Falling Like Snowflakes, page 2
“Rebuilt! How much does that run?”
“I’m not really authorized to—”
“Just a best guess. Please. I won’t hold you to it.”
He sighed, his cheeks flushing. “Normally somewhere between a grand and fifteen hundred.”
All the air left her lungs.
“It really depends on the engine, and I’m not qualified to give an estimate. Sorry it’s not better news. Wish I could help you.”
“Can I drive it like this? If I take it slow?”
“How far?”
“Four, maybe five hours?”
He shook his head. “Driving it’ll only cause more damage. And if the rod tears through the side of the engine block, you could have a serious fire on your hands.”
Eden sighed. She couldn’t risk that. She’d have to wait till Monday for an official estimate, which meant spending two nights here.
“Looks like you’ll be stuck here through the storm.”
“What storm?”
“Six to eight inches, they’re saying. First of the season.” Fuhst. His Mainer accent peeking through. “Snow’s supposed to go all night and all day tomorrow. There’s a hotel just down the street, left on Main. Good café close by, too, Frumpy Joe’s, if you’re hungry. The Roadhouse is a bit of a walk, but it has great chowder.” He smiled at Micah. “You like snow? We got some nice hills around here for sledding. The inn might have a sled you can borrow.”
Micah buried his face into Eden’s side.
“Can I leave the car here? And I can get an estimate Monday?”
“Sure, no problem. Let me get your name and number.”
“Oh . . . I’ll just stop back by. Thanks again for your help.”
Chapter 2
Beau Callahan grabbed the stack of mail off the sofa and dumped it on the kitchen table. Newspapers to the trash. He grabbed Riley’s Red Sox sweatshirt and tossed it over the recliner. Five minutes later, he’d barely made a dent in the mess. How’d the place get to be such a dump?
The door opened and Zac entered, bringing a gust of cold wind and the tangy smell of buffalo wings. Snowflakes dusted his brother’s dark, longish hair. Zac was the middle son, a year younger than Beau, but he towered over Beau’s six-foot height. He could grow a beard quicker than anyone Beau knew, and he was sporting one now.
“Sorry I’m late.” Zac set down the bag and shed his coat.
“Thanks for bringing the food,” Beau said.
“Where’s Riley?”
“Paige had a work crisis. He took her back into town for me.”
He’d hoped Paige could make their family meeting. Maybe she wasn’t family, but she was close. She’d been Riley’s best friend for years, and now she and Beau were an item. It had been awkward at first, dating his brother’s best friend, but things seemed to have settled to a new normal.
He grabbed a few cans of Coke from the fridge and carried them into the living room, where he set them on the bare coffee table. What Aunt Trudy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
Zac scanned the room. “Dude. What happened in here?”
“You do know Aunt Trudy’s in the hospital, right? And that Riley and I are getting ready to open the Christmas tree farm?”
“I know, I know. We’ll get it figured out. That’s why I called the meeting. You need help.”
“I can handle it just fine.”
“You’re always taking care of us. Moving back home when Dad died, quitting your job for the farm. Let us help you for a change.”
“I don’t mind.” The acres of evergreens had been in the family since his great-grandparents had bought the tree farm years ago.
Beau returned to the kitchen for a stack of paper plates and a roll of paper towels. In truth all the worries of the farm sometimes made him long for his days as deputy sheriff. There was something to be said for steady, interesting work. Not that he didn’t enjoy running the farm. There were just a lot of pressures that went along with it.
In the living room he settled on the couch and turned on the TV to ESPN where they were previewing tomorrow’s Patriots game.
Zac was unpacking the Styrofoam boxes. His face was a blank slate, but that didn’t fool Beau. A month ago, a week before their wedding, Zac’s fiancée had left town, without so much as a note. Zac hadn’t heard from her since and he was completely wrecked. Aunt Trudy always said the Callahan men loved once and loved deeply. For Zac’s sake he hoped that wasn’t true.
“How you doing?” Beau asked. “I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
He scowled. “I’m fine. Wish people would stop asking me that.”
