A Winter Wonderland

by Fern Michaels, Holly Chamberlin, Kristina McMorris, Leslie Meier

Genres: Anthologies; Holiday books

Synopsis

Four all-new holiday offerings from today’s favorite authors remind us that when love is on your list, you never have to stop believing. . . .
 
“A Winter Wonderland” by #1 New York Times–bestselling author Fern Michaels
Angelica Shepard left New York for Christmas in Colorado to relax and unwind—but an out-of-control snowboarder almost had her laid to rest. When she wakes up in the hospital, all she remembers is the handsome angel who saved her . . .
 
“The Joy of Christmas” by Holly Chamberlin, bestselling author of All Our Summers
Not all happiness is good for you—or that’s what Iris Karr thinks when she decides to move away instead of marrying her sweetheart Ben. Even years later, living with that decision isn't easy—until a familiar face comes to call her home for the holidays . . .
 
“The Christmas Thief” by New York Times–bestselling author Leslie Meier
Elizabeth Stone is ready for a white Christmas in Tinker’s Cove, Maine—until a fancy Yule ball at the Florida hotel where she works dumps snow on her plans. The sponsor’s jewels have gone missing and the police are asking about her ties to a cute mystery guest. Good thing Elizabeth’s mother, Lucy Stone, flew down to surprise her. ’Tis the season for a little investigating . . .
 
“The Christmas Collector” by New York Times–bestselling author Kristina McMorris
Estate liquidator Jenna Matthews isn’t one for Christmas nostalgia. But when one grandmother’s keepsakes suggest a secret life, unwrapping the mystery leads Jenna—and her client’s handsome grandson—to the true heart of the holiday spirit.

Release date: October 24, 2011

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 480

Sample

December 2012

Angelica Shepard tossed aside the script she’d been reading. It was beyond her skills as an actress even to begin to get into character for a part in yet another off-off-Broadway play under financial duress, and most likely—and this is only if she was lucky—it would have a short run, and the reviews would be atrocious.

When she began to study acting right out of high school, she’d given herself ten years to “make it” to the top. Meaning, she would be able to support herself and, if the gods smiled on her, she’d be able to quit her second job. At eighteen, ten years had seemed like a lifetime. Now at thirty-two, four years past her self-imposed deadline, she was still searching for the role that would catapult her to stardom.

She glanced at the script, then told herself to forget it. Something better was sure to come along.

A cup of tea would be nice right now, she decided as she walked three feet from her living room/bedroom to the small kitchen—if you could even call it a kitchen. It consisted of one small counter, four cabinets that hung above the countertop, a mini-stove, and a refrigerator. She’d made the best of the limited space, calling it home for more than ten years. It was a small studio, even by New York standards, but Angelica couldn’t help feeling a wee bit of pride. Purchasing the place on her own, and in the city, was quite an accomplishment. Yes, she had to supplement her acting career with a part-time job bartending at one of New York’s hottest nightspots, but without that job, she would never have been able to pay the mortgage, much less continue to pursue an acting career. Many times, Angelica had wanted to throw in the towel and just work at the club full-time, but she was determined to pursue an acting career a while longer. Maybe after six months, she would once again reevaluate her career choice.

She filled the white ceramic teakettle from the tap and placed it on top of the burner. Walking the few feet back into the living room/bedroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the small chest of drawers that held her entire wardrobe. She had medium-length coffee-colored hair and hazel eyes, which were just beginning to reveal the first signs of crow’s-feet. Her skin was still smooth, her lips full, her teeth perfectly aligned, but she could see the beginning signs of aging. Maybe she should consider having Botox injections. Her friends swore by the stuff. But the thought of injecting botulism in her system was a bit too much.

She’d had high hopes for a part she’d auditioned for just last week. The role had called for an actress in her mid to late twenties who could sing reasonably well, dance, and, of course, act. Her agent, Al Greenberg, a kindly old guy who’d been in the business forever, had promised her he would call and tell her if she’d gotten the part. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than her cell phone’s musical ring filled the small studio apartment at the same time the teakettle began its low whistle. She grabbed her cell phone, leapt to the stove, and removed the kettle.

“Hello,” she said anxiously.

“Angelica, my dear, how is my favorite client?”

She took a deep breath. “It depends on why you’re calling,” she said, hoping to sound light and silly rather than dark and desperate.

