Montana Christmas Magic Page 4

  He walked the circuit of buildings. Tiring, but he may as well get used to being outdoors. The fresh air would build up his strength.

  Several of the outbuildings could use a repair—a roof on one, a door on another, a window on a third. What had Willy done with all these buildings? Storage?

  Two of the buildings contained ranching supplies, mainly odd-looking machinery. He smiled when he entered the last one. The single overhead bulb showed a workbench, neatly hung woodworking tools, and pieces of different types of wood in racks on one side of the building.

  He sensed his uncle’s ghost here, felt the tools in his hands as Willy guided him to create a small spice shelf—just basics at first, then routing designs and beveled edges.

  All those tools were still here and in the pristine condition that Willy maintained was vital to their use. Logan touched the wood in racks, separated by type of wood and shape.

  Could he remember what his uncle had taught him? Like most things he attempted, he hadn’t been very good at the craft in the beginning, but Willy had never given up. He’d pushed, prodded, and encouraged until Logan had figured out the best way to do something.

  Instead of telling him he needed to be different, Willy had accepted his slight stature with hands and feet that were too big for his growing frame, and helped him succeed.

  Then he went back to the city where he was part of a predictable path that included the right schools and clothes that made him look like everyone else.

  One of the big fights he’d had with his mother was over his desire to become a wood craftsman and learn how to make fine cabinetry. He was sure he could make a living in New York. All he had to do was find someone to apprentice with, accumulate some tools, and find a place to set up shop. She’d put her foot down and told him he was going to college, and that was the end of that discussion. No son of hers was going to work with his hands. His father had tried to stand up for him, but his mother was relentless in her decision, just like she’d been when she pushed Deborah at him.

  It had all been foolishness anyway. He’d been destined to live the kind of life he’d been born to.

  His mother’s determined efforts had worked for him after the accident when she was determined to get him back on the circuit as soon as possible. Some mothers were proud to say, “My son, the doctor.” Mom pushed for “my son, the pro tennis player.” She wasn’t an easy woman.

  The tools taunted him. There’s still time.

  He shook his head, turned off the light, and closed the door gently behind him.

  “C’mon, girl,” he said to the mare as he led her back to the barn. “My turn to have dinner.”

  He was really going to have to get some groceries into the house. Driving to Phillipsburg for dinner every night was ridiculous, no matter how long he stayed.

  As he sat down at what was becoming his regular table at Does Brothers, Sarah gave him a brief nod but busied herself with other tables. He ordered his standard hamburger and pulled out a magazine to read. He was well into his fries when Sarah sat down at the table with a cup of coffee.

  “I’ve got a break,” she said. “I wanted to ask what you are doing for Willy beyond the service. I’d like to help in some way.”

  He silently blessed Julie for insisting on expanding his idea of a quick service in Anaconda. After he told Sarah the details, she was quiet.

  “Not everyone can make it to the burial site,” she said. “Walkers, canes, they all make it more difficult. But you already know that.” She glanced at the cane leaning against the table.

  “I’d intended to find a place to have a small service in town. Julie suggested a church or something.”

  “Julie?”

  “One of the chocolate shop ladies.”

  “I thought the name sounded familiar. Willy always liked that one.” She smiled—the first he’d seen since he’d told her the news. “It almost made me jealous until I remembered how nuts about chocolate he was.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  They quieted for a moment, remembering the man.

  “Look, let me help out with the service in town. I know people, and I can get it together a lot faster for you than you possibly could.” She touched his arm lightly.

  “I’d be grateful for that.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” She glanced at her watch and stood.

  He remembered something else he’d been meaning to say.

  “Willy left some ...” What should he call them? Tokens? That seemed to trivialize whatever they had had between them. “There are some things he wanted you to have.”

  She paused with her fingertips pressed to the table, as if trying to steady herself. “How about I come see you after the funeral, and we can go over it then.”

  “That sounds fine. It looks like I’m going to be here for at least another few weeks.”

  “Okay.”

  After picking up a few things at the local grocery store, Logan headed back to the ranch. Halfway there, he remembered he hadn’t asked Sarah about the horse. She was working, so it wasn’t the right time to call her. He’d figure it out.

  Once he got home, he took a slow inventory of the house interior. Leaking pipes, a few frayed electric cords ... small maintenance he was surprised Willy let go.

  The cabinets in the kitchen were old-fashioned, and the paint was thin in places. Could he do something about them? Rekindle the spark of something he’d once loved to do?

  He finished off his list with immediate jobs he could do without a lot of effort. Before he went to the small town tomorrow to pick up additional supplies and figure out what he needed to get in Missoula or online, he’d check the outside. If he was going to sell, the house needed to be in solid condition. Even if he let it go to the wilderness people, he wanted it in top-notch shape so they could get the most money from it when they sold it to strangers.

  • • •

  On the day of the funeral, Julie rose early to select the chocolates for Willy’s final box. As she worked, an occasional tear slipped down her cheek. He’d been a kind person, encouraging Sue Anne to do her best, but always ready to hear about Julie’s painting.

