Wild Ice (2 page)

“Are you a wildlife enthusiast, Mr. Mason?”

“No,” JD answered. He could tell that his short, abrupt answers were ruffling Joan McKinnon’s feathers, but that didn’t keep him from giving them.

“
The reason I ask is because this property borders the Red Valley National Wildlife Refuge.” When JD didn’t respond, she continued on unfazed. “The refuge is made up of 35,000 acres of ponds and seasonal wetlands that provide a habitat for waterfowl.”

She sounded proud of herself for doing the research
, but JD wasn’t impressed. Any fool could look information up on the internet and spout it out during a sales pitch.

“So, these birds are always here?”
he muttered.

Joan
straightened her shoulders, preparing to put a positive spin on the unique location. “They’re only here for a little while in the wintertime during their migration. It’s such a romantic setting, don’t you agree?”

That was the second time Joan had tried to sell him on the romance of the place and
JD wasn’t buying it. “How many acres did you say it was on?” Again, he already knew the answer to the question but he wanted her to earn that hefty commission she had coming.

“
Twenty. The property is long and narrow and runs horizontal to the house. There’s a creek straight back that runs along the edge of the property. On a clear day, the peak of Mt. August is visible to the north.” She peered into the distance looking for the mountain.

JD didn’t care about the mountain. As majestic as it was, he’d seen enough of
Mt. August in Red Valley to last a lifetime. What interested him were the twenty acres of tranquility around Teal Manor.

His eyes swept over the land and when h
e looked to the left, he noticed that a small cottage sat nestled in the trees. It was closer to Teal Manor than he would’ve preferred, but it didn’t look like anyone lived there anyway. JD wouldn’t have even noticed it, but one of the windows glinted in the sunlight and caught his eye. Maybe he and Mel could live there instead. It certainly wouldn’t be as daunting as the oversized mansion. “Is the cottage included?”

Joan sighed
as if the sale depended on her answer. “No, I’m afraid not. The property line ends right before it on the north side.”

“Does anyone live there?”
JD squinted, but it was hard to get a good look at the place with all the trees surrounding it.

“I’m not sure if it’s
currently occupied or not. I can find out for you,” she offered eagerly.

“That
won’t be necessary.”

They stood in silence for a moment as JD watched flocks of geese fly overhead.
Despite the constant quacking, it seemed rather peaceful out here. How could it not be? It was miles away from civilization.

“Well, Mr. Mason,”
Joan prompted. “What do you think of the property?”

JD cross
ed his arms over his chest and went for the metaphoric jugular. “Why has it been sitting on the market for so long?” He knew it would be the toughest question for her to answer. After all, Joan was here to talk up the house, not to point out its flaws.

“
The remote location is probably the main reason,” she replied thoughtfully. “The idea of being so far from town doesn’t appeal to all buyers. I just don’t think the right person has come along yet.” She looked at him hopefully.

JD eyed her with a scrutinizing scowl.
Any other time, he might have been nicer to her. She wasn’t bad looking and he couldn’t rightly fault her for trying to make a hefty commission from the sale. It was just that too much had happened to him this past year and his tolerance for niceties was at an all-time low.

“How much is it listed for
again?” he asked, not really caring what the answer was. Anything to distract her from any further romantic intentions.

“
One point four million. But as you know, the house has been on the market for quite a while. I’m sure I could negotiate a lower price,” she added in a rush.

“Offer them the listing price.” He wasn’t in the mood to haggle
, and the stench of her perfume was starting to give him a headache.

The
look on Joan’s face was priceless and definitely worth making the long drive from Red Valley for.

* * *

JD paid cash for Teal Manor
, and after a quick escrow, he moved in. Even after closing the deal, Joan McKinnon had made an excuse to see JD again by dropping off extra copies of the closing paperwork “for his records.” JD made it crystal clear he wasn’t looking for a relationship and didn’t see her or her wobbly stilettos again.

Mel seemed to like the
new house well enough. After a thorough sniff through the place, he settled with a contented sigh into his dog bed by the fireplace in the living room. Even though they were in a new house, Mel knew the routine. He knew there wouldn’t be any hikes along the creek or sticks thrown in the field or walks along the dirt road. Last year, they had both accepted the fact that things had changed permanently.

