Snowfall on Haven Point Read Free

Bailey’s water bottle,” she said to Chloe. “Could you do that for me?”
    Chloe hopped down from her stool and picked up the water bottle. With her bottom lip pressed firmly between her teeth, she filled the water bottle with ice and water from the refrigerator before screwing the lid back on and held it out for Andie.
    â€œThanks, honey. Oh, the tray’s pretty full and I don’t have a free hand. I guess I’ll have to make another trip for it.”
    As she had hoped, Chloe glanced at the tray and then at the doorway with trepidation on her features that eventually shifted to resolve.
    â€œI guess I can maybe carry it for you,” she whispered.
    Andie smiled and rubbed a hand over Chloe’s hair, heart bursting with pride at this brave little girl. “Thank you, Chloe. You’re always such a big help to me.”
    Chloe mustered a smile, though it didn’t stick. “You’ll be right there?”
    â€œThe whole time. Where do you suppose that brother of yours is?”
    She suspected the answer, even before she and Chloe walked back to the den and she heard Will chattering.
    â€œAnd I want a new Lego set and a sled and some real walkie-talkies like my friend Ty has. He has his own pony and I want one of those, too. Only, my mama says I can’t have one because we don’t have a place for him to run. Ty lives on a ranch and we only have a little backyard and we don’t have a barn or any hay for a pony to eat. That’s what horses eat—did you know that?”
    Rats. Had she actually been stupid enough to fall for that “I have to go to the bathroom” gag? She should have known better. Will probably raced right back in here the moment her back was turned.
    â€œI did know that. And oats and barley, too,” Sheriff Bailey said. His voice, several octaves below Will’s, rippled down her spine. Did he sound annoyed? She couldn’t tell. Mostly, his voice sounded remote.
    â€œWe have oatmeal at our house and my mom puts barley in soup sometimes, so why couldn’t we have a pony?”
    She should probably rescue the man. He just had one leg broken by a hit-and-run driver. He didn’t need the other one talked off by an almost-five-year-old. She moved into the room just in time to catch the tail end of the discussion.
    â€œA pony is a pretty big responsibility,” Marshall said.
    â€œSo is a dog and a cat and we have one of each, a dog named Sadie and a cat named Mrs. Finnegan,” Will pointed out.
    â€œBut a pony is a lot more work than a dog or a cat. Anyway, how would one fit on Santa’s sleigh?”
    Judging by his peal of laughter, Will apparently thought that was hilarious.
    â€œHe couldn’t! You’re silly.”
    She had to wonder if anyone had ever called the serious sheriff silly before. She winced and carried the tray inside the room, judging it was past time to step in.
    â€œHere you go. Dinner. Again, don’t get your hopes up. I’m an adequate cook, but that’s about it.”
    She set the food down on the end table next to the sofa and found a folded wooden TV tray she didn’t remember from her frequent visits to the house when Wynona lived here. She set up the TV tray and transferred the food to it, then gestured for Chloe to bring the water bottle. Her daughter hurried over without meeting his gaze, set the bottle on the tray, then rushed back to the safety of the kitchen as soon as she could.
    Marshall looked at the tray, then at her, leaving her feeling as if she were the silly one.
    â€œThanks. It looks good. I appreciate your kindness,” he said stiffly, as if the words were dragged out of him.
    He had to know any kindness on her part was out of obligation toward Wynona. The thought made her feel rather guilty. He was her neighbor and she should be more enthusiastic about helping him, whether he made her nervous or not.
    â€œWhere is your cell phone?” she