Snowed In, Page 2

  “Come in,” Mom said, and then introduced us.

  “I brought you some warm spice cake,” Mrs. Evans said.

  “How sweet,” Mom replied. “Would you and Natalie—”

  “Not Natalie,” Mrs. Evans said. “Nathalie. I didn’t know whether to name her after my older brother, Nathan, or my younger brother, Leland, and so I combined the two and made up a name.”

  “How original,” Mom said.

  Nathalie and I looked at each other, and clearly neither of us could believe the inane conversation our moms were having. I felt an instant connection with her—and also a sense of relief. Knowing so few kids lived on the island had caused me some apprehension about moving. What if I didn’t meet anyone I liked? Would I live here without any dates or friends?

  Nathalie pushed back the hood of her coat, revealing red hair pulled into a ponytail. If she lived in Texas, she’d have a lot more freckles. Her nose turned up on the end. She was a little taller than I was and quite pretty.

  Mom took their coats, which left me feeling a little ridiculous—I was still bundled up. So I took off mine and helped Mom hang everything in the hall closet.

  “Ashleigh, why don’t you and Nathalie get settled into the parlor, while Mrs. Evans and I make some tea to go with this wonderful-smelling spice cake?” Mom suggested, before leading Mrs. Evans away.

  I looked at Nathalie. She didn’t even look cold. I had a feeling that I did. I still couldn’t feel my nose.

  “You know, if you spray Static Guard on your brush and run it through your hair, it’ll make it stop flying around like that,” she said, twirling her finger near her hair like she was trying to say I was crazy.

  “Thanks for the tip. I have a lot to learn about living in the cold.”

  “So, where are you guys from?”

  “Texas.”

  “You don’t sound like a cowgirl.”

  “I’m not. I’m a city girl.”

  “Why did you and your mom move here then?” she asked.

  “Mom was looking for something different.”

  She laughed. “Well, I’m sure you’re going to find it here. Isn’t Texas all desert and tumbleweeds?”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. “No. Not all of it. We have woods, mountains, hills, lakes, rivers. You name it, we pretty much have it.”

  “Not according to the movies. You know, they made a movie here once,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. They used the ritzy hotel that’s up on the hill, just up the road. Women aren’t even allowed on the grounds after five o’clock if they’re not wearing a dress.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  She shook her head. “No. Mom says they’re very traditional. I think they’re dumb.”

  “Gotta say I agree with you. So do they make a lot of movies here?”

  “Only a couple, but a lot of actors come here to get away from it all. I saw Heath Ledger once.”

  “No way! In person?”

  She nodded, then shrugged. “At least, I think it was him. My boyfriend didn’t agree.”

  “You have a boyfriend?”

  “Yeah, sure. Don’t you?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not really interested in having a boyfriend.”

  She looked at me suspiciously. “Why not?”

  I shrugged. “Just figure I have plenty of time to get serious later.”

  “Do you date?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. I really like dating.”

  “I can’t imagine not having a boyfriend.”

  I smiled. “I can’t imagine having one.”

  She looked at me like I’d come from another planet.

  “So, do you want to sit in there?” I pointed to the parlor, realizing I never really imagined I’d ever invite anyone to sit in one. I mean, really, who had parlors these days?

  “Not really. I’ve never been inside this house. The Shoemakers didn’t have kids, so…” She shrugged as though that explained it all.

  The Shoemakers were the previous owners, and I guessed Nathalie was hoping for a tour.

  “Today’s the first time for me, too,” I said. We both laughed. I’d forgotten how hard it was to get to know someone. But Nathalie made it seem easy.

  “Where’s your bedroom?” she asked.

  “I was just about to take a look around and decide. Want to come with me?”

  “You betcha. Sure beats having tea with my mom. Her idea of exciting conversation is discussing Victorian lace.”

  I grimaced.

  She nodded. “Exactly.”

  As we climbed the worn wooden stairs, each of our steps echoed around us. The house had been built sometime in the 1880’s, and it sounded old, felt old. Okay, it felt haunted. The perfect setting for a horror movie.

  When we got to the second floor, it was like we’d stepped even further back in time.

  A short hallway to my right led to a couple of bedrooms that were separated by a bathroom.

  “Oh, totally awesome!” Nathalie said as she peered into one of the rooms. “I think all the furniture is antique. You must have paid a fortune for this.”

  Mom probably had, but, fortunately, money is one of the things that isn’t a problem for us. Dad is a big corporate executive. He and Mom split everything they’d acquired over the years right down the middle. Except for me, of course. If they fought about anything, I didn’t know about it. That didn’t make it any easier, and I can’t deny there were a lot of tears. But at least there wasn’t really any bitterness—or financial squabbling.

  Nathalie looked at me. “People really get into the old stuff around here. The Victorian Walk is next weekend. A lot of the houses are opened up for touring, and all the money collected goes to the Historical Preservation Society. I’m selling tickets if you want to go.”

  Looking through old houses really wasn’t my thing, but I was trying to make a friend here and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

  “I might. I don’t really know. I mean, I just got here.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry. Guess you need to find a bedroom before you start planning your social calendar.”

