“Don’t they get cold?” Lauren pulled down her hat as she watched to ensure that their nemeses were long gone before speaking. The sisters had been wearing pleather jackets, both unzipped, exposing their sun-damaged chests to the cold air.

  “You don’t get cold when you’ve got ice in your veins,” Charlotte said. “What were you saying before?”

  “I wasn’t saying anything.” Lauren wanted to get off the subject of Baxter Caldwell.

  “No, you were saying that you felt something for him,” Charlotte prodded.

  Lauren shook her head; she knew her sister wasn’t going to let it go. “I felt something for him when I didn’t know who he was.” She glanced around. “And what am I going to say,” she whispered. “Hey, remember me? The cleaning lady that you banged nine, no ten years ago?”

  “You could.”

  “And then what? Oh, have you met my daughter? How old is she?” Lauren raised her voice and pretended to be in a conversation with Baxter. “Oh, she just turned ten.” She returned to her regular tone. “He would put the pieces together.”

  “Would that be so bad?” Charlotte’s voice was abnormally soft.

  Lauren’s face flushed red. She couldn’t believe that her sister actually thought she should tell Baxter about their love child. “Yes,” Lauren hissed. “Nothing good would come out of that conversation. And I probably wouldn’t be able to keep working on the case. Nope.” As Lauren spoke the words out loud, she confirmed what she had been thinking all week. Telling Baxter Caldwell that Tabitha was his daughter was out of the question.

  “You’re probably right,” Charlotte said. She finished her coffee, pulled off the plastic lid and tossed the paper cup into the fire.

  “It’s a smaller carbon footprint if you just recycle that.” Lauren pointed to the cup that was quickly burning up in the fire.

  “The fire was already going, and if you think about all the gas that it would take to get this to the recycling depot…” Charlotte didn’t finish her sentence.

  Lauren didn’t have the energy to fight her sister on the issue. “Actually, I’m just glad that you didn’t throw it in the garbage.”

  Charlotte smiled and shrugged, then her face became serious again. “I’ll drop it. I promise. But don’t you think that it’s weird, after all these years, he shows up here and you’re on the case. I mean, that’s kind of crazy.”

  “You know that I don’t believe in that stuff.” Lauren finished her coffee. “It’s just a coincidence.”

  “If you say so,” Charlotte said.

  Lauren took a deep breath. She couldn’t wait for the case to be over, and for Baxter Caldwell to pack up and slink out of town so she could get on with her life. “You’re judging me,” she said.

  Charlotte held up her mittened hands in front of her. “Never,” she replied. “I just… I mean, I saw the way he affected you. I haven’t seen you like that in years. I know you don’t believe in fate, but maybe there’s a reason he’s here, and it’s not to ruin this town with his terrible development. Maybe he’s here for you.”

  “You’ve really lost it.” Lauren rolled her eyes. “There’s no happily ever after here. He’s not going to drop his project and become and insta-dad with some cleaning lady.”

  “But Lauren,” Charlotte shook her head. “You’re not just some cleaning lady anymore.”

  Lauren marched over to the recycling bin and made a production of removing the plastic lid from the paper cup and placing them in the appropriate bins. She returned to the fire. “I’ve had enough.”

  “Fair enough,” Charlotte said. “Should we go find that daughter of yours?”

  Lauren nodded. Daughter of mine, she thought. She didn’t tell her sister, but part of her was afraid to tell Baxter the truth, because well, what if he wanted to be in his daughter’s life?

  “Mom,” Tabitha came running up to her, a paper plate balanced on her mittens. “Want some?” She held up the fried dough and cinnamon concoction in front of her.

  “I’d love some,” she said. She tore off a corner of the beavertail and as the delicious warmth melted in her mouth, she realized that Tabitha was watching her, her crystal blue eyes wide. “Isn’t it good?” she said grinning. Those eyes, Baxter’s eyes, cut right through Lauren’s heart. What if Baxter did want to be in his daughter’s life? For the first time, she thought about the reality from her daughter’s perspective and not her own. She was worried about her daughter being taken from her, but she hadn’t thought about Tabitha. Would she want a dad in her life?

