Free The Christmas Phoenix by Patricia Kiyono Page A

That's old Ben, next door. Now, get off my property before I get my shotgun and blow out your tires."
    Without a word, she closed her window. She backed up, turned the truck around and made her way back to the road. No need to tell her twice. What a grouchy, ungrateful man , she thought. With his shaggy beard and piercing dark eyes, he'd resembled a wild mountaineer as he'd waved his arms like a madman. Too bad he'd let her plow that long drive before telling her it was the wrong address. She should send him a bill.
    She found "old Ben's" house, which thankfully had a short, straight drive. She plowed, left a bill in the mailbox, then made her way back home.
    Rory was on his way out the door when she pulled in her driveway. She held her hand out to him, and he grimaced but gave her his backpack to check. It was nearly empty.
    "Where are your books?"
    "Didn't have any."
    "You had your math book when you came home last night."
    "Oh yeah."
    "Get it. Did you do your work?"
    "I don't know."
    She sighed. He was going to miss the bus again.
    They found the book under his desk. Sure enough, he hadn't done his work. Jess got him some notebook paper and sat him down at the kitchen table to finish his assignment while she made his lunch and changed clothes for her day job.
    They packed up, loaded into the truck and got to the school building with two minutes to spare. Like a good, invisible mom, she dropped him off on the opposite side of the street and refrained from giving him a goodbye kiss.
    She drove on to her waitressing job, feeling like she had already put in a full day. Things had to get better, soon.

Chapter Two
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    Jake Thompson stood in his garage, carefully inspecting the eagle he’d carved of ice. Thankfully, the vibrations of the noisy snowplow hadn't done any visible damage to the bird's wings, or the narrow legs at its base. He needed to deliver the sculpture to the Pine Ridge Hotel this morning, and it wouldn't be good for his business if he brought it in pieces. Sighing, he covered the figure with plastic then loaded it into the refrigerated compartment of his van. Satisfied it was packed safely, he opened the garage door.
    His lips curved upward. The lady had done him a favor, clearing out his driveway for him. He'd lied when he’d said he could do it on his own. He didn’t have a plow and would have had to rely on gravity to make it through the snow to the road below. Now he had a clear path.
    His sister and brother-in-law’s vacation home was a great place to work unbothered by the usual door-to-door salesmen and kids selling cookies, candies and whatever. People didn't usually want to fight their way up the winding drive to the house. And the cold Michigan winters were perfect for restarting his ice sculpting business. He could work in the garage all winter. Hopefully by spring he’d have saved enough to get his own place, or at least pay for a cold studio. In the meantime, he had no choice but to take advantage of his sister Donna’s generosity.
    He backed the van out of the garage to a wide area where he could turn it around. The storm must have been worse than he'd thought. He’d never seen snow banks so high. He'd driven on snow before, but there was a lot more here than he’d ever seen in Missouri. He tried to remember the basics. Take it nice and slow and don’t slam the brakes. He was going downhill, so he planned to coast.
    Halfway down the drive, he realized the van was rapidly accelerating as gravity pulled him down the hill. If he went any faster, he'd lose control. Aside from the damage it would do to his sculpture, Jake didn't relish the thought of having to dig his way out of a snow bank. He tapped the brakes, but the van kept sliding forward. How was he going to slow down and stop at the road? Frantically, he gripped the steering wheel and willed the vehicle to stay on the track. Maybe he should run the side of the van against the snow banks to slow it