* * *
Oddly, after she’d unburdened herself of one of her deepest, darkest secrets, Margot felt better about being with Lucas, rather than worse. He’d listened calmly, even sympathetically, and she supposed that he, in his own way, had had as unconventional a childhood as she. It was something else that, against all odds, they had in common.
After that they’d gone back out to the living room, which afforded a much better view of the falling snow. She was glad that Lucas had apparently bought out the local grocery store, since it looked as if the roads were going to be impassable for a good while.
And shouldn’t she be a little more upset by that scenario than she was? Even a day earlier, the thought of being trapped in this house with the Wilcox warlock had been enough to bring on mild symptoms of panic. Now, though, she thought she might not mind all that much. She wasn’t sure she wanted to analyze what had brought on that particular shift in her attitude.
He got another fire going, and they settled on the couch — not too close to one another — and talked about their families, about what this integration of the clans Angela was urging would mean in the end. In a way, Margot thought it would be easier on the Wilcoxes than the McAllisters. They’d always been the more powerful family, and had never really looked on the Jerome contingent as much of a threat, whereas the McAllisters had a long history of mistrust and fear when it came to the Flagstaff clan.
And the whole time the snow fell, drifting this way and that, deepening and darkening until Lucas had to get up and turn on a few lights.
“Does it get like this often?” she asked, once he’d settled himself back next to her on the couch.
“Define ‘often,’” he replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s early for a storm this big, but we’ve had worse as early as October. It’s not like Minnesota or something, though — we’ll probably wake up tomorrow to blue skies. We don’t go weeks and weeks with unending snow or anything like that.”
The “wake up” comment made her startle a little, but she realized he wasn’t trying to hint at anything, was only pointing out that these things rarely lasted all through the day and the night. She squinted out the window, hoping he was right. At the rate that snow was falling, they’d have a hard time opening the back door…not that she really wanted to go out in the weather to test that particular hypothesis.
He glanced at his watch. “Ready for lunch? Actually, let me rephrase — are you ready to make lunch? I’m not sure how much use I’ll be.”
“Grilled cheese and soup?”
“Sounds perfect.” A grimace, and he said, “I am sorry about this. I really intended to take you around town and do the usual wining and dining and so on. I didn’t mean to lure you up here just so you could spend the whole time fixing me food.”
He looked so rueful that she had to laugh. “It’s all right. You wined and dined me just fine last night. I don’t mind returning the favor.”
And really, she didn’t. It was a joy to work in that kitchen, which had three times the counter space she was used to. Lucas did help, too, slicing the cheese for her, then setting the table in the dining room. It was easy enough to whip up a couple of sandwiches and heat up the carton of organic tomato soup she found in the pantry.
Perfect comfort food for a day when they could stay inside, feel sheltered and safe and warm as the snow continued to drift down outdoors. As she ate, Margot thought briefly of her phone, still sitting on the dresser up in the guest bedroom. Perhaps there was a chance that someone had tried to get in touch with her during the last few hours, but she somehow doubted that. Anyway, all anyone back in Jerome had to do was look at the weather reports and realize that Margot Emory wasn’t going anyplace anytime soon.
After lunch was eaten and the kitchen cleaned up, Lucas actually did suggest checkers as a way to pass the time. That was fine with her. At least he hadn’t tried to get her to play chess. That was a skill she’d never acquired, although it was fun sometimes to watch Boyd and Bryce have one of their grudge matches. They both seemed to take what was only a game so very personally.
But she’d never been all that competitive, so it was easy enough to sit with Lucas in the living room and play game after game, chatting casually about what they might do tomorrow if the weather managed to clear up, and how long it would take to get the roads plowed all over again. The dark outside shifted to the true dark of early evening, and Lucas excused himself for a moment, coming back to the living room with a bottle of wine and two glasses.