  “Come on,” Let’s check out the ax-throwing contest. “They have one for kids,” Tabitha pulled on her hand.

  “Of course, they do,” Lauren smiled, holding in her tears.

  Sixteen

  “Do we have to?” Thomas moaned. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the dining room table. “I have a lot of work to do today and the game is on.” He pointed to the big screen TV in the designated media room.

  “Yes.” Baxter pointed to all three of his crew. “You all have to go, and you all have to pretend to have fun. Got it?”

  Baxter didn’t want to go to the Winter Carnival either. But, if showing up at some rinky-dink small-town carnival was going to save their project, hell, he’d organize the damn thing.

  “What happens at a winter carnival?” Barry asked.

  “Beats me.” Baxter shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve never been to one.”

  Nicole was hunched over her laptop, eating her bowl of granola and yogurt over the keyboard. She leaned into the screen. “It looks like there are ice sculptures, some kind of sawing contest, a hockey game—”

  “There,” Baxter interrupted. “There’s your game.”

  Thomas rolled his eyes at him. “Thanks, boss.”

  Baxter smiled as he imagined Thomas watching a team of kids falling all over each other chasing a puck. “Look, do I want to go to this thing? No.” He sat down at the table. “But you heard the mayor; we need to do some damage control in this town.”

  “How about we bring in Miranda?” Barry suggested.

  Miranda was the firm’s PR executive and had gotten the company out of hot water on more than one occasion. Baxter grimaced when he realized that the last big public relations nightmare had been about an oil leak on one of the job sites. The environment wasn’t totally off Caldwell’s radar, but it fell well below profit on the list of importance.

  “Not yet,” Baxter said. Bringing in Miranda could make things worse for them. “Let’s go, mingle with the townspeople, drink some hot chocolate, and maybe get a few of them on our side.”

  Both Barry and Thomas crossed their arms across their chests, clearly not happy about the afternoon excursion. “I know that this is unorthodox. But we take clients out for dinner all the time, just think of the residents here as potential clients, and this carnival thing, a lobster dinner.”

  He couldn’t help holding in his smile, and all four of them burst out in laughter.

  “Fine,” Thomas said. “Let’s get this over with.”

  * * *

  After lunch, the four of them piled into the SUV, and Al took them downtown. The car slowed to a crawl as they headed toward the community center. Cars were lined up along the side of the road for as far as Baxter could see. Fathers were dragging toboggans down the sidewalk, filled with toddlers in puffy one-piece suits. He found himself smiling at the dedicated fathers who were actually spending time with their kids. It was something he had always yearned for when he was a kid.

  “Can you drink at these things?” Barry asked.

  “I’m not too sure,” Nicole said. She pulled out her phone and started scrolling. “Yep,” she smiled and held up her phone triumphantly. There’s a beer garden and it’s even craft beer.

  “That’s surprising,” Thomas said.

  Baxter saw Al raise his eyebrows in the rearview mirror. He elbowed Thomas hard and flicked a glance to indicate the driver. Compared to the eyes that were always on them in Chance Rapids, he was starting to appreciate the anonymity the city afforded them. He wondered how many of their conversations Al had relayed to his buddies at the bar.

  “Actually, I’ve heard that the beer is top-notch,” he said.

  Thomas wasn’t an idiot and caught on. “I can’t wait to try some then,” he said.

  “I’ll drop you off at the front,” Al said. The crowd was growing thicker.

  “Is everyone in town here?” Baxter asked, gazing at the sea of people ahead of him, colorful parkas bustling about in the parking lot adjacent to the skating rink.

  “Pretty much,” Al chuckled.

  Baxter took a deep breath. He had been playing the scenario in his head over and over on the drive into town. He had figured out how he was going to play it if she was there. Cool. That’s it. Miss Bunkman was a business acquaintance and that’s all. If he saw one of his rival executives at a lounge, he would say hi, or at least acknowledge their existence, and that’s what he was going to do with Lauren - if she was even there. But his quickened heartbeat and sweaty palms told him that he knew the answer. Of course, she was going to be there.

