Page 30 of Terms and Traditions

Oh my goodness, you’re a gem. There’s a lens she’s been eyeing for years, depending on your budget.

ME

No budget.

LIZ

Don’t let her know that. She’s allergic to spending money on herself. Okay, here’s the link.

The link came through to a sleek 70-200mm lens. Ideal for portraits and macro shots, according to the product description.

ME

Thanks. I owe you one.

LIZ

Keep our girl safe from the vultures, and I’ll call it even.

ME

You got it.

I quickly ordered the lens and had it express shipped to the cabin. In Gabe’s name. I was hopeful he wouldn’t mind. I’d just clicked “Confirm Order” when my phone rang. My gut clenched at the caller ID. Mountainside Rehabilitation Center. Lord, please no. Not again. With a deep breath and another hasty prayer, I answered.

“Hello, Mr. Prescott, this is Julia from Mountainside Rehabilitation Center. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but—”

“She checked herself out again, didn’t she?” I cut in roughly.

Julia’s breath hitched. “Yes, sir.”

We’d done this dance before, and no doubt my mom would be calling me any time between now and New Year’s to ask for money. Depending on her current boyfriend, it might be a month or two.

“She was only two weeks off of completing her program, wasn’t she?”

“That’s right, sir.” Julia sounded tired, and I couldn’t blame her. I’d hate having to make calls like this, too.

I’d paid for four stints of rehab for my mother to get clean from the drugs she insisted on using, but twice she’d checked herself out before even finishing the program.

I rubbed my forehead. “Thanks for calling, Julia. Have a merry Christmas.”

“You, too, Mr. Prescott.” She hung up.

I stared at my phone’s blank screen, the hum of the coffee shop and the heady aroma of nutmeg blurring my senses. Why now? She was so close. By New Year’s she would’ve been clean.

“Everything all good?” Stephanie asked as she came around the free-standing shelf of roasted coffee beans and mugs.

I jolted and slid my phone back in my pocket. “Yup.” I tried smiling, but it felt stiff. Mechanical. “Christmas isn’t the time to ask questions. Want another coffee?”

She shook her head slowly, eyeing me like she saw right through my sham. “Maybe after lunch. I forgot to take my medication earlier, and it needs to be away from caffeine.”

I nodded. “All right then. Let’s hit the road.” Up till now, I hadn’t been open about my past with her, and if we were going to make this work, I needed to be. But not right here in a dimly lit coffee shop with a mounted elk head eyeing us up.

“This is it?” I asked in wide-eyed appreciation as I parked the car in the broad driveway. It was just after four in the afternoon, and the sky was already a deepening hue of shadowed periwinkle.

Stephanie smiled wryly. “Yup.”

As I stared at the timber monstrosity before us, I quickly got the picture of why she wanted to change out of her sweats and hoodie at the gas station and into dark jeans and a wine-coloured cabled sweater. I thought she’d looked great in the sweats. Better than great actually. But apparently, loungewear was for lounging only at the cabin.