JD brought
very few belongings to Teal Manor and unpacking didn’t take long. He stowed his hockey gear in the four-car garage, hung his clothes in the massive walk-in closet, and put his toiletries in the medicine cabinet.

There was only one box he wouldn’t unpack. Instead, he shoved it toward the back of the closet out of sight
and shut the door. He didn’t know why he’d brought it with him, but what the hell else was he supposed to do with it?

Downstairs,
when he was finished unpacking his DVDs, JD looked around the living room and his eyes settled on the overstuffed recliner in the corner. It looked like a good place to wither away and die.

Chapter Two

Cora’s Cottage

Six months later

Lauren Bennett’s car bumped along the dirt road toward the Red Valley National Wildlife Refuge. The desolate road was lined with popcorn flowers, yellow star-thistle weeds, and sagging wire fencing. She’d been driving for three hours, but it felt more like five. The drive was longer than she remembered, but in her defense it had been six years since she’d made the trip to Hayley’s Point. Lauren had been away for too long.

The further north she drove
, the more the sounds of the noisy interstate faded away. To the average person, Red Marsh Road looked like an ordinary road off the freeway with nothing special to offer besides a way to reach point B from A. But Lauren knew it was much more than that. It was the path to a magical place where inspiration was found, dreams were stoked, and birds sought refuge.

She felt different now compared to the last time she’d driven down this long and dusty road.
She’d found love, graduated from college at the top of her class, had her heart broken, and she’d grown as a person and thrived, despite the natural inclination to become bitter and denounce love altogether. A lot had changed in her life, but her dream of studying birds in their natural habitat remained as steadfast as ever.

Arriving in Hayley’s Point
was a bittersweet moment. Lauren was excited to see the cottage again, but her happiness was overshadowed by the fact that her aunt wouldn’t be there. Poor Aunt Cora had passed away, leaving the cottage to Lauren in her will. Lauren wasn’t expecting to inherit anything from Cora Colwater, so when estate attorney, Bernard Templeton, contacted her, she was just as surprised as everyone else in her family who
didn’t
inherit anything from Cora.

Although
Aunt Cora never mentioned him before, Bernard Templeton must have been a friend of hers because otherwise Lauren couldn’t imagine leaving important documents in his care. Mr. Templeton was frazzled and disorganized to say the least.

After arriving at his office,
Lauren had waited patiently for what seemed like an eternity while he dug through the mountain on his desk looking for Cora’s file. Paperwork was by no means her specialty, but Lauren knew there had to be a better way than whatever “system” Mr. Templeton was currently using. He was so flustered that Lauren had to fight back the urge to straighten his desk and help him find what he was searching for. Instead, she sat back, clasped her hands in her lap, and waited until he found the file so he could read her Aunt Cora’s last will and testament.

After she signed
and initialed every document he’d shoved in front of her, Mr. Templeton assured Lauren that everything was in order. Then, after she’d gotten up to leave, he had opened his mouth as if to say something else but then decided against it and closed it again. Lauren couldn’t get rid of that niggling feeling like Mr. Templeton wasn’t telling her everything. Oh, well, it didn’t matter. At least she’d gotten the keys to the cottage. At one point, she was worried he’d lost those amongst the rubble on his desk too.

Lauren
chuckled about the funny little man and smiled at the key hanging safely from her keychain in the ignition. When she received the letter from Mr. Templeton saying she’d inherited the cottage in Hayley’s Point, just outside of Red Valley California, the news couldn’t have come at a better time. A few months ago, her job at the South Oakdale branch of the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife had been “dissolved” due to lack of funding, and then to top everything off, she was publically humiliated by her fiancé—make that
ex
-fiancé—and her plans for the future had been dissolved as well. After enduring months of the entire town talking about her, moving to Hayley’s Point was a no-brainer.

Fortunately
, Lauren wasn’t leaving much behind in Oregon. She had no friends to speak of and her parents were distracted by their work as South Oakdale’s most renowned psychologists. Lauren had been psychoanalyzed by her mother for weeks and it was definitely time for a change. There would be plenty of time to figure out her next move later. She just wanted to enjoy the next few months before her parents expected her to rejoin the rest of society.

