Maybe This Christmas (33 page)

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Authors: Sarah Morgan

BOOK: Maybe This Christmas
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Making a note to commiserate with his brother, Sean steered the conversation back on topic. “Let’s focus on Scott.” He went through it again, repeating words he’d already spoken.

Drumming the message home took another twenty minutes. By the time he’d showered, checked on a few of his patients and climbed into his car, two hours had passed.

Sean sat for a moment, summoning the energy to drive the distance to his waterfront home.

The weekend lay ahead, a stretch of time filled with infinite possibilities.

For the next forty-eight hours his time was his own and he was ready to savor every moment. But first he was going to sleep.

The phone he kept for his personal use rang and he cursed for a moment, assuming it was Veronica, and then frowned when the screen told him it was his twin brother, Jackson. Along with the name came the guilt. It festered inside him, buried deep but always there.

He wondered why his brother would be calling him late on a Friday.

A crisis at home?

Snow Crystal Resort had been in their family for four generations. It hadn’t occurred to any of them that it might not be in the family for another four. The sudden death of his father had revealed the truth. The business had been in trouble for years. The discovery that their home was under threat had sent a ripple of shock through the whole family.

It was Jackson who had left a thriving business in Europe to return home to Vermont and save Snow Crystal from a disaster none of the three brothers had even known existed.

Sean stared at the phone in his hand.

Guilt crawled over his skin because he knew it wasn’t the pressures of his job that kept him away.

Breathing deeply, he settled back in his seat, ready to catch up on news from home and promising himself that next time he was going to be the one who made the call. He was going to do better at staying in touch.

“Hey—” he answered the call with a smile “—you fell over, smashed your knee and now you need a decent surgeon?”

There was no answering banter and no small talk. “You need to get yourself back here. It’s Gramps.”

Running Snow Crystal Resort was a never-ending tug of war between Jackson and their grandfather. “What’s he done this time? He wants you to knock down the lodges? Close the spa?”

“He collapsed. He’s in the hospital and you need to come.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in and when they did it was as if someone had sucked all the oxygen from the air.

Like all of them, he considered Walter O’Neil invincible. He was as strong as the mountains that had been home for all his life.

And he was eighty years of age.

“Collapsed?” Sean tightened his grip on the phone, remembering the number of times he’d said that the only way his grandfather would leave his beloved Snow Crystal would be if he was carried out in an ambulance. “What does that mean? Cardiac or neurological? Stroke or heart attack? Tell me in medical terms.”

“I don’t know the medical terms! It’s his heart, they think. He had that pain last winter, remember? They’re doing tests. He’s alive, that’s what counts. They didn’t say much and I was focusing on Mom and Grams. You’re the doctor, which is why I’m telling you to get your butt back here now so you can translate doctor-speak. I can handle the business but this is your domain. You need to come home, Sean.”

Home?

Home was his apartment in Boston with his state-of-the-art sound system, not a lake set against a backdrop of mountains and surrounded by a forest that had their family history carved into the trees.

Sean leaned his head back and stared up at the perfect blue sky that formed a contrast to the dark emotions swirling inside him.

He imagined his grandfather, pale and helpless, trapped in the sterile environment of a hospital, away from his precious Snow Crystal.

“Sean?” Jackson’s voice came through the speaker. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” His other hand gripped the wheel of his car, knuckles white because there were things his brother didn’t know. Things they hadn’t talked about.

“Mom and Grams need you. You’re the doctor in the family. I can handle the business but I can’t handle this.”

“Was someone with him when it happened? Grams?”

“Not Grams. He was with Élise. She acted very quickly. If she hadn’t, we’d be having a different conversation.”

Élise, the head chef at Snow Crystal.

Sean stared straight ahead, thinking about that single night the summer before. For a brief moment he was back there, breathing in her scent, remembering the wildness of it.

That was something else his brother knew nothing about.

He swore under his breath and then realized Jackson was still talking.

“How soon can you get here?”

