Читать книгу: «A Christmas Family Miracle»

CHAPTER ONE

“PHILIPPE? OVER HERE!” Crystal Broussard waved to her dark blond six-year-old son. She stood next to her father’s car with the Marler Sports logo printed on the side. He came running out of the elementary-school entrance to the lineup of cars waiting. Being a Friday, the kids were out of school two hours earlier than usual.

Gusting winds had shifted from the southwest to the northwest, meaning a full-scale Colorado blizzard was on its way. Soon 10,000-foot Crystal Peak, her namesake, would be whited out along with the other surrounding peaks.

Crystal, who’d been put on skis as soon as she could walk, had been born in this 9,600-foot ski mecca and recognized the signs. The temperature had already dropped to the twenties. Soon the town of Breckenridge would be covered in even more snow, after several recent storms, the last one blanketing the area a few days ago.

It was good news for her father’s business. Skiers from around the world flocked here and spent a lot of money on ski clothes and equipment. She’d worked part-time for her father while Philippe finished kindergarten; but now that he was a first-grader she was working full-time.

She gave him a huge hug, forcing him to reciprocate before opening the back door for him. “I’ve missed you today. Hurry and fasten yourself in. I want to drive us back to the store before the storm hits.”

“Can’t we just go home?”

That’s all he ever wanted to do lately. Just go home and play quietly in his room …

“This won’t take long. You need a new coat. This afternoon a shipment of parkas came in. There aren’t too many in your size, so we need to get you in one you like before they’re put out on the racks and taken.” With Christmas in nine days, the last-minute rush for gifts would bring the shoppers in droves.

“I don’t want a new coat.”

“I know you don’t, but you’ve grown and the sleeves are too short.” Just now she’d almost said that the parka he was wearing had been bought in France, where they used to live, and he’d outgrown it. But she caught herself in time, afraid he’d go all quiet. She had a hunch he was hanging on to it because it was the one he’d brought with him when they’d left Chamonix.

Crystal needed to do something quick to help her son. Since school had started in the fall, he’d been less communicative. All she heard lately were troubled sighs coming out of him. He’d been a different child since his father’s death fourteen months ago. Eric Broussard, one of France’s great skiers, had taken a fatal fall during the downhill race in Cortina, Italy, and had died at the young age of twenty-eight, devastating everyone.

Two years earlier the Broussard family had already been plagued by the death of Suzanne, the wife of their son, Raoul. The Broussards were an institution that owned and ran the 100-year-old premier alpine mountaineering guide club in the French Alps. The two brothers had been very close. Probably—and this was Crystal’s private theory—it was because they’d never competed. Raoul lived for climbing and mountaineering. His wife, Suzanne, had shared his passion for the mountains. Eric only wanted to do one thing. Ski.

News of his passing sent the French ski world into mourning for a favorite son, but the hardest hit of all was to Crystal, who had to explain to a little five-year-old boy that his daddy wouldn’t be coming home.

Crystal had been two years younger than Eric when she’d met and dated him. That was at a time when she’d been a member of the national women’s ski team and had one bronze medal to her credit. After their marriage, they’d settled in Chamonix, France, where Eric had been born and raised on skis.

Two months after the funeral was over, Crystal had moved her and Philippe back to her parents’ home in Breckenridge, hoping it would help both of them to recover and move on. To her chagrin, Philippe had slowly gone into a shell and nothing seemed to bring him out of it, not even her two younger, fun-loving sisters, Jenny and Laura. They were in their early twenties and came and went from the house between ski races.

When Crystal had brought them back to Colorado, Philippe had a tantrum the first time her father tried to take him skiing. Crystal realized it was too soon. Maybe Eric’s death had put him off skiing forever. She hadn’t tried to get him on skis again. He’d skied with her in Chamonix, but she didn’t know if he’d really liked it or just did it because she did.