  He would be happy she’d started up again.

  In some ways, he reminded her of her father. She hadn’t seen her parents in a while. It was time. While she didn’t want to be stuck in the same town with them forever, she did get a burst of energy and contentment from a brief visit.

  No matter what, she’d always felt loved.

  What were Logan’s parents like? Why wasn’t he recovering at home with them instead of making the long trek to his uncle’s?

  She finished up and decorated the box with ribbon, but didn’t put a sticker on the white surface. Willy would know who they were from.

  Only Willy would think he needed chocolates in heaven. She giggled.

  Locking the door behind her, she carefully placed the chocolates on the passenger seat and drove toward the interstate.

  The day was sunny, but cold nipped the edges as she made her way to Anaconda. How many people would be at the service?

  She pulled into the parking lot and walked to the building, the somberness of the event seeping into her mood. What must it be like for Logan?

  He was already in the room, head bowed, hands on his knees. An older woman sat a little way from him, and she, too, was lost in her own thoughts.

  They were the only two people in the room.

  Quietly, Julie shed her coat on a chair a few rows behind where Logan sat before going to the coffin to add the chocolates to Willy’s afterlife. Like people always said at funerals, he looked peaceful. She could almost see the twinkle in his eye. Patting his hand, she said, “Good-bye, Willy. I’m glad I got to know you.”

  Slipping back into her lonely row, she glanced at the older woman. That must be Sarah. How sad their relationship had been so brief.

  Her gaze shifted to Logan, almost on its own.

  They sat there in silence for a half hour before the d
irector came in and whispered to Logan. Logan nodded, stood, and turned to them.

  “It’s almost time to go to the burial site, but I wanted to invite you to say a few words if you want.”

  Sarah stood and made her way to the front.

  “I only knew your uncle for a few years, but I treasured the time I spent with him. Willy was a kind and generous soul who loved life and loved to laugh. He fought against the cancer as long as he could, and I’m glad I could help him a little.” She paused, struggling to keep her composure. “I know he loved you with all his heart, Logan, and he was sad that your life kept you away, but he accepted it as the way things were. As long as he could get enough chocolate.” Her smile was slight, and her face glistened with tears.

  Julie’s throat tightened.

  Sarah turned to the coffin. “I’ll miss you, Willy.” She kissed his forehead and sat back down.

  “Julie?” Logan asked.

  “Oh. No. I’m just here out of respect. I’m not prepared to talk.”

  “I guess that leaves me.” Logan slowly walked to the front and slid his hands into his pockets.

  It was the first time she’d seen him dressed in anything other than jeans. The gray suit was obviously tailored and gave him an image of sophistication and status at a level she could never hope to attain.

  Logan cleared his throat and began.

  “Like my uncle, I wish we’d been closer over the last eight or nine years, but I thought my studies and career were more important than a man I’d seen for only a few weeks a summer. He and my mother had ... well, a falling out, so contact after that was minimal.”

  He spoke easily, probably a result of frequent interviews after tennis games. Win or lose, they were always quoted, like pros in any sport.

  “And, like many naive kids, I thought I had all the time in the world.”

  Death punched her in the gut. How many people did she take for granted, thinking they’d be here her entire life? How long was her own life? How much time did she have to follow her dreams?

  “I’d come out here after my ... accident, broken in more than one way, because I knew being here would help me heal. Now?” He shook his head with a rueful smile. “Willy’s made an offer I may not be able to refuse, so I guess we’ll see.” Logan looked at the coffin. “You were a wily old man. Always scheming to make things turn out the way you thought they should. I’m going to miss you.” He walked to the coffin, placed his hand on his uncle, and walked back to his seat where he bowed his head.

  She should go, but something compelled her to stay.

  After a few more moments of silence, the funeral director came in to start the preparation for transport. The three mourners clustered by the front door.

  “I’ll head back now to make sure everything is set for this afternoon,” Sarah said. “I’ll meet you at the cemetery in an hour.”

  Logan nodded, and she walked out of the building, head down and movements slow.

  “Want to follow me back?” he asked. “It will take a while for them to get out there. I thought I’d go back to the ranch and grab a cup of coffee. I can offer you one as well. It’ll keep you warm. The cemetery’s a little chilly.”

  “Sure.”

  The twisting road over the mountains by Georgetown Lake took all her concentration. Logan drove as if he was conscious she was back there, taking turns conservatively.

  Willy’s spread was exactly like he’d described it to her when he’d invited her to come out and paint. Lots of cute outbuildings circled the north side of the ranch house, opposite the front door.

  One of those small buildings would be great for a studio. Would Logan let her come out here?

  What if there were others who were looking for studios? If Logan was planning on selling, could she be the buyer? She could offer retreats and supplement her income while creating her own art. Her stomach churned with possibility.

  She made her way to the front door. The flowerbeds along the walk were neglected—even with remaining patches of snow, she could tell that. The front porch sagged in places, and a number of spindles in the railing were missing.

  Looked like Willy had run out of strength.

  Sad.

