“Heated with some of that cheddar on top?”
Steve got up to get the older man his dessert, and Chess grabbed the empty plates on the table. She followed the cook into the kitchen and set them on the large dish rack.
“I’ve seen that man several times, and I’ve never said hello or asked him how he was doing.” She looked at Steve. “Or you, for that matter.”
Ste
ve was busy shaving cheddar on top of a piece of pie. He shrugged. “Don’t beat yourself up, kid. We get busy or distracted, and life slips by us sometimes. The trick is to do something about it. One thing I’ve learned is that life doesn’t happen for you. Life happens to you. But the kicker is, it’s up to you to do the driving, if you know what I mean.”
Steve put the slice of pie in the oven and turned to face Chess. “Just look at Ted out there. He’s lost his wife, his home, and his damn cat, but he’s still invested in life, in spite of feeling like it’s too much sometimes.” He reached for the cigarette tucked behind his ear and lit up. “He’s living in this motel while his insurance settles the house and that mess, and he’s waiting on his kids, who didn’t make it down for Christmas because of this storm. But he’s here and he’s smiling. It’s more than I can say for a lot of folks, myself included. Most of the time, I get through my day without looking anyone in the eye, including Joely, and she’s up in my business twenty-four-seven.”
He cracked a smile. “I guess it’s true what they say about Christmas.”
“What’s that?”
“It thaws even the coldest of hearts.” He nodded to the door. “Let them know I’ll bring out dessert for everyone.”
Chess wandered back into the dining room. Cash looked relaxed, sitting beside Ted, listening to more stories. Joely was well into the wine by this time and had her elbow propped onto the table, holding up her chin while she listened intently. The elderly couple by the window where holding hands, talking quietly to themselves.
Elvis still sang, but he was no longer blue. Instead, he was singing about a silent night in a voice full of soul.
When Cash glanced up suddenly and locked eyes with her, Chess’s heart skipped a whole bunch of beats. A slow smile crept across his face, and her mouth went dry at the power that sat there. When he motioned for her to come sit, she didn’t hesitate and slipped onto the chair beside him.
“What about you, Chess? What’s your favorite Christmas memory?” Joely watched her expectantly, along with Ted. Cash looked down at his boots because he knew how crappy her eighth Christmas had been. But it hadn’t always been like that. There was a time when her parents were in love and happy—before his affair with the office temp and her affair with booze.
“When I was five or six, I was infatuated with Sleeping Beauty. I don’t know what it is about her story that I loved so much. Maybe it was the three fairies looking out for her or maybe it was because, to me, she looked like my mother. I dressed like her and watched the movie any chance I could. So much so that I could quote dialogue. One Christmas morning, I woke up, and there was a snow globe on the nightstand beside my bed. It was beautiful. Inside the globe was the prince kissing Sleeping Beauty, and to me, it was everything. I ran to my parents’ bedroom and, God, my dad laughed when I jumped on their bed and told him that Santa had left it for me. That Santa had actually been in my room. I was young and still believed in fairy tales and magic and hope.”
Ted leaned close to her and said quietly, “The older we get, all the good stuff gets buried beneath all the bad stuff, and we forget about magic and hope. Sometimes it’s easier to forget it existed than to remember something you don’t have anymore. But if you look inside yourself, it’s there. Trust me on that.”
Steve brought out warm pie for everyone, Ted’s with grated cheddar cheese melted on top, and they sat together and enjoyed their dessert, while outside, the wind still blew and the snow still fell. When they were done and the plates had been cleared and stacked in the large industrial washer, Joely held up her wineglass.
“Cheers, everyone. I know most of you probably wish you were somewhere else, but I’m glad we’re together. I’m blessed to spend this night with all of you. Merry Christmas.”
Chess sipped from her water, aware that Cash’s gaze rested on her. She turned slightly, unnerved as Ted finished his glass of whiskey and set it down.
“I’m an old fart, and being on the wrong end of eighty gives a man a certain leeway when it comes to imparting advice. Christmas is a state of mind, and some lucky sons of bitches have it every single day of their lives.” He filled his glass once more and raised a toast. “I don’t begrudge anyone that. But we don’t need it every day. All we need is a little bit of Christmas now and then to remind us what love feels like and to know we’re not alone.”
Chess raised her glass to one of the sweetest men she’d ever met. Ted winked at her, and she smiled in return, turning as Cash moved closer. The look in his eyes was unreadable. It was dark and intense. It touched something inside Chess she thought was long dead, and she was stunned to realized what it was. Hope. Maybe Cash Bodine was her little bit of Christmas. Maybe he was the reminder that all was not lost.
He leaned closer, and she held her breath in anticipation, thinking he might kiss her. Thinking she kinda wanted it. Thinking a kiss from Cash would be like touching fire.
But then the lights flickered.
“Well, shit,” Ted exclaimed. “That’s not good.”
Then they went out.
Chapter Eight
They waited a good hour by candlelight for the hydro to come back on, and when it was apparent it wasn’t happening anytime soon, the Christmas Eve celebration at the Crystal Lake Motel Diner came to an end.
Joely and Steve locked up and headed to his suite, which was double the size of a regular room, along with Ted, who Joely insisted stay with them because no hydro meant no heat. Cash and Chess walked the elderly couple back to their room and then stomped through two-foot drifts until they reached theirs.
The snow seemed to pull what little light there was from the surrounding darkness, making Chess look ethereal in its reflection. He snuck a look at her as she fumbled in her coat pocket for her room key. “We’d have a better chance of keeping warm if we stay together.” It wasn’t a line or anything like that. It was the truth.
She paused and exhaled, twin plumes of air billowing around them. “You’re probably right,” she said softly. She fingered the key. “I’ll just change into warmer clothes first and come over.”
He got the feeling she was about to bolt or, worse, shut down, so he backed away and headed to his own room. “The door will be unlocked. Let yourself in.”