Sleigh Bells in Valentine Valley

This book is dedicated to my great-uncle Francis “Budd” Theobald, who loved to write, though I never knew it until long after he died. I like to think that we shared the gift of creating our own worlds—and that he passed those writing genes on to me
.

I
had lots of research questions; so many people—and places!—were of enormous help with this book: Larry Brown, Kris Fletcher, and Justice Snow's Restaurant and Bar in Aspen, Colorado. My cousin Nicholas Perino was instrumental in figuring out Kate as a lawyer. And a special thanks goes to my son, Jim Callen IV, who spent hours on the phone with me discussing the details of his life in Colorado. For me, that was the best part of writing this book. Any mistakes are certainly mine!

V
alentine Valley, Colorado, was decorated for Christmas, twinkling lights lining nineteenth-century brick or clapboard buildings, wreaths hung on shop doors, greenery wrapped around every old-fashioned lamppost. The sight used to fill Kate Fenelli with happiness whenever she came home for the holidays. But now, as she drove down Main Street the day before Thanksgiving, the decorations only reminded her of her big Italian family and how she was going to break the news to them. Humiliation and anger crawled inside her like snakes, but once again she forced them down. She had to stay in control, and she'd been reminding herself of that all through the nearly two-hour drive from Vail. She'd soon be seeing her thirteen-year-old son, Ethan. Her embarrassment would only confuse and worry him.

But the closer she got to her parents' house, the more dread built up inside her, making it difficult to swallow past the constriction in her throat. She found herself taking a turn she hadn't meant to, the Range Rover sliding a bit on the snow. Like a coward, she was circling back, away from her family, trying to find the words that would reveal enough to satisfy them but not so much that her standing with her law firm would be jeopardized.

And then she saw Tony's Tavern, a squat, plain building close to Highway 82, neon signs blinking in the windows. Three pickup trucks were parked outside, but then it was only late afternoon. She felt drawn to it by a compulsion she didn't want to acknowledge. Deliberately keeping her mind blank, she got out of her Range Rover and walked up to the door with determined steps, packed snow crunching under her boots, her breath a mist in front of her. She opened the door, and the warm air surged out at her, smelling of beer and French fries. SportsCenter was on several flat screen TVs between mounted animal heads. Two middle-aged men, looking remarkably alike in matching Carhartt jackets and cowboy hats, turned their heads the same way to glance at her. And then they each did a double take. She might have overdressed a bit today in her “I'm a professional lawyer” double-breasted wool coat and leather boots, trying to give herself confidence when she faced her family.

And then the bartender looked up at her. Tony De Luca, owner of the tavern. Her ex-husband. His brown hair always looked like it needed to be trimmed, and there was a hint of lines fanning out from the corners of his brown eyes, but then he was thirty-three, like she was. Yet . . . thirty-three looked good on him. He wore a black buttoned-down shirt, probably over jeans, although she couldn't see behind the bar. His shoulders were as broad as ever on his tall, lanky body. He'd always been an athlete, and she had a sudden memory of playing the trombone in the marching band and meeting his laughing eyes when he took off his football helmet after a big win. Back then there'd been a spark of happiness and desire and endless possibilities.

From childhood, they'd been attached, knowing what each other had been thinking, sharing the same emotions, the same bond. Tony had never been one to hide his feelings or play it cool. But all that was gone—had been gone through the nine years since their divorce. Even the sad ache of regret and bewilderment she used to feel had faded into the past. Now he was just her son's father, and since he was great at that, he had her gratitude. He had Ethan through the school week, when he could be more of a full-time parent, and she had Ethan most vacations and every weekend, when Tony always had to work. She thought it gave Ethan full-time parents for the whole week.

By the lowering of Tony's brows, Kate could tell that her appearance was unexpected; it wasn't the weekend. She'd totally forgotten that she'd told Tony last week that she was just going to stay in Vail and prepare for an important court date over the holiday.

She gave a halfhearted smile as she approached the end of the bar. “Hi, Tony.”

He nodded. “Kate.”

His deep voice had once made her shiver all over; now all she heard was the wariness, and it made her even sadder on this sad day.

