Winter Falls (Evergreen Lake: Under the Mistletoe)

Chapter 3

three

It was late Wednesday and I was staying back to double check the last bit of preparation.

I was putting off calling Amos to confirm his arrival time with the horses for the sleigh rides this Friday. I dreaded calling because I never knew what kind of attitude I was going to get.

Pauline had gone home. She had a stitch 'n bitch session, recently having taken up knitting, and wanted me to come with her. As much as I would like to learn how to make yarn materialize into amazing creations, I just didn't have the time. Maybe after New Year's.

I looked out the window and it was so damn pretty that it almost brought tears to my eyes. Stores were open late, all the Christmas lights were twinkling, and people were hustling around on the streets.

I checked my watch, an old delicate one that had belonged to my grandmother. It was coming up to 7:30 and most stores would be closing at eight. I pulled my phone over, leaned my elbows on my desk, and stared at it. It wasn’t like it was going to dial itself. So, I sucked in a breath and went through my contacts until I found him.

It rang and then went right to voicemail. A sense of relief and a pang of disappointment warred inside me. I didn't have to talk to him in person, I could leave a message, but it also meant I wouldn't hear his voice. Not because I longed to hear the deep timbre, because I could determine his mood.

"Hey, Amos. It's your favorite person in the world. I'm just checking to make sure that everything’s still all set for the horses and sleigh on Friday. Call me back please."

I ended the call, letting out a breath, and put the phone down. That wasn’t so bad.

I was afraid of him. I couldn't quite place why it was nerve-wracking speaking with him. He was older than me, by about 12 years. And of course, the history we shared through his sister and all the things we got up to as kids probably didn't help matters. Anyway, I tidied my desk, turned off the light, and left. Time to go home.

I warmed up some soup, got some good old Ritz crackers to crumble into it, and carried the bowl to the living room. I didn't bother lighting a fire in the grand old hearth today. I was tired and wanted to get to bed and finish the book I’d started the other day. But I did turn on the tree lights. The outside Christmas lights were on a timer so they took care of themselves.

Cuddles jumped onto the arm of the chair next to me. She was my ditch kitten, as I called her. Some jerk had tossed her into the ditch when she was barely old enough to leave her mama. I found her and brought her home. She was the sweetest cat, a beautiful little calico. Her purring was loud and she earned her name honestly.

It was snowing a little heavier than when I left work but this wasn't the storm, just typical winter snow. Cradling the soup in my hand, I was just about to have another creamy spoonful when my phone rang. I jumped and let out a little squeal, spilling soup on my top, nearly dropping the bowl. Cuddles bolted away.

Paulie was always changing my ring tone and this time it was loud sleigh bells. So loud. Unnecessarily loud. I’d have to have words with her tomorrow.

I put the bowl down and grabbed a napkin to wipe the mess and answered the phone a bit out of breath.

"Holly?" A deep voice on the other end of the line greeted me.

"Yes, who is this?" I asked.

"You called?" My heart jumped into my throat. It was Amos. He sounded tired, or uninterested. Either way I wasn't too encouraged by his tone.

"Yes," I cleared my throat. "I'm just doing a final check. I wanted to make sure everything’s still on board for this Friday."

"Mmhm. It is."

"Perfect, thanks for calling me back. I really appreciate your being involved in the festival."

"Yup, it's all good." He paused as if there was something he wanted to say.

"Is there anything else?" I prodded gently, curious to know if there was.

"No, no. All right then."

“Okay."

"Bye."

He ended the call, and I sat with my phone in my hand, staring at it. Well, that was awkward. It sounded like he wanted to say something but changed his mind.

If I wasn't careful, my overactive imagination would be putting all kinds of significance on it when there was none there.