Slow Heat

“You’re not…?” Bailey gestured to the wheelchair.

“Oh no. I just teach in the chair because they’re elderly. Plus they’re all—” She broke off to look around and make sure no one was looking at them. “A little…” She circled a finger around her ear, the universal sign for crazy. “But very sweet, each of them. Well, except Tony. Don’t turn your back on him, because he’s got octopus hands. Anyway, they don’t all need the chairs but I insist because sometimes they fall asleep and it’s less disruptive to the class to have them just nod off rather than fall over. The domino effect isn’t pretty. Follow me.”

Bailey followed her to a room at the end of the hall—a patient room. There, Carrie kicked off her shoes and climbed into the bed.

She was a patient here.

“Whew,” Carrie said. “Nap time. But this first. You’re my first choice for the Cedar Ridge project.”

Bailey looked around, more than a little confused. “You’re the publicist for Cedar Ridge Resort?”

“Actually…” Carrie paused. “‘Publicist’ might not be the exact right word.”

Oh boy. Knees weak, Bailey sank into the guest chair facing the bed. “And what would be the right word exactly?”

“Mom,” Carrie said.

“I don’t understand.”

“Cedar Ridge is family owned. It’s been a rough few years for the resort and the Kincaids. We need a boost.”

“Rough?” Bailey asked.

“Yes.” Carrie rubbed her temple. “The details don’t matter. What does matter is family. Memories. And what better way to preserve both of those things than a big picture to share with the world.”

“The mural,” Bailey said.

“The mural.” Carrie beamed. “One big pic to depict our favorite memories to share with everyone.”

“Okay,” Bailey said, thinking of her own personal favorite pic, one she kept as her wallpaper on her phone. It was herself, her mom, and her grandma in her grandma’s studio, all covered in paint and laughing together. “I get that. It’s a memory that can’t be erased with time.”

“Or a brain that has a hard time locating all its files.” Eyes suddenly suspiciously shiny, she knocked on the side of her own head. “Like mine.”

Bailey met her gaze and felt her heart squeeze.

“And I think the people who ski at Cedar Ridge would love it,” Carrie said. “A family-run resort like this one needs a centerpiece that people can talk about. Something other than the fact that the man who started the place was a deadbeat dad who mortgaged the resort to its eyeballs, couldn’t keep it in his pants, and vanished on his kids.”

Bailey felt her eyebrows raise. She hadn’t heard this story.

Carrie reached for a small framed picture on her bed tray and handed it to Bailey.

It was of two boys, maybe eight years old. Identical twins. “My boys,” Carrie said with clear adoration. “Hud just gave this to me for my birthday. You can’t tell but they’re actually mirror images of each other. Hud’s right-handed and Jacob’s left-handed. Hud’s cowlick swirl on his head is clockwise, Jacob’s counterclockwise. You ever hear of such a thing?”

Bailey shook her head. She knew next to nothing about being a mom, much less twins.

Carrie smiled but it faded quickly. “For all their similarities, my boys couldn’t be more different. Hud always wanted to travel the world and experience new things. Jacob’s a homebody. But they’re two peas in a pod in so many ways. They never even had to use words with each other.”

Past tense, Bailey thought.

“I know this painting isn’t going to fix us,” Carrie said softly, “or even put them back together. I’m not that far gone to believe in miracles. But I want to help. I need to help.”

“And you think a mural will do that?” Bailey asked quietly.

“It will remind all of them of what once was,” Carrie said. “That they are the most whole when they’re together.”

“That’s a tall order for a mural,” Bailey said.

“I know, but some of this is my fault,” Carrie said. “Hud and Jacob fought and now Jacob’s gone and Hud has all these regrets. And because of it, he pushes away the people he cares about most. He’s good at it too. I’m their mom, Bailey. I have to do this for them. Please say you’ll be the one to help me do this for them.”

Bailey knew a little something about regrets. Or a lot. But this whole thing was way out of her wheelhouse.

“I promise I’m not crazy,” Carrie said, and then grimaced. “Well, okay, so I’m a little crazy. But that has nothing to do with this. I saw your boards on Pinterest. You’ve done some beautiful work.”

Maybe, but up until now Bailey’s painting had been for herself, given to friends and family. None of her paintings was bigger than a bedroom wall, nothing commissioned, and nothing as big as the wall at the resort. She’d been painting by night in her grandma’s memory for years because it brought her grandma, whom she missed with all her heart and soul, back to life in her mind. She’d been doing that while working as a graphic artist by day for her bread and butter. “You know that this would be my first mural,” Bailey said. “Right?”

Carrie nodded. “Yes, but I figured it was just math, right?”

Bailey choked out a laugh. “Well, yeah, in theory…”

“That’s good enough for me.” Carrie reached for Bailey’s hand. “The resort needs this. The kids need this. I need this, and I’m getting the sense that maybe you do too.”

This woman had two young boys, one who’d possibly died and one locked in grief. Truly awful. She gently squeezed Carrie’s fingers, having no doubt in her mind that Carrie and her young son Hud indeed needed this.

But did Bailey?

Given that for the last ten years, her sole focus had been on staying alive… Okay, yes, she wanted this, but that wasn’t a reason to give in to the very nice but possibly very crazy lady. But Bailey liked the idea of helping people. Was this the right way to go about it, though? One thing she’d learned after all she’d been through—there were options, always. Her doctor had taught her that, offering her choices at every roadblock they’d hit. This was an option and an opportunity.

“Say yes,” Carrie said, clasping her hands in front of her hopefully. “Say you’ll do this to help my boys.”

“Your boys don’t need any help,” a male voice said. A smooth yet gravelly voice, and Bailey froze before slowly turning to face…

Mountain Hottie.

Chapter 3

Hud had been surprised when he’d gotten to his mom’s room to hear her talking about him and Jacob. Then he’d heard the actual words and he’d stopped short.

She felt that what had happened between him and Jacob was her fault.

Her sadness and regret pummeled at him and wrenched him back to a time he didn’t want to think about. What had happened wasn’t her fault, not by a long shot.

It was his.

The fight with Jacob had been the worst day of Hud’s life, and that was saying something since there’d been a few doozies before and since. But that day Hud had said things to his brother, things that couldn’t be taken back, and he knew he could never make it right between them again.