He put down the glass he was polishing and approached her, lowering his voice as he said, “What're you doing here?”

“Can't a girl want a drink?”

His frown intensified. He poured her a glass of the house red and slid it in front of her. “If you changed your mind and decided to come for Thanksgiving, shouldn't you have rushed right to your parents' to bake pies or something?”

She grimaced. He knew she didn't bake—hell, she didn't like to cook much either, which was a sin in her family. Her parents owned Carmina's Cucina, the Italian restaurant on Main Street. She'd grown up in the business. Having served at the restaurant through her teenage years, she'd always sworn she would never be a waitress again. Why Tony had wanted the tavern, she could never understand.

She took a sip of her wine. “Tastes good.”

He put both hands on the polished wood of the bar and leaned closer. “Kate, what's going on?” he demanded.

To her horror, a tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away.

Tony's brown eyes, always the mirror of his emotions—but no longer where she was concerned—went wide. “Is something wrong? Is it Ethan?”

“No, nothing like that. I didn't mean to scare you.” And then she had to wipe away another tear. “I've screwed everything up, Tony. I—I couldn't face them all at home. Not yet.” She gestured bitterly to the wineglass. “Guess I needed a drink to find my courage.”

“You always had courage, Kate, maybe too much of it.”

She winced. Of course Tony wouldn't want to hear her complaints—he was convinced it was her fault their marriage fell apart. Oh, she shared the blame, but certainly not all of it. She should leave. She had no right to dump her problems on Tony.

“My firm put me on two months' sabbatical,” she blurted out.

He crossed his arms over his chest, still frowning. But he was watching her with those deep brown eyes, the ones that had once shown her the sympathy and understanding that had made her confide everything in him.

She rushed on. “I shouldn't tell you all the details—I'm not supposed to tell anyone. I certainly won't tell my family or Ethan. But it was wrong, Tony,” she insisted earnestly, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I mean, what the partners are doing is wrong, and no one will listen to me! I discovered a report my client hadn't meant to include in some papers, a report that affects their filing with the FDA—hell, it could affect the public health. In this report, people exposed to a cattle growth hormone in the research phase were having severe flu-like symptoms. But there was no proof that
that
hormone was the one my client was presenting to the FDA. I wanted more information—I thought we have a duty to the public to ask for more info, you know? But since we're not certain it specifically relates to our case, they told me to forget about it.”

“And you don't take orders easily.”

“Tony, that's not true. Well, not where work is concerned, anyway. So . . . I kept bringing it up to the partners, and they finally told me I could scare away this big client—or others. I never considered breaking attorney-client privilege. I could lose my license for that! But the partners don't care. They said I need to take some time and get my priorities straight, when I was just doing my job!”

Kate took a sip of wine, her hand shaky. The two men farther down the bar—who had to be twins—were making no secret of their interest. She'd kept her voice down, but now she prickled with heated embarrassment. At last she snuck another glance at Tony. His eyes were downcast, and he absently wiped a smudge on the bar. She felt a bit deflated by his attitude, but the lump had eased in her throat, at least.

She sighed. “There's nothing you can do, I know that. I'm sorry to have unburdened myself like that. You probably wish I'd leave.”

It was his turn to sigh. “No, I don't. I'm a bartender; people talk to me all the time. It makes them feel better.”

She winced. “You think that's the only reason I spilled my guts?”

He met her gaze, and for a moment, everything seemed to still until it was just the two of them, looking at each other across a distance of years. Had she been looking for the comfort only Tony had once given her, the security, the reassurance? There hadn't been another man like him in her life—she'd never allowed it. There had been dates and the occasional couple-month relationships, but that was it. The pain she'd felt when their marriage had crumbled . . . she'd sworn she never wanted to feel that again.

Yet here she was, telling Tony everything, like he could make things better, just because once upon a time he'd made every bad situation look golden. But they weren't married anymore, and it looked like the casual friendship they'd shown for Ethan's sake must have been more of an illusion than she'd thought. Like she needed to be more depressed. . . .

He cleared his throat. “So what's next? How will this affect Ethan?”

