“She has the only flashlight so we had better follow,” Dad mildly mentioned.
I stalked back through the snow, muttering under my breath. The wind clawed at my scarf. Inside, the lights had come back on and the fire glowed brighter. Mom and Jane were passing out mugs of cocoa while Lydia checked if the wifi still worked.
“Now come warm up. There’s cocoa." Mom brought a mug to Dad, fussing over him.
Dex accepted a mug from Jane and glanced my way, a flicker of humor in his eyes. “You have a remarkable father.”
“I’m aware,” I said dryly. “He likes to meddle.”
“Maybe. But he pays attention and he does love you,” Dex observed.
I wasn’t sure what to do with that. I got myself a cup of cocoa instead, concentrating on something other than him.
The storm could rage as much as it wanted. Inside, we had light and laughter and cocoa.
Chapter Eighteen: A Snow Globe
Dex.
The morning after the storm carried that stillness that comes when the world hasn’t decided if it wants to wake up yet. The power had come back overnight, and the generator had automatically switched off as it was programmed to do. I stood by the upstairs window with a mug of coffee and watched the sun gleam across the white expanse of snow. The yard below looked almost orderly with smooth lines across the porch rail, even piles on the hedges and the generator shed. It was the kind of symmetry I could appreciate.
The smell of breakfast was in the hallway before I even reached the stairs. Helen was already in motion in the kitchen, talking to everyone at once. Jane was sliding trays of french toast out of the oven while Meri poured maple syrup into tiny serving pitchers. William and Braxton came in from outside from the back door with shovels in hand, stamping their boots.
“The driveway is now passable,” William proudly stated.
“Breakfast in the dining room in ten minutes,” Jane quietly commented.
Helen shoved a stack of plates into my hands. “Here. Would you be a dear and help set the table?”
“Of course,” I politely murmured, heading for the dining room.
Guests trickled in, cheerful, wrapped in sweaters, acting as though a night without power had been an adventure rather than an inconvenience.
A few more trips between myself and the Bennets had breakfast served. We all complimented Jane on the food which had her retreating to the kitchen once again. Afterward, I helped to clear the table as well, until Helen shooed me away.
Lucy was at the counter drying dishes as Meri washed. Kitty would grab the clean dishes and put them away. Lucy didn’t look up when I came in. That was fine. I hadn’t earned her attention yet. I poured a mug of coffee, nodded to Helen’s questions about the storm, and caught Lucy’s eye only once when she happened to glance my way.
After breakfast the guests wanted to go outside. The snow had stopped but hadn’t started to melt, the temperature holding steady at just enough below freezing to make staying outside for an extended period comfortable enough. Someone threw the first snowball, and that was it.
I stood on the porch, watching the chaos build. The Bennets were apparently competitive by nature. Kitty declared teams as if it were an Olympic event. Braxton joined immediately, laughing, while Lydia ran color commentary for her camera. Helen insisted she wasn’t participating then hit William square in the shoulder thirty seconds later. I couldn’t help but smile.
Lucy stood at the bottom of the steps, hair loose under her hat, laughing as one of the guests from room five attempted a sneak attack and fell short. I didn’t realize I was moving until I had stepped off the porch and packed a handful of snow. The throw was automatic. A clean arc with decent follow-through so it hit its mark. The guest yelped. Lucy turned at the sound, eyes wide, and then narrowed when she saw me.
“Really?” she called.
I shrugged.
She grinned, shook her head, and started forming her own ammunition.
Soon we were all in. Kitty and Lydia organized sides with reckless enthusiasm. I ended up beside Lucy, Meri, and two of the younger guests. Braxton was on the opposing team, which meant this would escalate quickly. We were given five minutes to reinforce our position before the snow war was to commence.
“Any strategy?” Lucy asked dryly.
“The rise by the birch gives us height and a wind break. The snowpack’s better there. If we build a short wall and control the high ground, they’ll have to cross open space,” I said as I scanned the yard.
She gave me a look that hovered between amusement and disbelief. “You’re serious.”
“Braxton was Hastings Academy’s snow fight king three years running. I might have learned a thing or two from him,” I dryly replied.
