Snow Angels. Fern Michaels

words out of her mouth. Instead, she ran a hand along the countertop until she found a small box of matches beside a box of candles. She lit one, then another, placing both candles bottom side down on the counter while she searched for something to use as a holder. Searching the cabinets, she found a rock glass that would serve her purpose. Putting the candles in the glass, she headed toward the stairs to check on the girls when a gust of icy air blew in from an open door, extinguishing her light.

      She heard a door slam. Grace called out into the darkness, “Max?”

      When she didn’t receive a response, she called again. She heard the apprehension in her voice when she spoke. “Max, is that you? I…never mind.” Wishing she’d brought the box of matches along for such an emergency, Grace inched her way back to the kitchen. Maybe Max hadn’t heard her, she thought as she skimmed the surface of the countertop searching for the matches. When her fingers brushed against the small box, she grabbed it like a lifeline. Striking two matches at once, she relit the candles, and was relieved when the room flickered with their soft golden light. Tucking the matches in her pocket, Grace went back in the direction of the stairs when she heard a noise. Something creaked, like hinges on a door.

      “Max? I don’t think this is funny.”

      She stopped in the center of the den, waiting for a sarcastic comeback. Getting no reply, she yelled, “Max” so loud she was sure she’d wake the girls. Feet rooted to the floor, heart rate accelerating, even though the room was chilled from the burst of cold air, Grace felt perspiration dot her forehead.

      Becoming increasingly uneasy as the seconds ticked away, Grace tried another strategy. Using a stern voice usually reserved for the fearful women she dealt with, she called out, “Mr. Jorgenson? Max? If this is some kind of game, I don’t want to play.”

      Standing still, she heard the floorboards above her creaking. No doubt her shouting had awakened the girls. Putting her anxiety aside, she carefully made her way up the unfamiliar staircase. When she reached the top, she raced to the master suite to check on Amanda and Ashley.

      She remembered leaving the door open when she’d left the room earlier. Now it was closed. Maybe the gust of air from the door’s opening downstairs had somehow caused it to close. Telling herself this must be what happened, she turned the knob, careful not to make too much noise in case the girls were still sleeping. Pushing the heavy log door aside, she stepped into the large bedroom.

      Holding the candles in front of her as she tiptoed over to the king-size bed, Grace leaned across the wide expanse to make sure the girls were covered. When her hands continued to feel nothing but cool, smooth sheets, she knew something had gone terribly awry.

      Because both girls were missing.

      Chapter 5

      “Amanda? Ashley?” Grace called out into the darkened room. Remembering their fear of the dark, she tried another tactic, hoping to calm their fears. “The power went out. Max is fixing it now.” She hoped. He didn’t seem to know his way around his own home.

      When she received no response, she tried again. “Girls, this is one of those times that your mother would want you to show yourselves. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

      Slowly, so as not to startle the girls, Grace entered the bathroom. Just as she’d expected, both girls were huddled in the tub. She lowered the candle so they could see that it was her. The damage their father’s cruelty had inflicted upon them infuriated her.

      “We got scared when the lights went off. Then we heard pounding on the steps. Mommy always told us to hide and cover our ears when Daddy got mad,” Ashley said in her defense.

      “Oh, sweetie, your daddy isn’t here. The noise you heard was Max. He had to race upstairs for his warm clothes before he went outside to the shed. There’s nothing to be frightened of.” Grace held a hand out to assist the little girls as they climbed out of the bathtub.

      “Miss Grace, could you tell us another Christmas story?” Amanda asked.

      After leading them back to the bed and making sure both were warm and snug beneath the quilt, Grace eased in next to them. “Absolutely.”

      Ten minutes later, and a condensed version of A Christmas Carol minus the ghosts of Christmases past, present, and future, both girls were sound asleep. Grace quietly slid off the bed and went downstairs. Surely Max had had enough time to find the generator.

      With the flame of the candle as her guide, Grace went from room to room in search of him. “Max?” she whispered loudly, but not so loud that she would wake the kids.

      She searched downstairs and was about to give up when she felt a burst of cold air enter the room. “Max? Is that you?” she called.

      “Yeah. I couldn’t find the darned generator. I was sure Eddie put it in the shed,” Max said.

      When Grace heard him, relief flooded through her. “I have to admit I was getting a bit concerned.”

      “Why?” Max asked as he dropped a large bag on the floor.

      She could’ve kicked herself for telling him that, but it was too late now. “You were gone a long time.” Grace approached him as he entered the den.

      Max slung off his worn leather jacket, tossing it on the back of the sofa, where both dogs slept peacefully. “There’s a freezer out there. Loss of power won’t affect it since the temp’s below freezing. I figured I’d better scope out its contents since we’re going to be stuck here for a while. It’s stocked with everything we’ll need though I haven’t a clue who took the time to bother with it.” Probably Eddie. The man thought of everything. He was due for a raise this month. And a paid vacation, too.

      Grace eyed the large bag on the floor. “If you’ll bring that to the kitchen, I’ll put everything away.”

      “Sure,” said Max gruffly, hoisting the heavy bag over his shoulder.

      Grace laughed.

      “You find this amusing?”

      “No, not at all. You just reminded me of Santa Claus.”

      Max stopped in his tracks, dropped the bag and turned around to stare at her. Though the only light came from the candle, Grace saw the anger in his eyes. Cold and stark, like the harsh winter storm outside.

      Between gritted teeth, he said, “Don’t ever say that to me again!”

      Grace had had enough. She didn’t know what had happened to turn this man into such…a Scrooge, and she really didn’t care. She was simply trying to make a joke.

      “Look, Max. Whatever issues you have, they’re not with me. If you can’t take a little joke, you’ve got big problems. Might want to see someone, a professional. It could help,” Grace said, then dragged the heavy bag the rest of the way to the kitchen.

      “Wait! You can’t talk to me like that! Who in the heck do you think you are? This is my house. You’re the guest,” Max ranted as he followed her to the kitchen.

      “Yes I am, and you’re the rudest host I’ve had the misfortune to encounter. If it’s any consolation, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. I’m an adult, I will make the best of it.” She wanted to add, “Unlike you,” but that would lower her to his level.

      He raked a hand through his hair. On another man it might’ve been just an ordinary action. On him it was just…well, she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but it was rather sexy.

      “Look, I don’t like the holidays. Can we just leave it at that?” Max yanked the heavy bag off the floor and placed it on the counter.

      Grace was right. He was a Scrooge! Biting her lip to keep from smiling, she announced, “What you like or don’t like is no concern of mine. At daybreak, I just want to get to my van. I’m not really concerned with anything else at the moment.” Of course, she was, but her concerns were none of his business. Unlike him, Grace wasn’t about to voice her likes