Some Kind of Wonderful: A Holiday Novella (The Cupcake Lovers) by Beth Ciotta Page A

leaning over the generator. He was dressed in hunting garb and sporting a scowl. Zach recognized him from the photographs inside. “Roscoe Marx?”
    “As you live and breathe.”
    “I thought you were in Canada until after Christmas.”
    “So did I.”
    At first Zach thought Marx was hunched over the generator, but on second glance he looked plain crooked, his posture bent at an unnatural angle, sort of like a question mark. Zach looked over the brim of his glasses for a clearer look, but the glare off the glistening snow was blinding. “Name’s Zachery Cole.”
    “Gunnery Sergeant. United States Marine Corps.”
    Zach pulse thrummed. “Not anymore.”
    “Once a Marine, always a Marine, son.”
    “I know the code.” Zach shifted his weight, frowned. “How do you know me, sir?”
    “Let’s just say we’re kindred spirits. Or at least we will be if you maintain your present course. You can languish in the past or grab the future by the horns. Choose wisely. I did not and look how things turned out for me.”
    Was he referring to his hermit-like existence? What the hell? Who was he to advise …
    A shiver stole down Zach’s spine as words echoed in the back of his brain.
    Don’t be a wuss .
    You’ll make beautiful babies .
    “Lookin’ a little green there, soldier,” Marx said.
    “Bad storm. Rough night. Spent it in your cabin. Coffee?”
    “I like it strong.” Marx went back to tinkering with the generator.
    Zach heard a pop and a whir as he rounded the corner. What the hell was going on? He ambled back into the cabin, anxious to check in on Maya. She was sitting in a kitchen chair, holding her phone and looking stunned. “What’s wrong, honey?”
    “My phone. I have a signal. I called Aunt Helen to check in and she told me … well, I mean it’s just awful. And on Christmas Eve, no less.”
    Zach’s stomach turned.
    “Roscoe Marx was killed last night in a car accident.”

Chapter Twelve
    Maya couldn’t figure Zach out. His giddy mood was plain weird. She hadn’t expected him to break down over the news of Roscoe Marx’s demise—he didn’t know Marx. She didn’t know Marx. They’d never even met. Naturally, with that kind of emotional distance it was easier to disconnect. But at least she was sorry Marx had died. Zach had looked shocked for all of five seconds, and then he’d gotten a goofy grin on his face. He’d swooped her into his arms and spun her around with a childlike glee that reminded her of the scene in A Christmas Carol where Scrooge rediscovered the spirit of Christmas. She would have been charmed and thrilled if not for the inappropriate timing.
    Zach had hurried her along, saying Marx wouldn’t want them missing Christmas Day with the Coles. Which didn’t sound to Maya like the Roscoe Marx Daniel had described—the same grump who’d left the rude letter for the Cupcake Lovers. Regardless, it was difficult not to be affected by Zach’s lightened heart.
    Presently she and Zach were backtracking through the forest. Although there was a lot of packed snow, the trek was easier since they weren’t being slammed by wind and flurries. Maya could actually see where she was going, and the scenery was magical, to say the least. A veritable winter wonderland.
    “I was thinking of maybe moving back to Sugar Creek,” Maya blurted as they neared the snowbound Hummer.
    “I was thinking of moving down to Orlando.”
    Her heart nearly burst through her ribs. She touched Zach’s arm, urging him to stop. “What’s going on with you?”
    “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
    “Try me.”
    “Maybe later. I need to simmer on this a little more.”
    “Simmer on what?”
    He tugged on her Santa hat, then shrugged. “A Christmas miracle?”
    “Okay. You know what? You’re freaking me out. This isn’t you talking.”
    “Not the old me, no.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “There’s more than one way to make a positive difference in this world. You’re