Page 56 of Please Send Snow
But it’s gratifying to think that a woman who isn’t chasing my money thinks I’m good-looking.
Stop thinking about it, you idiot. You’re having a nice moment here, and you’re going to ruin it. Again.
“Is there anything else you think he could use?” I ask. “We don’t have much at the house.”
“Well, it would be great to go back to the village one of these days and get him a library card,” Maddie says right away. “I think he would love that.”
Right. We’ve got a big stack of books from home, but he might be getting bored with them by now.
“Done,” I tell her.
“And you’re right, the house is a little empty,” she concedes. “He loves all the Christmas stuff in the books we’ve been reading. A few Christmas things would makethe place feel cozier. But it’s not like you’re going to furnish a rental just for ambiance.”
She laughs, but I don’t. My mind is already working.
“Anyway, he’s really excited about Christmas,” she continues. “Will this be his first Christmas without his mother?”
There’s a moment of silence after her question. It’s not something I’m eager to talk about. And I’m sure she already knows all about it from the online gossip anyway.
“Sorry,” she says quickly. “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just that he doesn’t talk about her.”
Her questions seem genuine, and I guess there’s no harm in giving her my version of the story. It’s not like I haven’t been over it all a thousand times in my head.
“Until she left us, his mother was home with him,” I tell her carefully. “But she wasn’t really… hands-on.”
Maddie nods, though her expression tells me that she doesn’t understand, and there’s something about that I instantly love.
“Celine spent most of her time shopping or out with friends,” I explain. “She liked the lifestyle more than the family part of the marriage. There was a parade of nannies that took care of Dylan. She kept firing them. She always had a reason—one was too nosy, one was lazy, one was too bossy, one smelled like soup—but I think she was really just jealous.”
Maddie just frowns like she doesn’t know what to say.
“I mean, I’m sure you had nannies too,” I offer.
“No,” she says like that’s a funny idea, then her face goes blank. “My parents were sort of old-fashioned, Iguess. My mom stayed home with me and we liked to keep things sort of… simple.”
“Simple?” I ask. This is news to me.
“Well, some of my favorite memories are here,” she says with a genuine smile. “My parents used to get us carriage rides.”
“This place has carriage rides?” I ask her, amazed.
“Oh, yes,” she tells me. “They keep the horses in that barn in the back. We used to ride them on the trails too. Maybe people still do.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” I ask.
“Well, there weren’t any chalets up there when I was a kid,” she tells me. “It was just woods and trails all the way over to the state park on the other side of the mountain.”
That actually sounds really nice.
“Anyway, I think my favorite childhood Christmas memory is riding in the carriage between my parents,” she tells me with a dreamy smile. “They give you blankets so you don’t get cold and I always used to fall asleep by the time we got back. But I’ll never forget the sound of my parents laughing and the bells jingling while I drifted off.”
Somehow I can picture it perfectly. I can almost hear the bells.
How can I tear this place down when her memories are here?
I have no idea where that thought came from, but it’s a silly idea. I have to tear it down. It’s the first stone in the empire I’m rebuilding.
“What did you do for Christmas?” she asks me. “When you were a kid?”
