“You were already planning, admit it.” He grabbed a paper towel and a spray bottle of eco-friendly cleaner. “That I suggested you keep her worked into your master plan.”
“It did. Your dad will take her to school come Monday, as long as it’s not a snow day. Then, again, maybe we’ll keep her forever.”
“Sure, go ahead and try.” He squirted the length of counter and wiped it down. “In the meantime, I need your help with one of Macie’s Christmas gifts.”
“Do you mean the Christmas gift, the only one she wants?”
“The kitten.” No idea how that was going to work out, and he was a little afraid to think about it. “Where do I find one? I want a good one. The right one.”
He had no idea how to know which one would be the right one. Surely all kittens were nice, but how did he find the one that would be the loving friend Macie wanted?
“I have no idea. I know, not what you wanted to hear. But I have my sources. Let me make a few calls and talk to some friends. I’ll get back to you.”
“Mom, you’re fantastic.”
“Don’t I know it,” she agreed happily.
Relieved, he turned the conversation to what was going on in his parents’ lives. He listened while he wiped down the table and started sorting clothes in the laundry room. Wind gusted against the side of the house, and the last of the sunlight bled from the sky. He said goodbye to his mom and lit a fire in the fireplace. By the time the new storm’s first snowflakes fell, the Kramer house felt warm and snug. This was as good as life got, he thought, watching his daughter sleep. He couldn’t ask for anything more.
Chapter Four
The weekend flew by. Chelsea barely had time to breathe settling in at home—unpacking her car, putting up the rest of the lights and then there was church on Sunday. Monday morning blew in with a fresh accumulation of snow and a storm that sent snow drifting over roads and made the mile drive into town challenging. She pulled into the little parking lot behind Dr. Swift’s medical clinic ten minutes late. Totally hating being late, she shoved open her door, hauled her bag from the passenger seat, slipped on a sheet of ice and landed on her bottom.
Great. Just great. Cold seeped through her wool slacks as she levered back onto her feet, grabbed her keys and prayed Dr. Swift wouldn’t be too unhappy with her. He’d been clear. Staff meeting starts at seven-thirty. Halfway to the door she noticed a reflection in a glass window. Her headlights. Double great. With a sigh, she tromped back through the snow. Hurry, hurry, hurry. This was no way to start her first day of work for the man she’d looked up to all her life. Steve Swift was not only her new boss but her longtime mentor. He’d encouraged her in her studies and he’d been there for their family when Mom had fallen ill—
Her right foot slipped, she went down on her knees in the same ice patch she’d fallen in earlier. Fabulous. So, maybe she was missing Seattle’s rain just a little. She pulled herself up holding on to the door handle, unlocked her car, turned off the lights and trekked back through the snow. Really, the day had to get better from here, right?
Her cell chimed the moment she set foot through the back door. Warmth enfolded her, chasing away the chill as she fished her phone out of her bag. A text message stared up at her.
Hope your first day goes well, sweetheart, her father had written. I know you’ll do great.
That was her dad, always there for her.
Thanks. She hit Send, smiling as she unwound her scarf, imagining him at work at the vet clinic, cradling a cup of coffee and carrying on a conversation with any animals who happened to be in the kennels.
She unwrapped her scarf and her phone chimed again. Not Dad this time.
Praying UR first day is fabulous! Johanna’s words marched across her screen cheerfully. Meg says U go, girl!
Okay, this was the upside of sisterhood. Maybe being back in Wyoming wasn’t so bad. She unbuttoned her coat, shrugged out of it and tapped out an answer. So far I haven’t broken a leg. Have a great day, 2. Dinner tonight?
At Jeff’s Diner, Johanna answered. Six o’clock. UR treat.
MY treat? She texted back.
Becuz U love me and because I’m broke.
Hard to argue with that. She’d missed her sisters living so far away. Weather aside, it really was good to be back.
The door swung open without warning. Snow blew in like a blizzard, borne on a strong gust. A tall man dressed in black shouldered in, his silhouette strangely familiar. A dark knit hat hid his sandy-brown hair and for a moment the snow shielded his face, but she knew him even before he rammed the door shut.
Michael Kramer. Doctor Michael Kramer.
“What are you doing here?” she asked before her brain kicked in. “Wait, don’t answer that. Let me guess. You work here.”
“Guilty.” He tugged off his hat. He smelled like snow and pine. Very Christmassy. Very nice. “My name is on the stationery, at least it was the last time I checked. Are you here to see one of the other doctors?”
“See one? No, I work here. I’m the new—”
“Pediatrician.” He blinked in surprise, his gray matter suddenly stuck in neutral. Why hadn’t he guessed it? Maybe because when he’d first met Chelsea McKaslin, he’d had his daughter’s broken arm on his mind. The second time he’d met her, it had taken most of his mental acuity not to dwell on how beautiful she was. “Right. Guess I should have known.”
“So, you didn’t read the memo?” Blue eyes sparkled up at him, bright with humor.
Yeah, he deserved it. “I’m focused, I admit it. I’d rather practice medicine than the business of medicine.”
“I hear you there.” She swiped a lock of light chestnut hair out of her eyes. Melting snow clung to her like a tiara, twinkling in the light. “Steve hired me last month.”
“That explains it.” He led the way down the narrow hall, flipped on a bank of lights and clipped into the break room. No scent of coffee met him. The machine was dark, the lights off. Looked like everyone was running late this morning due to the worsening storm. “I’m just here two days a week. I’m in Jackson the other three. Must have missed the official announcement.”
“Working here has always been my plan since I was a kid.” She seemed at home as she plopped her bag on the edge of the central table and fished out a plastic lunch container. “Steve must be running late?”
“Late? No, he—” He shook his head, realizing he was watching her sweep over to the refrigerator like she’d caught his eyes with a tractor beam. Stop looking, Michael. He yanked open a closet door and shrugged off his snowy coat. “Something tells me you didn’t hear the news.”
“No.” She plopped her lunch on a rack and closed the fridge door. Concern gentled her eyes so blue they were almost lilac. “What about news?”
“Steve went snowmobiling on Saturday and had a run-in with a tree.” Why couldn’t he stop looking at her?
“Uh-oh, that’s never good.” She waltzed toward him, slipping out of her winter coat. Her slim eyebrows knit together, her heart-shaped face wreathing with the same tender caring as when she’d been helping injured Macie at the cemetery. “Is he okay?”
“Other than a broken femur, sure.”
“He broke his leg?” Her eyebrows shot up, her jaw dropped open. “Oh, no, is he looking at surgery?”
“Apparently it’s not indicated, but you know the saying, doctors make the worst patients. Steve might not be telling the whole truth. He left a message on my phone last night.” He jammed