burner for now.

So, I smile politely and give the politically correct response, “I just haven’t found the right one yet,” when inquiring minds ask about my love life.

Josie adds a box of green glow-in-the-dark twisty straws and a package of small pumpkin flashlights to our contribution for the goody bags, and we head to check out.

Once we’re home, Josie takes a bath and changes into a pair of warm leggings and a Hocus Pocus sweatshirt.

She is so excited to spend the evening with the girls at the Gingerbread Inn that she can barely hold still as I brush her hair and fasten it into a high ponytail.

I’m tying the laces on her fur-lined duck boots when the front door swings open, and Cobie comes barreling in with Isaac on her heel.

The girls squeal, delighted by the fact that they are wearing matching hoodies and boots.

“Thanks for picking her up, man,” I say as I slap Isaac’s shoulder.

“Are you kidding me? I have the easy part,” he says.

The girls talked me into letting Cobie sleep over tonight. Isaac was hesitant at first since he just picked Cobie up this evening, but he had been in South America on assignment for the past two weeks, and a night alone with Sela was too tempting to pass up.

“I’ll come get her in the morning,” he says as he hands me her overnight bag.

“No need. I’ll bring them to the coffee shop for breakfast. You can walk down and meet us if you want.”

“Sounds good. Just shoot me a text,” he agrees.

The girls grab the bags of supplies from the bench in the mudroom and scurry out the door with Isaac following.

“Have Willa call me when it’s time to pick them up tonight,” I call after them.

Isaac’s hand shoots up. “Will do.”

I shut the door behind them and make my way to my bathroom to shower off the day.

It’s been a long one.