Al laughed before responding. “Now, now, don’t hold me responsible for your moods, kiddo.” He paused.

Angelica heard his intake of breath and knew then that his reason for calling was not to impart the news she’d hoped for. A heavy sigh escaped her before she spoke. “Go ahead, Al. Shoot.”

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard it myself. Ross called.” Ross was the director and producer of the play Angelica had auditioned for. “He wants Waverly Costas for the part.”

Silence.

Al did not need to explain to her what that meant. Waverly Costas was twenty-three, with beautiful ash brown hair and a body to match. The sad thing was, and Angelica couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact, the younger woman was actually a gifted actress. Her stomach instantly knotted, and her eyes pooled.

Darn, dang, and double darn! She’d really wanted the part! Inhaling, then slowly exhaling as she’d been taught in her yoga class, Angelica chewed her bottom lip, then plunked down on the cream-colored sofa. “It’s okay, Al. As you always say, it must not be the right part for me.”

She heard Al’s heavy sigh. “That’s true. It takes time. Everyone wants to star on Broadway. You know the competition is tough, but your time will come, Angie.” He used the pet name that he’d given her years ago.

“Sure, Al. You’ve been telling me that for how long now?” Of course, she knew exactly how long. He’d been her agent for twelve years. Yes, she’d had a number of good roles, all supporting, but never a lead.

“Ahh, come on, Angie, don’t be discouraged. I hear that Johnny Jones has something in the works. It’ll be the perfect role for you. Rumor is that Morgan Freeman has accepted the leading male role.”

How many times had she missed out on “the perfect role”? And this one was with Morgan Freeman? Her favorite male actor in the world. Al knew it, too. She could just see it now. Her name beneath his on the playbill. Blotting her eyes with a corner of the dark green throw tossed on the back of the sofa, Angelica took another deep breath. “Listen, Al. We both know I’m not getting any younger. Maybe it’s time to call it quits. We know youth rules the business these days. The younger, the better. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, truly I do. Maybe I’ll take some time off during the holidays, rethink my career choice.”

Al’s robust laughter filled her ears. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Angie, best I’ve heard all day. Why don’t you head out West? I know how much you enjoy skiing. Hell, who knows, you might even meet some lucky ski bum.”

Her spirits sank even further. Al sure had a way of making her feel good about herself today. “Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. As a matter of fact, I’ll call the travel agency now. I’ll get in touch when I return.”

“See? That’s the attitude! You have a Merry Christmas, kid, and I’ll see you when you come home. Who knows what’ll be waiting for you?”

“Yeah, who knows? Merry Christmas, Al.” Angelica disconnected. She suddenly felt as though she were about to say a final good-bye to her dreams.

Fourteen years of hard work.

Down the drain.

Dr. Parker North, trauma surgeon at Denver’s Angel of Mercy Hospital for the past eight years, dropped the blood-soaked bluish-green scrubs into a disposal bin. The coppery smell of blood filled his nostrils as he removed the paper covers from his Nike cross trainers. Inside the physicians’ changing room, he took from his assigned locker his favorite pair of faded Levi’s and a worn-out gray T-shirt that read HARVARD MEDICAL in faded black letters, and tossed both articles of clothing on a metal chair. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he saw that his dark hair was in need of a trim. Gray half-moons rimmed his dark eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep, but apparently his eyes had another story to tell, looking like he’d just woken up.

He stepped inside the stall, hoping to wash away the day’s memories. Under the shower’s warm, pelting spray, Dr. North mentally relived every last detail of the patient he’d spent the last three hours trying to save. Eight years old. It sickened him to think of the loss, the heartache the family felt. Seeing the young girl’s parents break down had more of an effect on him than anything he had ever experienced before. Sadly, patients dying was part of the job, and Parker knew it. But seeing a perfectly healthy child die senselessly was not a part of his job that he relished. And knowing that the child’s death could have been prevented, it was hard to accept. He truly sympathized with the parents, but he was also very angry. The little girl’s death was the result of a total lack of parental responsibility.

Vigorously, he lathered up with the harsh antimicrobial soap the hospital provided. He scrubbed his skin until it hurt, but he knew that no matter how much he tried, he could not erase from his memory the image of the little girl’s lifeless body.

