Menace in Christmas River (Christmas River 8) (7 page)

“
Life
, is what I’m talking about,” he snapped, sounding for the first time somewhat coherent. “As in, how did I end up here in a small town in the middle of nowhere, judging a meaningless, worthless competition like the Chocolate Championship Showdown?”

I felt a sour expression overcome my face.

So much in life had to do with perspective. Here I’d been, thrilled and honored and had even felt unworthy to be asked to judge the high-stakes competition. And in the passenger’s seat next to me, Cliff Copperstone felt like the whole thing was a sham and entirely beneath him.

I struggled to find something to say in response, but found that the small talk tank was empty.

He rolled his head in my direction after a long moment.

“I offended you, didn’t I?” he said.

“It’s just a shame,” I said.

“What is?”

“Somebody not appreciating what they have.”

He rolled his head back across the seat and looked out the window again.

“It’s none of your concern, Cynthia,” he said.

“Cinnamon,” I said.

He let out a laugh.

“That’s right,” he said. “
Cinnamon
. The little-known sixth Spice Girl.”

I bit my lip to keep from saying something mean.

I might have saved the city some embarrassment by driving Cliff Copperstone back to the resort, but it hadn’t been a walk in the park by any means.

I pulled up to the building’s main entrance next to the valet station, which appeared to be unmanned at the hour.

“We’re here,” I said bluntly.

He swung his head back in my direction.

“I guess we are,” he said. “Care for a night cap? I’ve got a bottle of gin back at the room”

I narrowed my eyes at him.  

“I’ve got to get home,” I said, with all the coldness of a January dawn.

He stared at me for a long moment and then let out a long, lonesome sigh.

“Of course you do,” he said.  

He clumsily unbuckled his seatbelt. Then he stepped out of the car, into the driving snow.

He paused before closing the door.

“Don’t pay any attention to me, Cynthia,” he said, ducking his head so he could meet my eyes. “I’m a bitter bastard and I’ve got nothing but wind in me. And everyone knows it, too.”

He slammed the door before I could say anything.

A moment later, he disappeared from view completely as he took a hard fall into the snowy ground.

Chapter 12

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and leaned more of his weight against my shoulder.

“It’s these damn shoes,” he said, looking down at the black designer boots he was wearing. “They look cool, but they don’t grip for shi—”

“Did you hit your head or anything?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I still see two of you. The same as it was in the car.”

He gazed down at me with glazed-over, mahogany-colored eyes.

“Everything feels fine,” he said. “Everything, but my pride.”

“I better help you to your room,” I said.

“No, I’m okay.”

“No, I don’t think you are,” I said. “Besides, I’ve driven you this far. Might as well see you to your door.”   

He stopped leaning on me as much, but didn’t protest when I helped him through the massive cedar entry of the resort.

The lobby of the Lone Pine Resort, which I’d only seen briefly during my previous visit, was somehow even more impressive than before. Rustic logs lined the walls, giving the place a cozy cabin feel. That was only added to by the gigantic cracking fireplace on the main wall, along with the dozens and dozens of white and red roses nestled into nearly every nook and cranny of the stately lobby.

The decorations and atmosphere of the hotel were beautiful, even if they were only meant for the people who could afford to stay here.

We headed toward the elevators. As we did, I caught one of the concierges at the main desk eyeing us. I flashed her a broad smile, as if to say
This isn’t what it looks like
.

She smiled weakly back, as if to say
Sure it isn’t.

Maybe walking Cliff Copperstone back to his room hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

But there wasn’t anything I could do about it now. And besides. A man’s safety was more important than the wrong assumptions of a few lookie-loos.

We made it to the elevators and stepped onboard the nearest one available. Cliff leaned against the railing, while I hit the button for the third floor.

“I think you really did want that nightcap,” he said, shooting a sideways glance in my direction. “You’re just using my fall back there as an excuse.”