Sean thought about his grandfather, lying pale and still in a hospital bed while their mother, the family glue, struggled to hold everything together and Jackson did more than could be expected of one man.

He was sure his grandfather wouldn’t want him there, but the rest of his family needed him.

And as for Élise—it had been a single night, that was all. They weren’t in a relationship and never would be so there was no reason to mention it to his brother.

He made some rapid mental calculations.

The journey would take him three and a half hours, and that was without counting the time it would take to drive home and pack a bag.

“I’ll be with you as soon as I can. I’ll call his doctors now and find out what’s going on.”

“Come straight to the hospital. And drive carefully. One member of the family in the hospital is enough.” There was a brief pause. “It will be good to have you back at Snow Crystal, Sean.”

The reply wedged itself in his throat.

He’d grown up by the lake, surrounded by lush forests and mountains. He couldn’t identify the exact time he’d known it wasn’t where he wanted to be. When the place had started to irritate and chafe everything from his skin to his ambitions. It wasn’t something he’d been able to voice because to admit that there might be a place more perfect than Snow Crystal would have been heresy in the O’Neil family. Except to his father. Michael O’Neil had shared his conflicted emotions about the place. His father was the one person who would have understood.

Guilt dug deep, twisting in his ribs like a knife, because apart from the row with his grandfather and his wild fling with Élise, there was something else he’d never told his brother.

He’d never told him how much he hated coming home.

* * *


I ’
AVE
KILLED
W
ALTER
! This is all my fault! I was so desperate to have the old boathouse finished in time for the party, I let an eighty-year-old man work on the deck.” Élise paced across the deck of her pretty lakeside lodge, out of her mind with worry
.

Merde,
I am a bad person. Jackson should fire me.”

“Snow Crystal is in enough trouble without Jackson firing his head chef. The restaurant is the one part of this business that is profitable. Oh, good news—” Kayla leaned on the railing next to the water, scanning a text “—according to the doctors, Walter is stable.”


Comment?
What does this mean, ‘stable’? You put a horse in a stable.”

“It means you haven’t killed him,” Kayla said as she texted back swiftly. “You need to calm down or we’ll be calling an ambulance for you next. Are all French people as dramatic as you?”

“I don’t know. I cannot help it.” Élise dragged her hand through her hair. “I am not good at ’iding my feelings. For a while I manage it, but then everything bursts out and I explode.”

“I know. I’ve cleared up the mess after a few of your explosions. Fortunately your staff adore you. Go and make pizza dough or whatever it is you do when you want to reduce your stress levels. You’re dropping your
h’
s and that is never a good sign.” Kayla sent the text and read another one. “Jackson wants me to drive over to the hospital.”

“I will come with you!”

“Only if you promise not to explode in my car.”

“I want to see with my own eyes that Walter is alive.”

“You think we’re all lying to you?”

Her legs were shaking so Élise plopped onto the chair she’d placed by the water. “He is very important to me. I love him like a grandfather. Not like my real grandfather because he was a horrible person who refused to speak to my mother after she had me so I never actually met him, but how I think a grandfather should be in my dreams. I know you understand because your family, they were also rubbish.”

Kayla gave a faint smile, but didn’t argue. “I know how close you are to Walter. You don’t have to explain to me.”

“He is the nearest thing I have to family. And Jackson, of course. It makes me very happy to think he will marry you soon. And Elizabeth and dear Alice. And Tyler is like a brother to me, even though sometimes I want to punch him. It is normal for siblings to sometimes want to punch each other, I think. I love you all with every bone in my body.” The dark side of Élise’s life was carefully locked away in the past. Loneliness, fear and deep humiliation were a distant memory. She was safe here. Safe and loved.

“And Sean?” Kayla lifted an eyebrow. “Where does he fit into your adopted family? Presumably not as another brother.”

“No.” Just thinking about him made her heart race a little faster. “Not a brother.”

“So you won’t be telling him you love him? Aren’t you worried he might feel a little left out?”

Élise frowned. “You are not funny.”

“Is this a good time to warn you he’s coming home?”

