“What’s that?” He twerked an eyebrow at her, staring into her eyes.
A reply on the tip of her tongue, Memory almost blurted out she knew where he could find a space that would work. But Lorelei shouting, “Aunt Memory! Uncle Dak!” had her head whirling around.
Her niece was skating at her full-force. Memory turned, letting go of Dak, her hands out, hoping Lorelei knew how to slow down before it was too late. Apparently, she didn’t. The little girl skidded, her skates turning sideways as she tried to stop herself, but she didn’t do it in time. She collided with Memory, knocking her backward, and sweeping her legs out from under her.
Memory’s arms went flying up, her feet shooting into the air, and the sky loomed overhead. She braced herself for the sting of ice connecting with her backside, but strong arms wrapped around her, swooping around her and catching her right before she made contact.
She stared up into chocolate brown eyes, wide with fear for a split second before they softened. “I told you, I won’t let you fall, Mem.”
Her heart was racing, and it wasn’t just the fall that had her catching her breath. Dak lifted her up, and Memory realized her skates were soundly back on the ice now. She inhaled deeply a few times, her hand over her chest, her eyes searching for Lorelei. “Are you okay?”
Ellie had her arms around the girl. “I’m okay. Sorry, Aunt Memory.”
“She sure is fast!” Ellie laughed. “Lucky Dak is a good catch.”
“You, too, I guess,” Memory replied. She hadn’t seen Ellie behind Lorelei, so she wasn’t sure how she’d managed to catch her before she hit the ice. “Thanks, Ellie.”
“Sure, dear.” She righted Lorelei. “Now, you slow down, missy. You don’t need to crack your noodle.”
“Is everyone okay?” Kirsten asked, skating over and sliding to a stop beside them, Maison right behind. “Lorelei, did you break your aunt?”
“I’m fine,” Memory assured her. Realizing she hadn’t said anything to him yet, she turned to Dak, “Thank you.”
He grinned at her. “No problem.”
Somehow, Memory managed to pull her eyes away from his face. “Where’s Anson?”
“Your dad has him,” Maison said, pointing over his shoulder. Memory saw her dad holding Bryce, walking alongside Sheila, who was holding a leash, though Memory couldn’t see what she assumed was a dog at the moment because there were too many people in the way.
“Dad didn’t want to skate. He was afraid he’d hurt his back. After seeing that, I can’t blame him. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Memory assured them.
“Wait—that dog with Sheila—is that Patches?” Dak’s face lit up as he pointed at the canine in question.
“Yeah, that’s her name,” Kirsten nodded. “She got her from the shelter last weekend, after you guys built that mediocre snowman.” She made a face and rolled her eyes when she said “mediocre” obviously exaggerating her insult to be silly.
Memory snickered at her, but Dak wasn’t really listening. “Ah, I love that dog. I wish I could go say hi.”
“You can. Go ahead,” Memory said before she realized that meant she’d be on the ice on her own.
He hadn’t forgotten. “I can’t leave you by yourself.”
“Oh, please.” Kirsten waved a hand at him. “I’ve got her. You go.”
“Are you sure?” Dak’s forehead crinkled in uncertainty.
Kirsten latched onto Memory’s arm. “I’ve been watching out for this girl since she was two feet tall. Go. She’ll be fine.”
“It’s fine,” Memory assured him, and he took off, skating a lot faster than he’d been able to while she had his arm. Memory followed him with her eyes, finding it difficult to pull away. The idea that she was left in her sister’s care was unsettling, but Kirsten seemed to be in a merciful mood.
“Daddy, can we go over there with Alice?” Lorelei pointed at one of her friends, tugging on her dad’s hand.
“Go ahead,” Kirsten said, and the pair skated off.
“I see some of the gals from church. I told them this morning I’d come skate with them. Do either of you mind?” Ellie looked as practiced in her skates as anyone, and Memory was both impressed and jealous as the older woman skated backward a little way and then propelled herself closer.
“Of course not,” Memory said for both of them. “We’ll see you later.”
Ellie shot off like a rocket, even doing a jump with a twist before she landed and glided over to Grandma Helen’s friends. “That was impressive,” Kirsten mumbled.
“No doubt.” When her sister started slowly skating forward, Memory had no choice but to go along. Kirsten was taking her time, though, and Memory thought maybe she could be trusted to be careful—for once.
“Dak sure is a nice guy.” Kirsten’s eyes were locked on the spot where Dak was kneeling, petting the dog. Memory smiled, glad she’d gotten to witness that. He was laughing like a little kid as Patches jumped up and licked his face. She was a pretty dog, a mixed breed it looked like, brown with white spots. Anson giggled and squirmed, trying to get out of Bryce’s grasp. “He likes you a lot, you know.”
Memory turned her head away long enough to look at her sister but then took him in again. “I don’t know. He seems to. But I’m not sure why.”
“What do you mean?” Kirsten asked as they turned, making it impossible for Memory to keep watching Dak without spinning around, which she couldn’t do. “What’s not to like about you?”
“Ha!” Memory guffawed. “Is that my big sis asking that question?”
“All right, I know I give you a hard time, but that’s just because you’re my sister. Seriously, Memory. You’re smart, your gorgeous. You’re a hard worker. You’re nice—to everyone other than me—most of the time....”
“Yeah, well I wasn’t exactly nice to him when I found out what he does for a living. And I haven’t made a whole lot of time to spend with him the last few weeks. He doesn’t live here, remember? And he just told me he doesn’t think he’ll be able to find a property that works for what he wants to do in Christmas Falls, which means he could be leaving soon—for good.” She knew he was considering buying the factory and thought his idea was a great one, but that didn’t mean he’d be sticking around to run it.
“I bet if you let him know how you feel about him, he’d find a reason to stay.”
Memory didn’t know what to say to that. The sort of risk Kirsten was talking about was huge, and Memory was more a creature of habit than the sort of daredevil who blurted out life altering confessions, especially to someone who had a million reasons to walk out of Christmas Falls and never look back. “What if he didn’t?”
“What if he did?”
“But what if he didn’t?” She glared at Kirsten, wishing she’d answer her question.
She didn’t. She only shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”