  “Alright, the entrance is over there.” Al put the car in park and pointed in the direction of the colorful crowd. “Do you have your medallions?”

  “We’ve got ‘em,” Baxter said. “Come on, guys. Put on your badges.” They groaned and complied. The medallions had been strung on varying shades of yarn and looked out of place against the cashmere and wool coats of his team. Odd like ketchup on caviar.

  They hopped out of the car, with Baxter the only one in sensible footwear. His boots aggressively crunched in the freshly fallen snow while the rest of his group slipped and slid their way to the festival. As much as he hated to admit it, Baxter found himself constantly scanning the crowd, his heart jumping every time someone with long chestnut hair came into view.

  “Well, where should we start?” Baxter asked.

  Nicole grabbed a paper itinerary and had it unfolded in front of her face. “Ooh, how about the chainsaw carving?”

  “What are they carving?” Barry asked.

  “Doesn’t say,” she replied.

  “Let’s start there,” Baxter said. “Lead the way, Nicole.” Nicole smiled and teetered on her heels ahead of the men in her group. As they wound their way through the Skittle-colored crowd, Baxter whispered to Barry, “I didn’t know that this many people could fit in this town.”

  “I know,” Barry whispered back. “But this is probably the only interesting thing they get to do all year.”

  Baxter saw a few of the people around him raise their eyebrows. He leaned into Barry, “Careful, everyone listens here.”

  “Got it,” Barry nodded. “What is that delicious smell?” he asked.

  Baxter pointed to the bright red food truck parked ahead, “I think it’s coming from there.”

  “Hey, Nicole,” Barry shouted and pointed to the source of the sweet fried smell. “Pit stop.”

  “We’ll see you at the carving contest,” Nicole pointed ahead, and Barry gave her the thumbs up.

  “I hope those two behave themselves,” Baxter shook his head. “They don’t mean to be insulting. It’s just how they are.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Barry said. “I hope.”

  Baxter smiled and shook his head. The two of them stepped into the line up at one of the food trucks.

  “Looks like a flat donut.” Barry was on his toes trying to see what was being handed down to the people in front of him.

  “They are.” A lady in front of them turned and smiled. She had a baby in a sling wrapped around her body. “You can choose your toppings,” she pointed to the whiteboard in the window.

  “What do you recommend?” Baxter asked.

  The woman was bouncing up and down, her hand resting on the back of her baby. “They’re all good, but I go for the traditional, cinnamon and sugar. Sometimes I add a little lemon.”

  “Sounds delicious,” Barry smiled. “How old is your baby?” he asked.

  “He’s almost a year.”

  “I loved that age.” Barry’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at the woman. “Although my wife was the one with the serious sleep deprivation.”

  Baxter knew very well that Barry and his wife Carol had employed at least two nannies. He watched his lead barrister in action, pretending to be interested in this woman’s baby. Baxter couldn’t imagine his executive actually wanting to know about this small human’s sleeping patterns, but Barry was putting on a convincing show.

  When they reached the window, the woman, who had introduced herself as Megan, smiled and received her plate of fried dough. “It was nice chatting with you,” she said.

  “You too,” Barry replied.

  The woman waved and disappeared into the crowd. The two-piece band, featuring an upright bass and acoustic guitar started playing and the familiar intro to Brown Eyed Girl rang out through the crowd. Most people around them started to sway to the music and Baxter found himself joining in.

  “Want to check out the chainsaws?” Baxter asked. Barry was blowing out hot steam into the air and fanning his mouth. “Are they hot?” Baxter laughed.

  Barry elbowed him as he continued to fan his mouth, and with their steaming cinnamon sugar treats balanced in hand, the two of them headed to find the chainsaw carving.

  “Where do you think it is?” Barry asked.

  “Oh, we’ll hear it,” Baxter smiled. His tree planting days were long behind him, but he still remembered just how ear-piercing a chainsaw could be. “We should probably find some earplugs—”

  “Hi, Brock.” Baxter stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t been called Brock in years. The sound of the band slipped away as he turned, but it wasn’t Lauren who had shouted his name, it was the realtor’s little girl. He racked his brain to remember her name but was coming up with a blank. The only name that was coming to his mind was Garfield.

