Even though it felt good, he still had to deal with Chief McKnight...and with the holy family lying half-buried in the snow. He’d run over baby Jesus. How was he going to fix this?
He was going to need a Christmas miracle.
When they were a few feet from the police car, Charlie saw Darcy running toward them. “What happened here?” she asked. “Is someone hurt?”
“No visible injuries,” said the chief. “And you are?”
“Darcy Fitzgerald,” she said. “I’m friends with Charlie’s aunt. I was looking for them at the skate house, and his aunt said they came over here to play in the snow.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Looks like you had a little too much fun with the snowplow.”
“We’re sorry,” said Charlie. “We didn’t mean it.”
“I was just going to call Logan,” said Chief McKnight, taking out a phone.
Charlie wished he could freeze into an icicle and not feel so terrible. Everything that had happened was bad, but knowing his dad was about to get a call from the police was the worst.
“Wait a moment,” Darcy said. “Do you mind if I have a word with you?”
She and the police chief stepped to the other side of the car and had a quick, quiet conversation. A few minutes later, the chief said, “So here’s the deal. I’m going to move the snowplow, and you kids are going to rebuild the manger. I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but if you ever pull a stunt like this again—”
“We won’t,” Charlie said.
“Never, ever, we swear on a stack of Bibles,” André added.
The chief drove the snowplow back to its parking spot. Darcy looked at Charlie and then at André.
Charlie shook in his shoes. What if she decided to act like the stepmonster and rat him out to his dad? Oh man.
“All right, you two,” she said. “Let’s get moving. We’ve got work to do.”
Dark came early to the mountain on Christmas Eve, and outside the window, the winter sky brooded with the weight of a coming storm. The airways were filled with warnings of a lake-effect blizzard. Darcy’s phone vibrated with messages from her sisters and parents to make sure she was all right.
She was returning a text to Lydia when India handed her a mug redolent of wine and spices. “Glühwein,” she said. “Traditional in Tyrolia, I’m told. They made it over at the Powder Room for the overnight guests.”
Darcy took a sip. “Oh, that’s nice.”
India gestured at her phone. “Everything all right?”
“My sister just wanted to make sure we’re not going to freeze to death in the storm.”
“I heard it was going to hit around midnight.”
“It’s kind of exciting,” said Darcy.
“Let’s hope the power stays on.” India studied her. “You look good.”
“As opposed to...?”
“I thought you might be depressed, missing your family, that sort of thing.”
“I’m fine.”
“So, you and Logan—”
“Fine,” Darcy assured her. “Everything is fine.” She wasn’t ready to talk about her growing bond with Logan. It was very unexpected, and very fast. And if the encounter with him today was any indication, she was in for a very nice Christmas Eve. She didn’t want to spoil things by talking about them too soon. She didn’t want to talk herself out of it. He had done nothing specific to win her trust, yet she trusted him. She wanted to take a chance with him.
“I’m going to go say good-night to the kids,” she said to India.
“Okay. I think we wore them out sufficiently, and they’re exhausted enough to sleep. Charlie practically fell asleep in his Christmas Eve Frito pie.”
India had no idea. Darcy had kept the Bobcat mishap to herself on condition that the boys put the manger back in readiness for Christmas morning. She had worked the boys like a pair of rented mules. Fueled by pure repentance and helped by the incredibly understanding chief of police, they had put the manger back in order quickly. They’d managed to swaddle the broken baby Jesus so it would look brand-new. Tonight’s layer of fresh snow would cover their tracks.
In the course of repairing the damage with Charlie, she had made two discoveries. Number one, she was falling for the little boy as hard as she was falling for his father. And number two, telling Santa he wanted a snowboard for Christmas was merely a diversion Charlie had set up. As they were finishing up with the manger, André had pulled her aside and whispered the truth. She only hoped there was enough time to do what had to be done.
The process of getting the kids off to bed began with a chorus of groans from the kids. “The sooner you get to bed, the sooner Santa comes,” China reminded them.
“And the pickle prize,” Darcy reminded them. “Don’t forget that.” She explained the game to them, and eventually they were all rounded up and sent to bed. Darcy went in to tell them good-night.
“Thank you,” said Charlie, “for, um, helping us out today.”
“You’re welcome.” She didn’t lecture him. She knew he’d learned his lesson. She’d seen it on his face at the scene of the crime.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you help us?”
“I have four older sisters. I know all about doing something dumb, and getting in trouble, and trying to make it right, and then moving on. And by the way, that’s a nugget, Charlie.”
“A what?”
“A nugget. Like a nugget of wisdom. Something to remember as you go through life.”
“What, like there’s a rule that I should never do something dumb?”
“No. Just assume you’re going to because you’re only human. The important thing is to make it right and move on.”
“Okay. I’m really glad you helped us.”
“I always help the people I love.” It just slipped out. She stared at him, and the little red-cheeked face and bright green eyes stared back at her.
His gaze never wavered. “I love you, too. I hope you stick around.”
Oh, boy. This could go so wrong. Charlie was a new love interest for her heart—and also a new risk. If things didn’t work out with Logan, her loss would be doubled. She’d been there before and feared going there again. On the other hand, the excitement she felt for Logan was doubled, too. Maybe it was time to quit being afraid.
“Good night, Charlie. I’ll see you on Christmas morning, okay?”
Chapter Eighteen
“They’re nestled,” said Marion O’Donnell, coming down from the kids’ room.
“All snug in their beds,” added Al.
“Then Santa had better get to work,” said Bilski, nudging India. “We’ve got a pair of bikes to put together.”
“Humbug,” she said. “I’d rather have a hot toddy and go to bed.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” said China’s husband. “But only if you promise to help me with the dollhouse. All that itty-bitty furniture. I don’t get it.”
“We’ll put out the milk and cookies,” said China.
“You can put them right here,” Logan said, indicating the table next to him. “Santa needs a snack.”
Seated on his other side, Darcy felt a warm sense of contentment. She liked this family. She liked the interplay and the way they cared for one another. It reminded her of her own family, before the trouble with Huntley began.
She felt relaxed and at peace, far from trouble now.
India checked her phone. “Your mother sent a text message,” she said to Bilski. “She wants to know how we’re making it through the storm.”
“Tell her we’re suffering.” Bilski helped himself to another beer.
The coming storm was making national news because of its predicted size and severity. Currently it was hurling itself across the Great Lakes, gathering strength.