“Of course he is coming home. He is an O’Neil. The O’Neils always stick together when there is trouble and Sean hasn’t been home for a while.”

And she was worried that was her fault.

Was it because of what had happened between them?

“So it isn’t going to feel awkward when he shows up?”

“Why would it feel awkward? Because of last summer? It was just one night. It’s not so hard to understand, is it? Sean is
un beau mec.

“He’s a
what?


Un beau mec.
A hot guy. Sean is very sexy. We are two adults who chose to spend a night together. We are both single. Why would it feel awkward?” It had been her idea of the perfect night. No ties. No complications. A decision she’d made with her head, not her heart. Never again would she allow her heart to be engaged.

No risks. No mistakes.


So seeing him isn’t going to bother you?”

“Not at all. And it isn’t the first time. I saw him at Christmas.”

“And neither of you exchanged a single look or word.”

“Christmas is the busiest time of year for me. Do you know how many people I fed in the restaurant? I had more important things to worry about than Sean. And it is the same now. We probably won’t even have time to say hello. All he thinks about is work and I am the same. It is only a week until the Boathouse Café opens and at the moment it doesn’t have a deck.”

“Look, I know how much this project means to you—to all of us—but it is no one’s fault that Zach crashed his dirt bike.”

Élise scowled. “He is their cousin. Family. He should have shown more responsibility.”

“Distant cousin.”

“So what? He should have finished my deck before he crashed!”

“I’m sure that’s what he told the boulder that jumped into his path.” Kayla gave a fatalistic shrug. “He has O’Neil DNA. Of coure he is going to indulge in dangerous sports and have accidents. Tyler says he’s lethal on a snowboard.”

“He should not have been indulging in anything lethal until my deck was finished!”

“So does that mean Zach has been struck off the list of people you love?”

“You make fun of me but it is important to tell people you love them.” It wasn’t just important to her, it was vital. Sadness seeped into her veins and she breathed deeply, trying to block the spread. Over the years she’d learned to control it. To keep it locked away so it didn’t interfere with her life. “I should never have let Walter step in. It is because of me he is lying there all full of tubes and needles and—”

“Stop!” Kayla pulled a face. “Enough.”

“It’s just that I keep imagining—”

“Well, don’t! Talk about something else?”

“We can talk about how I have ruined everything. The Boathouse Café is important for Snow Crystal. We have included the projected revenue in our forecasts. We have a party planned! And now it cannot happen.”

Frustrated with herself, Élise stood up and gazed across the lake, searching for calm. The evening sun sent flashes of gold and silver over the still surface of the lake. It was rare that she saw the place at this time of day. Usually she was in the restaurant preparing for the evening. The only time she sat on her own deck was in the dark when she returned in the early hours, or immediately on rising when she made herself a cup of freshly brewed coffee and sipped it in the dawn silence.

Morning was her favorite time of day in the summer, when the forest was still bathed by early morning mist and the sleepy sun had yet to burn off the fine cobweb of white shrouding the trees. It made her think of the curtain in the theatre, hiding the thrill of the main event from an excited audience.

Heron Lodge was small, just one bedroom and an open plan living area, but the size didn’t worry her. She’d grown up in Paris, in a tiny apartment on the Left Bank with a view over the rooftops and barely room to pirouette. At Snow Crystal she lived right on the lakeshore, her lodge sheltered by trees. At night in the summer she slept with the windows open. Even when it was too dark to see the view, there was beauty in the sounds. Water slapping gently against her deck, the whisper of a bird’s wing as it flew overhead, the low hoot of an owl. On nights when she was unable to sleep she lay for hours breathing in the sweet scents of summer and listening to the call of the hermit thrush and the chattering of the black-capped chickadees.

If she’d slept with her window open in Paris she would have been constantly disturbed by a discordant symphony of car horns punctuated by Gallic swearing as drivers stopped in the street to yell abuse at each other. Paris was loud and busy. A city with the volume fixed on maximum while everyone rushed around trying to be somewhere yesterday.

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