She had been airlifted from Aurora, the third largest city in Colorado, just eight air miles away. Parker had been informed of her arrival minutes before the life chopper had landed in its designated area. He and his trauma team were prepared for the patient’s arrival. Knowing it was a child put the team on high alert, not that an adult elicited any less of a response. They’d been informed by the paramedics that their patient had been hit by a vehicle while riding her bicycle on the street where she lived. They were also told the child had not been wearing a helmet. There were massive head injuries and severe blood loss.

Parker knew the statistics. The survival rate among children with head injuries was not good. Not at all. How could parents allow their children to ride bicycles without the proper headgear? A twenty-dollar helmet could prevent an extraordinarily large amount of traumatic brain injuries, especially in children. And donor blood could drastically improve one’s chances when a significant amount was lost. This accident could’ve been prevented.

The swish of the trauma center’s entrance doors and the thundering footsteps of the paramedics jolted him into the present. There was no time for what-ifs. He had a life to save.

Flashes of dark blue whizzed past Parker as he raced toward the gurney that held the victim. Quickly, Parker assessed the girl’s visible wounds. Her left arm was almost detached from her shoulder, her right foot was shattered, the bones haphazardly resembling a set of pickup sticks. Most concerning, she did not appear to feel any pain. After a hasty examination of the still child, Parker said, “Let’s get a CT scan, stat.”

Within seconds, a portable computed tomography—CT unit—was quickly wheeled into the trauma unit next to the gurney. The technicians made fast work of performing the CT and getting the results to radiology.

Parker did what was required of him but knew at this point that his efforts might not save this little girl’s life. She’d lost way too much blood and was completely unresponsive. When the tech returned with the CT results, Parker’s heart plunged to his feet and back. The parents needed to be told of her condition immediately.

“Where are the parents?” Dr. North barked.

“They’re on their way,” a nurse offered.

Dr. North nodded, probed the child’s neck. “We don’t have much time. Let’s get this child to surgery. There is intracranial pressure.” He looked at the machine, which beeped with the child’s vitals. Her oxygen level was dropping. Fast.

“Let’s get moving! We don’t have much time.” Knowing the little girl’s chances were slim to none, Dr. Parker North was going to do everything within his power to see that she survived.

Two and half hours later, he knew it was time to inform the parents of their loss.

Parker turned the water off and stood inside the shower, mindless of the cold water dripping off him as he remembered his unsuccessful efforts to save the patient. A child was dead, two parents were devastated, and his skill as a trauma neurosurgeon was not up to standards, at least not his standards. He should have been able to save the girl. He had tried every medical procedure he knew, but sadly, her injuries were just too severe.

Knowing it was useless to continue to mentally flagellate himself, he reached for the white towel that hung limply on a rusting steel rod.

Fifteen minutes later, he was dressed and in his rusted Ford pickup truck heading to his apartment just blocks away from the hospital. He was a trauma surgeon and part of the job was being there when he was needed. He could make it from bed to the hospital in nine minutes flat. Faster if he ran the two traffic lights between his apartment and the hospital.

After today’s loss, Parker North had decided to do something he hadn’t done since he’d begun his residency. He was taking some much-needed time away from his duties as a doctor. What had happened today made him realize the true value of life and his role as a doctor in saving precious lives. He’d never suffered from the God complex that some doctors did, but at that moment he wished for any other profession than that of a doctor. Seeing the looks on the faces of the parents when he had told them he hadn’t been able to save their daughter had made him cringe.

He’d wanted to be a doctor his entire life. His father had been a cardiologist, but, sadly, he’d died from a heart attack before Parker had graduated from high school. His mother was still alive and well but spent most of her time hopping from one cruise ship to another, so it was only very occasionally that he saw her. After his father’s unexpected death, his mother hadn’t been the same. And if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t been either. His father’s death had led him to this very moment in time. And right now, he did not want to be a doctor. He did not want the responsibility of holding another human being’s life in his hands.

Maybe it was time to consider a career change.

Angelica headed for the car-rental agency at Denver International Airport just as she had numerous times in the past. She never tired of seeing the extensive art collection as she made her way through the airport, where she’d reserved a four-wheel-drive vehicle. Sculptures, murals, and dozens of paintings rivaled those in many of New York City’s museums.