I scratched my face, showing him my wedding ring in an offhanded gesture in case he had somehow missed it before.

“The good ones always are,” he mumbled.

He kept his head down after that until the elevator button dinged and the doors opened.

We stepped off, with him going first. He swerved a little as he walked, but there was no snow or ice to slip on in the hallway.

“Room 353?” I said, repeating what he’d said in the car.

“Uh...”

He paused, rifling through his jacket pocket. He pulled out his wallet and clumsily opened it. A moment later, the entire contents of the fold-out were scattered across the plush red carpet of the hallway.

“Another blow to the pride,” he slurred, leaning over and collecting the various cards and dollar bills.

I knelt down to help, grabbing a few coins, a couple of gas cards, and a photo of a woman that I let my eyes linger on for only a split second.

I handed the contents to him without looking too hard, thinking it would be rude to since what he kept in his wallet was none of my business. He began rearranging everything, stuffing cards and bills into the folds, until his hand came across the photograph.

He paused for a moment, staring at the photo, which looked wrinkled and worn, as if it had been handled often.

“Speak of the devil, and she shall appear,” he said, tapping the picture.

A twisted smile came across his face.

“When I was saying it wasn’t all my fault earlier?” he said, staring at the picture a moment longer. “I meant that someone else helped me get to where I am today.”

I glanced at the photo for a moment, gazing at the woman in it. She had long, blond hair, a carefree smile, and kind eyes that seemed to reach out from the picture. She was leaning against a bridge, the water sparkling behind her beneath a strong sun. It looked as if the photo had been arranged and taken professionally.

I pulled my eyes away suddenly, feeling for the second time that night as though I was intruding somehow on something that I shouldn’t have been.

“Not too many people carry pictures like that around anymore,” I said as he placed the photo back in his wallet.

“No, they don’t,” was all he said in response.

I opened my mouth, about to ask him to explain what he meant, but I stopped as another feeling came over me.

A feeling that I didn’t belong here, standing in the rich, posh hallway of this resort with an inebriated Cliff Copperstone.

It was time for me to get home. Before the storm outside had something to say about it.

“C’mon,” I said, nudging him forward.

“As you wish, Cynthia.”

“
Cinnamon
.”

“What’d I say?”

We walked down the hallway, decorated with real Douglas fir boughs and clusters of roses, and I wondered what it would be like to be wealthy enough to stay in a place like this.  

A moment later, we had found Room 353.

He clumsily swiped the key card against the door lock and it lit up green. He pushed it open, and the distinct aroma of cigarette smoke flooded my nostrils.

Then he glanced back at me.

“After you,” he said.

I shook my head, backing away.

“No, I’ve got to get home now,” I said. “Otherwise, I’ll get snowed in here.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

He gazed at me with his dark eyes for a long moment and there was no mistaking what he meant.

I backed away farther until I was almost on the opposite side of the hallway.

“Julie wants the judges to be at the Christmas River auditorium by 10 tomorrow,” I said. “The judging begins at 1 p.m. Don’t be late.”

“Won’t you stay, Cynthia?” he said.  

The look in his eyes were suddenly full of sadness and a kind of pity that would have played on the good nature of most women.

But I knew better.

“Again, it’s
Cinnamon
,” I said. “And if I were you, I’d drink a lot of water before going to bed tonight. I might get Julie Van Dorn to get you a pair of good boots, too. Ones that won’t slip in the snow tomorrow.”

He furrowed his brow and gave me one last look.

“Suit yourself,” he said. “I’ll find somebody else.”

He slammed the door suddenly then, and I almost jumped in surprise.

The noise reverberated up and down the hallway, and from behind some door, a dog started barking loudly.

I bit my lip and shook my head to myself as I headed back toward the elevator.

Cliff Copperstone was a piece of work, all right.

Chapter 13

I stood by the window, watching fat flakes of snow tumble down from the red night sky like they were on a serious mission.

I pulled the soft fleece blanket tighter around my shoulders and tried to fight off another round of shivers.

