Maybe This Christmas (16 page)

“Maybe. Doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t been home for a month, and I’m living down the road.”

“You have a full-time job.” He locked his hands behind his head and grinned. “And now you’re cooking for me, too.”

“I’m not planning on revealing that part.” She turned the heat down under the pan and let it simmer. “And I’m going for breakfast because that way I have an excuse to leave for my ten o’clock class.”

“Just make sure you don’t let them walk all over you. Want me to run you over there?”

“You’re offering to stand between me and my mother?” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I always thought you were brave, Tyler O’Neil, now I know it for sure.”

“I’m not scared of your mother.”

“You should be. You’re not her favorite person.”

“She thinks I’m bad news.”
She was probably right.
“How’s she going to react to the fact you’re living with me?”

“I’m not living with you. I’m staying in your house. It’s not the same thing.” Her gaze slid to his and away again. “I’m still living at Snow Crystal. She doesn’t need to know more than that.”

He thought about her walking barefoot around the house and sleeping next door to him. “Probably a good decision.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

I
T
WAS
STILL
DARK
when Brenna slid into her car the following morning.

The drive to her parents’ house took around twenty minutes, and there wasn’t a single second of that time when she didn’t feel like turning around and driving back to Snow Crystal. It had been snowing steadily for days, but not enough to make the journey treacherous, and the road had been cleared so she had no reason to postpone her visit.

Her mood plummeted along with the temperature.

Visiting her parents was a duty, not a pleasure, and it was a duty that always left her feeling flat, depressed and more than a little guilty.

Compared to Kayla and Élise she was lucky, wasn’t she? She had two parents still married and living together.

She pulled up outside the vintage brick colonial that was her mother’s pride and joy. To Brenna, a house was somewhere to be indoors when you couldn’t be outdoors. She’d as soon live in a tent. Occasionally in the summer, she’d done just that, erecting her little tent in the backyard until her mother had forced her back inside, worried about what the neighbors would say.

To Maura Daniels, the opinion of the neighbors came second only to God’s.

Brenna sat for a moment, bracing herself for what lay ahead, promising herself that she wasn’t going to get upset.

She had a key in her pocket, but she rang the bell and then waited, tense as a deer scenting the wind. She would have walked straight in to any one of the O’Neil properties and been sure of a warm welcome. Here, in the house where she’d grown up, she hesitated to cross the threshold without permission. Nothing annoyed her order-obsessed mother more than people dropping in without warning or invitation.

To Brenna, it had been like growing up in a straitjacket.

She heard the rhythmic tap of her mother’s low heels on the cherrywood floor and then the door opened.

“Hi, Mom.”

“You’re wet!”

“It’s snowing.”

“Leave your boots outside.”

She would have done it without being told, but her mother left nothing to chance when it came to her home.

Brenna had learned at an early age that snow was to be kept outside the house. Her mother couldn’t control the weather, but she worked every hour of every day to control its less welcome effects, from shining the windows to removing imaginary marks from her lovingly polished floor.

“How are you, Mom?” She stepped inside, careful not to slip. The last thing she needed at the start of the season was a broken ankle, especially as a result of her mother’s overzealous cleaning habit.

“Good. Things have been busy at work.” Her mother eyed her black ski pants, and Brenna intercepted that look as she pulled off her boots and left them on the step.

“I’m teaching at ten o’clock. I thought I’d have more time if I didn’t have to go back and change first.”

“If you visited more often, you wouldn’t have to cram so much into each visit.”

Brenna knew better than to respond to that one. Conversations with her mother were like a game of tennis. Whenever she returned the ball, it came back at her harder, but even she had to admit that her mother seemed more tense than usual.

She wondered what had happened.

She stepped into the house and immediately felt as if the walls were closing around her, trapping her inside. She wanted to push back at them, wanted to free herself. It didn’t help that they were painted a dark shade of red and hung with paintings and photographs. Her mother was a collector of things. Paintings, ornaments, vases, figurines—the house was crammed with them and no doubt Christmas would bring another flurry of objects to add clutter to the already cluttered walls and surfaces. Brenna couldn’t see the point of filling a house with objects, but her mother enjoyed adding things to the home.

It was the house she’d grown up in but it had never felt like home to Brenna. The place suffocated her. She missed the soaring cathedral ceiling of Lake House and the acres of glass that captured the sunlight and framed the trees. Winter or summer, it was like looking at a postcard, and she never tired of it. It scared her how quickly it had begun to feel like home.