Lauren
took a deep breath and guided her thoughts back to the present. After the year she’d had, she was determined to live in the moment. No more coulda, woulda, shoulda. No regrets. She promised herself she’d spend the summer flying by the seat of her pants. No looking back. There had been a sufficient amount of time moping and feeling sorry for herself and this summer was going to be all about getting her life back on track. The cottage would be a perfect place to regroup and gather her bearings and that’s exactly what she needed to do.

More than anything, it felt good to be out
on her own for the first time. Eighteen years under her mother’s watchful eye followed by a tiny dorm room shared with a sloppy roommate, and then after that a cramped apartment with her ex, left Lauren itching for some independence and some space.

Even though the circumstances were unfortunate, i
t was good to be back in Hayley’s Point nonetheless. Lauren’s mom, great Aunt Cora’s niece, wanted nothing to do with “that ratty old cottage.” Lauren scoffed at the harsh, inaccurate description. The cottage wasn’t ratty at all. At least not from what she remembered. It was cozy and welcoming and secluded, and the perfect place to gather one’s thoughts.

Lauren wasn’t worried about the cottage being isolated.
In fact, she was looking forward to it. She’d always been more of a loner than the social butterfly her mother had wanted her to be anyway. And she was definitely more comfortable behind a pair of binoculars or with her nose buried in a field guide.

Growing up,
Lauren and her older brother Scott came to the cottage to visit their Aunt Cora every summer for as long as Lauren could remember. Just like now, Lauren didn’t have many friends to keep her in Oregon during the summer and she had enjoyed spending the summers at the refuge. Girls and cars quickly caught Scott’s attention and replaced his interest in birds. Once they reached high school, Scott soon lost interest in nature altogether and Lauren continued going to the cottage without him. Lauren worried she’d grow out of her love of the wetlands, but luckily that never happened. If anything, she grew to like nature even more and in high school she even started thinking about making a career out of it. Everyone thought her pursuit of ornithology was an impractical pipe dream, especially her extremely practical parents. Everyone doubted Lauren’s career choice. Everyone except Aunt Cora. She was the only one who encouraged Lauren to follow her dreams no matter how unrealistic they might sound to everyone else.

Lauren didn’t understand her parents’ doubt.
Being an ornithologist wasn’t so insignificant. Sure, the demand for them wasn’t equal to the demand for, say doctors, lawyers and psychologists—especially in the city—but that didn’t hinder Lauren’s motivation. She loved being a part of nature and couldn’t imagine being stuck in a cubicle all day or a stuffy office listening to people drone on about their problems. Besides, the refuges needed people like her to protect and maintain them.

The cottage
on Blue Heron Lane had been Lauren’s own personal refuge during the summer. A place where she could spend the warm days at her own pace, brush up on her bird identification, and lay under the stars and make wishes as they streaked across the night sky. Except now there wouldn’t be any more slumber parties in the living room, hikes along the many trails that snaked around the property, or weenie roasts in the backyard. Aunt Cora wouldn’t be there to draw sketches of Lauren and her brother. She wouldn’t be in the kitchen whipping up her world famous blackberry cobbler. And she wouldn’t be there to answer Lauren’s questions about birds, boys and life in general.

Scott wasn’t the only one who eventually stopped visiting Cora.
Lauren’s visits had dropped off and then stopped altogether when she went away to college and had been too wrapped up in her own life and with her relationship with Daniel to make the trip down to California. Lauren hoped Aunt Cora understood her absence. She was never one to hold a grudge, but Lauren still felt bad about it. No one should have to die alone. They said Aunt Cora went peacefully. That was all Lauren had heard about her aunt’s passing. No one knew if she’d been sick for a while beforehand, or if her death was sudden and unexpected. She just went to sleep and didn’t wake up again.

