When Snow Falls

Presley used the remote to turn down the television. “Chey’s not home.”

“I didn’t ask if she was.”

“I wanted you to know she wasn’t.”

Her mother’s eyes showed a heightened alertness. She’d noticed the change in Presley’s tone. Sometimes they told each other more than they ever admitted to Chey. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to ask you again about Eugene Crouch.”

“Don’t.” Her mother smoothed her thin gray hair. “It’s better if you…leave that alone.”

“Why? He had a picture.”

A grimace added more wrinkles to Anita’s heavily lined face. “So?”

“So?” Presley repeated. “Aren’t you curious where he got it? Who was in it?”

She coughed again. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to…hear anything about it.”

“Because you already know.”

With a grimace, Anita motioned to the TV. “Turn that back up.”

Presley didn’t comply. She bent over Anita to convince her that she wanted the truth. “What happened, Mom? Who was the blonde woman in the picture? Is she the one Chey keeps asking about?”

Her mother waved her off. “Stop. Just trust me.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

Her face flushed with the first color Presley had seen in several days. Maybe she realized she hadn’t earned much trust, even from the daughter who loved her. “I’m trying to…do you a favor,” she said, finally meeting Presley’s gaze. “Don’t ruin it. It’s…the last gift I have to give you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does! Why make you…carry the secret after I’m gone? It will…only tear you up inside.” She lowered her voice. “Or cost you…the one person you’ve always been able to count on.”

The sickening feeling that’d crept over Presley when she’d seen that photo of Cheyenne as a little girl, all dolled up, returned. “She doesn’t really belong to us, does she,” she said, clutching her hands in the bedding.

Anita’s breath rattled as she dragged it in and out of her lungs. “You knew that. You might…deny it, but in your heart…you knew all along.”

“No.” Presley shook her head. “We don’t look alike because we come from different fathers. That’s what you said!”

“That’s what you wanted to believe!”

She was right. As much as Presley would rather have denied it, she’d had her doubts. She’d just been unwilling to face them. She’d heard Cheyenne ask about the blonde woman, had listened to her sister describe with longing the many toys she’d once had, the pretty clothes and the full belly, and she’d purposely pretended she remembered no time when they weren’t a family. She’d even told Chey, on a number of occasions, that those images had to be from a dream.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, and sank down into her chair.

It required considerable effort, but Anita managed to sit up on her own. “Presley, you wanted a sister so bad. I couldn’t have another child, but you needed someone, someone besides me. I couldn’t be there all the time. I had to make sure we had food to eat and somewhere to sleep. I— It was just the two of us, and every day you begged me for a playmate.”

Anita’s actions hadn’t been entirely altruistic. She’d used her children as much as anything else. But Presley didn’t make an issue of it. She was too preoccupied, too frightened by what she was learning. Covering her mouth, she spoke through her fingers. “So what did you do?”

“I got what you needed, that’s what.”

The drugs Presley had taken made her feel as if her mother’s voice was growing loud and then dim. Was this really happening?

Yes. She was pretty sure it was. She’d suspected for a long time. But now that she was confronted with the reality, she didn’t know how to react. Was she supposed to be grateful to her mother?

She would’ve been miserable growing up alone. Cheyenne had provided the companionship that’d made life bearable. Together they’d weathered so much, stood against the world, especially when Anita took up with a man and her daughters became less important to her. Or when Anita went on a drunken binge. Cheyenne had been there to provide love and comfort.

“But…what about her?” Presley wasn’t sure how she managed to speak. It felt as if someone had put a clamp on her tongue.

“What about her?” Anita’s eyes snapped with the instant anger that was so typical of her. “She’s fine. I took care of her just like I took care of you, didn’t I? Why does she deserve party dresses and birthday presents? Why does she deserve to have life any better than you or me?”

Because Anita had stolen her from the family she would’ve had, and who could say what they would’ve been able to give her. Didn’t she see the injustice in that? “You told her you have no idea who the blonde woman is or why she keeps remembering all those things,” she whispered. “She’s asked at least a hundred times.”

“Well, now that you know, we’ll see if you tell her anything different,” she responded, and with a bitter laugh that said she didn’t think Presley would, she fell back on the pillows.

