Free The Christmas Phoenix by Patricia Kiyono

Chapter One
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    Jess Tate checked her clipboard. Thank goodness, there was only one more driveway to plow, and then she could go home. If this last job didn't present any problems, she might be able to get home before Rory left for school. She knew her fourteen-year-old could and would get himself off to school, but she liked to see for herself what he had chosen to wear and check his backpack before he left. He tended to forget things, like books and lunch money. Then she had to run to school and bring them to him, when she could be resting before going to her waitressing job at the hotel.
    Life had been so much easier before Doug had died. If it hadn't been for the huge loans they had taken out the year before his death, she would have sold the landscaping and snowplowing business. But the Michigan economy wasn't good, and businesses weren't selling. Since the loans had to be paid, she had learned to drive the mowers and the plow and take care of the customers herself.
    Today she was adding a new customer. A Mr. Hanks had left a voicemail message with his address, asking her to plow his drive and "leave a bill in the mailbox.” His speech had been garbled, but she was fairly certain she was supposed to go to 1285 Fairview Lane. The address was one street away from her house, so she had decided to go there last. Taking a deep breath, she squinted out the windshield through the swirling flakes and put the truck in gear.
    She had never been a timid driver, but the curving roads on the hilly north end of town required caution, especially in the early morning darkness. Most snowplowing was done before the majority of people left for work, but now, at the end of her route, there were already a few drivers on the roads, who probably had wanted to get an early start. The weather in northern Michigan was infamous for its unpredictability, and most commuters learned to allow extra driving time in the winter.
    She headed north, through industrial areas and past the suburbs, into the wooded area known as Apple Grove. She and Doug had fallen in love with the ambiance of the northern tip of Michigan's lower peninsula and had built their dream home here, even though it stretched their budget to the limit. Everything had been perfect—until Doug's accident.
    No time for whining , Jess thought. She powered the truck onto Fairview Lane and squinted at the numbers on the mailboxes. 1273…1281…the next one had to be it. But the mailbox had no number. No name, either.
    Shaking her head, she lowered her blade and turned into the steep drive. The steel sliced through the thick snow easily, pushing it off to the side as she wound her way toward the log cabin at the top of the hill. Halfway up the drive, her truck lost its momentum, and she knew she'd need traction and all her truck's horsepower to get the rest of the way up.
    Carefully, she put the truck in reverse, looked out the back window, and then backed up to a level spot where she could get a good grip. She shifted gear and stepped hard on the accelerator. The truck shot several feet further up the drive then her wheels spun again. Groaning, she repeated the process until she reached the top of the hill. She was within a few feet of the garage when she realized someone stood in front of her truck, waving his arms. She stood on the brake, stopping inches short of the man. What idiot would stand in front of a moving vehicle? He could have been hit!
    The man came around her truck to the window. She rolled it down, wondering if he needed help. He walked with a limp, she noticed, and seemed quite agitated. Maybe he was hurt.
    "What in Sam Hill are you doing?" he yelled.
    She blinked. "I'm plowing your drive. Didn't you hire me to do it?"
    "No! I can plow my own drive, if I need it. But I can't work with all this noise, and with you shaking the ice in my workshop."
    Shaking the ice? What on earth is he talking about? "Aren't you Mr. Hanks? Isn't this 1285 Fairview Lane?"
    "No!