Lately she’d been doubting her own thoughts and feelings where he was concerned. Her boy was never enthusiastic about anything. At first she hadn’t expected enthusiasm or excitement from him. But this depression seemed to be growing worse despite all the love her family gave him. According to his new teacher, he didn’t even try to make friends with the kids in his first grade class.

The one time this fall she’d invited a boy for a play date after school, Philippe had been unwilling to share his toys or play at the nearby park. After the day had ended in disaster, she hadn’t tried it again. The other boy’s mother reciprocated, but Crystal knew it hadn’t gone well because she hadn’t called to make another play date.

It worried her he never wanted to talk about his father. He always brought up his uncle Raoul, the adored uncle who phoned once a month. But whatever they talked about, Philippe kept it to himself.

In the beginning he’d had conversations on the phone with his cousin Albert, but since school had started, things had changed. He didn’t articulate his wishes or worries and closed up if she tried to get him to discuss his feelings. Not even the grand-mère and grand-père he loved had the power to bring a lasting smile to his face or eyes. They’d flown over two different times to visit, once bringing his loving aunt Vivige with them, but he still remained aloof.

Molly, the mother of three and one of the long-time employees at her father’s store, had suggested earlier today that maybe he was upset having to share his mommy with her family. The comment had gotten Crystal thinking, deepening her guilt that she was failing her child somehow.

Here she’d believed that living with her parents and sisters would help Philippe feel secure and loved. She’d originally planned to get a condo close to their house. But a year later she was still staying in their family home because she’d hoped the closeness would help him to heal, but nothing seemed to be further from the truth.

What if Molly were right?

The thought devastated Crystal that he might be feeling shut out because of his perception that she paid too much attention to her own family. If she moved them to a nearby condo, maybe Philippe would like having her all to himself and he would start communicating more without anyone else around. Whatever it took, she was willing to try it because the next step was to seek professional help. They both needed it.

Tonight after she’d put Philippe to bed, she would discuss it with her parents and start looking for a new place. She would decorate it with the few furnishings from their condo in Chamonix that were still in storage. Philippe could help her.

Maybe seeing the things would make him open up. Naturally, when they’d first come back to Breckenridge, she’d tried to re-create Philippe’s bedroom to make him feel at home, but if he saw everything else, maybe that’s what he needed. It had to work. She was desperate!

Crystal drove into the town center of Breckenridge and parked around the back of the store. “Come on, honey.” Grabbing his hand, she led them inside the rear entrance. They walked over to the load of new parkas hanging on the rack ready to be rolled out on to the floor.

She lifted two and held them in front of Philippe. “Which do you like better, the blue or the green?”

He studied them for a minute. “I guess that one.” He touched the navy coat. It would be a nice match with his blue eyes, a shade darker than Eric’s.

“All right. Let’s see how it looks on you.”

When he’d shed his other coat, she put it on him. “This looks terrific on you. Come on. Let’s go find Grandpa and see what he thinks.”

The store had at least a dozen customers keeping the staff busy. Molly was with a group of skiers, but she was the first to notice them come out of the back room. “Hey, Philippe. I like that parka on you. It fits you perfectly.”

He muttered something indistinct and averted his eyes.

Crystal sent Molly a silent message that she was sorry for her son’s lack of manners and looked around for her father. “Where’s Dad?”

“He said he had an errand, but he’ll be back.”

She’d heard that before. When he got talking to one of his friends, it might be several hours. “I guess we’ll go on home and show Nana. He’ll be there later.”

As they turned to walk into the back room, Crystal heard a male voice behind them say, “Eh bien, mon gars. Tu me souviens?”

The French spoken in a deep, familiar voice caused the blood to pound in Crystal’s ears.

Raoul.

Philippe could never have forgotten him. As for Crystal …

Both of them swung around at the same time. “Oncle Raoul!” her son cried out in sheer happiness, echoing her unspoken response.