Lauren should have been there for her
aunt. Instead, she’d been standing in a church staring down the barrel of her future. She should have at least stayed in touch with Cora. After all, Lauren wouldn’t have pursued her dream and went to work for the South Oakdale National Wildlife Refuge if it hadn’t been for her dear aunt. But Lauren had allowed herself to get caught up in her other goals and focused on the future much more than the present. She had her heart set on a quaint little wedding ceremony followed by children and…

Well, those things wouldn’t be happening now.
At least not with Daniel anyway.

Hey, no more
coulda, shoulda, woulda, remember? Lauren reminded herself. It might be easier said than done, but she was bound and determined to stick to her new motto. She shook away the feelings of sadness and made the turn off of the county road onto Blue Heron Lane.

Actually, t
here was something else Aunt Cora left behind besides the cottage. Marshmallow, or Marsh, as her aunt called him because of the marshlands that bordered the cottage, sat on the passenger seat growling angrily inside his plastic pet carrier.

The poor kitty had been boarded
in a kennel ever since Aunt Cora’s death. It would be nice to have a cat around to keep Lauren from being completely alone, but Marsh didn’t seem very companionable. At least not right now. He looked like he was angry enough to gnaw right through the metal bars on the carrier’s door. Not that she could blame him. She wouldn’t want to be cooped up in a confined space either. She would have let him out, but she feared losing him under the seat. He’d have plenty of space to prowl around inside the cottage.

Lauren
wouldn’t let Marsh’s foul mood ruin today for her. She was excited to see what kind of bird activity was in August County compared to South Oakdale. Speaking of birds, Lauren turned down the volume on the stereo and rolled her window down. The cool air from the air conditioner competed with the sweltering heat outside. Ah, there it was. The sounds she’d been looking forward to hearing.

Outside
in the warm summer air, a plethora of bird songs competed for attention. The sound was music to Lauren’s ears. As an ornithologist, Lauren could easily pick out each individual species and match them to their song. The gurgling song of a marsh wren could be heard in the distance, the secretive bird probably clinging tightly to the reeds. And there was the loud
kill-dee
of the killdeer and the cheerful twitter of a tree swallow…

Lauren
took a deep breath and sighed. Whatever doubts that lingered about her decision to move into the cottage fluttered away like the red-shouldered blackbird outside the car. When her little car bounced over a pothole, Marsh growled low in his throat. He wasn’t happy about riding in the car or about life in general. The look he gave her from behind the metal bars—whew!—suffice to say that if looks could kill, then Lauren would be flat on her back.

“We’re almost there, I think,”
Lauren reassured the frightened kitty. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure how far they were from the cottage. She hadn’t been there in years and all she had was a blurry printout of the directions in case she got lost.

Marsh hissed his reply.

When Teal Manor came into view, Lauren knew she was close. She slowed the car and admired the beautiful architecture of the sprawling mansion. Its gable roof jutted into the sky and what she could see of the manor beyond the gates was imposing. Oak, laurel and alder trees dotted the front yard. She remembered the spectacular mansion from her childhood visits to the cottage. As a child, she had marveled over its tremendous size and had pretended a princess lived inside its walls.

Lauren w
ondered who lived there now, if anyone. It looked vacant and the landscaping was overgrown. There were no cars parked out front and a giant rusty wrought iron gate stood guard. What a pity for such a regal place to sit empty and neglected! Oh, well, it could have been haunted for all she knew. A small shiver crept up her spine and she shook away the silly notion. The last time she’d been to visit Aunt Cora, the mansion didn’t seem so mysterious.

Marsh hissed and Lauren kept driving.
Immediately past the mansion, Aunt Cora’s mailbox came into view. There it was. 22 Blue Heron Lane. The cottage was a lot closer to the mansion than she remembered.

While everything else was overgrown and deserted, the
cottage’s mailbox remained as cheerful as Lauren remembered. The numbers were painted bright yellow underneath a hand painted silhouette of a sharp-shinned hawk. Her aunt’s doing. Lauren remembered the summer Aunt Cora had painted it there like it was yesterday.

“Why a hawk?” she’d asked.
“Why not a hummingbird or a marsh wren?”

“Because,” Aunt Cora replied, standing back to admire her handiwork.
“Hawks are majestic and the kings of the sky.”