  Would I even have a social calendar here? Would I meet other kids? Would we hit it off? Would we want to do things together?

  “Anyway, I thought you said you’d never been inside this house,” I said.

  “Right. The Shoemakers usually closed it up and headed to Florida for the winter, so this one was never included on the tour. I’m guessing they decided to sell and stay down there?”

  “I think so.”

  “Fine by me. They were totally no fun.”

  “Do a lot of people leave for the winter?” I asked.

  Nathalie shrugged. “Some do. Most don’t. Most of our businesses rely on tourism, and since we don’t get many tourists in winter, some people will close up shop and head to sunnier places.” She laughed. “I sound like a Chamber of Commerce ad, don’t I?” She peered into another room. “So which one is going to be yours?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I went in the other direction, walking along the carpet that lined the floor. Quickly I looked into the four bedrooms on that end of the hallway. The rooms had canopied beds and lots of lace and frills.

  I figured this would be a popular floor for our guests, and I was looking for privacy. I’m not unfriendly, but I wasn’t sure how much I’d like living with strangers.

  At the end of the hallway was another set of stairs.

  “I’m going to check out the next floor,” I said.

  “I’ll come with you,” she said as she followed me up the stairs.

  On the next floor, we went in different directions, looking in the various rooms. “These aren’t that much different from the ones on the floor below,” Nathalie said. “Is your mom going to let you fix up your room however you want?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Let me know if you want to paint it. My boyfriend and I can
help you.”

  That was exactly what I wanted—to be a third wheel.

  My best friend, Tara, had recently hooked up with a guy, so I knew from experience that it isn’t fun hanging out with someone when the boyfriend’s around.

  “Thanks, but I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet,” I told her.

  At the other end of the hallway was yet another set of stairs. They were much narrower than any of the others. And they creaked more. Halfway up was a small circular window that looked out on the frozen land and the surrounding lake. My new home.

  The stairs ended. To my left was a door with an ornate glass doorknob that rattled when I turned it. As I opened the door, the hinges squeaked as if they were practicing to be the sound effects in a Hitchcock movie.

  Sunlight filtered through the windows, but still the room was a little dim. I glanced around cautiously, looking for spiderwebs, but couldn’t see any.

  I did see the light switch, though, so I flipped it on. It didn’t make a lot of difference. The four bulbs in the tulip-shaped holders in the ceiling must have been about fifteen watts. But they made enough of a difference that I could see I’d discovered my haven.

  When Mom and I arrived, I had noticed that one of the upper rooms had a rounded corner, a turret. This was it.

  “Totally awesome!” Nathalie said. “I love this room!”

  I was pretty crazy about it too. In the curved corner was a small sitting area. One side of the room had a window seat covered in pillows of various shades of pink. Vents along the floor blew in the warm air that had finally started circulating through the house after Mom turned on the heater downstairs. A brass bed with a lacy pink canopy caught my attention. So romantic. On either side of the bed were windows that looked out onto the front lawn, the lake, and the trees with their leafless branches covered in icicles and snow.

  “I’ll bet this is where a servant slept,” she said. “I think they always made them sleep in the attic.”

  “Is this the attic?” I asked.

  Shrugging, she sat on the window seat, brought her feet up to the pillows, and wrapped her arms around her legs. “You have got to have a sleepover up here.”

  I sat on the bed. “Sleepover implies multiple friends.”

  Her light blue eyes twinkled. “Hey, you’ve got me. And I have friends.”

  “How many friends?”

  She laughed. “What kind of a question is that?”

  “Well, I researched the school…and there aren’t a lot of kids on the island. Back home, we had more than twelve hundred students in my junior class.”

  She looked horrified. “I wouldn’t like that at all.”

  “Well, see, that’s the thing. I don’t know if I’ll like being in such a small school.”

  It was the one part of Mom’s plan that I worried about. Would I fit in? Would the students accept someone who talked with a slight drawl and was severely challenged when it came to building a snowman? Would we have anything in common?

  Cliques pretty much ran my old high school. With so few students, could they have more than one clique?

  More important, could you have a clique of only one person?

  3

  “You okay?” Nathalie asked.

  “Oh, yeah, I was just…” How to explain? “Mom and I talked about the move and I thought I was prepared, but now that I’m here, I’m a little worried about fitting in.” I laughed self-consciously. “Bad time to have second thoughts.”

  It was a radical change in my lifestyle. Cold weather, so few people, no best friend to hook up with at a moment’s notice.

  “Have you even had a chance to look the town over?” she asked.

  “No. I’ve been on the island less than two hours.”

  “Come on, then. I’ll show you around. That’ll make you feel better. I mean, it’s not like this is another planet or anything.”

  We bundled up—or rather I bundled up. She just slipped on her coat, not even bothering to button it, and we headed out.