  She knocked, and the door opened quickly.

  “What were you thinking about out there so long? You looked like you’d made a discovery.” Logan’s smile was gentle, the first relaxed expression she’d seen since she’d met him.

  Other than that no-holds-barred laugh in the sweet shop.

  “I was checking the place out. Willy invited me to paint here, but I never made it. It’s certainly interesting.” She’d hold the retreat idea for now. He probably wanted to sell as soon as possible, and there was no way she’d be able to buy it—at least without talking to her father.

  Pushing her excitement aside, she followed Logan into the kitchen, where coffee perked in a bubbling aroma. The room suited Willy—old-fashioned without dreadful early seventies avocado and gold.

  Logan must have noticed her examination.

  “I’m planning on redoing it. No one will want to buy it in the shape it’s in,” he said.

  A person’s life could be erased so easily.

  “Don’t lose the charm,” she urged. “Maybe upgrade the appliances, redo the paint, that kind of thing.”

  “It all depends on how long I’ll be here.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, as they settled into the chairs around the table.

  “Willy stipulated I could only inherit if I stayed here for six months, but I’m not sure I want to.”

  Why would anyone voluntarily leave the state?

  “I have obligations back in New York,” he said. “Even though I can’t play anymore, I’ve told my coach I want to learn how to do his job. If I can help some kids get their first start, it would mean a lot to me.”

  He liked kids. She smiled.

  “How come?”

  “Growing up wasn’t always easy.” He shrugged. “I had my growth spurt later than most of the kids I knew. You know how teens are—they tease unmercifully. They don’t really mean anything by it most of the time, but it still stings.”

  She nodded, her gaze steady on his face.

  “And,” he continued, “like I told you, when I came here, I always had to prove myself. I grew almost a foot in the two years after I stopped coming here.” He grinned. “Wouldn’t those boys be surprised if they could see me today? I don’t think they’d tackle me quite so easily.”

  He flexed his hands, causing the muscles in his arms to stand out.

  Her heart fluttered.

  “You might get that chance.”

  “How come?” He frowned.

  “Some people don’t leave the place they were born, even if there are only 850 people in town.”

  “I can’t imagine. I mean, I was born in New York City, but there’s so much more to do. If I had to live here, I’d go out of my mind with boredom.”

  He must have a fast life, between the circuit and the nonstop rush.

  The pace would drive her crazy.

  “Uncle Willy had another harebrained idea. I can’t keep the ranch unless I take a Montana girl to a Grizzly game.”

  It hadn’t been about her at all. It was merely a ticky mark.

  “I see.”

  “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out the way I meant it.”

  “How did you mean it?” she asked.

  He looked at the ceiling, as if waiting for help from above. Then he took a sip of his coffee. “Oh. Hot.”

  She waited. How exactly would he wiggle out of this?

  “Look,” he said, his eyes finally meeting hers. “I like you. You seem like the perfect person to take to a game since you’re a team fan.”

  “Everyone in Missoula is a team fan.” She refrained from rolling her eyes. “I’m sure you can find someone else. I’m not interested.” A slight lie, but she didn’t want him to use her to fulfill Willy’s requirements. In fact, Willy had once told her how
much he thought she was a good match for his nephew.

  Seems the old man was trying to manipulate them from the grave.

  She wasn’t having it.

  “Besides, I already have a boyfriend.”

  “Then why did you agree?”

  He had her stumped there.

  “I don’t know. You seemed so lonely.” And nice. And sexy.

  “I’m fine,” he said, a touch of chill to his voice. “I’m headed back to New York as soon as it makes sense.”

  “I see.” She needed to do something. They were about to go to a burial, for God’s sake.

  She cleared her throat. “How about them Grizzlies?”

  He stared at her a moment, then began to chuckle. The laugh grew louder, and soon he was wiping tears from his eyes.

  “God, you are funny,” he finally spit out. “That’s what made me ask you. I figured you’d be fun.”

  No one had ever called her fun before. She thawed a little bit.

  “While I still would love to take you with me, I draw the line at boyfriends. I only date women who are free. Don’t want to step on anyone else’s toes.”

  “I understand,” she said, getting it with her mind, but not with her heart. She took a large swig of her coffee, ignoring her burning throat. Damn, his coffeemaker worked well. “I can suggest some of my friends who would suit your purpose.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll probably wait until the season arrives before I actually ask someone,” he said. “But I would like to take you to lunch someday in return for all your kindness.”

  Good thing he wasn’t interested in her friends. She’d want to rip their eyes out.

  Whoa. He was just a guy. Passing through.

  As if sensing the awkward end to a conversation, he looked at his watch. “Guess we better go. Want to take one car? The SUV will be easier than your VW.”

  “Sure.” She tried to sound casual, to still the adrenaline rushing through her body at the thought of being in closer proximity to the man, if only for a short time. A person could walk from one end of Phillipsburg to the other in a half hour.

  Fifteen minutes later, they stood in the tiny cemetery on the hill, where the ground was already prepared for the burial, and a few chairs lined one side.