Philippe had said his name so loudly, every head in the store turned in his direction. He pulled his hand away from Crystal’s and flew into the arms of Eric’s thirty-two-year-old brother. Her son threw his arms around his neck, clutching him for dear life. The next thing she knew Raoul was rocking him. She didn’t know which one of them was squeezing harder.

Over Philippe’s shoulder Raoul shot her a glance from eyes she’d always thought of as midnight-blue. At the moment they were neither friendly nor hostile, yet she felt their deep penetration like she’d been injected with a near fatal dose of electricity.

“I was hoping to find out you hadn’t left for the day.” He spoke English in a cultured voice with less of a French accent than Eric had done. “The family told me you’ve been working for your father since you returned from Chamonix.”

“Yes.” She was so astonished to see him, she couldn’t find the words.

“I’m surprised.”

She took an extra breath, wondering what he’d meant by that remark, which could be taken several ways.

As if reading her mind he said, “I’d imagined that if nothing else, you would have gone into coaching some new upcoming sports star.” He flashed one of his beautiful rare smiles. “There isn’t a female champion who skis like Crystal Broussard. You have a style no one’s been able to imitate.”

“Had, you mean.”

“No,” he responded on a more sober note, not letting it go. “It will always be there because you honed it into an art form. The ski world lost a true star when you stopped competing. I, for one, am sorry that happened.”

Crystal found it hard to swallow because his comment stunned her. With the problems in her marriage followed by Eric’s death, that part of her life seemed to have taken a backseat. For Raoul to bring it up now wasn’t only a surprise, it was … flattering, especially coming from him.

That was because he was such a revered athlete in his own right and always meant what he said. Little did he know the idea of becoming a coach had touched on one of her secret dreams. It shook her to realize he was the first person to recognize that need inside her.

In the past, while Suzanne had been alive, they’d often been on the same wavelength and she’d enjoyed that aspect of their relationship. Sometimes it had even upset her because she hadn’t experienced it with Eric and didn’t like feeling guilty about it.

“Thank you for the compliment, Raoul, but I’ve had my son to worry about.”

“That’s understandable, but it seems to me you could still do both. In fact I wondered why you didn’t go back to competition after Philippe was born.”

“You mean in Chamonix?”

“Naturellement.”

“I wanted to, but being a mother is a full-time job.”

“For some women maybe, but you could have managed both.” His dark eyes flashed. “You’re too gifted.”

Raoul really believed in her.

But when she’d talked to Eric about it, he’d clutched her under the chin. “You’re the one who didn’t mind us getting pregnant before we’d planned to,” he’d said. “If we’re both gone, who’ll take care of the baby? I’m not keen on hiring a nanny.”

Soon after Philippe was born, Eric hadn’t been keen on much of anything but skiing. It eventually ruled his life. Without conscious thought she’d tried to be mother and father to their son.

All the while she was remembering the past, she’d been staring at Raoul. She couldn’t help it. His black hair was longer than she remembered. It had a tendency to curl and looked slightly ruffled from the wind outside. He was an inch taller than Eric, who’d stood six feet two—the brothers were quite different in body build and coloring.

Eric had been born with the natural lean body of a skier. He and their sister, Vivige, a terrific skier in her own right, resembled their father in that regard and were dark blondes.

On the other hand Raoul, standing there in his black bomber jacket, possessed a more powerful build and had a darker olive complexion like their mother. Both men had the stamp of the good-looking Broussard family, and it had been bequeathed to her adorable Philippe, who clung to his uncle.

The sight of Raoul brought intense pleasure and pain in equal waves, plus too many other emotions Crystal didn’t dare examine right now. She noticed the lines around his wide mouth had deepened since the last time she’d seen him. A year ago the whole Broussard family, including Philippe’s three cousins, had driven to the airport in Geneva to see her and Philippe off to the States.

There was a haunted look about his Gallic features that was new. If she wasn’t mistaken, she thought he’d lost a few pounds. The changes only made him more attractive, resurrecting more feelings of guilt for finding him so terribly appealing. That guilt had lain dormant while she’d been here in Colorado.

