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  “Me too.”

  “Everything here is pretty self-explanatory. Just help yourself. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Fallon, I’m sorry about…”

  “If anyone should apologize, it’s me.”

  “What?”

  “I usually spring for dinner before I invite a woman into my bedroom.” Fallon winked and left Riley in her bedroom with Owen.

  Riley laughed and placed Owen on the bed and started to undress him. “We got lucky, little man.” What a beginning. Owen giggled. “You think so too, huh? We’re going to have to find some way to thank Fallon.” Owen grinned. “I agree. She’s a nice person.” Well, there is that. If everyone is that nice here, we might just do okay. “All right, little man. I think we’ve both had enough excitement for one day.”

  ***

  Fallon flipped on her high-beams and headed down the road. The night had gone in a completely different direction than she had expected. She couldn’t imagine how Riley must be feeling. She was curious about the young woman. Her mother had mentioned that Sylvia’s granddaughter-in-law was making her way from the West Coast to Whiskey Springs. Ida and Sylvia Main had been friends almost since birth. Fallon remembered the tears in her mother’s eyes when Sylvia and her husband, Frank left for Florida. Frank had suffered with respiratory issues and the after-effects of a minor stroke. They had left for the sunshine state just a month after Fallon’s father’s untimely death. Fallon had been in New York, her brother, Dean was stationed with the Navy in Norfolk, Virginia. Ida did her best to conceal her loneliness from Fallon. If Fallon felt adrift, she couldn’t imagine how her mother felt. It helped solidify Fallon’s decision to come home.

  Ida had confided to Fallon that she hoped Sylvia might return to Whiskey Springs. That had yet to occur. The year after Fallon’s father’s death, Frank Main suffered a major heart attack and died. Less than six months later, Sylvia’s son Dan, and his wife Rebecca were killed in a car accident. Fallon had thought Sylvia might find her way home after that. She had stayed. Her grandchildren were still in school and she now had them in her care. Fallon could hardly believe it when her mother told her that Sylvia’s oldest grandson had met the same fate as his parents. Poor Sylvia. Losing her father had sent Fallon into depression for months. The idea of losing so many people you loved seemed unfathomable. And, Riley? Riley couldn’t be much over thirty—if that. Here she was a single mom and a widow already. Fallon shook her head. That sucks. Now, she found herself stranded in some stranger’s house all the way across the country. Poor Riley.

  Fallon leaned forward and wiped the wind shield with her hand. “There you are.” She turned the truck around and backed up toward Riley’s car. The snow was beginning to accumulate at a rate that concerned Fallon. She would need to work fast if she hoped to get both the car and the trailer to the parking lot at the pub. As it was, she would be behind in her endeavor to clear the lot. She let out a groan when the cold air hit her face. What else can go wrong tonight?

  ***

  Riley tossed and turned on the bed. Owen had fallen asleep the moment she covered him. “I envy you, little man.” She kissed her son’s head. Riley’s thoughts were spinning out of control. How had she landed here? Landed in some stranger’s home? In some stranger’s bed? Riley chuckled. Like that would ever happen. She sighed with frustration. “What am I doing?” That was a stupid question. She was doing the only thing she could do, and not just because her car died at the side of a country road. She needed a change. She needed a fresh start. This was not what she had envisioned. What had she envisioned? Riley tossed some more.

  A breakdown in San Diego would have resulted in a tow truck and a ride home from Mary or any number of friends. Maybe I should’ve tried clicking my heels three times. She had to laugh. Robert would have found Riley’s current predicament amusing. She was certain of that. He would have seen it as an adventure. Then again, Robert tended to see everything as an adventure. I miss you. Becoming a widow at twenty-eight was not in Riley’s life plan. Finding herself in a Podunk, New England town lying in a woman’s bed she’d met in front of a bar with her two-year-old shouldn’t have seemed all that strange. She shook her head. Only you, Riley.

