Christmas In Snowflake Canyon. RaeAnne Thayne

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СКАЧАТЬ the subsequent death of all Laura Beaumont’s thinly veiled ambitions to push them both into the higher echelons of Denver society—Genevieve’s interactions with her mother had been laced with heavy sighs, wistful looks, not-so-subtle comments about this gathering, that event.

      Being married to one of the most financially and politically powerful men in small Hope’s Crossing wasn’t enough for Laura. She had always wanted more. When she was engaged to Sawyer and she and Laura worked together to create the wedding of the century, Genevieve had finally felt close to her mother.

      She had missed that closeness far more than she missed Sawyer.

      “I can’t,” she said regretfully. “I’m starting my community service today.”

      Laura gave a dismissive wave of pink-tipped fingers that looked perfectly fine to Genevieve. “Oh, that. Well, you can just start tomorrow, can’t you? I’m sure they won’t mind. I’ll have your father give them a call.”

      This was her family in a nutshell. Her mother didn’t understand anything that interfered with her own plans, and when she encountered an obstacle, she expected William Beaumont to step in and fix everything.

      When Gen’s younger brother, Charlie, had been arrested for driving under the influence in an accident that had actually resulted in the death of one of his friends, William had been unable to prevent him from pleading guilty. Charlie had served several months at a youth corrections facility, and Laura hadn’t spoken to her husband for weeks.

      Now both of their children had been embroiled in legal difficulties. She imagined Laura found it much easier to pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened.

      “I don’t believe it’s that simple, Mother,” Gen said. “It’s court-mandated. I have to show up or I could go to jail.”

      Laura pouted. “Well, what am I supposed to tell Clarissa? She’s expecting us.”

      How about the truth? That you see the world only the way you want to see it?

      “Tell her I have another obligation I couldn’t escape. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

      Laura gave a frustrated little huff. “I was looking so forward to finding a moment to catch up with you. We hardly talk when you call from France. I can’t say I agreed with your father’s decision to cut you off financially. I tried my best to talk him out of it. I told him you were having a wonderful time in Paris, that you needed this time and why shouldn’t you take it? As usual, he wouldn’t listen to me. You know how he can be when he’s in a mood. Still, I told myself at least this would give me the chance to spend a little more time with you, darling.”

      Her parents drove her crazy sometimes...she couldn’t deny that. These past two years away had helped her see their failings more clearly, but she still loved them.

      “I’m sorry. I wish I could go,” she said, not untruthfully.

      “I understand. You have to do what you must. I’ll see if I can reschedule for tomorrow.”

      “Mother, I’ll be going to the center tomorrow, too. And the day after that.”

      “Every day?”

      Laura obviously didn’t quite grasp the concept of a commuted sentence. “I have a hundred hours of community service to complete in only a few weeks. Yes, I’ll probably be going every day between now and Christmas.”

      “This is what happens when you decided not to have your father represent you. He could have had the whole misunderstanding thrown out.”

      Like Charlie’s little “misunderstanding” that had killed one girl and severely injured another? William had been helpless to fix that situation. Charlie had taken full responsibility for his actions and had come out of his time in youth corrections a different young man, no longer sullen and angry.

      “It’s done now,” she said. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I really need to go or I’ll be late for my first day.”

      “Well, will you come back to the house instead of staying in this horrible place? Then I would at least have a chance to catch up with you in the evenings.”

      Again, her mother saw what she wanted to.

      “I can’t. My evenings will be spent here, trying to do what I can to prepare this house for sale. Dad didn’t give me any other choice.”

      “He has your best interests at heart, my dear. You know that, don’t you?”

      “He might have thought he did. We have differing opinions on what the best thing for me might be.”

      Not that anything was new there. Her father had notoriously found her lacking in just about every arena. He thought she had been wasting her time to obtain a degree in interior design, nor could he see any point in the sewing she had always loved or the riding lessons she tolerated.

      The only time either of her parents seemed to approve of her had been during her engagement.

      “Will you at least go to dinner with us this weekend? With Charlie back in California for his finals week, the house is too quiet.”

      “I’ll try,” she promised. She ushered her mother out with a kiss on the cheek and firmly closed the door, practically in her face.

      After Laura drove away, Genevieve hurriedly grabbed one of the totes she loved to make and headed out the door, fighting down a whirl of butterflies in her stomach.

      For two days, she had been having second—and third and fourth and sixtieth—thoughts about this community-service assignment with A Warrior’s Hope. She couldn’t think of a job less suited to her limited skill set than helping wounded veterans. What did she know about their world? Next to nothing. Most likely, she would end up saying something stupid and offensive and none of them would want anything to do with her.

      A hundred hours could turn into a lifetime if she screwed this up.

      By the time she drove into the parking lot of the Hope’s Crossing Recreation Center in Silver Strike Canyon, the butterflies were in full-fledged stampede mode.

      She was five minutes early, she saw with relief as she climbed out of her SUV and walked into the building.

      Construction on the recreation center had been under way during her last visit home for Pearl’s funeral. The building was really quite lovely, designed by world-renowned architect Jackson Lange. Created of stone, cedar planks and plenty of glass, the sprawling structure complemented the mountainous setting well for being so large.

      It also appeared to be busy. The parking lot was filled with several dozen cars, which she considered quite impressive for a weekday morning in December.

      She wasn’t exactly sure how A Warrior’s Hope fit into the picture, but she supposed she had a hundred hours to figure that out.

      The butterflies went into swarm-mode as she walked through the front doors into a lobby that wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of the hotels at the ski resort.

      She stood for a moment just inside the sliding glass doors, hating these nerves zinging through her. Spying a sign that read A Warrior’s Hope at one desk, she drew in a steady breath in an СКАЧАТЬ