The Stroke of Winter(71)

“Oh?” Tess said. “You’re part of Jane’s crew?”

“I am,” Grant said. “I do a little bit of everything around here. Jane does the woo-woo spirit stuff. I get the recordings on video.”

Tess smiled at him. What an interesting, quirky fellow, she thought. She and Wyatt made their way back to their hay bales and settled down onto them, the dogs curling up at their sides.

Tess felt the warmth of the fire on her face, not too hot, but enough to take the edge off sitting in the cold. Or maybe it was the schnapps, she wasn’t sure. She snuggled the heavy, fleecy wool blanket around her—it looked as though a sheep had just been sheared and she was surrounded by its wool.

Wyatt unzipped his backpack, produced their baguette sandwiches, and handed one to Tess.

As she unwrapped her baguette, she thought about the fact she had never been on a winter picnic. How could that be?

She had lived in the Twin Cities all her life—a place famous for its long, cold winters. Getting through those below-zero temperatures in style was a source of pride for Minnesotans. Every year, the capitol city of Saint Paul held its Winter Carnival in the middle of downtown, which featured concerts, activities, and an ice-sculpting contest. Its twin city, Minneapolis, just across the river, held its Holidazzle Parade, featuring lighted floats that made their way down Nicollet Mall, made famous by the intro to The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

In Duluth, just down the lake’s shoreline from Wharton, there was Bentleyville, which had grown out of one man’s light display in his own yard into a twinkling wonderland that people walked through in the city’s Bayfront Park.

People bundled up and enjoyed winter in this part of the world. And yet Tess had never done much of it herself.

“Wyatt, this is perfect,” she said, taking a bite of her sandwich. “What a wonderful day. So much fun.”

“I thought you might like it,” he said, his face softening. “I hoped you would.”

“We have to come back for the tree lighting this weekend.”

We. She hoped she hadn’t coupled them too soon.

“Oh, for sure,” Wyatt said. “It really is a lot of fun. Like Grant said, most everyone who is still in town comes out for it.”

The weekend seemed a world away to Tess. There was a lot to get through between now and then.

“Do you think all of this will be over then?” she asked, wincing.

“This business at your house, you mean?”

Tess took a sip of her wine. “Yeah. I just want things to be back to normal. I’m hoping that by the weekend . . .”

“You can count on it,” Wyatt said.

Tess wasn’t sure where he got his confidence, but she made the choice to go with it, at least for the moment. And this moment was perfect. She wasn’t about to let worry about what may or may not happen in the future—even just hours in the future—mar the beauty of this bright, sunny day, as she sat with the man she was rapidly falling for, watching the dogs run and play like puppies, and feeling the cool sting of winter on her cheeks.

Finished with their sandwiches and wine, it was time to go. Tess hated to leave their hay bale and the crackling fire, but La Belle Vie awaited them. She took a deep breath and got to her feet, ready to face whatever they might find.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE



They stopped at Wyatt’s to drop off the snowshoes, and once inside, he turned to her.

“I thought I might come with you,” Wyatt said, peeling off his jacket. “If that’s okay. If you’re not sick of me yet.”

“I was hoping you would,” she said. “I guess I was assuming you would, actually. I really don’t want to face whatever Jane and her crew have up their sleeves alone.”

“In that case, I have another idea,” he said. “We should leave the dogs here. I don’t think we want them at the house with the ghostbusters. In fact, I’m all but sure Jane would rather they weren’t there.”

Tess thought back to the barking in the studio the night before, how they attacked an unseen enemy. “You’re probably right,” she said.

“I’m going to dash upstairs and take a quick shower and put on some dry clothes,” he said. “I won’t be long. Make yourself at home.”

Tess smiled at him. “I’ll feed the dogs,” she said.

“Perfect,” he said over his shoulder as he scurried out of the room.

He was back in the kitchen in record time, and soon they were walking back to La Belle Vie.

“Let’s hope we don’t see a figure in the studio window like we did last night,” Tess said with a grin, threading her arm through his.

“If we do, that’s okay,” Wyatt said. “That guy’s time haunting your house is running out.”

Back in her own kitchen, Tess heated the tea kettle and poured them both steaming cups. The house held a certain emptiness, a quietness, Tess noticed.

“It’s odd to be here without Storm,” she said, looking down at his dishes.

“I get that,” Wyatt said. “They’re a lot of company, dogs. Aren’t they?”

“The best,” she said.

Now it was her turn to dash upstairs to the shower, though she wished she could take a long bath. Headed up the back stairs, an uneasiness fell around her. She glanced down the hall toward the studio and could feel a sort of radiating energy pulsing from it. Or could she? Was that just a product of her overactive imagination? She wasn’t sure. But she got the feeling the house, or whatever otherworldly spirits were haunting it, could sense what was coming. Maybe they were preparing.