Where Eric had been dashing, Raoul was drop-dead gorgeous, a comment her friends on the ski team had pointed out many times. The Broussard brothers had a female following that extended throughout the sporting world.

“It’s good to see you, Raoul,” she finally managed to say, but she had to fight to keep her voice steady.

“Is it?” he challenged. She recognized the clipped, off-putting tone of voice he always seemed to use with her when he phoned to speak to Philippe.

Was that accusation she heard, or was she simply overreacting to the unexpected question? She couldn’t describe how it had come across, but to her dismay it put her on the defensive. That was the last emotion she wanted him to be aware of.

“How can you even ask me that?” She forced a smile. “Of course it is, especially after such a long time. Philippe and I are just so surprised you’re here, aren’t we?”

Right before Christmas was one of the busiest times for the Broussards’ business as Chamonix was a favorite winter wonderland. Crystal was surprised he could take the time off to come. She moved closer to give him a hug. Philippe was still in his arms, looking so ecstatic, she could hardly think.

Raoul’s free arm enfolded her. “It’s good to see you too, ma belle,” he whispered against her temple. He’d often called her that as a term of brotherly affection. “Life hasn’t been the same without you around.”

She could say the same about him. Being away from France, from him—she’d felt like she’d been in exile. It had been of her own making and Raoul was the reason.

Before he set Philippe down, he gave them both a brief kiss on the cheek. He smelled wonderful, evoking memories from a time that would never come again.

Philippe clung to Raoul’s hand and threw his head back. Those blue eyes had stars in them, the first she’d seen in so long, she couldn’t remember. “Come with us. I want to show you my nana’s house!” The revelation that he’d missed his uncle this terribly hit her with blunt force.

“I’d like that if it’s all right with your maman.”

Crystal drew in a quick breath. “We’d love you to come. Did you drive from Denver in a rental car?”

“Oui,” he answered with a hint of irony.

Of course he had. She was a fool.

“Can I go to the house in his car, Maman?”

He’d been calling her Mommy for the last year. Now suddenly her bilingual son had reverted to French. Another revelation that gave her second sight. Philippe had been starved for the man he’d loved most in the world next to his own father. In truth he’d spent more time with Raoul over the years than he’d spent with Eric, who was always off training.

“S’il te plâit.” Please, his eyes begged her. In that moment he reminded her of Eric when he begged Crystal to forgive him for something he’d done, or not done after he’d promised. All the unkept promises. The memories assailed her, knocking her off balance.

“Yes, of course. But make sure you’re strapped in.”

Philippe jumped up and down with all the excitement that had been missing since before Eric’s death. The sight of his uncle had made a remarkable change in him.

“I’ll take care of him,” Raoul assured her in an aside.

He hadn’t needed to say anything. Ever since the night she’d gone into labor two weeks early and Raoul had driven her to the hospital, comforting her on the way because she was bleeding, a bond had formed. She knew she could trust him with her life. He and Suzanne couldn’t do enough to be there for her.

Eric had been away at a World Cup race in Cortina. It wasn’t his fault he’d missed the delivery. The doctor hadn’t expected her to have the baby so soon. When she’d called her mother-in-law for help, Raoul happened to be at the house and answered the phone. The second he heard the alarm in her voice, he’d dropped everything to help her. The doctor said his quick response had saved her life. Another ten minutes and she would have bled to death.

Watching Philippe cling to his uncle’s arm brought back a rush of memories. “We’ll follow you, Mommy!”

“Sounds good. I’ll pull around the front.” She turned away and hurried into the back room for Philippe’s other parka, but her legs were wobbly because she was in shock. By the time she’d climbed in the car and started the motor, fear had snaked through her nervous system.

There was only one reason Raoul would have flown to the States. He’d brought bad news that he felt should be delivered in person. He shouldn’t have come. A phone call would have been better.

