Read Online A Little Bit of Holiday Magic by Melissa McClone - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melissa McClone
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costs.
* * *
After lunch, Bill stood next to the six-foot snowman in his front yard. He had summited Denali, scaled peaks in Patagonia, skied in Chamonix. He enjoyed vacations that pushed him to the physical limits, whether on another continent or here on Mount Hood. Building a snowman with Grace and Liam was the last thing he’d expected to be doing on his day off. Surprisingly, it didn’t suck.
Snowflakes fell from the sky, much lighter than the blanket of white that had poured down earlier. The sharp scent of pine tickled his nose. His breath hung in the air. Familiar sights and smells, until he looked at his house and saw a blue elephant sitting on the living room windowsill.
Not so typical.
His childhood memories of snow days revolved around playing with his friends. Today was Bill’s first experience of family time in the snow, the kind of day he’d always wanted to spend with his parents when he was a kid. But his dad had always been away, or too busy when he was home. His mom had been game for about thirty minutes, until she thought the temperature was too cold.
Bill enjoyed this afternoon’s interlude from reality more than he thought he would. He’d liked being called Daddy, and liked having the kid look up to him. For a few hours, Bill could be the kind of father he wished his dad had been. And no one would be hurt when he went back to being a fun-loving, womanizing bachelor. A win-win for all involved.
Liam stuck out his tongue, trying to catch a snowflake.
Grace held up a camera. She wore one of his soft shell jackets over her zip-up fleece. Strands of brown hair stuck out from under the colorful stripped wool beanie, also his. A pair of black gloves kept her hands warm. She looked wintery cute, like a photo from a Hood Hamlet Visitors Center brochure.
“Got it.” She focused the lens on Bill. “Your turn.”
He struck a serious pose, if pretending to be an artist sculpting snow could be deemed serious.
Liam jumped into the picture. Not easy with knee-high snow and so many articles of clothing he looked like the Michelin Man. The poor kid had to be sweating beneath all the layers Grace had made him wear.
The condensation from her sigh floated away on the air.
Bill had to laugh. “Photo bomb.”
“I don’t think he knows what that is.” She lowered her camera. The cold had turned her cheeks rosy. Her eyes were clear and bright. “At least I hope not.”
“Then the kid’s a natural.” Bill patted Liam’s fleece cap. “Because he’s got the method down.”
“It’s nice to see him clown around.”
Grace’s lighthearted tone thrilled Bill. Emptying her pickup and watching the truck be towed away had seemed to release the remaining grip she held on herself after decorating the tree.
Bad stuff happened.
Life went on.
Now she was smiling. Singing Christmas carols. Playing.
He couldn’t be happier.
Liam tugged on Bill’s arm. “Frosty needs nose.”
“Yes, he does.” Bill looked around. “I brought out a carrot.”
“Abra-dabra.” The kid pulled one arm from behind his back. He clutched the carrot in his mitten-covered hand. “One nose.”
“Nice trick, little dude.” Bill gave a thumbs-up. “You’ll have to teach me that later.”
Grace positioned herself to take a picture. “Be careful.”
Bill rolled his eyes. Mothers could caution, but kids needed to be kids. Get into scraps, jams and fights. Knock over a snowman or two.
“Liam’s so padded he looks like he’s wearing bubble wrap,” Bill said. “He’ll be fine if he falls.”
The kid might even bounce.
“Liam’s not used to snow.” Her mouth tightened. “You’ve worked hard on the snowman. He could fall on top of it.”
She didn’t seem used to the white stuff, either.
“Snow is soft. More forgiving than grass. And snowmen have short life expectancies.” Bill held out his arms. “Come on, bud. Frosty needs his nose.”
Liam flew into them. With so many layers, Bill couldn’t feel the
* * *
After lunch, Bill stood next to the six-foot snowman in his front yard. He had summited Denali, scaled peaks in Patagonia, skied in Chamonix. He enjoyed vacations that pushed him to the physical limits, whether on another continent or here on Mount Hood. Building a snowman with Grace and Liam was the last thing he’d expected to be doing on his day off. Surprisingly, it didn’t suck.
Snowflakes fell from the sky, much lighter than the blanket of white that had poured down earlier. The sharp scent of pine tickled his nose. His breath hung in the air. Familiar sights and smells, until he looked at his house and saw a blue elephant sitting on the living room windowsill.
Not so typical.
His childhood memories of snow days revolved around playing with his friends. Today was Bill’s first experience of family time in the snow, the kind of day he’d always wanted to spend with his parents when he was a kid. But his dad had always been away, or too busy when he was home. His mom had been game for about thirty minutes, until she thought the temperature was too cold.
Bill enjoyed this afternoon’s interlude from reality more than he thought he would. He’d liked being called Daddy, and liked having the kid look up to him. For a few hours, Bill could be the kind of father he wished his dad had been. And no one would be hurt when he went back to being a fun-loving, womanizing bachelor. A win-win for all involved.
Liam stuck out his tongue, trying to catch a snowflake.
Grace held up a camera. She wore one of his soft shell jackets over her zip-up fleece. Strands of brown hair stuck out from under the colorful stripped wool beanie, also his. A pair of black gloves kept her hands warm. She looked wintery cute, like a photo from a Hood Hamlet Visitors Center brochure.
“Got it.” She focused the lens on Bill. “Your turn.”
He struck a serious pose, if pretending to be an artist sculpting snow could be deemed serious.
Liam jumped into the picture. Not easy with knee-high snow and so many articles of clothing he looked like the Michelin Man. The poor kid had to be sweating beneath all the layers Grace had made him wear.
The condensation from her sigh floated away on the air.
Bill had to laugh. “Photo bomb.”
“I don’t think he knows what that is.” She lowered her camera. The cold had turned her cheeks rosy. Her eyes were clear and bright. “At least I hope not.”
“Then the kid’s a natural.” Bill patted Liam’s fleece cap. “Because he’s got the method down.”
“It’s nice to see him clown around.”
Grace’s lighthearted tone thrilled Bill. Emptying her pickup and watching the truck be towed away had seemed to release the remaining grip she held on herself after decorating the tree.
Bad stuff happened.
Life went on.
Now she was smiling. Singing Christmas carols. Playing.
He couldn’t be happier.
Liam tugged on Bill’s arm. “Frosty needs nose.”
“Yes, he does.” Bill looked around. “I brought out a carrot.”
“Abra-dabra.” The kid pulled one arm from behind his back. He clutched the carrot in his mitten-covered hand. “One nose.”
“Nice trick, little dude.” Bill gave a thumbs-up. “You’ll have to teach me that later.”
Grace positioned herself to take a picture. “Be careful.”
Bill rolled his eyes. Mothers could caution, but kids needed to be kids. Get into scraps, jams and fights. Knock over a snowman or two.
“Liam’s so padded he looks like he’s wearing bubble wrap,” Bill said. “He’ll be fine if he falls.”
The kid might even bounce.
“Liam’s not used to snow.” Her mouth tightened. “You’ve worked hard on the snowman. He could fall on top of it.”
She didn’t seem used to the white stuff, either.
“Snow is soft. More forgiving than grass. And snowmen have short life expectancies.” Bill held out his arms. “Come on, bud. Frosty needs his nose.”
Liam flew into them. With so many layers, Bill couldn’t feel the
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