You Had Me At Christmas: A Holiday Anthology(84)

“Nice,” Marc said with a nod at the flat screen monitor and desktop CPU, whose red power buttons glowed. “This will be even easier. I was afraid I was going to have to engineer something fancy because of ancient web browsers. But we should get this done in no time.”

“I’ll get the password for you, then,” the old man said.

He returned with a piece of paper, and his wife followed, clutching four mugs of coffee in her hands. The mugs were blue metal with white splotches. Campware, Selina recognized.

“Before I get started, I’m Marc.” He tilted his head toward Selina. “And this is Selina. Thanks for agreeing to the tour.”

“I’m Jeremiah,” the man said. “And this here’s Phyllis.”

“Jeremiah and Phyllis,” Selina said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She accepted her cup of coffee from Phyllis, then they both turned to watch Marc and Jeremiah at the computer.

“How long have you lived here?” Selina asked Phyllis.

“Oh, since I married Jeremiah. He’s my second husband. He was born here, and the ice caves have been in his family since they came west. All the good farmin’ land’s been sold. We make what little money we can off tours and such. There’s a gift shop in the big building.”

“You don’t give the tours, do you?” Selina was horrified at the idea of this old couple taking several tours a day into caves.

“Not anymore, no. We get a couple of our grandkids down every summer. They know all the good stories, and they give the tours. They need the tip money. We run the gift shop.” Phyllis shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. “Not sure who’s going to take the place over once we leave. None of the grandkids want it—our son sure don’t—and I don’t know that I’d want them to have it. Good enough life for Jeremiah and me, but not much of a life for anyone else, I suppose.”

Now that Selina’s coffee had cooled down a little, she took a sip of the strong, bracing brew. If this was what they drank every day, it was no wonder they were spry enough to run a gift shop and tourist attraction.

The two women continued to make small talk while Marc walked Jeremiah through all the steps of logging in to their website—which Marc had been excited to learn was a Wordpress site—and how to change content. He had the older man sign in and sign back out of the site several times until both men were confident he could do it on his own. Then Marc asked Phyllis to sit down and repeat the process.

When they’d finished, Marc dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He gave what appeared to be business cards to the couple, one each. “These are my personal cards. I can help you with almost anything you need on the computer, and I can probably teach you how to do it over the phone.”

“That’s mighty kind of you.” The old man looked at his wife. “I’ll be honest . . . I wasn’t real sure you’d be able to help us. Strangers, you know.”

“If you like,” Phyllis interrupted, “I’ll make you lunch while Jeremiah gives you the tour. Least we can do to thank you.”

Marc caught Selina’s eye over the couple’s head, and she nodded. “That sounds great, Phyllis. I’ve been eating out for a week and would appreciate a home-cooked meal.”

Jeremiah handed them their coats. “Let’s go, then.”

Back to being bundled up, Marc and Selina followed the old man out of the house. He led them on a trail through bits of lava rock and sagebrush, past more statues—smaller ones, this time—and to a dugout in the rocks where there was a small door.

As they walked, Marc held Selina’s hand while he chatted with the old man. Jeremiah told them stories too far-fetched to be believed, though they were fun to hear. They included train robbers and a missing trunk of gold, a Shoshone girl who had escaped her capture from another Native American tribe and had hidden out among the caves, and at least one Wild West shoot-out. Though, by the huge grin on Jeremiah’s face, she could tell the shoot-out was one he’d made up just for them.

Through the door, he led them along a wooden path that had been built over a slick of ice. Stalactites hung down from the ceiling, and stalagmites busted up out of the ice.

“This is really cool,” Marc said, leaning over to whisper in her ear.

His warm breath—and mouth simply being so close to her neck—sent shivers down her spine. “Yeah. I’m glad we could come here.”

“Hard to tell that the caves are cold when it’s cold outside,” Jeremiah said, continuing his tour, “but they’re thirty degrees in the summer, too. My parents used to store their meat down here before electricity and before they started tourin’.”

He went on to tell them about the natural history of the caves, the geology of the local area, and a little bit about some of the other caves off the highway. “But this is the only one with ice,” he said proudly.

Selina couldn’t help but smile. Not only at Jeremiah, but at the fact that not once during their entire tour did Marc let go of her hand.

Maybe, she thought as they shared lunch and conversation in Phyllis and Jeremiah’s small kitchen, if the gallery job turned out to be a dead end and Babe’s friend couldn’t help her, she’d see if Marc wanted company on the rest of his winter vacation. The past two days had been the most fun she could ever remember having. And while the birds of prey sanctuary was neat and the ice caves were cool, it wasn’t the sights that had made the past couple of days so wonderful. It had been Marc.