She located the rental booth quickly, placing her carry-on beside her as she joined the other travelers in the lengthy line. She’d never seen the line quite so long but remembered it was the Christmas season. Like New York City during the holidays, the Colorado city was transformed into a shiny magical land of dreams and never-ending cheer. This was her first trip away from the city during the holiday season. Suddenly, she doubted her decision to leave, to ski and pretend her life was as it should be.

It could be worse, she thought, as she viewed the long lines at the other car-rental counters. She had her health, a decent amount of savings, and a home of her own. Sort of. Hers and the bank who held the mortgage. For now, Angelica figured this was as good as it was going to get. She decided she would enjoy the next two weeks and forget about her acting career and anything connected to New York. Or at least she would try.

As she waited in the ever-growing line, she observed the scene around her. Tourists from all over the world occupied every available inch of space. Some carried gigantic pieces of luggage. Others, like herself, pulled a small carry-on behind them, while some, mostly people with families, pushed fancy strollers as small children lugged mini-suitcases with their favorite superhero characters emblazoned on them. Backpacks of every shape, size, and color perched on the backs of many. Businessmen in Brooks Brothers suits carried their iPads in soft leather cases. Angelica couldn’t help but smile. Technology. She hadn’t upgraded to the latest and greatest in the technological field since her profession didn’t require much more than a telephone, but someday she’d investigate the high-tech world and decide if the leap was worth it.

Slowly, the line inched forward. She continued to peruse her surroundings while she waited. The voices of children could be heard throughout the airport, their shouts of welcome and cries of good-bye suddenly making her homesick for the familiar sights and sounds of New York City. The scents from street-side vendors hawking roasted chestnuts, skewers of overcooked meat, and soggy hot dogs permeated the city. The acrid odor from the subway, and the exhaust from hundreds of taxis that traversed the city, were as familiar and comforting to her as a child’s favorite blanket—which brought to mind the red and green afghan she’d knitted years ago and had kept in her tiny dressing room at the Forty-seventh Street Playhouse. She’d left it there after her last performance and had never gone back to retrieve it. Maybe another young actor could use it. The backstage at the theater was always too cold anyway. Her last conversation with Al let her know she was on the downside of her career. There wouldn’t be time to knit backstage while waiting for her call. At her age, she’d be lucky to get an acting job in a dinner theater. The kind where the actors and actresses waited tables in between acts.

She should’ve gone to college. Studied literature. She’d bet the bank she wouldn’t be out of a job if that were the case. The line started to move, jarring her from her negative thoughts. ’Tis the season, she thought, and forced a smile. For the next two weeks, she was not going to think about her career or lack of one.

She’d said that twice to herself already.

No, she was going to ski until she dropped, drink hot toddies by the fireplace, curl up with a good book at the end of the day. Do whatever she pleased, and all by herself.

Another wave of sadness overwhelmed her.

“Stop!” she whispered harshly. When she saw several people glance at her, she did what she knew best. She plastered a huge grin on her face and acted as though she hadn’t a clue why they were staring at her.

When it was her turn at the counter, Angelica removed the required driver’s license and credit card from her wallet, signed on the dotted line, and listened carefully to the agent’s instructions. She’d asked for a vehicle equipped with a GPS just in case. The last thing she wanted was to get lost in the Colorado mountains. Not that she planned on leaving Maximum Glide, the ski resort where she planned to ski and sip all those hot toddies. She had splurged and rented a small cabin located midway up the mountain. She could’ve stayed in Telluride itself, but Angelica wanted time to reflect and come to a decision. Being isolated would force her to focus on her choice of careers.

With the keys to her rental in hand, she found the automatic doors leading to the parking garage. Instantly, they swished open, allowing the frigid wintry air into the overly warm airport for the briefest of seconds. Angelica shivered, glad that she’d worn her heavy parka. New York was cold, yes, but she thought Denver downright bone-chilling as she searched the giant lot for her vehicle’s designated parking space.

After walking for what felt like a mile, Angelica spied the white Lincoln Navigator. A male attendant wearing olive khakis and a rich brown jacket greeted her, asking her to wait while he inspected the vehicle for scratches and dents. He walked around the SUV twice, then handed her a pink slip of paper attached to a clipboard. She signed the slip.

“We’re supposed to get some nasty weather tonight,” he said as he inspected her signature. “Be careful.”

Having spent her entire adult life in New York City, she wasn’t the most experienced driver in the world. Too bad there wasn’t a taxi or a subway to deliver her to her destination. “Uh, what do you mean by ‘nasty’?”