She could speculate all she wanted, but whatever was wrong she didn’t think she could handle the pain. They’d all lived through so much with two deaths in the family on top of her trying to bring Philippe out of his depression and help him cope. Yet Raoul was here now, and whatever emergency had brought him here, she would have to deal with it and be strong for Philippe no matter what.

The first fat snowflakes slapped against the windshield, harbingers of what was coming. Through the rearview mirror she watched the white Ford rental car trail behind her. Her heart refused to behave. It really was Raoul behind the wheel. He was in Breckenridge, not Chamonix.

Normally if he left town for any length of time, it was to climb or hike another range of mountains with his best friend, Des, whose home was in the Spanish Pyrenees. When they’d met Des on different occasions, she’d liked him very much. After Suzanne’s death, the two men had spent over two months climbing in the Himalayas. Des had worried about Raoul.

So had she. For a long time after that, Raoul had been so closed up it was like his heart had gone into a deep freeze. Only around Philippe or Vivige’s children had she seen it melt and remind her of the warm, wonderful man he’d once been when Suzanne was alive.

Crystal shivered, remembering that time when the whole family had been so concerned about him. On a personal level, she’d lost a dear friend in Suzanne. Eric had thought the world of her, too. Until her death, when Raoul’s world had collapsed, the four of them had done a lot together.

She bit her lip. A year had gone by without seeing him, except to hear his voice when he called and they spoke briefly before he asked to speak to Philippe. She heard snippets about him in conjunction with the family business, but she knew little about his personal life except for one thing.

The last time she’d talked to Vivige, she’d learned Raoul was seeing some woman named Sylvie Beliveau. The family was hoping it would grow into something serious and were keeping their fingers crossed.

Crystal had tried not to let the news affect her and refused to pry. Aside from her worry over Philippe, she wouldn’t allow any painful reminders from the past to disturb this time of putting a new life together.

It sounded like Raoul had finally come out of his own darkness and was trying to get on with his life. She wished she didn’t want to know what the other woman was like, but certain thoughts pervaded her mind anyway. And now Raoul was here.

Because of his unanticipated arrival this afternoon, her emotions were in chaos and the last year apart might never have been. Already a new form of turmoil was eating away at her insides, destroying whatever little peace of mind she’d been clinging to because an ocean had separated them.

Raoul had fastened Philippe in the backseat, but kept looking at him through the rearview mirror. Philippe could see him in it and they both smiled. “You’ve grown a foot since the last time I saw you.” He spoke in French.

His nephew giggled. “I’ve had a birthday, too,” he responded in the same language. “The model car you sent me is my favorite toy.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Next year I’ll be seven.”

Puzzled by the comment Raoul said, “How come you’re in such a hurry to get older?”

“‘Cause then Mommy will take me back to see you.”

Stunned by the revealing comment, he had to take a fortifying breath. “Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” Raoul couldn’t imagine loving his own child more than he loved Philippe.

The boy nodded. “I’ve missed you, too. Every time we talked on the phone, you promised you’d come and see me. How come it took you so long?”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. There were several reasons. He hadn’t liked the fact that he’d developed an unwanted attraction to his sister-in-law. It was better they were apart. For a long time he’d been at war with himself to keep things that way. But Philippe didn’t know that, and there was only one safe answer to give him.

“Business has kept me too busy. Your grandfather has been forced to slow down, so I’ve been doing some of his work along with my own.”

“Now that you’re here you can stay at my nana’s with me in the other bed. Sometimes Mommy sleeps in there with me when I cry.”

Raoul sucked in his breath. “Do you cry a lot?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“Sometimes. I miss your father, too.”

“I wish he didn’t have to die. Then we wouldn’t have to live here.”

The tremor in his nephew’s voice caused Raoul’s throat to swell. “I’ve wished that a thousand times, Philippe.” A thousand times. Crystal’s decision to move back to Colorado had angered him. But as the months had worn on and he’d recovered from his initial reaction, he’d realized it was because he’d missed her.