Zac had thrown himself into his restaurant since Lucy’s departure. Beau had gone days without seeing him. They were all busy. He wasn’t sure any of them had time for the crisis at hand.
The front door opened, and Riley strode in. He was the shortest of the three brothers, not quite six foot, but he’d gotten their dad’s broad shoulders and beefy arms. He shared the house with Beau and Aunt Trudy and helped on the farm during the winter. During the warm months he worked as a lobsterman.
“Hey, guys.” Riley turned his nose up in the air. “That smells like heaven.” He set his hand on Zac’s shoulder, squinting in pity. “How you doing, man? Holding up okay?”
Zac gave Beau a See what I mean? look.
Beau tossed the roll of paper towels to Riley. “He’s getting tired of that question.”
“Well, it’s not every day your fiancée—”
He cut off at Zac’s glare. “Okay, okay . . .,” Riley said. “How ’bout those Patriots?”
They dug into the wings, watching the preview of Sunday’s game. Outside the picture window, sheets of snow obscured the view of the acres of trees. A fine white powder was beginning to stick to the ground.
“Roads getting slick yet?” Beau asked.
Riley nodded as he chewed.
“I hope Paige doesn’t stay too late.” Paige ran Perfect Paws Pet Shelter. She dropped everything when an animal was in need.
“How’s Aunt Trudy today?” Riley asked.
Beau wiped his hands and muted the TV as a commercial came on. “Looks like she’s going to be laid up awhile.”
Aunt Trudy was the Callahan brothers’ surrogate mom. She’d fallen on the ice yesterday in the Knitting Nook parking lot and fractured her leg. Now she sported a cast and an ugly outlook on life.
“That’s why I called a meeting,” Zac said. “You’re going to need to put in a lot of hours. I know we’re all busy, but we need to figure out something.”
“I hired a few teenagers,” Beau said.
“But you’ll still need people who can manage things when you’re not there.”
“When’s Aunt Trudy coming home?” Riley asked.
Their aunt worked part-time at the visitor center, but they depended on her to keep the house running, and on her spunkiness to keep things interesting. She hadn’t let them down yet.
Beau shifted. “The doctor’s hoping she’ll be able to recover in a rehab center.”
Riley gave a puff of laughter. “Bet she loved that idea.”
“Yeah, it didn’t go so well. But she’ll need twenty-four-hour care, and we sure can’t do it with the season almost here.”
“How long will she be in the rehab center?” Zac asked.
“If insurance approves it, several weeks. Her leg needs a lot of therapy.”
“There goes Thanksgiving,” Riley said.
Beau shot him a look. “Did you really just say that?”
“What about the visitor center?” Zac asked.
Beau shrugged. “They’ll probably just shut it down till she’s back on her feet. It’s the slow season anyway.”
“I can put in some hours early in the day and on Mondays,” Zac said. “I know evenings and weekends are busiest, but that’s peak hours for the restaurant too.”
Beau had a feeling staying busy was a priority for Zac right now.
“That’s all right. That’ll give me time to keep up with the business end and visit Aunt Trudy.”
“I’ll work as much as you need me,” Riley said.
“You’re still going to need more help.”
Zac was right. Beau needed to staff the gift shop, needed people to handle the tree shaker and assist customers with loading. And he needed enough employees to work shifts.
“I have a couple interviews this afternoon. And I was hoping Paige could help out,” Beau said. “Might be good for her to be on the farm, get a feel for the business.”
“Paige has her own business to worry about,” Riley said, his voice gruff.
Zac gave Riley a strange look, then popped open his Coke and addressed Beau. “You two getting serious?”
“Heading that way. Heck, she’s practically part of the family anyway.” Beau had an instant gut check. They’d gotten off to a pretty good start, but things had been kind of . . . off between them lately. They were just busy, that was all.
Riley stood, wiping his hands. “I have to go.”
“What?” Beau said. “You just got here. We’re having a meeting.”
