Page 39 of No Business Like Snow Business

eleven

STERLING

“It’s fine,” Harvey said again as we headed back toward town. “It’s really fine.”

I couldn’t seem to stop apologizing—clipped, muttered apologies that made it seem like I was irritated with him, when it was my family I was pissed at. And myself, for hurrying back to them like a dog called to heel. And maybe I was a little irritated with Harvey, for being so kind and understanding. It only made me feel guiltier. I’d tried to explain a little about the situation, but by the way his eyes had glazed over at the word “shareholder”, my clumsy attempt wasn’t really helping things.

I kept replaying the moment when I’d stood on the dock, the cold breeze prickling my cheeks and something colder still squeezing at my chest, and said: “I may have to take a rain check on dinner with you and your grandmother.”It was like I’d brought his whole world crashing down. And I didn’t know how to tell him how much it killed me to do it, so I just added, “I have to get back to New York.”

And he’d said: “Is everyone okay?”

He immediately assumed the issue was about people, not property. That my mother was in the hospital or my family dog had died or something. Of course he assumed that.

I’d anticipated the inevitable moment the vacation ended and real life came crashing back in. I’d hoped it’d at least wait until I was back in New York, but here it was: three unanswered calls from my father and one terse text message that said “Get back here now” that had shattered the illusion that Christmas Falls was real. Or that it could be real for me. I had no idea what fires needed putting out at home—something to do with Patrick, probably—but I knew I needed to be there at my father’s side instead of going on boat rides and lunch dates and reindeer shopping in Christmas Falls. Hadn’t the business been the reason I’d come here to begin with? Sure, I was personally curious about what had happened to Freddy, but I was here to protect the business, not soothe the itch at the base of my skull that drew clumsy parallels between my uncle and I. I wondered what would happen if I came out to my family. I wasn’t Freddy and Freddy wasn’t me. It was stupid to cast myself in the story of his life when I didn’t know a damn thing about him. Stupid to ascribe motives to Freddy’s actions, or my family’s, when I had no way of knowing either one.

I couldn’t even promise Harvey I’d be back. Once I was away from Christmas Falls, the spell would be broken. Once I was in New York, my sense of duty would wrap me as tightly as the warmth of this town had. Except it would be suffocating rather than reassuring.

Our investigation had ended with a whimper instead of a bang. Matthew Jessup had been our Hail Mary pass, that one last chance before the end of the game. And it hadn’t worked out. While a part of me told myself that was that, another part of me wasn’t ready to let go yet. Of the investigation, of this town, and of the man beside me.

Now, as we neared the Pear Tree Inn, I felt a wild, desperate urge to make things right with Harvey in some small way.“Look,” I said, my voice unexpectedly thick. “Trixie would never leave a mystery unsolved.”

He glanced over at me, looking concerned and a little pitying. “Family comes first.”

In his world, it did. And for the right reasons. “There’s no way I’m getting back to New York tonight. I don’t have a car, I?—”

“I can drive you to the airport.”

“In Martha’s car?”

He gave the ghost of a smile. “Martha wouldn’t mind.”

“That’s not the point. Whatever’s going on at home can wait till tomorrow morning. Today, I want to solve this mystery.”

It occurred to me I was doing something even worse than abandoning Harvey. I was drawing out our goodbye, making it more painful. But I couldn’t stop myself. It was self-serving too. If I could learn what happened to Freddy before returning home, I might have ammunition to use in whatever battle Patrick was set to wage. So I couldn’t even be honest with Harvey about that, either.I want to solve this mysterymeantI need your help, and once I get it, I’m gone.

I swallowed. “You said when we met that all we’d have to do was ask around Frosty’s and someone would know who Freddy’s guy was.”

Harvey didn’t answer.

“I’m not sure why we didn’t start there, to be honest,” I added.

“You know why,” he said quietly.

To make it an adventure, to prolong the investigation. To spend more time together. Yeah, I knew. “Well, maybe we should go there now and show the photo around.”

He glanced at me for long enough that I wanted to remind him to watch the road. But he faced forward again in plenty of time to slow for the light. “You’ll have to come back, you know. Cash that rain check.”

It was my turn to hesitate. Because the answer I wanted to give—Yes, of course, just give me two days in New York to tie up loose ends, tell my family to fuck off, and pack a bigger bag—might be a lie. And I didn’t want to lie to him.

“Or, I don’t know,” he went on. “Maybe I’m the one who cashes it, since you’re the one who canceled. Did you know the term originates from baseball games? Starting in the 1880s, if a game was rained out, spectators would get a check that let them attend another game free of charge.”

“Wow. Your trivia knowledge extends beyond Christmas, huh?”

“You have no idea.” He gave me that slightly wobbly smile again. And I noticed that when the light turned green, instead of going toward the hotel, he turned onto Dasher Street toward Frosty’s.

“I’ll have to come back,” I agreed, hating myself for saying it, and even more for how unconvincing I sounded. “I still haven’t heard about the Catalan Pooping Log.”

He pulled into a parking space in front of the pub. “You can always Google it.” It wasn’t said harshly, not in the least. But it was said with a note of resigned finality that made me wince.

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