* * *

Presley was gone when Cheyenne returned home from work, which surprised her. With Anita in such bad shape, Presley usually waited for Chey to arrive so that someone would be with Anita at all times.

Cheyenne would’ve asked her mother why her sister had left early, but Anita seemed to be in a drugged stupor. As Chey stood at her bedroom door, looking in, she realized that what she’d told Eve wasn’t true. No way could Anita make it until after the cruise. The cancer had progressed too far. She’d already been reduced to a bag of bones beneath waxy skin. She’d grown so small and feeble compared to the woman Cheyenne used to fear, it was a wonder she was still breathing.

Maybe that was why Presley had gone. Watching Anita die a little more each day wasn’t easy.

Grateful that her mother was sleeping so she could have dinner and unwind, she headed into the kitchen, where she’d left her purse when she came in. She could smell the pine of the Christmas tree and the cinnamon candles she liked to burn, but those scents hardly cloaked the stale, antiseptic stench of her mother’s sickness.

Briefly closing her eyes, Cheyenne drew a deep breath, trying to block out anything unpleasant, and went to the refrigerator. She’d made some beef stew before bed last night, to get a jump on the day.

Presley didn’t seem to have eaten any, which worried Cheyenne. Her sister was getting far too thin....

Reminding herself not to dwell on the negative, she spent the time waiting for her stew to heat looking through pictures on the iPhone the Harmons had given her for her birthday in May. She had snapshots of her friends—Riley, Gail, Simon, Callie, Ted, Noah, Baxter, Kyle, Sophia and several others who joined them, although less frequently, on Friday mornings at Black Gold Coffee. They were all going on the cruise, except Gail and Simon, of course, who were in Hollywood, Sophia, who had a daughter as well as a husband, and Riley, who was raising a son and planned to spend the holidays remodeling the B and B. Cheyenne was disappointed to be missing the big trip. The Caribbean sounded like a marvelous place to go. But taking a cruise wasn’t something she’d ever expected to be able to do, anyway.

With a faint smile for the fun Eve and the rest of her friends would have, she thumbed farther back in her album to find the picture she’d been looking for.

There it was—Joe, with his arm around his sister. Cheyenne had taken that photograph at a barbecue last summer. Sometimes he came to the events Gail attended when she was home, but Gail wasn’t home all that often. She’d been living in L.A. for more than a decade, ever since she started Big Hit Public Relations. And now that she was married to Simon, she’d likely return even less.

The stew bubbled on the stove, but Cheyenne didn’t remove it. She was too taken with Joe’s image, although she’d seen this picture a million times. He looked good in his swim trunks, his broad chest and muscular arms bronzed from the sun, his wet hair tossed back off his face. Her heart beat faster as she stared at the contours of his strong jaw, the laugh lines bracketing his mouth and the intelligence shining through his blue eyes. In the past year or so, his hair had begun to recede a little at the temples, but Cheyenne didn’t mind. She’d never seen anyone she thought was more handsome.

“Presley?”

Her mother was awake and calling for her sister. Cheyenne set her phone aside and turned off the burner. “Presley’s gone to work,” she called back. “I’m in the middle of making dinner. I’ll bring you a bowl of stew in a minute.”

“I’m not hungry.”

She was never hungry anymore. But she had to eat or she’d lose what little strength she still had. “You should try to get a few bites down.”

“Did Presley say anything to you when she left?” Anita wanted to know.

Because it was difficult for her mother to make herself heard, Cheyenne hurried to her bedroom to answer. “About what?”

Anita studied her before relaxing. “Nothing.”

Cheyenne considered asking why Presley had left early but guessed, from her mother’s questions, that she wouldn’t know. What did it matter? Nothing had happened. “So…will you try to eat?”

“If you want,” she relented, a shrug in her voice.

“Good. I’ll be right back.”

Her cell phone, which she’d put on the counter, rang while she was on her way to the kitchen. Glancing at the display, she could see it was Eve and wasn’t surprised. She’d left The Gold Nugget only an hour ago, but Eve called her more than anyone else.

“You’d better not have canceled your cruise,” Cheyenne said as soon as she picked up.

“No, although I should,” Eve responded with a note of chagrin.

“There’s no point. You can’t stop what’s going to happen.”

“But I could help you through it.”