They’d shared a hell of a lot over the years. When she’d left Chamonix for good, he was flung into another void that had nothing to do with the loss of his brother. Insane as it was, he found his thoughts dwelling on her all the time, filling him with guilt that it was she rather than Eric he was missing.

“I’m mad at Mommy.”

Join the club, Philippe.

But Raoul steeled himself not to react. There’d been a major change in Crystal even before Eric’s death. Emotionally he’d felt her push herself away from the family, from him. For his own sense of self-preservation he’d honored the unspoken message to stay away until now. On the flight over, part of him was still fighting the imminent reunion while the other part of him couldn’t wait for it.

He’d stepped off the plane totally conflicted, but seeing her this afternoon brought a whole new set of feelings into the mix.

She no longer had that vivacious girl-next-door look that had been so appealing, she’d made the cover of every sporting magazine and had snared his brother. Their romance had captured the headlines for a long time. For him to have died so young, and leaving a wife and child behind, had taken its toll on everyone.

Remembering Philippe he said, “Why are you upset with your mother?”

“She made us come here. I want to go home.”

There was an unmistakable forlornness in his tone. “Doesn’t Breckenridge feel like home now?”

“No,” came the quiet answer. “My house is in Chamonix.”

So it was … For a six-year-old, Philippe had an intelligence and maturity beyond his years.

“Could I go home with you, Uncle Raoul?”

With that question, Raoul’s thoughts reeled. Since there were things he couldn’t discuss with his nephew until after he’d talked with Crystal, he pretended to misunderstand. “I’ve got a room at the Hotel Des Alpes down the road from your grandpa’s store. If your mother says it’s all right, you can sleep with me tonight.”

“Goody! I always wanted to stay there. It has real sleigh bells inside. Sometimes Mommy lets me go inside to shake them.”

He smiled because everything about Philippe was so endearing. “You like sleigh bells?”

“Yup. They’re like the ones in Grandpa’s storeroom. Remember when you took me and Albert for a sleigh ride?”

It surprised him Philippe remembered so much. Twelve months had passed since they’d left France, yet that memory had stood out. Was Crystal aware of her son’s deepest feelings? Or was she still in too much pain over losing Eric to feel anything these days?

Raoul had gone through the grieving period after Suzanne was killed, but he’d got past it. If they’d had a child together already, it might have taken longer if you saw the face of the person you’d loved every time you looked at your own child. But that hadn’t been the case.

“Tell me about school. What’s your teacher’s name?”

“Ms. Crabtree.”

“Do you like your teacher?”

“She’s all right, but she can’t speak French. Nobody speaks French here.”

He spoke in a voice that said he was bored with the idiocy of people, reminding Raoul of Eric when his brother brushed aside something he found irritating during a conversation. Raoul didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Being with Philippe made the memories fly fast and furiously.

“Your mommy speaks French.” When there was no comment he said, “Have you got a best friend yet?”

“Nope. Albert’s my best friend.” Albert was Philippe’s seven-year-old cousin.

“How come you haven’t made one here?”

“I just haven’t.” A sigh escaped.

That was no answer. There was a lot wrong with Philippe. “You have me.”

“But you live in Chamonix and Mommy won’t take me home.” His nephew’s tears weren’t far away.

“Have you asked her?”

“Yes. But she always cries when I do. My nana told me Mommy’s going to take me back when I’m older, but I want to go now. I wish I could live with you.”

Raoul’s eyes smarted. When he’d driven up here from Denver, he’d imagined he’d find an Americanized boy who’d forgotten his French and Raoul. He had to clear his throat. “Then your mother would feel bad.”

“I don’t care.”

“That’s not true,” he said gently.

“She’s mean.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“But she is. When I ask her if I can call you up, she says we have to wait till you call first because you’re too busy.”

Raoul bit down hard. “I’ll have a talk with her about that.” It was his fault. By trying to distance himself from Crystal, he’d gone too far. But that was because of his unbrotherly feelings for her that he’d been trying to fight—without success.

