She would have done it without being told, but her mother left nothing to chance when it came to her home.
Brenna had learned at an early age that snow was to be kept outside the house. Her mother couldn’t control the weather, but she worked every hour of every day to control its less welcome effects, from shining the windows to removing imaginary marks from her lovingly polished floor.
“How are you, Mom?” She stepped inside, careful not to slip. The last thing she needed at the start of the season was a broken ankle, especially as a result of her mother’s overzealous cleaning habit.
“Good. Things have been busy at work.” Her mother eyed her black ski pants, and Brenna intercepted that look as she pulled off her boots and left them on the step.
“I’m teaching at ten o’clock. I thought I’d have more time if I didn’t have to go back and change first.”
“If you visited more often, you wouldn’t have to cram so much into each visit.”
Brenna knew better than to respond to that one. Conversations with her mother were like a game of tennis. Whenever she returned the ball, it came back at her harder, but even she had to admit that her mother seemed more tense than usual.
She wondered what had happened.
She stepped into the house and immediately felt as if the walls were closing around her, trapping her inside. She wanted to push back at them, wanted to free herself. It didn’t help that they were painted a dark shade of red and hung with paintings and photographs. Her mother was a collector of things. Paintings, ornaments, vases, figurines—the house was crammed with them and no doubt Christmas would bring another flurry of objects to add clutter to the already cluttered walls and surfaces. Brenna couldn’t see the point of filling a house with objects, but her mother enjoyed adding things to the home.
It was the house she’d grown up in but it had never felt like home to Brenna. The place suffocated her. She missed the soaring cathedral ceiling of Lake House and the acres of glass that captured the sunlight and framed the trees. Winter or summer, it was like looking at a postcard, and she never tired of it. It scared her how quickly it had begun to feel like home.
She followed her mother through to the kitchen.
Her father sat at the breakfast bar, his eyes glued to the TV.
“Hi, Dad.” She leaned forward and kissed him, and he gave her a quick hug, briefly taking his eyes off the football game.
“You should turn that off when your daughter is home. Lord knows, it’s not something that happens often.” Her mother reached for a mug and filled it with coffee. “I hope those O’Neils are paying you well for all the hours you put into that place.”
There it was again, the friction, the tension. If her mother were an engine, Brenna would have checked the oil to see if she could get her working more smoothly.
“It’s my choice to work hard, Mom. I love my job. And Jackson O’Neil is a good employer. I love working with him.”
“So you’re set to work another season for the O’Neils.” The set of her mother’s mouth expressed her opinion on that decision.
“Yes.” Brenna curved her hands around the mug, warming herself. Her mother could chill the atmosphere more effectively than any air-conditioning unit. “Bookings are up. It’s pretty exciting after the past few years of struggling through.”
“If Michael O’Neil had paid more attention to his responsibilities, they wouldn’t have been struggling.”
The bitterness shocked her. “He’s dead, Mom. You shouldn’t speak like that of the dead. And Jackson and Kayla have worked really hard over the past year. It’s a really exciting time, and I’m enjoying my job.” If she’d hoped that news might invite a positive response, she was once again disappointed.
“We both know it’s not the job that keeps you here.” Maura Daniels thumped her mug down on the shiny granite countertop, her emotions released in a cacophony of clattering and banging as she pulled bowls out of the cabinet and eggs out of the fridge. “You could have stayed in Europe. You had a chance to escape from these long, endless winters and the O’Neil family, but did you take it? No. You came back here first chance you got and threw away your life.”
She’d barely been in the house five minutes and already it had started. Brenna looked out the windows toward the mountains she loved and tried to imagine being this happy somewhere else. When Jackson had started his business in Europe, she’d lived in Switzerland for a while. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t Snow Crystal.
“I’m not throwing anything away. I’m happy.”
“Are you?” Her mother paused with a box of eggs in her hands. “Don’t you want more than this? What about a home? A family?”
Her mom made her feel as if she’d done something wrong.
Brenna looked at her father, but he’d obviously decided not to get involved and was staring hard at the TV.
“I’m settled. I came back because I wanted this job.”
“You came back because of him.”
“I came back because Jackson told me the family business was in trouble. They’re my friends, Mom. Jackson offered me a job, and I took it.”
“We both know why you took that job, Brenna Daniels. You thought if you were both in the same place, you’d have a chance with him. You’ve always been a fool about Tyler O’Neil.”