“You’ve already done everything you can. What’s up?”

Eve’s voice filled with breathless excitement. “I did it.”

Cheyenne had opened the cupboard and was reaching for two bowls, but she dropped her hand. What was Eve talking about? “Did what?”

“I asked him out!”

Cheyenne froze. “You mean Joe?”

“Who else, silly? I just…worked up the nerve, called him at the station and said, ‘I’d really like to get to know you better. Is there any chance you’d be interested in having dinner with me tomorrow?’”

Gripping the edge of the counter, Chey managed a strangled “And what did he say?”

“Yes!” It sounded as if she was jumping up and down. “He was so nice about it. He didn’t make me feel uncomfortable at all.”

Of course not. Joe was good at making other people feel accepted, regardless of the situation. He’d looked after Cheyenne as a sort of unofficial big brother ever since she’d moved to town, hadn’t he? Not once had he treated her as if she was insignificant, like so many of the other popular guys had at first. Although Cheyenne was eventually accepted by the “in” crowd, she felt that Eve had so much more to offer. She came from a highly regarded family. She was beautiful in the classic sense with a slender figure, dramatic widow’s peak and shiny dark hair. And she was such a nice person. Chey couldn’t imagine anyone not loving Eve.

“That—” Chey had to clear her throat “—that’s so exciting. Where will you take him?”

“I think we’ll drive to Jackson and have dinner at the Old Milano Hotel.”

“The one famous for its prime rib?”

“That’s it.”

Slumping onto the counter, Cheyenne rested her forehead in her hands. “That’ll be romantic.”

“Are you bringing me that soup today or tomorrow?” her mother interrupted, calling from her room.

Cheyenne covered the phone. “Give me a minute!”

“I might not have a minute!”

“Is that Anita?” Eve asked.

After making a sound of exasperation, Cheyenne laughed. “Yeah. Pleasant as always.”

“I don’t know how you do it. I’ll let you go, but…what do you think I should wear?”

Cheyenne knew Eve’s wardrobe as well as her own. They were the same size and often shared clothes. Until Cheyenne became an adult and had her own money, she was the only one who’d benefited from the arrangement. But that was slowly changing. Now it was Chey’s turn to give back. Eve had plenty of cute things, but she loved the new dress Cheyenne had found in San Francisco during her last visit. “I’ve got that pretty Caren Templet I got on sale, if you want to wear it. It would go perfectly with your leopard-print shoes and the black jacket with the fake fur.”

“You’d let me borrow that?” Eve said. “You haven’t even worn it yourself. The tags are still on the sleeve!”

“I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Exactly.”

She glanced over her shoulder. Her mother was making a fuss. She had to get going. “This is a special occasion.” She fought the lump rising in her throat. “Wear it. You’ll be stunning.”

“That is so sweet. Thank you, Chey. You are the best friend anyone could ever have.”

In reality, it was the other way around. If not for Eve, Cheyenne would’ve run away while in high school—or started using, like Presley. The Harmons had tried to befriend Presley, too, but she was already set on her course, had chosen other friends who weren’t a very positive influence on her. Cheyenne owed Eve and her family everything. And it wasn’t as if Joe had been hers to begin with. “I’ll bring it to the inn tomorrow.”

“Do you think he’ll like it?” Eve asked with a fresh burst of enthusiasm.

A tear rolled down Cheyenne’s cheek. Angry that she could feel sorry for herself when Eve had such an opportunity, she set her jaw, wiped away the dampness and blinked faster to staunch the flow of more tears. “He won’t be able to resist you,” she said, and believed it with all her heart.

4

Friday morning at the coffee shop was usually Cheyenne’s favorite part of the week. She loved sitting around the table with a cappuccino, catching up with her friends. But there was so much on her mind—starting with her mother’s worsening health, the fact that Presley was acting strange and was probably on drugs again, and the knowledge that she’d be without the friends who sustained her through the biggest holiday of the year. Then there was Eve’s impending date with Joe, which, she was sad to acknowledge, upset her more than everything else. With all of that, she couldn’t enjoy herself, even though they had a great turnout today.

