Page 68 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

We stood a foot apart on my front porch, and he took both my hands. “Hazel, thank you.”

I smiled while shaking my head. “You have nothing to thank me for.”

“You were there.” He squeezed my hands before letting them go. “Thank you.”

Impulsively, I leaned forward and threw my arms around him. His response was hesitant at first before he wrapped his arms around me. Tight.

And I realized I hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

Maybe ever.

I stepped back, my lip quivering. “Bye, Peter. Get some rest, OK?”

He stared at me and then nodded. “You too. We’ll skip our walk today, right?” He smiled faintly. “Goodbye, Hazel.”

When he didn’t move to leave, I figured he was waiting for me, so I did one of the hardest things I’d done in a long time. I turned and, with a little wave, left him on the porch.

Inside, with the door closed, I stood immobile for a long, long moment.

When I finally became aware of my surroundings, I swiped at my damp eyes and cheek, kicked off my boots, and resisted the urge to go look out a window facing his house. After padding to the bedroom, I threw back the covers and sank into the bed.

I wasn’t really tired. I just needed … maybe the comfort that a cozy bed and blanket offered. Or maybe I should sleep. The oblivion of sleep would be welcome. At least better than this weird mix of sadness and confusion that clung to me.

Not long after I got comfortable in my cocoon of bedding, not caring that I’d worn these clothes for over 24 hours, my phone buzzed. I groaned, realizing it was still in my sweatshirt pocket. I considered not answering, but what if it was Peter? Maybe he needed help.

Or something else.

I peered at the phone, which indicated that Jeff was calling.

“Hello?” I said in a muffled voice.

“Hey, it’s Jeff. Is this a good time?” he said in his usual rapid, crisp voice.

I cleared my throat. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

“I have news about your future business,” he said with only a brief pause. “We have a potential investor already.”

I almost dropped the phone. “What?Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t joke about this,” he said sternly. “There’s a catch though. It’s an angel investor, and they want to remain anonymous.”

My tired brain took a moment to process this. “What? Why would anyone want to do that?”

“It’s not that uncommon. Investors may do it for a variety of reasons. For example, maybe they don’t want to attract attention to their business or be seen as open to funding other ventures.” He paused. “Sometimes it’s more personal reasons. It varies.”

That was strange to me, but …

“What?” I shrieked. “Someone wants to invest in my new idea—inme? Jeff, I love you today!”

“Glad to hear it,” he said dryly.

“Seriously, this is … amazing. When you said ‘anonymous,’ do you mean the investor just doesn’t want their identity public? I’ll still know at least, right?”

“In this case, no. That’s one of the terms of the deal.”

I gasped. “Oh. Well … what if I wanted to thank them?” I bit my lip. “I suppose I should just be grateful. I mean, Iamgrateful.Sograteful. I—” I stopped when hearing Jeff’s throat clearing. “Sorry, I’m just so—so astounded. Happy.”

“Right. So, I’m booked up tomorrow, but I was thinking we could meet in a few days to go over all the terms in detail.”

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