  I came from an area of the country with a five-hundred page Mapsco, created to help people find their way through the maze of streets. Here they might have a five-page Mapsco, if that. Our inn is on Main Street, which is pretty much the main street. I’d never lived in a place where Main Street was still the main thoroughfare. Back home, Main was in the historic part of downtown, seldom used. It was obvious that here the street name still held significance. It didn’t even have traffic lights.

  When we got to an intersection, Nathalie pointed. “My street is one over. Come on, I’ll show you where I live.”

  She turned up one block and then down another, which ran parallel to Main.

  “Have you always lived here?” I asked.

  “Since I was born.”

  “It’s warmer in the summer, right?”

  “Lots warmer. You can ride bikes around the island. Skip rocks across the lake.” She bumped up against me. “My boyfriend is the stone skipping champ. Thirty-two skips.”

  “Wow. Is it official? I mean, is there a contest?”

  “Oh, yeah. During the lilac festival. This place looks completely different once the lilacs bloom.”

  She stopped in front of a blue Victorian house. “This is it. I can actually see the back of your house from my bedroom window.”

  “That’s cool. Guess that means I can see yours as well.”

  “We could learn Morse code and send messages back and forth to each other.”

  “I’d rather text message.”

  She laughed. “I guess that would work too.” She spun on her heel. “Come on.”

  We headed back to Main Street. The wind—or I should say the arctic blast—was whistling off the lake.

  Whatever happened to global warming?

  A horse-drawn sleigh passed by us, heading into what I suppose was considered downtown. I took out my cell phone, took a picture, and immediately sent it to Tara.

  “That is so touristy,” Nathalie said, her voice chiding.

  “Tara’s my best friend. I want her to see what I’m seeing. It’s kinda like a winter wonderland. So different from what we’re used to.”

  “Still.” She shook her head.

  “I shouldn’t take pictures?”

  “Not if you want to fit in.”

  Well, maybe I just wouldn’t take pictures when Nathalie was around, because it was really an amazing place. With so much snow piled up on the sides of the road, I felt like I was walking through a Thomas Kinkade painting.

  A few other people were out, some returning from downtown, some heading in that direction. Each person said hi or waved as he or she passed. They were all so friendly.

  I suspected that everyone on this island knew everyone. I wondered if a time would ever come when I’d know everyone and everyone would know me. If so, how long would it take?

  And would I ever get accustomed to how quiet everything was? Again, no cars, nothing to really make noise, except for the wind passing between houses or slipping through crevices. My nose was too cold to really smell anything, my hands too numb to feel anything.

  As we walked along, eventually the houses stopped and buildings designed for commerce began.

  I could tell that the street was tourist heaven during the warmer weather, but now many of the stores were closed. One had a sign on the door that read, WILL RETURN AFTER THE FIRST THAW.

  I guessed that was a little bit of island humor.

  “I know the island is famous for its fudge,” I said. “I’d love to get some. Will any of the shops be open?”

  “You bet. See Sweet Temptations?” She pointed to a white two-story building. “That’s my family’s business.”

  “Oh, cool.”

  “Not so cool. I have to work with the most annoying guy, because his family is in partnership with mine.”

  That wasn’t good news. I knew there weren’t many guys on the island and if one was already identified as a jerk…online dating was back on the agenda.

 
I didn’t know what to say except “Bummer.”

  She made a face, scrunching up her nose. “It’s not too bad during the winter, because one person can usually handle things. So we trade days, but during tourist season we both have to work. Usually together.”

  “What’s he do that’s so awful?”

  “You’ll see.”

  When we got to the shop, I looked in through the window and saw a guy about my age standing in front of a marble table, using a long-handled spatula to turn the fudge over and keep it from sliding off the end. Even from outside, I could smell the aroma of warm fudge.

  “Is that him?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that’s Chase.”

  Too bad. Because he was really cute. The muscles in his arms were flexing as he moved the spatula.

  “Does he have a girlfriend?” I asked.

  “Are you kidding? Who would want to date him?”

  Maybe me?

  Nothing serious, of course. But I did like to have fun, and guys were usually fun.

  As we stepped inside, Chase glanced up. “Hey.”

  He had brown hair and eyes the same shade as the fudge he was stirring. And a killer smile.

  “This is Ashleigh,” Nathalie said.

  “Hey,” he said again. “I’m Chase.”

  “I already told her who you were.”

  “Well, I didn’t know that, now, did I?” He turned his attention back to me. “Want some fudge? All made fresh this morning.”

  “Yeah, I do,” I said, bending down and looking in the case.

  “You a fudgie?”

  I glanced over my shoulder at him.

  “I guess,” I answered. “I love fudge.”

  “No, she’s not a fudgie,” Nathalie said to him, then to me, “A fudgie is what we call a tourist.”

  I laughed. “Oh.” I have a lot to learn, I thought.

  Then Nathalie turned back to Chase. “They bought the Shoemakers’ place.”

  “So you’re getting into the B&B business,” he said to me.

  I couldn’t figure out what Nathalie found annoying. He seemed like a totally nice guy. And he was hot.

  “My mom more than me,” I told him. “I’ll help where I can, but I’m really not sure how it’ll all work. It’s so new.”