Christmas in Cold Creek

If ever a girl needed to heed stranger danger, it was now, Becca thought with a spurt of panic at the sight of the Pine Gulch chief of police standing on her doorstep. Trace Bowman looked dark and dangerous in the twilight and all her self-protective instincts ramped up into high gear.

Gabi looked disappointed for only a moment before she hid her emotions behind impassivity and eased away from the door to let Becca take the lead.

“Chief Bowman,” she finally murmured. “This is … unexpected.”

Not to mention unfortunate, unwelcome, unwanted.

“I know. Sorry to barge in like this but I’ve been charged with an important mission.”

She glanced at Gabi and saw a flicker of curiosity in her sister’s eyes.

The police chief seemed to be concealing something out of sight of the doorway but she couldn’t tell what it was from this angle.

“What sort of mission?” Becca was unsuccessful in keeping her wariness from her voice.

“Well, funny story. My niece, Destry, apparently is in the same school class as your daughter.”

She couldn’t correct his misstatement since she was the one who had perpetrated the lie. She shot a quick look at Gabi, willing her to keep her mouth shut. At the same time, she realized how rude she must appear to the police chief, keeping him standing on the sagging porch. She ought to invite him inside but she really didn’t want him in her space. On the porch was still too close.

“Yes, Gabi’s mentioned Destry.”

“She’s a great kid. Always concerned about those she counts as friends.”

And he was telling her this why, exactly? She smiled politely, hoping he would get to the point and then ride off into the sunset on his trusty steed. Or maybe that pickup truck she could see parked in the driveway.

To her surprise, he appeared slightly uncomfortable. She thought she detected a hint of color on his cheekbones and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Anyway, Destry said Gabrielle told her you didn’t have a Christmas tree yet and your daughter didn’t know if you’d be putting one up this year.”

She narrowed her gaze at Gabi, who returned the look with an innocent look. They had talked about putting a tree up. She’d promised her sister they would find something after payday the next week. She had to wonder if the concern from Chief Bowman’s niece was spontaneous or if Gabi had somehow planted the seed somewhere.

“I’m sure we’ll get something. We just … between moving in and settling into school and work, we haven’t had much free time for, um, holiday decorating. It’s not even December yet.”

“I tried to tell Destry that but when we went up into the mountains this afternoon to find a tree for the ranch house, she had her heart set on cutting one for you, too. Look at it this way. One less thing you have to worry about, right?”

Finally he moved the arm concealed around the door-jamb so she could see that he was indeed holding a Christmas tree, dark green and fragrant.

“You don’t get any fresher than this one. We just cut it about an hour ago.”

A tree? From the chief of police? What kind of town was this?

She hadn’t put up a Christmas tree in, well, ever. It had seemed far too much trouble when she was living alone. Besides, she had never had all that much to celebrate, busy with clients and contracts and court filings.

For an instant, she was transported to her very best memory of Christmas, when she was seven or eight and Monica had been working to empty the bank account of a lonely widower who had either been genuinely fond of Becca or had been very good at pretending. He had filled his house with Christmas decorations and presents. A wreath on the door, stockings hanging on the mantel, the whole bit.

She had really liked the old guy—until he’d called the police on Monica when he began to suspect she was stealing from them, and Becca and her mother had had to flee just a few steps from the law.

Now here was the chief of police standing on her doorstep with this lovely, sweet-smelling Christmas tree. “I … oh.”

She didn’t know what to say and her obvious discomfort must have begun to communicate itself to Trace Bowman.

“I can find another home for it if you don’t want it,” he finally said as the pause lengthened.

“Oh, please.” Gabrielle clasped her hands together at her heart as if she were starring in some cheesy melodrama and trying desperately to avoid being tied to the railroad tracks by some dastardly villain. It was completely an act. The part of Pleading Young Girl will be played tonight by the incomparable Gabrielle Parsons.

Becca had no choice but to give in with as much grace as she could muster. And then figure out how she was going to afford lights and ornaments for the dratted thing.

“A tree would be lovely, I’m sure. Thank you very much.” She was grateful. Her half sister might have the soul of a thirty-year-old con artist in a nine-year-old’s body, but she was still a child. She deserved whatever poor similitude of Christmas Becca could manage.

“I didn’t know if you would have a tree stand so I snagged a spare from the ranch house. If you’ll just let me know where you want it, I can set this baby up for you.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“Have you ever set a real tree up before?”

Real or fake, she didn’t know the first thing about a Christmas tree. Honesty compelled her to shake her head.

“It’s harder than it looks. Consider the setup all part of the service.”

He didn’t wait for her to give him permission; he just carried the tree through the door and into her living room, bringing that sweet, wintry-tart smell and memories of happier times she had nearly forgotten.

“It’s beautiful,” Gabi exclaimed. “I think that might be the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen.”

Becca studied her sister. She couldn’t say she’d figured out all her moods yet, but Gabi certainly looked sincere in her delight. Her eyes shone with excitement, her face bright and as happy as she’d seen it yet over the last two months. Maybe Becca was entirely too cynical. It was Christmas. Gabi had a right to her excitement.

“It really is a pretty tree,” she agreed. “Where would you like Chief Bowman to put it, kiddo?”

“Right there facing the front window, then everyone will see it.”

Gabi was full of surprises tonight. She usually preferred to stay inconspicuous to avoid drawing attention to herself. Becca had been the same way, trained well by a mother who was always just a pace or two ahead of the law.

Trace carried the tree over to the window and positioned it. The tree fit perfectly in the space, exactly the right height, as if he’d measured it.

“Right here?” he asked, his attention focused on Gabi.

“Maybe a little more to the left.”

With a slightly amused expression, he moved the tree in that direction. When Gabi nodded he slanted a look at Becca. She shrugged. Christmas tree positioning wasn’t exactly in her skill set. Right along with waiting tables and trying to raise a precocious nine-year-old girl.

“Gabrielle, would you mind going back out onto porch for the tree stand I left there?” he asked. “I don’t want to move from the perfect spot.”

She hurried out eagerly and returned shortly with the green metal tree stand.

“Okay, I’m going to lift the tree and you set the stand with the hole right underneath the trunk. Got it?”

She nodded solemnly. When Trace effortlessly lifted the tree, she slid the stand where he indicated. Becca couldn’t help but compare her eagerness to help Trace with the tree to her grave reluctance a few moments earlier to finish four measly math problems.

For the next few moments, Trace held the tree and instructed Gabi to tighten the bolts of the stand around the trunk in a particular order for the best stability.

Becca watched their efforts with a growing amusement that surprised her. She shouldn’t be enjoying this. This was the police chief, she reminded herself, but it was hard to remember that when he was laughing with Gabi about the tree that seemed determined to list drunkenly to the side.