  How long had she been lying here? Riley grabbed her phone from the bedside table. Fallon had explained that the phone’s sudden death was likely the result of the cold. She’d pointed out the charger before leaving. Then again, Fallon had pointed out almost everything in a matter of minutes. She’d made certain that Riley knew where everything she might need was. She’d handed Riley warm clothes, and tried with everything she had to make Riley feel comfortable in an inherently uncomfortable situation. Just who was Fallon Foster? Riley looked at the time on her phone. How had it gotten to be three in the morning? Where was Fallon? Riley felt a lump grow in her throat. What if something happened while Fallon was trying to help her? I hope she’s okay.

  ***

  Fallon was tempted to punch something. She’d managed to get Riley’s car moved to the parking lot. Towing the trailer was proving a more challenging task. For the third time, Fallon found herself exiting her truck to see if she could free the trailer’s wheels from the icy mixture on the ground. “Two o’clock already? Shit.” Fallon pulled off a glove and dug some ice out from under a wheel. “Now, behave! It’s only a little way up the road. Don’t make me tell you again!” Fallon made her way back to the driver’s seat. Determined to make it the last quarter of a mile to the pub’s lot, Fallon punched the gas harder than normal. Come on.

  “Thank God,” Fallon muttered as she pulled into the parking lot. She pulled the trailer even with Riley’s car. “One task done.” Fallon looked at the lot and shook her head. There had to be at least five inches on the ground. Now, she would need to fasten the plow to the front of her truck. She’d never get up the hill to her house without it. And, the lot? That would take time to clear. Probably close to an hour. Dammit. So much for sleep. She made her decision and lifted the phone from her pocket.

  “Foster?”

  “Yeah, figured you’d be getting up about now.”

  “Yeah. You know the drill. Winter’s my bread and butter,” Pete replied.

  “So, how’d you like a little extra butter on that bread?” Fallon asked.

  “You got a lead for me?”

  “Yeah, my parking lot, a tow job, and replacing what I suspect is a bad fuel pump.”

  Pete was stunned. He rubbed his eyes. “Your truck died?”

  “No, not mine. I’ll explain later. I’m about to give the lot a once over, but if you could hit it again in a couple of hours so I can get a little rest….”

  “You gonna open in the morning?” Pete asked.

  “I hope so.”

  “Whatever you need,” he said. “You okay, Fallon? You sound kind of strange.”

  “Tired.” Fallon was tired. The strangeness Pete heard in her voice stemmed more from her discomfort with asking for help. It wasn’t that she doubted Pete’s willingness to help. He’d made the offer to take care of plowing for Fallon for years. Fallon simply prided herself on being self-sufficient. She preferred to be the helper rather than the person seeking assistance. “Look, I’m sorry to have to ask…”

  “Seriously?” Pete laughed. “Just give me an open tab.”

  Fallon laughed. “I’ll make sure you get more than that.”

  “I’ll be there around five.”

  “Thanks, Pete.” Fallon shoved the phone back into her pocket. She stepped back into the cold and readied the plow. “Let’s hope I don’t injure anything important.” She snickered. Andi will kill me. That thought brought a smile to Fallon’s lips. She was not looking forward to a week without Andi’s company. She did know it’d be worth the wait. No injuries, Foster. I just hope I thaw out by then.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Fallon walked into the house and shook the snow from her hair.

  “No hat?”

  Fallon turned to the sound of Riley’s voice. She
’d tried to be quiet when she pulled in the driveway. She imagined the sound of the plow coming up the hill had awakened her visitor. “I’m sorry,” Fallon apologized.

  “You should be,” Riley replied seriously.

  Fallon’s eyes popped wider.

  “It’s freezing out there. No hat? You’re worse than Owen.”

  Riley’s triumphant grin told Fallon she was pleased with herself. “You sound like my mom,” Fallon said. She hung up her coat and kicked off her boots. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Fallon sensed Riley’s lingering unease.

  “You’re shivering,” Riley noted. “I should probably let you get warm and get some sleep.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep yet. How do you feel about a toddy?” Fallon asked.

  Riley’s perplexed glance made Fallon laugh.

  “I’ll assume that’s a new word in your vocabulary.”

  “No. Isn’t that Whiskey in tea or something?”

  “Bourbon if you’d prefer.”