Riley shrugged into his coat. “Forgot I promised old Mrs. Grady I’d look at her hot water heater. Sounds like you got it all figured out anyway.”
Wind tunneled through the room on Riley’s exit. The door clicked shut behind him, and a moment later his truck started, the engine revving low.
“What’s his problem?” Beau asked, frowning as his truck receded down the drive.
“Probably just tired.” Zac reached for another wing. “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”
Chapter 3
Eden hoisted the book bag higher on her shoulder. The wind picked up, blasting her with frigid air. Cold seeped through her thin jacket, chilling her to the bone. She knew Micah was no better off. They weren’t prepared for Maine’s brutal winter. Weren’t prepared for any of this.
Her empty stomach twisted hard. There was nothing she could do about her car for the moment, but she could do something about their hungry stomachs. Spying a diner up the sidewalk, Eden headed toward it.
The sign on the glass window read FRUMPY JOE’S CAFÉ.
“Brrr! It’s cold out there,” she said to Micah as they entered the restaurant. The smell of grilled burgers wafted over, and she inhaled deeply. “Doesn’t that smell good?”
The restaurant bustled with the lunch crowd. Servers ran about in green aprons, filling coffee mugs and balancing trays. All the booths were full, but there were a few open seats at the counter.
Through the kitchen pass-through, a man in his fifties called out orders as he flipped burgers and dropped fries. A gray ponytail hung from his white paper hat, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched crookedly on his nose. Eden wondered if he was Frumpy Joe.
Micah’s eyes darted around as he clung to her leg and to Boo Bear with equal fervor. At a server’s nod, Eden pulled Micah to the empty stools closest to the door, casting another look around the place.
A young family of three, a gray-haired businessman squinting at the Harbor Tides, two middle-aged women laughing loudly. A scruffy-looking man stared back from a couple stools down. He leaned forward, his beady eyes sweeping over her.
She looked away as a shiver passed through her. He’s nobody, Eden. Just a random creepy guy. Her grip tightened on the menu.
They ordered, then used the restroom while they waited for their food to arrive. Eden’s mind was awhirl with plans. She’d check them in to the cheapest motel Summer Harbor offered, and over the next two days they’d both catch up on their sleep. It wasn’t ideal, but she’d been so careful. Surely it was safe to lie low a couple days in this off-the-beaten-path town.
Her eyes aligned with the scruffy guy’s, and she hastily looked away. She’d be glad to finish up here and get away from him. She’d had enough creepy guys for one lifetime.
Awhile later, Eden took the last bite of her burger and pushed back the plate. Micah’s thin legs dangled from the stool, his Superman tennis shoes not even reaching the bar. He’d need a sturdy pair of boots. They both would.
“Anything else I can getcha?” Lines fanned from the server’s kind eyes as she smiled. Her red hair was as fake as Eden’s new blond locks.
“No, thanks.” Eden pulled her cap low, kept her eyes down. Don’t engage. Be invisible.
The server ripped the bill from the tab and laid it on the bar. As the woman headed back across the diner, Eden scanned the room. She’d thought they were safe before. She’d let her guard down, and look what had happened. She was beginning to think safety—freedom—was an illusion.
Just keep going.
They were so close.
Micah dragged a thick french fry through ketchup and slid it into his mouth. He’d almost put away his entire meal and a glass of chocolate milk. It was good to see him eating heartily.
Suddenly he grabbed her shirt, his hand twisting frantically. His eyes widened on hers, his breathing coming fast and hard.
She set her hand on his. “What is it? What is it, baby?”
He whimpered, his intelligent eyes working hard to communicate something.
Had he seen someone? Her heart in her throat, Eden scanned the restaurant again. No one was looking their way.
Micah clutched his hands to his chest as if holding something. His brown eyes filled with tears.
“Boo Bear,” Eden said as understanding dawned.
Micah nodded.
“I’m sure he’s here somewhere.” She grabbed the backpack from the floor and unzipped it, rifling through it. Not there.
“You brought him in, remember? You had him in your arms. We’ll find him.” She looked under the stools, and then she remembered. “The bathroom. I’ll bet you left him in the bathroom.”
