Page 25 of Love, Lies and Mistletoe
“Who lives there now?”
Kyle gave her a look. “No one. It’s not habitable at the moment. It fell into disrepair after my parents moved out of town. My uncle would have kept it in good shape, but he had health issues.”
Layla sensed tension in Kyle’s tone, so she didn’t press.
Her thighs burned as they neared the top of the hill. He hadn’t been entirely truthful about the “no elevation” claim.
“There.” Kyle pointed. “If the leaves were still on the trees, it would be invisible.”
In the distance, a two-story house and two outbuildings stood in the shallow valley. The red barn was a pretty contrast to the white landscape. From where they stood, Layla could see a few windows had been boarded. A dark spot on the roof was a gaping hole left by a fallen tree during a storm, Kyle explained. For someone who loved privacy, it would be the perfect spot. Personally, she liked having neighbors close by.
For the next fifteen minutes, they struggled through deeper snow where it had piled up on the other side of the ridge until another stand of trees helped thin the drifts again. They walked single file along a thin path worn down by deer and maybe a cross-country skier or two. She paused to unzip her coat. Ahead of her, Kyle plowed on.
They entered another stand of trees and soon came to a snow-covered mound as large as a small shed. Upon closer inspection, though, she realized it was a talus pile when she walked around to the side where the sun had melted the snow. Kyle pointed out a low rock wall ten feet away, part of the perimeter of a much larger structure.
“Behold the Evert Slope Copper Mine,” Kyle said as he dumped his pack at his feet.
“There’s not much to it.”
Kyle unsnapped the cover flap and dug out a thermos and two enamelware mugs. He patted the spot beside him after he sat on the dilapidated stone wall.
“It closed before it took off. Family squabbles of some magnitude,” he said, unscrewing the thermos lid.
She held their mugs while he poured hot chocolate into them. It was cold now that they were out of direct sunlight and sitting still. Steam wafted over their faces from the hot chocolate as he opened a baggie of mini marshmallows. He dropped a handful into his before handing the bag to her.
Layla looked over the area while she held the mug under her chin. The heat felt good on her neck. Sunlight dappled the ground, painting the forest carpet with golden brushstrokes where the snow hadn’t made it through the tree canopy.
She tried taking a sip but it burned her lips. “That’s too bad. Family businesses seem like an invitation for trouble sometimes.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “Speaking from experience?”
“No, not at all,” she said quickly. “I just like working by myself.”
“Same,” he said.
She’d never entertained the idea of going into business with anyone. Her parents were long retired and still living in the Southwest. Her sister, Kelly, lived in California. Now she and her husband had a house filled with busy little bodies. Kelly was a stay-at-home mom to three daughters and a son, all under the age of seven. While she loved her parents and sister, she couldn’t imagine working with them in her shop. They were all too headstrong and too different in terms of taste. She loved the clean lines of the modern farmhouse style. Her mother was a tropical paradise fan, lots of bamboo furniture and loud floral prints. And her sister, well, let’s call it Young Family decor. Primary colors, spill-proof coverings, and toys. Lots of toys. Yet despite their lifestyle differences, Layla missed her family. Secretly she hoped someday they would all be within a day’s drive of each other. But for now, she counted Marybelle as family.
“I don’t blame you one bit. Like I said, I’m a little guarded when it comes to compromising my time. That’s largely why I’m divorced, I guess.”
Layla gave him a sidelong glance. “That’s a first.”
“What is?” he asked while putting the thermos back into his backpack.
“Not one man I’ve dated has ever admitted they were partly to blame for a failed relationship.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call my marriage failed. It was a success while we were compatible. People change as they grow. Sometimes a relationship’s growth isn’t sustainable. It gets top-heavy or stunted. Maybe it has to die before something else, something better, is reborn. Either with the same person or someone new.”
“What was she like, your ex?”
He grimaced, thinking. “Brash, materialistic. Brilliant, but intellectually lazy.”
“Now I’m wondering why you married her at all.”
His brow furrowed momentarily. “I haven’t painted a very likable portrait, have I?”
Layla shook her head. The hot chocolate had finally cooled, so she sipped hers while he looked to the sky, thinking.
“She was exactly what I thought I should be when I was in my early twenties—outspoken and confident. She could work a room like no one I’d ever seen.”
