Page 269 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
“But that doesn’t explain why there was cold water coming out of the hot water spout,” the girl said, pouting a little.
I tried not to roll my eyes. How did you explain something like this to someone like her? “Just give it twenty minutes between each person’s shower,” I recommended.
“If we did that, we’d never get to go skiing in the morning,” the woman said, folding her arms across her chest.
“Well, then you’ll need to either take shorter showers or else some of you could maybe shower at night.” I said it bluntly, knowing full well that it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. I’d have to make sure to call Gretchen again as I was leaving, to let her know how this had gone before this idiot could call to complain. Jeez.
It was easy to tell that we were getting into the winter season again. Time for the knuckleheads to come out of hiding.
“But it’s fixed, if I wanted to take a shower right now?” the woman asked.
“Yeah, you should have hot water right now,” I sighed.
The woman cocked her head to the side. “Any chance you might want to join me?” she asked in a breathy voice.
I stared at her for a moment, barely able to believe that those words had just come out of her mouth. What planet did this chick live on, anyway? “I’ve got more work to do,” I finally said. Then, I hightailed it out of there before she could say anything else.
I immediately called Gretchen and relayed what had happened. She burst out laughing and promised she’d try not to send me back over there, but couldn’t make any promises. I shook my head and headed home.
CHAPTER 2
BAILEY
It was dead silent when I woke up in my room alone on Sunday morning. Not a sound from elsewhere in the mansion, nor any noise from outside. It reminded me of wintry mornings when I had been a kid, those silent mornings when you just knew that snow was falling outside, blanketing the world in white.
But this was Hartland, Nevada, right outside of Las Vegas, and there was no way that it was a snowy morning in early December here.
I sighed and rolled out of bed, wiggling my toes in the plush carpet for a moment as I pulled on a t-shirt and pajama pants. Really, this silence here was no different than usual. But somehow, in the past month, ever since Dad’s death, it had seemed to really hit me.
I walked down to the kitchen. Ian was already there at the stove, frying eggs and making breakfast for the two of us. “There’s coffee,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me as I padded in.
“Thanks,” I said, pouring a cup for myself and refilling his mug while I was at it. I poured a dash of creamer into mine and watched the dark of the coffee turn a couple shades lighter. If only my life would turn a couple shades lighter too.
It was hard to believe that Dad was gone. I was still discovering all the ways that I missed him. Such silly, small ways, really. Ian and I had spent our childhood living with our mother, only coming here every so often, for maybe a couple weeks at a time each visit. Dad had never really been a huge part of our lives.
Even after Ian and I had moved in here with Dad, we had only seen him occasionally. He was always running around like crazy with work meetings here and networking luncheons there. He was a great Dad, and a great man in general, but he was always on a schedule. I had long since ceased to let that bother me. I knew Dad loved us more than anything, and I respected the fact that I had a father who was as hardworking as he was.
Still, now that he was gone, I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the times that we had spent together. I had seen a stuffed giraffe in a store window the other day and remembered the time that we had gone to the zoo together when I was maybe five years old. And as the date ticked away later in the year, even though we didn’t really feel the change in seasons down here in southern Nevada, I couldn’t stop thinking about the ski trips that we used to take back when Ian and I were kids.
Dad had had a timeshare on a condo in Park City, Utah, and we would fly up there for two weeks of ski lessons, hot chocolate, and holiday cheer. Those days had seemed like they would last forever, back then. But as we got older, Dad had been too busy with work projects, and anyway, Ian and I had loved coming to Hartland to escape the cold and wet winters we were used to up in Portland with Mom.
Now, though, I felt like I was seeing Park City everywhere; on a concert tour for one of my favorite bands, on the news since they were apparently getting slammed with snow this season. It was like everything in the world was telling me to go back there this year. And really, what better way to honor Dad’s memory than with a trip inspired by him? I knew that he had always loved it there.
“You’re quiet this morning,” Ian said suddenly.
I blinked at him, realizing that I had been staring off into space while he finished up a couple breakfast sandwiches and home fries for the two of us. He shut off the stove and carried the plates over to the table, and I followed him, sighing heavily.
“Just thinking,” I said.
“About Dad?” Ian guessed.
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “I can’t believe that the litigation is finally over. It just feels like it’s finally hit me that he’s really gone, you know?”
“I know,” Ian said, looking unhappy. “I think it sort of felt like he was just away on a business trip or something and that eventually he would walk back in and announce that he was home.”
“Right!” I said, still just so relieved to have Ian there with me while I was going through all of this. I knew that a lot of siblings didn’t get along very well, but Ian and I had banded together all through our childhood, leaning on one another for support. I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself without him. He was my rock. My best friend. He understood me better than anyone else ever could.
“Honestly, I keep almost cooking for three,” Ian said with a sigh.
