The Season of Killing by Leigh Mayberry (top romance novels .TXT) 📕

It wasn’t until someone banged on the door again that Meghan looked at the time on her smartphone. She saw it was a little after seven in the morning. Way too early for congratulations or discussions about her job. No one called her, so whatever emergency, it needed to happen in person, and not over the phone. That wasn’t good.

She sat up. The remnants of late-night binging covered the coffee table scattered around the laptop. A few cups of hot chocolate, a depleted bag of chips, the last few precious bites on an almond candy bar meant she’d found a way to cope with relaxing but wallowing in self-pity during the holiday season.

When someone banged on the door again, Meghan got a little pissed. She had a day off, and the likelihood of something as traumatic and outrageously dramatic as what she faced the previous week was improbable.

Megan pulled open the front door in thermal socks, ready to give someone a piece of her mind. Before Meghan stood a girl that was close to a foot taller than her. She stood trembling on the tiny front porch, a precious holiday gift standing in the snow.

“Are you okay?” Brittany asked. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

She dropped her backpack and carry-on luggage. She wrapped her mittens around her mother and squeezed. Feeling her daughter’s arms around Meghan, embracing her made all the more surreal.

Oliver honked the horn on the Suburban as he pulled away from the house on Bison Street. He waved to Meghan as he drove back to the department.

“Let’s go inside,” Brittany said. She pushed Meghan back into the house.

Brittany collected her bags and slammed the door. She began unraveling the scarf from around her neck, pulling it out of the coat.

“Man, you weren’t kidding about it being so dark this time of year,” she said. “I had a three-hour layover in Anchorage before the first plane out here. I think I saw the sunset before we took off for today. What’s wrong?”

She finished shrugging out of the winter coat, mittens, and boots. Meghan only blinked at her.

Once Megan moistened her mouth from the shock, she finally asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Aw, Mom, thanks. I love you too,” Brittany said mockingly. “We worked it out. It’s all good. I wanted to spend Christmas with you this year.”

Brittany hugged her mother again and kissed her cheek.

“I have to work during—”

“Nope, it’s all taken care of; the guys told me they’d figure it out between the three of them. Dad was cool about me coming.”

Brittany moved through the living room and into the kitchen as if she belonged there. She saw the remains of pity binge eating, the open bag of cookies, and the container of instant hot chocolate, among other junk food. She clicked her tongue and started clearing the mess. She rolled up her sleeves to do the few dishes in the sink.

Meghan retrieved the chocolate-coated ceramic mug from the coffee table. She went to put it in the sink when Brittany grabbed her hand.

“Oh my god, Mom, what happened?” she shouted.

The pinky of her left hand had blistering around the distal and middle bone. It had reddish and swelling.

“I’m fine. I talked to a woman at the clinic about it. She says its mild frostbite. Nothing to worry about,” Megan said. She pulled her hand away from her daughter’s soapy grip.

“It looks bad. I thought it was a burn.” She finished the dishes.

They moved into the living room and sat down on the couch. Meghan had a heavy comforter and her pillows from sleeping on the sofa overnight. Brittany pulled the blanket around her and leaned against Meghan. She sighed.

“Lester called me after Thanksgiving,” Brittany explained. “He wanted to know why I wasn’t coming during winter break.”

“Lester called you?”

“Yeah, you know that guy scared me when I first met him. But I think he’s a big kitty cat. He doesn’t want anyone to know. He’s big on family, though. So, Dad got me a ticket, and I flew right out.”

“I hate flying,” Meghan mumbled.

“I love flying, Mom. It’s exciting.” She found Meghan’s hand under the blanket. Brittany yawned and moved her head around on Meghan’s shoulder.

She saw the black and white Christmas movie on the laptop screen. It stopped on its start-up screen.

“I love this movie,” she said. Brittany reached out and hit play on the laptop and snuggled against her mother.

Together, as if the day started with Brittany huddled tight against Meghan, they watched the old holiday film. The house didn’t need Christmas decorations or sparkling lights, or a stack of presents under an artificial tree. Meghan had everything she needed that year pressed against her.

Later, they strolled around town in the dark. It was fascinating to Brittany, outside in the day and not have the sun shining overhead. Afterward, according to Brittany, who’d worked it out ahead of time with Lester, they were invited to the Graves’ house for dinner.

Meghan and Lester enjoyed each other’s company without worry about work or topics of discussion. Brittany had plenty of stories about her mother before she left New York. And more stories about school and life on the other side of the continent.

Chapter Thirty

Monday morning started with banging on the front door. It felt a repeat for Meghan. This time she knew it wasn’t anyone coming to surprise her for the holidays. She doubted her ex-husband wanted to brave the cold and dark just to give her a hard time. Brittany slept in while Meghan wrapped the robe around her and wandered to the front door.

She opened it to a troubled mayor who looked like his house fell into the ocean. He wore