Christmas Angels Page 7

  “My cell phone is the best way.

  “Maizey helped me find a place here in town. Really nice couple. It’s an upstairs apartment for their sons who are away at school. I can stay until they come home for winter break.”

  “You’re staying at George and Dottie Goodwin’s place?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “It’s a small town. That’s great, though. They’re good folks, and this is a safe town, but I’d still recommend keeping a tight watch over the project. These kind of projects are easy to turn into bigger ones that take a lot longer if you don’t keep an eye on them.”

  “That’s true on most types of projects. Which is why I’m here.” She handed him her business card. “You can call me and let me know when you’ve got it ready. Then, we can meet up at the Creekside Café and go over it. Or you can email it to me.”

  “‘Store Development Project Manager’?” Quite a job title. How the heck would someone with that kind of job have time for a project the size of this? “Looks like if anyone has the experience to pull together a plan and keep people accountable it’s you.”

  “You could say that.”

  “I just did.”

  “Okay, Captain Obvious, just get that inspection worked up and then I can make an educated decision on what my next steps are.”

  “You really want this to work out, don’t you?”

  “I do. I really, really do. I’ve dreamed of this place my whole life. Well, not like this, but how it once was.”

  The slight smile that played on her soft pink lips when she talked about this place mesmerized him.

  “My happiest days were here in this place,” she went on. “This town is special to me.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. “Well, I guess you’re in a hurry to get to your family for Thanksgiving dinner. I don’t want to hold you up. I think I have everything I need.”

  “No. You’re fine. I’m in no hurry today.”

  “No?”

  They walked toward the front door.

  She reached for the door handle and opened the door. Frigid wind rushed between them, so cold you could almost see the frost in the air. The wind had piled white pellets in the corner of the porch.

  “It’s going to be slick going down the mountain.”

  “I drive a Range Rover. I think I’ll be fine.” She pulled her coat tighter. “Maybe I’ll even stop for some coffee to warm up on my way back.” She took out her phone and pulled up the radar app. “That’s a big storm cell.” She turned her phone toward him. “We’re in for a doozy.”

  “Nothing’s open this afternoon around here. You can’t spend Thanksgiving alone. Why don’t you come over to my place?”

  “I couldn’t—”

  “Look. It’s not a big deal. I made a small dinner. Not fancy, but I’m not a bad cook, and I’ve been told I’m decent company.”

  One corner of her mouth twisted upward.

  Her uncertainty showing, he didn’t give her a moment to debate. “We can look at your plans and talk about them in the light with heat. Consider the meal a bonus.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’m the one who pushed for the Thanksgiving Day inspection. I should be feeding you.”

  “Didn’t you say you don’t cook?”

  She laughed.

  “You’ve got to be getting hungry.”

  She placed her hand on her stomach as it growled an answer for her. “I am hungry, and I could really go for a cup of coffee or tea. Something warm.”

  “Then it’s settled. Come on. You can follow me.” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer; if he gave her the chance to say no … she would. He opened the door and swept his arm to hurry her outside.

  He jumped behind the wheel of his truck, revved his diesel engine, and drove out to the lane. She followed right behind him.

  A feeling of satisfaction filled him as he carefully took the steep curves with her headlights in the rearview mirror. He turned off Doe Run Road and followed the cut-through that wrapped back up and around the mountain. It was only a few miles, but with the hail coming down the way it was it took a while to get there. He put his blinker on and watched her do the same as he turned down the path to his house.

  He pulled in front of the porch, and she parked next to him.

  Matt tested the steps for ice by kicking his boot against each tread, trying to scuff the ice to make it a little less slippery for her.

  “Careful!” He put a hand out to steady her up.

  “Thank you.” She looked around, blinking.

  “What did you expect?”

  “I’m not sure, but it wasn’t this. I don’t remember seeing a house like this up here. It’s gorgeous. How old is it?”

  “It’s pretty new.” He looked up at the carefully designed porch. “It was just built to look old.” It was everything he’d dreamed of. He understood her passion for her dream.

  “They did a great job.”

  “Come on in.” He walked inside and Elvis stretched long, only lifting his eyes until he saw Liz walk in. He slowly rolled over to his stomach then sat up. “This is my buddy, Elvis.”

  “I remember him from the church.” He didn’t lift his head. “Not much of a watchdog, are you there, buddy?”

  That’s an understatement. He took off his jacket and hung it on the coatrack next to the front door. She followed his lead then followed him into the den.

  He stoked the fire he’d left burning in the fireplace. The extra-deep hearth made it safe to leave burning. A must in this area in the winter.

  “I love this fireplace.” She held out her hands, warming them. Flames flickered to life as he prodded the thick logs.

  The soaring two-story rock fireplace had been the biggest project of the house. It had taken painstaking patience to find just the right rock, and then the craftsman to pull off the construction of it. “It’s built from all local rock, too.”

  “It’s kind of a piece of art in itself.” She looked up, admiring the craftsmanship. “Are all those iron contraptions over the fire for cooking? Or for show?”

  “For cooking.”