  “Hi… you,” he said. The little girl was wearing a bright purple hat and holding one of the pastries on a plate in front of her. “Are these good?” He held up his own.

  “They’re a gastronomic delight,” she shouted.

  “Well then, I can’t wait to try it.” He took a bite and she did the same. “Mmm. A gastronomic delight,” he said after swallowing.

  “Glad you liked it. Bye.” She waved and then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  “Bye,” Baxter waved with his pastry.

  “A gastronomic delight,” Barry chuckled. “Someone’s got an advanced vocabulary for her age.”

  “How would you know that?” Baxter asked.

  Barry turned to him. “I have kids,” he said.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t think you were, I don’t know, that kind of involved with them.”

  The smile disappeared from Barry’s face and Baxter was instantly filled with regret. “I mean, shit, I didn’t mean…” he trailed off.

  “It’s okay.” Barry took another bite of his pastry and huffed out more hot air. “I can see how you would think that. I’m dedicated to my job, but I’m a family man too.”

  Baxter raised his eyebrows, “So, you weren’t acting just then, with that woman Megan?”

  “No,” Barry chuckled. “That was a cute baby.”

  “What?” Baxter said. The chainsaws had drowned out every sound around them.

  “Let’s check it out,” Baxter yelled and took a sip from his coffee cup.

  * * *

  Their ears were ringing as they walked away from the chainsaw carving competition. “My wife’s gonna kill me,” Barry said. He had just purchased a thousand-dollar chainsaw carving of a bear.

  “What are you talking about?” Baxter laughed. “That will fit right in beside the gates at the end of your driveway.” Baxter had not been looking forward to the Winter Carnival, he had actually been dreading it all week, but was pleasantly surprised to discover he was having a good time. Despite everyone in town knowing that they were the evil developers, people had been kind to them.

  “What’s next on the menu, boss?” Barry asked eyeing up the line of food trucks.

  The two of them had demolished those cinnamon pastry things and had also polished off two elk burgers. “I’m stuffed.” Baxter looked up at the bulletin board ahead of them, “How about we enter one of the contests?”

  “Ax-throwing?” Barry raised his eyebrow. “Against this crowd? No thanks.”

  Baxter took the pencil on the string and printed his name on the sign-up sheet. “Suit yourself,” he said. His outdoorsman days were long behind him, but he assumed ax-throwing was like riding a bike. No sooner had he written his name, a carnival volunteer came and took the sheet from the clipboard. “Looks like I’m up,” he grinned at Barry. The two of them followed the volunteer through the crowd to an opening where a massive tree round was mounted to a fence, shiny axes lined up ready for chucking.

  The volunteer spoke into a bullhorn, “First up, the ladies!”

  Barry and Baxter clapped along with the crowd around them. Baxter started to get nervous when every single Rapidian woman who entered the contest easily hit the wooden round.

  “Looks easy.” Barry leaned in and shouted as the crowd went crazy.

  A pretty blond woman who looked slightly familiar to Baxter stepped up for her turn. The woman looked like a model and had the biggest cheering section.

  “Holy shit,” Barry whispered. “That’s Logan Brush,” he said pointing to the blonde’s fans. “I forgot that he moved here.”

  Baxter scanned the crowd and sure enough, the famous ex-pro hockey player was standing on the opposite side of the crowd. He looked back to the contest in time to see the ax fall to the ground with a thud. The blond woman was the first to completely miss the target.

  “Her laughing probably doesn’t help her aim.” Barry elbowed Baxter. The woman missed every single time but left the throwing area with a huge smile on her face.

  “Isn’t that the kid we saw?” Barry hadn’t taken his eyes off Logan Brush’s crew. Baxter scanned the crowd and sure enough the little girl, Tabitha -- that was her name, not Garfield, -- he shook his head and laughed at himself. He choked on the next sip of his coffee when he saw who was standing behind Tabitha. There was her mother, the real estate agent, and… Lauren.