“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