She followed her mother through to the kitchen.

Her father sat at the breakfast bar, his eyes glued to the TV.

“Hi, Dad.” She leaned forward and kissed him, and he gave her a quick hug, briefly taking his eyes off the football game.

“You should turn that off when your daughter is home. Lord knows, it’s not something that happens often.” Her mother reached for a mug and filled it with coffee. “I hope those O’Neils are paying you well for all the hours you put into that place.”

There it was again, the friction, the tension. If her mother were an engine, Brenna would have checked the oil to see if she could get her working more smoothly.

“It’s my choice to work hard, Mom. I love my job. And Jackson O’Neil is a good employer. I love working with him.”

“So you’re set to work another season for the O’Neils.” The set of her mother’s mouth expressed her opinion on that decision.

“Yes.” Brenna curved her hands around the mug, warming herself. Her mother could chill the atmosphere more effectively than any air-conditioning unit. “Bookings are up. It’s pretty exciting after the past few years of struggling through.”

“If Michael O’Neil had paid more attention to his responsibilities, they wouldn’t have been struggling.”

The bitterness shocked her. “He’s dead, Mom. You shouldn’t speak like that of the dead. And Jackson and Kayla have worked really hard over the past year. It’s a really exciting time, and I’m enjoying my job.” If she’d hoped that news might invite a positive response, she was once again disappointed.

“We both know it’s not the job that keeps you here.” Maura Daniels thumped her mug down on the shiny granite countertop, her emotions released in a cacophony of clattering and banging as she pulled bowls out of the cabinet and eggs out of the fridge. “You could have stayed in Europe. You had a chance to escape from these long, endless winters and the O’Neil family, but did you take it? No. You came back here first chance you got and threw away your life.”

She’d barely been in the house five minutes and already it had started. Brenna looked out the windows toward the mountains she loved and tried to imagine being this happy somewhere else. When Jackson had started his business in Europe, she’d lived in Switzerland for a while. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t Snow Crystal.

“I’m not throwing anything away. I’m happy.”

“Are you?” Her mother paused with a box of eggs in her hands. “Don’t you want more than this? What about a home? A family?”

Her mom made her feel as if she’d done something wrong.

Brenna looked at her father, but he’d obviously decided not to get involved and was staring hard at the TV.

“I’m settled. I came back because I wanted this job.”

“You came back because of
him.
”

“I came back because Jackson told me the family business was in trouble. They’re my friends, Mom. Jackson offered me a job, and I took it.”

“We both know why you took that job, Brenna Daniels. You thought if you were both in the same place, you’d have a chance with him. You’ve always been a fool about Tyler O’Neil.”

Brenna felt her cheeks burning. “That isn’t true.”

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me. He was a bad influence on you growing up, and he’s a bad influence on you now. You’re throwing your life away because of that boy.”

“It’s my life, and I don’t consider I’m throwing anything away. I love Snow Crystal. It’s where I want to be.”
And he’s not a boy.
She thought of Tyler’s broad, muscular shoulders, the athletic power of his body and the dark stubble that grazed his jaw. Oh, no, not a boy. He was all man.

“Would you want to be at Snow Crystal if he wasn’t there? You’re making a fool of yourself, that’s what you’re doing and embarrassing all of us.”

Brenna gripped her mug. “How am I embarrassing you?”

Tight-mouthed, her mother whisked eggs and tipped them into the pan. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you’ve moved in with him. I’m your mother, and I have to be the last to know my daughter is living with Tyler O’Neil.”

She knew?

Brenna’s stomach lurched, and she cursed herself for not anticipating that possibility. “Mom—”

“Instead of hearing the news from my own daughter, I had to hear it from Ellen in the store. How do you think that made me feel?”

“How does Ellen know?”

“How does anyone around here know anything? Because people talk.”

The thought of everyone gossiping made Brenna squirm. It was like school all over again, everyone whispering about her. “I’m not living with him, Mom! I’m staying in his house, that’s all, and it happened a few days ago. Business is looking up. They needed to book out the lodge and I needed somewhere to stay. I’m a grown woman, and I make my own decisions. Get off my back!”

“You could have stayed here. Your room is there for you, same as it has always been.”