The young guy gave her a quick once-over. “Blizzard nasty. The interstate closes in bad weather. If you’re heading to the mountains, you’d best be on your way.”

Angelica thanked him. Using the key fob to unlock the hatch, she placed her luggage in the back before sliding into the driver’s seat.

Knowing she had several hours of driving ahead of her, it suddenly occurred to her that it would be very late by the time she reached her cabin. As she adjusted her seat belt and rearview mirror she remembered that she had to program the GPS. She located the Post-it note crumpled inside her denim bag that had the address on it. It took several minutes for her to become at ease with the GPS before she tapped the address on the touch screen. When she saw the travel time and mileage displayed on the flat screen and realized she had a six-and-a-half-hour road trip ahead of her, she became weak in the knees.

“Darn, what was I thinking?” she asked out loud.

“I wasn’t,” she answered herself as she drove out of the underground parking lot.

Realizing it was too late to rectify her mistake, she looked at the time. Just after four thirty. She’d be lucky to make it to her rental cabin by midnight. If the car-rental attendant was right, and the weather took a nosedive, she was in trouble. Big-time. She didn’t know her way around Colorado and wasn’t as well traveled as one would expect for a woman her age. Living in New York City, she had everything one could possibly need without benefit of an automobile. There was no need to learn how to navigate through a blizzard. That’s what taxis and subways were for. And if those were not available in a really bad snowstorm, then one just stayed home.

As she piloted her way through the congested roads around the airport, she focused on the task of driving, paying close attention to the animated female voice coming from the GPS. She should have booked a flight directly to Telluride and saved herself the aggravation of the long drive. She’d been in such a rush to leave after her phone call with Al, she hadn’t really cared where she was headed as long as it was away from New York. Now that she had calmed down a bit, she saw the stupidity of her actions. The drive was going to take longer than the flight had.

An hour later, Angelica was cruising along on Colorado’s I-70. So far, so good. Traffic wasn’t too bad, and she found a radio station that played nothing but Christmas music. The weather was holding its own, too.

Maybe the trip wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

Dr. Parker North hated leaving at the last minute, but he felt that he had no other choice. He needed time away, time to reflect on his future as a medical professional. When his father died, he’d decided to become a doctor, a trauma surgeon. He wanted to see and heal up close. Never once had he questioned his choice of careers. It was in his blood. Both his father and grandfather had been doctors. But, for the first time in his life, he wondered if he’d made the right decision. Losing that little girl had left its mark on him. She should be alive now. But she wasn’t because he hadn’t been able to save her.

Briefly, he thought that her parents should be charged with neglect. If they’d used their brains, this would never have happened. Parents should always provide helmets for their kids. In his profession, he saw head injuries daily. Seeing the devastation, the regret, the sorrow on the faces of the little girl’s parents, he knew they had to know they were responsible for their child’s death. Quite the burden, he thought. If only they’d been more aware.

He could “if only” all day. It would get him nowhere.

Parker couldn’t put it off any longer. He’d taken an indeterminate leave of absence. He wasn’t going to sit around his apartment and mope. He’d hear the ambulances anyway; he lived that close to the hospital. No, he had to leave, go somewhere to relax, clear his head, and decide if he wanted to continue practicing medicine. So, he was about to do what he’d promised an old college buddy he would do years ago.

Parker North was going to call Max Jorgensen and take him up on his offer to spend some time at Maximum Glide, his ski resort in Telluride, Colorado. Then he remembered Leon, his ten-year-old black and white tuxedo cat. He’d have to bring him along or hire someone to sit for him. It was too late to find someone, so that decision was made. Leon, who absolutely hated riding in his truck, was going on vacation with him. He knew that Max had dogs, was an avid animal lover, so he wasn’t worried about Leon being unwelcome.

Once Parker had made up his mind, there was no stopping him. He found his ancient suitcase stuck in the front closet, along with his old skis and boots. He examined them and decided he could always replace them once he tested them on the slopes. It’d been almost twenty years since he’d skied, and he was a native.

He yanked jeans and sweatshirts from his single dresser, warm wool socks, and several T-shirts. In the bathroom, he stuffed his shaving gear and toothbrush in a Ziploc bag. He found Leon’s carrier, grabbed several cans of cat food, then, since Leon was an indoor cat, he emptied the litter box, rinsed it out, and tucked a thirty-pound sack of litter next to the front door so he wouldn’t forget.