  Riley shuddered.

  “Still don’t trust me, huh?” Fallon teased.

  “I... it’s not…”

  Fallon laughed. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”

  Riley shivered slightly.

  “Still cold?” Fallon asked. “Never mind, I know the answer.”

  “You must think I’m a wimp,” Riley said.

  “I think you’re cold.”

  “You just came in from out there,” Riley pointed to the door.

  “I’m used to it,” Fallon said. “You’re not. I take it Owen is sleeping?”

  “Out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow.”

  Fallon led Riley into the living room. She grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa, draped it around Riley’s shoulders and guided her to sit.

  “Have a seat,” Fallon said. She moved to the fireplace.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Hopefully, warming you up.”

  “You don’t have to...”

  Fallon was already moving logs and kindling to the fireplace. She frequently failed to make it to bed, choosing to recline in her chair or stretch out on the sofa in front of the fire. As the fire would dwindle to embers, so would Fallon slip into sleep. In moments, a small fire had begun to crackle.

  “It’ll heat up quickly,” Fallon said. “Just relax here.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Toddies, remember?”

  Riley grimaced.

  Fallon offered her a wink and set off to complete her task.

  Riley watched Fallon go and sighed, wondering again how she ended up here. Why was she complaining? Poor Fallon. It was after three in the morning. Fallon had been up half the night, largely, Riley was sure because of Riley’s plight. She should’ve left Syracuse earlier. Who was she kidding? Maybe Mary was right; maybe she should have stayed in San Diego. She hadn’t even reached her new home and things were a mess. She was inconveniencing a stranger. What would she have done without Fallon? The situation unnerved her. She shivered. What was wrong with her? She’d dressed Owen in a clean sleeper and he’d fallen asleep contentedly in Fallon’s bed. Snug as a bug in a rug, as the saying went. Riley couldn’t seem to get warm to save her life. If only Fallon’s remedy would do the trick.

  Her stomach roiled at the thought of whiskey in tea. She shuddered again, unsure if her body was reacting to the thought of Fallon’s concoction or if was a result of the cold she seemed to feel down to her bones. The fire was beginning to grow from a crackle to a roar. She felt its heat reach her cheeks and closed her eyes. Maybe, finally, she could shake this chill.

  “A little better?” Fallon asked. She handed Riley a mug full of steaming liquid.

  “I don’t know.” Riley sniffed the contents of the mug. “I thought I was.”

  Fallon chuckled. “Just try it. Perfect remedy.”

  “I thought these were for a cold not for being cold.”

  “Yeah, well, I know they say the two don’t go hand in hand. Can’t prove that by me. You get too cold, you get a cold. Give it a try,” Fallon said.

  Riley tentatively took a sip.

  Fallon watched with amusement as Riley considered the taste and scent of her drink.

  “It tastes like honey,” Riley said.

  “I might’ve gone heavy on the sweet and light on the Whiskey,” Fallon confessed.

  “Fallon, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You don’t know me at all…”

  “I know you are from San Diego, you are Sylvia’s granddaughter, well in-law or whatever, you have a son, your car is dead in my parking lot, and you are definitely not used to the cold. What else do I need to know?” Fallon asked.

  “When you put it that way. I am sorry if I’ve caused any…”

  “You really like to apologize, don’t you?”

  “Sorry.”

  Fallon raised her brow.

  Riley giggled. For some reason, Fallon put her at ease.

  Fallon sipped her tea and closed her eyes. The warmth of the fire relaxed her.

  “You must be exhausted,” Riley said.

  “Right now, I’m relaxed. The fire does that for me.” Fallon opened her eyes. “By the way, pretty sure your fuel pump is bad.”

  Riley opened her mouth to speak but Fallon continued before she had the chance.

  “Can’t say for sure, but I’d bet a few bucks that’s the culprit. Pete will tow it over to his place later today. Hopefully, before he makes full use of his open tab.” She chuckled.

  “Pete?”

  “Oh, I keep forgetting—Pete owns the local garage. He’s kind of a fixture at Murphy’s.”

  “Oh.”

