Page 19 of Cabin Fever Baby

I pushed the ridiculously large ladder out of the way and all the lights shimmered as I moved back.

Maybe a crazy idea, but Agnes was gorgeous.

I’d bought out the ribbon aisle at a local craft store and watched no less than seven YouTube videos about the best way to make the ribbons look good on the tree. Pinterest was evil. It had given me far too many ideas and too little sense about making them happen.

But I was resolute.

This was going to be the most perfect Christmas with my family. And that meant a tree worthy of a Martha Stewart magazine cover.

Okay, so I wasn’t even sure Martha still had a magazine, but this tree could have been on the front cover if there was.

I made a mental note to check on that.

Regardless, the tree was magnificent. I had red plaid ribbon threaded down the tree along with fluffy golden toile stuff that made it a little more upscale like New York City. Soft, warm white lights wrapped nearly every branch until Agnes was glowing.

The red and gold Christmas balls were evenly distributed—except near the wall where no one could see. I’d been running out of the festive, sparkly balls by the end of decorating and the snow outside was not cooperating for yet another trip into the outskirts of Crescent Cove where all the big box stores were.

I’d simply made it work. It was what I did after all.

And the tree was positively fabulous. Next to the tree on the little table were all the individual ornaments I’d bought for my siblings. I wanted them to put their own ornament on the tree.

It was probably silly, but maybe we could make it a little tradition.

I dashed away the moisture at the corners of my eyes and picked up my coffee for a long drink. Which activated my stomach.

I’d been so busy decking out the whole cabin that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I’d been smart this time, and put a grocery stop into the trip after Bells and Kane had delivered my tree. As well as a pitstop to someplace called Jersey Angel’s—a sub shop in Crescent Cove.

Which sounded so good right now.

Cleanup could wait—it was just me. I danced my way to the kitchen with Ray LaMontagne serenading me about holding me tight.

I was unloading the white deli paper goodness from the fridge while I sipped my indulgent Orange Crush soda when a long horn startled me.

Leaving the food, I ran to the window beside the front door.

A red car had spun its way through my yard and the front of the car had smashed into one of the dozens of trees on the property.

Quickly, I stuffed my feet into boots and grabbed my hoodie as I rushed outside. The fat flakes were still coming down in earnest, and I could barely see the stairs. I wiggled into my sweatshirt then I gripped the railing and stumbled my way down, only to find snow up to my thighs at the bottom.

Letting out a yelp, my gaze followed the tracks of the car from the main road around the lake. I wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to get all the way to my place. The winding road up to the cabin was considerable.

The distant rumble of the snowplow made my heart race.

God, had the driver hit the car?

I cursed the fact that I hadn’t grabbed my coat, which had gloves in the pocket. The handle of the shovel was sticking up from a few feet from the stairs and I unearthed it to help me get to the car.

It was still running, the engine revving pathetically as the brake lights glowed hot in the rapidly accumulating snow.

“Don’t be dead,” I mumbled as I dug my way into the yard. The wind, which sounded lovely from the warmth of the cabin, was biting off the water. My hands felt frozen solid by the time I got to the rear bumper of the car.

I pushed away snow from the window and glimpsed a man slumped over the wheel, unmoving.

“Oh, God.” I tried the door, but it was locked. I tried knocking on the window, but he didn’t hear me. Swearing under my breath, I shook my hand out at the abuse while being damn near a block of ice. “Don’t be dead, don’t be dead,” I said again and again as I trudged my way around the car to the driver’s side.

I tried the handle, and it was locked.

“Shit, shit.” I pulled my hand into the sleeve of my hoodie for a little warmth and pounded against the glass.