“I guess there’s something to that old saying,” he said just as the small bedroom fireplace let out another crackle of embers.

“What old saying?”

“That you shouldn’t meet your idols if you don’t want to be disappointed,” he said.

I shrugged.

“I wouldn’t say Cliff Copperstone was ever an idol of mine,” I said, letting out a short sigh. “But I am disappointed, nonetheless.”

The whole drive back from the resort, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Cliff and his sloppy behavior. His television persona was so different – on TV, he was serious, driven, and incredibly talented. In real life, he was dark and troubled and above all, incredibly rude.

I had come home and told Daniel about most of it, save for the last part where Cliff had invited me to stay the evening. That part I left out – thinking that Daniel might not take all that kindly to it and that he might feel compelled to give the celebrity chef a lesson on etiquette at some point during his stay in Christmas River.

“I just thought he would be…” I started, but trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

I wasn’t sure how I thought Cliff Copperstone would be. I just wanted him to be more than the unpleasant, disrespectful man I’d driven back to the resort.  

He hadn’t even so much as thanked me for taking the time to drive him up there through the snow.

“I can’t say that I know much about the culinary world,” Daniel said. “But I do remember hearing something about Cliff Copperstone from a cop buddy of mine back in California. Guy’s name was Ty Gunderson, and he had once worked for Portland PD. He wasn’t always a cop, though. He worked as a line cook for a while in a restaurant before attending the academy.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, surprised.

Not that Daniel wasn’t in the know about things, but he certainly had nothing on Kara or Moira Stewart when it came to celebrity news and gossip.

“Yeah,” he continued. “Ty kind of knew Cliff before he got famous, when he was just a young entrepreneur starting out.”

“Really? What’d he say about him?”

Daniel shrugged.

“He never really elaborated on it, but he didn’t think too highly of Cliff,” Daniel said. “He said he played things dirty. Didn’t do right by people.”

“How so?” 

“I don’t know what he meant by it exactly. I always assumed it had to do with his business practices. All I know is that when Ty saw that Cliff was on television, judging a reality competition? He just shook his head and muttered ‘
snake
’ under his breath.”

“Really?”

Daniel nodded.

“
Hmm
…”

I rubbed my face, staring back out the window.

I didn’t know what to make of the story exactly. Though given what I had seen of Cliff, it didn’t seem so farfetched to think that the celebrity chef might have crossed a few folks in his time.

“You know, you don’t have to go tomorrow if you don’t want, Cin,” Daniel said, changing the subject. “You don’t have to be a judge with this guy. No one will think less of you for it. And I’m sure him and Eleanor will be able to do just fine on their own.”

I bit my lip.

I’d had that very same thought on the drive back from the resort, but had pushed it quickly out of my mind before I could really think it through.

Warren had raised me up not to be a quitter, and the prospect of pulling out of something like this made my stomach turn. But Warren had also raised me to listen to my own intuition and gut feelings without question.

But in the end, the thought of the people depending on me won out.

“I can’t,” I finally said, shaking my head. “I gave the committee my word, and I’ve got to stick by that.”

Daniel didn’t say anything for a long, long moment, but I felt his gaze on me.

He pecked me softly on the cheek.

“That’s one of the reasons I love you so much, Cin,” he said. “You always do the right thing. Even when it’s not easy.”

I smiled.

“I don’t know about that,” I said. “But I try.”

He held me tightly in his strong arms.

“Something good will come out of all of this,” he said. “I just know it.”

I nodded, letting out a short sigh. I gazed out the window again, watching the snowflakes pile up.

I hoped that it would snow all night. So much snow that nobody would be able to dig themselves out tomorrow morning. So much snow, that the Championship would be cancelled, and that I could spend the day curled up by the fire with Daniel, Huckleberry, and Chadwick.

But somehow, I had a feeling that I wouldn’t get out of the Chocolate Championship Showdown so easily.