Page 31 of Merry Mended Hearts

“You’ll want something warm,” Dad had said, clicking on the puffy red coat with the fur-lined hood even though it was twice as much as the other offerings online.

“You would know,” I’d said.

And he would. To Dad, winter was a four-letter word. He viewed snow the way some people might view a medieval torture chamber.

He’d grown up in northern Canada, and the instant he was old enough to live on his own. Dad had skedaddled down to the southern U.S., to as hot a place as he could find.

His negativity toward the cold, the snow, the icy roads, and his nostril hairs freezing while he stood outside to wait for the school bus to come had only infiltrated, oh,everyconversation we’d ever had about winter.

But he’d always managed to voice his dislike with a laugh and a joke. And for some reason, none of his poor opinions kept me from wanting to experience winter myself.

Returning to the bed, I marked several of the boxes on the itinerary.

“Spa day, definitely,” I said, checking the first one. “Ice skating? Not so much.”

Not without someone to hold onto should I fall. Which I was bound to do.

“Ooo, bowling?” They had a bowling alley here?

I marked that box as well, though again, bowling alone wasn’t all that appealing.

On second thought, I crossed that one out. I wasn’t here to bowl.

“I’m here to write,” I told myself.

The spa day was only to fuel my writing. I had to stay focused on that.

The last box caught my attention with more force than any of the others had done. In fact, as cheesy as it sounded, the words seemed to leap right off of the sheet.

Sleigh Rides.

Venture into West Hills’ winter wonderland with one of our competent, friendly drivers for an unparalleled view of Montana’s rugged, unblemished terrain. With the well-trained horse’s breezy bells jingling all the way, see why guests return again and again simply for one of these incomparable winter adventures!

Ride solo or with friends.

Schedule in the lobby.

A sleigh right was definitely on my to-do list, and not just because I wanted firsthand experience of what it was like to ride in a horse-drawn sleigh so I could describe the experience accurately in my book.

But I’d heard Boone was one of the sleigh drivers. The last time we’d spoken, he’d been upset with me for having found the necklace. He’d stormed off with the old radio, and I hadn’t seen it—or him—since.

Would he be the one who would take me out if I requested a sleigh ride?

Maybe I could request for him specifically. I only had a few more days left here, and it wasn’t just the storyteller in me that wanted more insight into the shaken expression he’d had at the sight of that locket.

Boone Harper was hiding something. And whatever it was, it was hard for him.

It was none of my business, I knew that. So why couldn’t I shake this desire to find out more? To help him with whatever it was?

No sense dwelling on that now. Chances were, I wouldn’t speak to him again the rest of the time I was here.

With my schedule in hand, I was ready to greet the spa and trigger my inner writing genius. I slid my feet into my slippers and made my way back to the reception desk. Unable to help myself, I shot a quick peek into the living room.

Sure enough, the table covered by the lacy cloth held only teacups, black and white photographs, and old books. It didn’t look the same without the radio there, and the sight struck me with a pang of sadness, though I wasn’t sure why.

The sound of someone mumbling directed my attention back to the reception desk.

“Where did that thing go? I could have sworn it was right here. Ugh. Where’s Sam when I need her?”

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