  “He’ll fix her up good as new,” Fallon promised. “Once Carol gets in tomorrow, I can tow the trailer to your place and drop you off.”

  “Carol?”

  “She runs the pub.” Fallon laughed. “Everyone thinks that’s me. Nope. I pay the bills and pour some drinks. She’s the one who makes it all work.”

  Riley’s head had entered its millionth spin of the night. Fallon spoke as if they were old friends. And, somehow it felt that way. The entire scene made Riley curious about who Fallon Foster was. One thing she did feel certain of; Fallon likely could handle anything.

  “How long have you owned the pub?” Riley asked.

  “Oh, about fourteen years now.”

  Riley was surprised. Fallon appeared to be in her thirties.

  “I’ll take that look as a complement. I bought it when I was twenty-six. It took me a year to get it open.”

  Riley was curious.

  “It used to be called The Middle Ground. I think because it’s on the edge of Whiskey Springs, heading toward Underhill. Anyway, it closed when I was in high school.”

  “And, you always wanted to own it?”

  Fallon laughed. “Nope. Never gave it much thought until my dad died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Fallon shrugged. “Thanks. It’s okay. It was unexpected. I guess it made me rethink a lot of things.”

  “I understand.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Riley. I didn’t mean to bring up…”

  “It’s okay,” Riley said. It was okay. Riley was enjoying getting to know Fallon, even if it was in the middle of the night under crazy circumstances. People tended to walk on egg shells around Riley. They were hesitant to talk about loss or death. At first, she appreciated the space. Now, it frustrated her. Loss was part of life. It was impossible to avoid the topic. It was difficult to get to know anyone when everyone felt the need to protect her. “I do understand. Please, I want to hear the story.” She did.

  Fallon nodded. “I guess you would get it. I don’t know. It’s like everything made sense until that day. Then he was gone, and all of a sudden, all my plans seemed like they were someone else’s—like I’d missed something important.”

  Oh, I understand.

  �
�Every time I thought about him, I thought about that pub. He would take me there with him after we went fishing or sledding, really any excuse he could find to pop in and see his friends.” She chuckled. “I liked to play the jukebox, and drinking the Shirley Temples. They came with a cherry.”

  Riley smiled. Fallon’s eyes brightened like a child’s on Christmas morning as she spoke. She had noticed the jukebox in the corner of the pub when Fallon led her inside. It all comes together.

  “Anyway, everyone thought I was crazy—when I moved home and bought the place, I mean.”

  “Moved home?”

  “Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting—you don’t know any of this.” Fallon chuckled. She did keep forgetting. She barely knew Riley. For some unknown reason, she felt inclined to share her entire life with her guest. She was accustomed to being surrounded by people who knew her history. “This is probably boring…”

  “Not at all,” Riley said. Fallon was refreshing. “Please.”

  “Well… I was living in the city at the time.” Fallon saw Riley’s unspoken question. “New York,” she clarified.

  Riley nodded.

  “I had this great job, at least, everyone else thought so.”

  “You didn’t?”

  Fallon shrugged. “For a little while, I guess I did. I made a lot of money.” Fallon chuckled. More money than I had a right to. “It was okay. It just didn’t feel like home, I guess.”

  Riley related to that feeling. Before Robert’s death, she’d felt content with her life in San Diego. After he was gone, everything felt out of place. She’d waited, given it time to fall back into order. It never had. Something nagged at her. It wasn’t just Robert’s absence that made her feel out of balance. She wasn’t sure what drove her feelings. San Diego wasn’t home. It was a place. She had friends who loved her—friends she loved. That did little to ease her distress. She’d considered a million possibilities. Her mother had invited her to move to Seattle. She could sell the house and buy a new one. It was Sylvia’s suggestion that Riley give Whiskey Springs a try that seemed to haunt her. The idea tugged at something deep within her. Robert had shared fond memories of the town. She had never visited. It had been too much for him after his parents’ deaths. He kept putting off a visit. It made no sense that Riley felt inclined to traverse the entire country to give life in Vermont a try. The thought wouldn’t leave her alone. Eventually, she gave in.