She stepped off the stool, tugging Micah along, and slipped around the corner to the ladies’ room, five feet away. She pushed through the door and opened the empty stall Micah had used.
Propped up on the toilet paper dispenser was the small blue bear in his little straw hat.
Sighing heavily, she turned. “Look who I found.”
Micah took Boo Bear and hugged him close. His blue fur had long ago turned nappy, his straw hat was frayed, and the vest was missing a button. But that bear had seen her boy through so much.
She stooped down and wiped away Micah’s tears. His cheeks were baby soft, and his dark lashes were wet and spiky. His fawn-colored eyes were a mirror of her own, but the mop of black curls was all Antonio.
“See, he’s safe and sound. Everything’s going to be okay.” Everything, Micah. I promise. She held him close and stood, lifting him in her arms. He was growing up, his slender frame getting heavy.
She shifted his weight as she exited the bathroom and returned to the stools, already looking forward to a nice, long nap. Micah squirmed down to finish his milk while she reached for the book bag.
The book bag. It was gone. She spun around, scanning the area. It was nowhere.
She scrambled back to the bathroom, Micah’s hand in hers. She was sure she hadn’t brought it in here, but where else could it be? She pushed open the stall door, growing frantic. Maybe the server thought they’d left. Maybe she’d stowed the pack behind the counter.
That was it. Of course.
She dashed back out, her wobbly legs not quite buying in to the idea.
“Excuse me,” she called as the red-haired server passed behind the counter. “Did you see my book bag? I left it here on the floor.”
“Sorry, honey, I haven’t. Sure you brought it in?”
“Yes.” The money. Eden’s heart thumped against her ribs. All their money. She drew in a deep breath and ran a hand over her face.
“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice called. “Are you looking for a gray backpack?”
Eden whirled to the booth. “Yes. Have you seen it?”
“I saw that man take it. The one who was sitting there.” She pointed to the stool. “He took the bag and left, just a few minutes ago. I thought you were together.”
Eden ran outside, Micah close behind. She looked up and down the street but saw no sign of him. A young lady was entering the shop next door.
“Excuse me,” Eden called. “Did you see a man go by just now? Dark coat, longish hair, kind of scruffy?”
“Sure didn’t. Is there anything I can help you with?”
Eden drew a breath, then two, her breath vaporizing on the exhales. “No. Thank you.” Her racing heart fluttered in her chest.
Not long ago, a quick trip to the ATM would have fixed it all. Heck, she could have bought anything she wanted with a friendly smile and the flash of her ID.
But everything was different now. They had no money. No ID. Nothing but the clothes on their backs and a broken-down Buick she could no longer afford to repair. Panic welled in her chest cavity, a weight settling low and hard.
How could you be so stupid, Eden?
The bells above the diner door jingled, and the server appeared, crossing her arms against the cold. “Any sign of him?”
Eden looked again, her eyes scanning the sidewalks. “No.”
The woman put her arm around Eden’s shoulders. “Come back inside out of the cold, honey. We’ll call the police, and they’ll get to the—”
“No!” Eden pulled away. “I mean . . . it’s okay. It’s no big deal.”
“You want it back, don’t you? Sooner we call the better, though. That guy’s just getting farther away.”
The police would want her name, her address, her phone number. All things she couldn’t give. She couldn’t trust anyone. Especially not them.
“It’s okay. I’ll handle it.” Eden zipped up Micah’s jacket, her fingers shaky and uncooperative.
“If you’re sure. I don’t mind making the call.”
“Thank you, but we have to be on our way.” Eden’s eyes swung to the café’s picture window. Her stomach dropped. The bill. She couldn’t even pay for lunch. “Listen . . . all my money was in that pack . . . I’ll pay you as soon as I can, and I’ll be happy to—”
“Honey, trust me, Joe and I won’t miss a few measly dollars. No worries.” She opened the door, her eyes flickering down to Micah, then back to Eden. “I hope you get your bag back.”