She sighed. “I'll try not to let it affect him at all. I'll tell him I'm on sabbatical, but I can't tell him the confidential details I just . . . spilled to you.”

“So you'll be here for Thanksgiving?”

“I guess so. Is that okay?”

His hesitation was almost invisible. Almost.

“Of course it's okay. It'll be strange for Ethan to have us both on a holiday. Just so you know, I've been invited to your mom's for dinner tomorrow.”

She winced. “It's been a while since I missed a holiday; I'd forgotten that little tradition. When I'm not home for a big day, it's like you take my place with my family.”

He leaned toward her, and his glance was suddenly solemn. “You know I could never do that. And if you'd rather I stay away—”

“Of course not!” she interrupted earnestly. “My family adores you.”

Maybe more than they adore me
, she thought with a twinge of regret.

“What about after Thanksgiving?” he asked.

“After?” she repeated, bemused.

“What do you plan to do on your . . . vacation?”

She snorted, then coughed to try to cover it. The two men down the bar grinned at her, and she gave them an awkward smile.

“
Vacation
. That's not a word I associate with this,” she said through gritted teeth. “I'm being punished.”

“So what are you doing for your punishment? Staying here or going back to Vail?”

Vail had once seemed a punishment to her; now it was home. She'd been made junior partner a couple years ago and been asked to open a branch of the law firm there. She'd felt like she was being thrown out of the big city of Denver, but it had been an interesting challenge. And it made seeing Ethan so much easier. But go back there, where people might ask questions when they saw workaholic Kate just hanging around? No.

“I—I don't know where I'll go,” she finally admitted. “I hadn't thought that far. I just . . . couldn't stay in Vail for Thanksgiving after . . . everything that's happened. And all that trial prep I had to do? Pfft. I don't even know how I'll explain things to my family, let alone my friends.”

“Or—what's his name, Keith?”

She blinked at him, watching as he picked up a glass and started polishing with deliberation. “Keith? I had a few dates with him. How did you know?”

“We do share a talkative kid.”

“Oh, right.” She waved a hand. “We dated. It never went further.” But inside, she felt a little disturbed. Had Ethan volunteered that information—or had Tony asked him about it? She didn't know which was worse.

And suddenly, she felt more vulnerable than she had in a long time, she, who'd always prided herself on being in control. She wasn't in control of much of anything these days.

“I guess I should go,” she said, sliding her wallet out of her purse.

He frowned and put his hand on hers. “Put that away. You own a piece of this bar, remember? I'll never forget it.”

She stared into those serious eyes. “Tony, it doesn't bother you, does it? You know I wanted to help.”

“And I'm grateful,” he said shortly.

She'd fronted the loan for him to buy the tavern a few years back—not that he'd asked, and not that he'd accepted easily. But then she'd reminded him that he'd supported her in college, helping her make her dream career come true, and she wanted to do the same for him. Tony never missed a payment to her, and he'd insisted on interest.

She hoped bringing up the loan didn't add a new layer of awkwardness to their already strained friendship—if you could call it that. She'd always wanted it to
be
a friendship, didn't want to be one of those couples who couldn't see past their anger or see what it was doing to their families. That had never been Tony and her.

But friendship? She looked at his closed-off, polite expression and suddenly knew she was kidding herself. They'd broken each other's hearts and would never recover from that. And the ache she thought she'd long ago buried suddenly made it hard to breathe.

One of the guys at the other end of the bar signaled for Tony, and he glanced at Kate.

“Go do your job,” she said, forcing her voice to sound mild rather than strained with unshed tears. “Thanks for listening.”

He nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

She walked out of the tavern, straightened her shoulders, and prepared to face her family.

T
ony closed the cash drawer, letting his stiff back loosen when he heard the front door close. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Kate was really gone, and he felt a sense of relief, as well as a sadness so old he could blow dust off it. An older man and woman had entered in her place, wearing the more expensive coats and boots that you'd usually see up in Aspen rather than in his tavern, at least this early in the season. But even the rich liked the occasional low-key night. He saw that Rhonda, his daytime server and a mom in her forties, was gathering menus as she watched them take a seat at a table.