A Gift of Snow by Missy Maxim Page A

into the kitchen.
    “What were you doing on the road in this
storm?” I filled another bowl.
    “Had a gig up at the resort earlier. Was
supposed to be a quick thing and I’d drive back down to L.A. The
storm came out of nowhere.”
    “You couldn’t leave that thing in the car?” I
asked, nodding to the guitar case.
    He shook his head. “It’ll crack in the cold.
I flipped burgers all summer for that guitar when I was sixteen.
Where I go, she goes.” He took a seat at the table and tucked into
the stew. “Thanks.”
    “Not used to snow, are you?”
    “Not in a long while.” He offered his right
hand. “I’m Will, by the way.”
    I shook it. “Jennifer Donovan.”
    “Pleased to meet you, Jen. And thanks for the
stew. You got anything to drink?”
    “Uh, I can make tea or cocoa, or coffee if
you want to wait.”
    “Maybe something a little stronger to warm
the blood.”
    “No.” There would never be alcohol in this
house again. I stood, collected the empty bowl, and walked to the
sink to rinse it. “You’re going to have to be warmed by
temperature, not alcohol.”
    “Okay… Cocoa would be fine, then, if you have
any of those little marshmallows.”
    “Sorry, I only have the big ones, and those
are going on the yams tomorrow.” I lit the fire under the
teakettle.
    “Right…it’s Christmas.” Poor guy looked as
bummed as I was.
    I felt a spark of compassion and remembered
my manners. “You can use my phone to call home if someone will be
worried.”
    He shook his head, not meeting my eyes. “Just
me.”
    “Oh.” I knew how that felt right now. “So,
you did a concert, huh? What do you play?” I sat at the table.
    “Well, for this kind of deal, just some
classic rock stuff and holiday tunes. They like some background
noise up at the lodge and prefer it’s live. I was available.”
    “Didn’t they offer you a room for the night?
The storm’s been on the news.” The kettle whistled. I prepared the
mug and set it in front of him.
    “I was, uh, kind of anxious to go. My ex’s
family runs the joint.”
    “Oh. Awkward.” A thought occurred to me and I
blurted out, “Your feet! I mean, you’ve probably got snow in your
boots. You should sit by the fire and dry them out…if you want
to.”
    “Thanks. Eh… I don’t suppose you might have
some pants I could borrow? I’m a bit soaked.”
    “Oh! Deep snow drifts. Duh, of course you
are.” Could I sound like more of a ditz? “I’ll go look.”
    The bottom drawer of my dresser was filled
with old stained stuff, like for painting the house and working on
the car. It had a mix of mine, and Lee’s, and I hadn’t thought
about it at all until now. The only clothes of his left in the
house were in that drawer. I was not going to cry when I
opened it.
    Gripping the knobs, I pulled the drawer open.
Started pulling clothes out on the floor and finally found a pair
of sweats with a drawstring waist. They only smelled like the cedar
insert I kept in the drawer, too, so all the better.
    I brought them out to my guest. “Here ya go.
They might be a bit big, but you can cinch the waist. Bathroom is
down there.”
    He smiled, taking the pants. “Thanks.” It was
a nice smile, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.
    Without the blanket wrapped around him, I
could see his jeans were wet up to waist level. They hugged his
skin. He must be freezing still.
    “Use a towel if you need it,” I said.
    Needing something to do, I remembered my own
food and reheated my bowl and mug while he changed. It was such a
weird night. The storm, being alone, a random stranger showing up
at my door…all on Christmas Eve. He came back out carrying his
jeans and sweater, wearing a tight long-sleeve black undershirt and
the sweats loose on his waist. His socks and boots hung off his
arm.
    I took the wet stuff into the laundry nook
and tossed his jeans and socks in the dryer, then took a look at
the sweater. It required a lower heat setting, so I hung it up and
started