  “Like they did in the old West, I guess?”

  “Cast-iron cooking is the best.”

  “That seems like an awful lot of work.”

  “Not really,” he said. “Once you put it in the cast iron it’s just a matter of waiting until it’s done. No different than an oven.”

  “That’s really neat.” She turned her back to the fire and stood there glancing around. “This feels so good. I was cold to the core.”

  He went to the kitchen and came back with two mugs of tea. “I hope you like the tea. My sister left it when she was visiting. It’s her favorite.”

  She took the mug and hugged it to herself, then took a sip. “It’s wonderful. Thank you. It hits the spot.”

  He hadn’t invited too many people over since he’d finished the place and moved in. His sister, Krissy, had given him some unsolicited assistance decorating the place to keep it from looking like a man cave, which he’d thought was kind of a joke at the time. He had to admit that he was thankful for her help now as he viewed the place from Liz’s perspective.

  “I really shouldn’t have come over,” she said.

  The comment caught him off guard, but there was a playful lilt to her words. Before he could ask why, she said, “This place is dangerous. It’s giving me a hundred ideas.”

  He laughed with her. “I get it. Like you, I had a dream about living up here. This place is the product of probably three hundred sketches, and plans finally coming to fruition. So I get where you’re coming from with Angel’s Rest.”

  “I’m so glad you don’t think I’m totally crazy.”

  “Not at all. Let me show you around.”

  “At the risk of blowing my budget with more ideas, I’d like that.”

  Matt took her through the house, room by room. Ending in the kitchen, which was on the back side of the floor-to-ceiling fireplace they�
��d been warming themselves by when they came in.

  Liz stood in the kitchen with her mouth agape. “Wow.” She stepped in and ran her hand along the cool granite countertops, then the smooth cherry finish on the thick legs of the island. The subzero refrigerator and freezer stood side by side as if they were ready for restaurant duty, and across the way was a four-foot-wide Heartland freestanding range. The kind she’d always coveted, with the cranberry inserts. “You must be a very good cook.”

  “I do okay.”

  “I’m impressed already.”

  He walked over to the oven and pulled out the Thanksgiving dinner that he’d prepared this morning. “Still warm. Hungry?”

  “I am.”

  “Then that concludes the nickel tour.”

  “And you’re going to feed me too? If that was the nickel tour I can’t imagine what I would I get for a quarter.”

  Matt had a few ideas, but he wasn’t so sure she’d want to hear them, so he kept his mouth shut before he put his size 12 boot into it.

  Chapter Nine

  Liz hitched herself up onto a barstool at the kitchen island while Matt removed the foil from the loaf pans.

  She took in a lungful of the sweet and savory spices mingling in the air around them. Memories of Gram’s home cooking when her family would come up for holiday dinners came rushing back. Those had been magical gatherings. There’d be so much food. This was more like a sampler platter from those days.

  Matt walked over to a cabinet next to the refrigerator. Inside the wooden door, a panel of colorful lights and buttons on a flashy computerized panel looked out of place in the rustic home, but as soon as Matt pushed one of those buttons old country music poured through the speakers.

  Alan Jackson’s “Livin’ on Love” played as he walked back over to the island and removed foil from the last stoneware loaf pan.

  She swayed to the music. “You did all of this just for yourself?”

  “A man’s got to eat.”

  “Weren’t you worried dinner would burn if you didn’t get back on time?”

  “No. I cooked this morning. I just left it in the oven to stay warm while I was gone so it would be ready for lunch. Didn’t take much effort at all.”

  Says the man who can cook. “Seems like a lot of trouble for one person. Thanks for inviting me to share it with you.”

  “There’s always plenty.”

  He probably planned for leftovers. He could make light of it, but she appreciated the gesture. He was a nice guy. She owed Maizey a big thank-you for connecting her with Matt.

  “Can’t have Thanksgiving without turkey, or stuffing, or, well … any of this.” He pulled out the pan with the turkey tenderloin and drained the juices into a pot. One twist of a knob and a blue flame danced beneath it. In a bowl he added flour and whisked in a little milk, salt, and pepper; then, as the stock in the pan began to boil, he mixed the two together.

  He’s making gravy from scratch? She pinched her hand to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Nope. This was really happening.

  As he continuously stirred the gravy, he said, “I’d rather have had some yeast rolls but that’s one thing I haven’t perfected, so you’ll be sopping gravy with a piece of sandwich bread like me today.” He paused, giving her a serious look. “You do sop … right?”

  “Of course, and I’m perfectly okay sopping my gravy with bread.” She should be, because had she been home alone for Thanksgiving there wouldn’t have been any of this. If she were forced to eat what she had in the house then she’d have had to eat a low-calorie frozen entree, pickles, or peanut butter and crackers, because most of the time when she was home for meals it was that or a bowl of soup. She was thankful for this spread.

  Matt took two plates down from the cabinet and handed her one. “Ladies first.”

  She put a little bit of everything on her plate. “This really looks delicious.” One of these days she was going to have to perfect a few dishes. She’d planned to start putting Grandma’s recipe cards to use years ago, but she still hadn’t attempted even one of them.

