flutters of excitement. Was it really all that smart to be
even thinking about falling for a man who’d had to move
out into the woods so he could “decompress”? Or—
horrors—was that the real attraction? Did she think she
could somehow “fix” him? Lord, was she that arrogant?
Perturbed, she took the basket upstairs and left it in
the bathroom, then returned to her book downstairs.
She couldn’t hang out in the kitchen all evening.
If she kept finding herself rereading pages, at least
no one else could tell.
The poker game seemed to be winding down. Maybe
betting on wood and bark chips was losing its zip.
Dieter and Willow were talking now, rather than playing
Chinese checkers, and, as Fiona surveyed the room,
Troy took off his earphones and sat up.
With an apparent gift for timing, Amy chose just
then to come down the stairs.
Fiona felt as much as saw John come from the
kitchen and stop in the shadow of one of the rough-hewn
pillars.
Everyone looked at Amy, who paused on the bottom
step, tears seeming to sparkle on her lashes.
“Willow?” she whispered. Then, as she rushed forward, “Oh, Willow! I’m so sorry!”
Looking wary, Willow rose to her feet. Amy
hugged her.
“I have such a big mouth. I was mostly annoyed at
Hopper—” she cast him a half-stern, half-flirtatious look
before turning back to Willow “—and I just wanted to tell
him to mind his own business. But I didn’t think. I never
meant to embarrass you. And I’m really sorry I did.”
Her voice was tremulous, her expression tragic.
What could Willow do but say, “It’s okay. It was
dumb of me to be embarrassed. I just…I never talked
about stuff like that before in front of…” She bit her lip.
“But it’s no biggie, okay?”
Amy gave a breathtaking smile. “I’ve been feeling
so awful! Thank you.”
Everyone smiled with approval. The performance
was beautiful. Fiona was a little bit shocked at her
own cynicism.
She turned her head and saw the way John was
watching the scene, his expression a mixture of incredulity, admiration and disgust.
Maybe, she tried to tell herself, Amy had learned
something from this other than how to feign remorse,
assuming she hadn’t already known how to do that.
Could it be that she’d become just a little more aware
that nastiness didn’t win friends?
Fiona’s inner teenager murmured, Yeah, right.
Amy was weepy, glowing with relief and reveling in
being the center of attention. Willow, once again colorless, had slipped to the periphery as if trying to vanish.
Dieter, bless his heart, had gone with her and was
ignoring Amy.
Fiona was exhausted. She had never before appreciated so much that classes were only fifty minutes long. She also discovered that, while she didn’t want to
go home, she wanted them to go home.
Meanwhile she was having a debate with herself about
whether to take Amy aside and tell her a little went a long
way and she really, really didn’t have to lay it on so thick.
She was saved by the necessity by John, who took
a few steps forward, cleared his throat and said,
“Anyone hungry?”
The boys forgot Amy and Willow.
“Yeah!” they said, almost in unison, and stampeded
for the kitchen.
“Hot chocolate,” John added.
Even Erin put down her book.
“Cool!” Amy said brightly. She looked around for
Willow. “Shall we go get some?”
Willow blushed, as if flattered at the attention. “Sure.”
Fiona sighed and followed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JOHN AWAKENED in the morning before anyone else.
He’d let the small woodstove in his apartment burn
down and, swearing, he yanked on clothes with clumsy
haste. He’d get the fire in the great room burning again
to supplement the old furnace, then make some bread.
They’d gone through more than he had anticipated yesterday.
It wasn’t until he’d passed through the kitchen and
was in the great room of the lodge that he looked
outside. The sky was just lightening, and it seemed to
him that he saw some pink.
He unlocked the heavy front door and stepped out
onto the porch. No white blur of falling flakes. The