Heat pricked the back of her neck. “I start work early and finish late. With bad weather coming, I don’t want to have to make the drive every day.”

“We both know that’s not the reason why.” Her mother tilted the pan, adjusted the heat. “He was wild as a boy, and he’s wild as a man. The Carpenters have never forgiven him for what he did to Janet.”

“You make it sound like he assaulted her or something, and we both know that isn’t what happened. Why does everyone blame Tyler? Janet was at least half responsible.” In her head, more than half. But there were things Brenna knew that she hadn’t shared and never intended to.
What was the point?
“And Jess is wonderful.”

“I don’t blame the child. It can’t have been easy for her growing up as Tyler O’Neil’s daughter.”

“She’s proud of him. She adores him. And he’s a good father. He shows an interest in her. He accepts her as she is.” She added as much emphasis as she dared and tried to ignore the fact that her own father hadn’t once joined in the conversation. “The O’Neils fought to keep Jess. It was Janet who took the baby away.”

“Don’t think I have any sympathy for that woman, because I don’t.” Her mother tipped a perfect omelet onto a plate and placed it in front of Brenna. “You still haven’t told him, have you?”

“Told him what?”

Her mother paused. Looked her straight in the eye. “You haven’t told him that Janet Carpenter was the one who bullied you at school.”

Sweat drenched her, and she started to shake.

How could it still affect her so badly after so many years?

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“You never did.” Her mother dragged open a drawer and removed a couple of forks. “That girl made your school life a misery, but you never told him.”

“How could I? She’s Jess’s mother. If I told him what happened, everything would be even more complicated. It would be awkward for him and awful for poor Jess.”

“I lost count of the number of new schoolbags and coats I had to buy you.”

That hadn’t been the worst part. No, the worst part had been the words that had carved chunks out of her confidence.

You’re not his type, Brenna. Flat chest and brown hair isn’t his thing. He’ll ski with you but he will never, ever, want to have sex with you.

Coats and bags had been replaced, but she hadn’t been able to erase those words from her brain. “Janet’s parents were splitting up. I think she was having a hard time at home.”

“That is no excuse for making another person’s life a misery.” Her mother passed her a fork. “I was relieved when she took the baby away from here. It was the right thing to do.”

“Janet took Jess to Chicago, miles from the O’Neils! How was that the right thing?”

“It was right for you! How would you have felt bumping into Janet and Jess at the store every day? And Tyler O’Neil wasn’t here anyway. He was traveling all over the world. Couldn’t sit still for five minutes.”

“He was on the ski team. Tyler is a world-class athlete.”

“Was.” Her mother turned another perfect omelet onto a plate and sat down next to Brenna. “Maybe he
was
a world-class athlete, but whatever talent he has isn’t going to do him much good now, is it?”

“And that’s hard for him.” She knew, even though he never talked about it to anyone. And it broke her heart. “Don’t you feel any sympathy?”

“Sympathy for what? That he’s no longer living the high life with a different girl in every country?”

Brenna winced as if her mother had stabbed her. “You were the one who taught me not to believe everything I read and hear.”

“Well, let’s hope his daughter didn’t read or hear it, either.”

Brenna stared down at the food congealing on her plate. No good would come from speaking her mind. And no good would come from continuing this discussion.

“Jess is back now, and she’s happy. You should see her ski. She has so much talent. Just like her father.”

Her mother took a bite of food. “How long until he tires of having a teenager under his feet?”

“They have a great relationship. You should see them together, they—”

“Tyler O’Neil is never going to settle down. He will never be what you want him to be, and all the hoping in the world isn’t going to change that. And moving in with him isn’t going to change it, either.”

“I don’t want him to be anything other than he is.” Brenna poked her eggs. Why had she come? “He’s a good friend. My best friend.”

“A man and a woman can’t be best friends.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Then you really are a fool. One person always feels more than the other.”

Brenna swallowed because she knew in this case, her mother was right. And she was the person who felt more than Tyler. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No?” Her mother put her fork down with a clatter. “What happens when he meets someone? You think she’s going to be pleased he has you as a best friend? And he
will
meet someone.”

It was impossible to talk to her. Impossible to have a conversation that went to and fro. Instead it was like being pelted by words, and those words hammered into her flesh and her bones like hailstones. They hurt flesh already sensitive following Tyler’s confession that Jess had wanted him to have a love life.