Riley Stinson had shown up with his thirteen-year-old son, Jacob, who’d been born the year they graduated from high school. Riley assured Eve that he was ready to begin the remodel on Monday. Sophia Knox, now DeBussi, had joined them. But thanks to her past and her arrogant husband, who always seemed to be working out of town, she wasn’t particularly liked or trusted. Chey thought Sophia came only to see Ted. They’d once been an item, and it was obvious that there were still feelings between them, but at this point those feelings were mostly negative, especially on Ted’s side. He seemed annoyed that he had to put up with her butting into his group of friends and rarely spoke to her. This added a level of tension that hadn’t existed before, but Sophia had been coming to coffee for over a year. They’d grown used to her presence even if they didn’t quite welcome it.

Then there was Callie Vanetta, who owned her own photography studio on Sutter Street, and Kyle Houseman, who’d recently been through an acrimonious divorce. Callie and Kyle had become extremely close of late. Cheyenne sensed it and wondered if they were sleeping together, but they certainly didn’t let on if they were. Noah Rackham, a professional cyclist whose twin brother had been killed when the mineshaft caved in on graduation night—Cheyenne would never forget the moment she’d heard that terrible news—and Baxter North, Noah’s best friend, rounded out the group. Without Gail, there were nine. Most were talking and laughing, but today Eve didn’t seem to be enjoying herself any more than Cheyenne was. Although she’d come to the coffeehouse walking on air, thanks to her date with Joe, her mood had wilted as soon as the elegant European couple who owned A Room with a View B and B strode in and sat across from their table.

“Ignore them,” Callie admonished when she noticed Eve’s preoccupation.

Eve lowered her voice. “I can’t. They’ve single-handedly destroyed my family’s business.”

“It’s not illegal to give you some competition,” Baxter pointed out. He’d grown up next door to Noah, and they’d spent most of their time together, but they were nothing alike. In keeping with his profession, Noah was athletic, perfectly toned and always tan. He rode outside nearly every day, including the winter. Baxter, a stockbroker who commuted to San Francisco three or four days a week, was handsome, too, but in a suave, cultured way.

“They’ve been doing more than that,” Eve muttered. “They’ve been trying to drive me out of business. That’s unethical, even if it isn’t illegal.”

Cheyenne knew how close they’d come. She wasn’t sure the Harmons would be able to hang on to the inn, despite the remodel and the name change and the plans they’d developed to promote Little Mary’s as a haunted house. “They’ve been undercutting our rates by so much they can’t possibly be making any money,” she explained. “They’re taking a loss every day—a significant one, considering how much they’ve thrown into restoring that place. They’re just hoping to outlast us.”

“At which point they’ll be the only B and B in town and will recoup their losses,” Eve said bitterly. “You wait and see.”

“Except they won’t succeed in forcing you to close your doors.” Riley handed his son some money so he could go to the counter and buy one of the giant muffins Black Gold was known for. “You’re about to give people a good reason to stay at your place, even if it costs a little extra.”

“What?” Eve asked dryly. “A scare?”

“A piece of Whiskey Creek history.” Ted pushed his to-go cup aside. “Maybe it’ll help that I’ve decided to tackle Mary Hatfield’s murder as the basis for a new book.”

“Really?” Noah flipped his hair out of his face as he leaned forward. “You’re moving away from fiction?”

“I’ll keep up with my current contracts. The thrillers are my bread and butter. But in my spare time I’d like to research what happened to Mary. See if there’s a story there. I’ve always been curious about it. If I can find enough information to proceed, maybe it’ll bring some notoriety to the inn.”

“You’d better work fast,” Eve said.

He reached over to cover her hand with his. “You’re making lots of great changes. Have some faith.”

“Everything will work out.” Callie tucked her shiny blond hair behind one ear. “But even if it doesn’t, you’ve done all you can. We’re leaving on Sunday. Don’t let the Russos ruin your trip.”

Eve flattened her hands on the table. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I’ve tried to talk to them, but they won’t listen, let alone show any sympathy.”

“It’s business,” Noah said. “You can’t take it personally.”

That was easy for Noah to say, Cheyenne thought. His future didn’t depend on the bed-and-breakfast.

“There are human beings behind businesses. Eve has always believed that running The Gold Nugget would be her future.”