  He heaped food onto his plate. “Come on, let’s eat in the dining room. It’s a special occasion.”

  She hadn’t much thought of Thanksgiving as being special since her folks moved away. Mostly she looked at it as a meal she didn’t have to attend. Just a day to herself, and Lord knows there were never enough of those.

  He flipped on the light as they walked into the dining room. The table was made of heavy wood with a warm finish. The chairs were big and upholstered in deep-jeweled tones. The chandelier was a mixture of wrought iron and wood—masculine and elegant at the same time.

  Liz sat in the chair opposite him.

  He hopped back up. “Hang on a second.” He left the room and came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

  He poured two glasses, handed her one, and raised his. “To following your dreams. Always something to be thankful for.”

  “Thank you, and thank you for sharing this lovely meal with me today.” She took a sip from her glass.

  “I wouldn’t have had it any other way. It’s nice the way this worked out.” He dug a fork into his food, and she did too.

  “This is delicious.” She hadn’t meant to sound so shocked, but really it might have been the best meal she’d had all year. “What do you know about my grandparents’ inn?”

  “Angel’s Rest? I know that it was once a very popular resort that brought people back to the town over and over. The locals were thankful for all the community ties. The fly-fishing, hiking, things that highlighted the natural bounty of this area. I also know that at the holidays Angel’s Rest lit the whole mountain in Christmas lights. People came from everywhere to see them, not that they had to. The glow could be seen from anywhere in the village below, but you had to make it up the mountain for the hot chocolate, cookies, and the special displays.”

  “Lights at the Lodge.” He knew a lot. “Did you ever see them yourself?”

  “I did.”

  She put down her fork. “Do you remember the big steam train that chugged through the yard?” She leaned forward. “Pop loved that thing. He absolutely lit up like a ten-year-old when he was messing with that train.”

  “I do remember the train.” Matt took another sip of wine. “My favorite was Santa’s workshop with the mechanical elves, though. Those things were so cool.”

  “It was quite a show, although only a couple of the elves actually worked. I don’t think people even noticed that. Pop tried for years to get them going.” Liz remembered it so well. Even now she could hear the tinny sound of the music that came from the speakers Pop had rigged up in the trees. “I wonder what happened to all that stuff when they headed off on their big adventure?”

  “No telling. If it was sold around here I’m sure someone would know who bought it.”

  That thought excited her. What if she could recover that old train? “Do you think there might actually be a chance to find a few original pieces?”

  “We could ask around. If not the Christmas stuff, probably some of the furniture. Flossie owns the antique shop and she knows the destiny of about anything you’d be looking for. I’ll introduce you two.”

  “Thank you.” She took another bite of stuffing. “How long did it take you to find this place?”

  “I started designing the plans before I even really knew what I was doing. Then while I was in college I used it as one of my main design projects.”

  “You’re an architect?”

  “I am. It took me longer to design this place than to build it.” He laid both hands on the table. “It was a dream that started when I was young. Then I went off to college. It was years before I could really draft a decent plan. I wish I’d thought to keep every version. I learned a lot along the way. Then I’d visit model homes and look through plans and come up with more ideas.”

  “I know how that is.”

  “Eventually I settled on one design and it quit changing and it became more refined
. When I got to the point that the only things I was fussing over were hardware choices, I knew I was ready to actually get to work.”

  “That’s really exciting. I won’t have the luxury to wait like you did, but it has to be amazing to see what you dreamed of in your mind come to be.”

  “Oh yeah.” He scanned the room with a look of accomplishment. “I just got done last year. It was worth every backbreaking moment. It’s everything I ever wanted.”

  “Right down to the option to cook in cast iron in the fireplace?”

  “That, and…” He leaned forward and whispered, “I’ve got a tree house out back.”

  “You do not.”

  “I do. One day when the weather is better I’ll show you.”

  “Wishing for a son one day?”

  “One day.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t let it get around.”

  “Somehow I think this town is already on to you.” She laughed and placed her napkin on the table. “This was lovely.”

  “Thanks for the company.” He reached toward her. “I’ll take your plate.”

  “Don’t be silly. I might not cook, but I can wash a couple of dishes.” She stood and collected the plates from the table and carried them into the kitchen. No dishwasher in sight. Just like a man. She started running water in the sink.

  Matt walked in behind her. “You don’t need to rinse those. The dishwasher is in that drawer to the right of the sink.”

  She looked at the wooden drawer. “Here?”

  He nodded.

  She tugged on the wooden cabinet drawer, and inside was all stainless steel. “This is the coolest dishwasher I’ve ever seen.”

  “Perfect when you don’t dirty a ton of dishes at once. There’s a second drawer below for when there are more dishes.”

  “Very nice. I might need one of these.” She filled the dishwasher, then dried her hands on a red dish towel that had KISS THE COOK embroidered on it. She glanced back up at him.

  “It was a gift.”

  “Put it on my tab,” she teased. Liz pulled out her phone and looked at the weather radar again. “It looks like the worst of the storm is about over.”