Snowbound

flutters of excitement. Was it really all that smart to be

even thinking about falling for a man who’d had to move

out into the woods so he could “decompress”? Or—

horrors—was that the real attraction? Did she think she

could somehow “fix” him? Lord, was she that arrogant?

Perturbed, she took the basket upstairs and left it in

the bathroom, then returned to her book downstairs.

She couldn’t hang out in the kitchen all evening.

If she kept finding herself rereading pages, at least

no one else could tell.

The poker game seemed to be winding down. Maybe

betting on wood and bark chips was losing its zip.

Dieter and Willow were talking now, rather than playing

Chinese checkers, and, as Fiona surveyed the room,

Troy took off his earphones and sat up.

With an apparent gift for timing, Amy chose just

then to come down the stairs.

Fiona felt as much as saw John come from the

kitchen and stop in the shadow of one of the rough-hewn

pillars.

Everyone looked at Amy, who paused on the bottom

step, tears seeming to sparkle on her lashes.

“Willow?” she whispered. Then, as she rushed forward, “Oh, Willow! I’m so sorry!”

Looking wary, Willow rose to her feet. Amy

hugged her.

“I have such a big mouth. I was mostly annoyed at

Hopper—” she cast him a half-stern, half-flirtatious look

before turning back to Willow “—and I just wanted to tell

him to mind his own business. But I didn’t think. I never

meant to embarrass you. And I’m really sorry I did.”

Her voice was tremulous, her expression tragic.

What could Willow do but say, “It’s okay. It was

dumb of me to be embarrassed. I just…I never talked

about stuff like that before in front of…” She bit her lip.

“But it’s no biggie, okay?”

Amy gave a breathtaking smile. “I’ve been feeling

so awful! Thank you.”

Everyone smiled with approval. The performance

was beautiful. Fiona was a little bit shocked at her

own cynicism.

She turned her head and saw the way John was

watching the scene, his expression a mixture of incredulity, admiration and disgust.

Maybe, she tried to tell herself, Amy had learned

something from this other than how to feign remorse,

assuming she hadn’t already known how to do that.

Could it be that she’d become just a little more aware

that nastiness didn’t win friends?

Fiona’s inner teenager murmured, Yeah, right.

Amy was weepy, glowing with relief and reveling in

being the center of attention. Willow, once again colorless, had slipped to the periphery as if trying to vanish.

Dieter, bless his heart, had gone with her and was

ignoring Amy.

Fiona was exhausted. She had never before appreciated so much that classes were only fifty minutes long. She also discovered that, while she didn’t want to

go home, she wanted them to go home.

Meanwhile she was having a debate with herself about

whether to take Amy aside and tell her a little went a long

way and she really, really didn’t have to lay it on so thick.

She was saved by the necessity by John, who took

a few steps forward, cleared his throat and said,

“Anyone hungry?”

The boys forgot Amy and Willow.

“Yeah!” they said, almost in unison, and stampeded

for the kitchen.

“Hot chocolate,” John added.

Even Erin put down her book.

“Cool!” Amy said brightly. She looked around for

Willow. “Shall we go get some?”

Willow blushed, as if flattered at the attention. “Sure.”

Fiona sighed and followed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JOHN AWAKENED in the morning before anyone else.

He’d let the small woodstove in his apartment burn

down and, swearing, he yanked on clothes with clumsy

haste. He’d get the fire in the great room burning again

to supplement the old furnace, then make some bread.

They’d gone through more than he had anticipated yesterday.

It wasn’t until he’d passed through the kitchen and

was in the great room of the lodge that he looked

outside. The sky was just lightening, and it seemed to

him that he saw some pink.

He unlocked the heavy front door and stepped out

onto the porch. No white blur of falling flakes. The