Everyone glanced at one another as if they were shocked it was Sophia who’d contributed this. She and her husband were the wealthiest people in town—not counting Simon, who’d married Gail a year ago. One would think if anyone was going to weigh in on the side of ruthless business practices, it would be Sophia, who’d chosen to break Ted’s heart and marry for money.

“The problem will still be here when you get back,” Riley said, reiterating Callie’s sentiment. “Tackle it then. For now, the inn is my baby. You have better things to think about.”

He was referring to the cruise, of course. But that wasn’t where Eve’s mind went. Cheyenne could tell by the smile that broke out across her face. “I do have better things to think about,” she agreed. “One of them is dinner with Joe DeMarco.”

Cheyenne nearly dropped her cappuccino. Eve had sworn her to secrecy. She’d said she didn’t want anyone to know how she felt about Joe, not until she’d had the chance to see if he returned her interest. Did his agreement to have dinner mean that?

“So…is this a date?” Callie was instantly intrigued; they all were.

Blushing slightly, Eve rolled back the foil lid of her orange juice. “It is.”

Baxter crossed one leg over the other. Although he usually worked at home on Fridays, he was dressed in one of his hand-tailored suits, signifying he had business in San Francisco. “Since when have you been seeing Joe?”

“Tonight will be our first evening out. But…I’ve had my eye on him for ages.”

Cheyenne couldn’t look up. She didn’t want to meet anyone’s gaze, didn’t want her friends to realize that she felt as if she’d just been kicked in the stomach. Eve hadn’t had her eye on Joe nearly as long as Cheyenne had. But she couldn’t say so. Eve’s announcement made Joe hers, whether he felt the same or not.

“He needs to start seeing someone.” Callie put her plastic spoon into an empty yogurt container. “How long has it been since his divorce?”

Noah answered. “I was getting back from my first race in Europe when I heard, so it would have to be four, five years ago.”

“The divorce was hard on him,” Baxter commented.

Riley’s chair scraped the wood floor as he made room for his son, who’d returned with his muffin. “What his ex-wife did would’ve been hard on anybody.”

“I think he’s seen a few women over the past couple of years, but no one from around here,” Ted volunteered.

“And no one who’s as perfect for him as I am,” Eve joked.

When everyone chuckled, Cheyenne tried to laugh, too, but couldn’t manage much more than a pained smile. She wanted to say she had to check on her mother so she could slip out. But she’d driven over with Eve.

Forcing herself to sit quietly, she pretended the same happy interest the others exhibited as Sophia said how delighted Gail would be, and Ted teased that it was about time the reluctant-to-commit Eve settled on someone. It’d been three years since her last relationship.

Soon talk of Eve and Joe died down, but the next subject didn’t make Chey feel much better. Ted told everyone about the tourist information he’d found online. Callie went over what to pack for the cruise. And Eve asked whether or not to buy traveler’s checks—all for a trip Cheyenne couldn’t take.

When they finally began to disperse, Cheyenne breathed a sigh of relief. Callie had to open her photography studio by ten. Baxter had a long drive to reach his office in San Francisco. Ted was behind on his deadline. They all had work to do. Since this was the last day The Gold Nugget would be open until after the first of the year—not to mention the last day it would operate under its current name—Chey was just as eager to start her day. She couldn’t expect her short-order cook to wrap up breakfast alone.

But just as she slid out of the booth, Noah clasped her arm. “What will you do while we’re gone?” he asked.

She could tell by his sympathetic expression that he felt bad she wasn’t able to join them, so she mustered yet another smile—and prayed it was more convincing than the ones that had come before. “The same. Taking care of my mother.”

But with the way things were going she’d probably be burying Anita instead. And to make her Christmas even merrier, she’d most likely have to drag her sister back to rehab.

* * *

It was pathetic to drive past Eve’s house so many times. Especially because she’d left her mother alone in order to do it. But Cheyenne couldn’t seem to stop herself. She had to know what time Eve got home, had to see if Joe kissed her at the door…or was invited inside.

Eve lived on her parents’ property, but she had her own small bungalow in back, which afforded her enough privacy to be able to entertain a lover. As long as Joe parked his car off the premises, her aging parents would never notice if their daughter had overnight company. When they weren’t traveling in the motor home they’d bought when their financial situation still looked good, they went to bed early and, for the most part, let Eve visit them at the main house instead of trudging back to her place.