“She’ll get mad I told you.”

“Does she really get mad?”

After a pause Philippe said, “No, but she doesn’t smile.”

Once long ago Crystal’s beautiful smile had been her trademark. “We like our mothers to smile, don’t we?” No matter how much pain everyone is in.

Through the mirror he saw Philippe nod.

When Raoul had watched her jet take off for Colorado, he’d felt like a dark shield had dropped over him. He hadn’t been able to imagine himself smiling again. “Who do you play with at school?”

“Nobody.”

His heart lurched. “Tell me the truth now.”

Philippe’s little chin jutted out. “I am.”

“What do you think is the problem?”

“I heard a couple of the boys talking at recess. They said I’m a geek and have a stupid name.”

Just now Philippe sounded like the brother who’d grown up with Raoul. When Eric got upset, he became obstinate and defensive. It took a lot to pull him out of it. “I bet your teacher is impressed you speak two languages. Those boys are just jealous.”

“What does ‘jealous’ mean?”

“They wish they could be as smart as you. But since they only speak English, they’re mad and say mean things.”

“Oh.”

By the time they reached the mountain home made of wood and glass, Raoul realized his nephew had been living in pain. Unfortunately, the news Raoul had brought meant there was more ahead.

He stepped out of the car into a serious snowstorm and opened the back door for Philippe. “Come on. Let’s get you in the house.” He picked up his nephew and gave him another hug before carrying him up the front steps. On the way he saw Christmas lights twinkling in the window.

Crystal had opened the door for them. The scent of pine wafted past him. Her mother, Liz, flew across the foyer to greet him with a strong hug. On dozens of occasions when Crystal’s parents had come to Chamonix, he’d had the opportunity to spend time with the charming blond woman.

She invited him into the den, which was lined with family pictures, many of them showing Crystal winning ski races with her face rosy and glowing. Several showed her and Eric together, their arms around each other.

This was the first time Raoul had been to Breckenridge, let alone to Crystal’s family home. Though Chamonix and Breckenridge were an ocean apart, being here made him realize how similar their two families’ upbringings had been.

The room had been decked out for Christmas. Their tree with its many colored lights stood in front of the picture window just like the one at his parents’ home, except the decorations were different.

A few days ago he and his brother-in-law, Bernard, who ran an engineering firm for a petroleum business in Chamonix, had set up a Christmas tree for Raoul’s mother in the salon. They’d strung it with the traditional white lights. Vivige had organized their children to put on the ornaments. When Christmas Eve came, the wax candles in the tree’s candle holders would be lighted after they returned from Mass.

That is, if there was going to be a Christmas Eve this year not marred by more tragedy.

He removed his coat. “You have a beautiful home, Liz,” he said at last, gravitating to the warmth coming from the grate fire.

“Thank you. Please sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

After peeling off Philippe’s new coat, she asked her daughter to bring in the appetizers and drinks from the kitchen. “When Crystal called and told me you were on your way up to the house with Philippe, I phoned Todd. He’s thrilled you’ve come and he’s going to bring home pizza for us.”

“Goody! That’s my favorite.” Philippe’s eyes lit on Raoul. “Do you want to see my new computer game? It’s upstairs in my room.”

“Bien sûr.” He glanced at Crystal to get her permission. In the firelight her iridescent blue eyes looked haunted. “Is that all right?”

“Of course.” She’d shed her parka and sat on the end of the couch in jeans and a cherry-colored crewneck sweater. The mold of her curves was the same, but since the last time he’d seen her taking some painkiller while she was waiting for their flight to be called, she’d had her hair cut. Instead of trailing down her back, her hair swished against her shoulders from a side part.

There were other differences, too. As he got up from the chair to join Philippe, it dawned on him the high color he’d always associated with her complexion was missing. Once she’d become pregnant, she’d given up competition skiing. But looking at her right now, she couldn’t even have been doing much pleasure skiing these days. He wished to heaven he didn’t care.