Once he finished, he checked his e-mail, responded to a few that were important, then figured he might as well make the call to Max.

He’d met Max when they were both students at the University of Colorado in Boulder. Max had gone on to achieve Olympic fame, winning several gold medals. The last Parker had heard, he’d married, and his wife, a police officer, had been shot and killed in the line of duty. That’d been three or four years ago. Hopefully Max had healed and moved on, but Parker knew it couldn’t have been easy.

He himself had been involved in a serious relationship while attending Harvard. Jacqueline Bersch. A knockout. Tiny, with large brown eyes and chocolate hair, she had a smile that would’ve made Scrooge grin. He’d fallen for her hard and fast. They’d been inseparable through medical school and during their residency. After graduation they’d both accepted positions in Denver. Dr. Jac, as he’d referred to her, went into private practice a year after they returned to Denver. Sadly, she’d fallen for her partner, Dr. Jonathan Flaherty. She broke Parker’s heart, and he hadn’t been in a serious relationship since. Too much effort anyway.

He flipped through the contact list on his cell phone, found Max’s number, and hit Send.

Max answered on the third ring. “I hope my caller ID is working,” he said. “It says that this call is from Parker North, but I know that can’t be right.”

Parker grinned. “It’s working just fine, my friend. I called to see if that offer still stands.”

Max chuckled. “I thought you had forgotten. It’s been what—ten, fifteen years?”

“I don’t think it’s been that long,” Parker answered, then did a quick mental count. Close to fifteen. Where had the years gone? It seemed like yesterday he and Max had shared a dorm and spent many late nights kicking up their heels and suffering for it the next day. The memory made him grin. “It’s been a while. Hey, I heard about your wife. It’s probably too late, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. It was a tough time in my life. I remarried a few years ago. I have a daughter now. Her name is Ella. She’s two. Life is good right now.”

At the mention of a child, Parker clammed up. It took him a couple of seconds to get his bearings.

“Congratulations, Max. I’ve let too much time pass. I’ve missed a lot of life. I just took a leave of absence, which is my reason for calling. Would it be too forward of me to think that offer you made me after you purchased that big resort still stands?”

“Hell no, it wouldn’t be too forward. Just give me a time and date, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. I’d like to get you on the slopes again, my friend, and I’d like you to meet Grace and Ella.”

Parker wasn’t up for kids just then, but he wasn’t going to tell that to Max after all these years. He’d perfected avoidance after Jac dumped him. There was no avoiding the occasional bumping into one another as they both spent most of their days and some nights at Angel of Mercy. “Actually, I’m leaving now. I need to relax a bit, take some time for myself. I haven’t taken any time off since I started practicing. And I’m bringing Leon, my cat—that is if it’s okay with you.” He could not bring himself to explain the real reason why he needed a break.

“You know what they say about all work and no play,” Max said, then added, “It’s crazy busy this time of year, but I’ll hook you up. I’ll reserve one of my best condos for you. You’re more than welcome to bring Leon; hell, you know I love dogs and cats.”

“Yep, just me and the fur ball. You sure this is a good time? I don’t want to mess up anyone’s holiday plans.”

“Any time is good, Parker. We always leave a few condos vacant. Just in case, you know, the president or the secretary of state decides at the last minute to come for some time on the slopes. I can’t wait to introduce you to Grace and Ella. I’ll tell Grace to set an extra plate for dinner tomorrow night. She can cook better than anyone, and her mother cooks, too. And she’s the sweetest old gal you’d ever want to meet. The mother, of course. Grace is definitely not old.”

Parker couldn’t help but smile. Max had it bad for his wife and mother-in-law. He was happy for him. “I’ll look forward to meeting them both,” he said.

“I promise you won’t be disappointed,” Max said. “When you arrive, just come to the main building, you can’t miss it. You’ll see the signs that lead to the registration office. I’ll have everything set up for you. Drive safe. The forecast is calling for massive amounts of snow once you’re on the continental divide side.”

“I’m leaving now. If the weather gets too bad, I’ll call you and drive in tomorrow morning. Max, I really do appreciate this, especially since it’s last minute. I owe you, big-time.”

Max chuckled. ?