Chapter Five - Breakfast

Jim never wanted to move. He was warm and comfortable in the open loft above the fireplace, and his girl was snuggled, although full dressed, next to him.

Trixie stirred as dawn peeped over Mount Pisgah, alerting them to the start of another day. "Looks like the storm blew out," she whispered.

"Yeah, it stopped snowing about an hour ago," Jim said huskily against her ear. He tightened his grip and pulled them closer together.

"I'm surprised you didn't want to take the mattress downstairs. It would be just like old times." Her nose wrinkled playfully.

Jim snorted with laughter. "Yeah, my sleeping on the floor days are over."

They were quiet for a moment as thoughts of those early days flowed over them.

"Thanks for keeping me warm." In the early morning light, Jim was delighted to see her cheeks flush with a gentle pink.

"My body heat is your body heat," Jim promised.

"Except you're like three thousand miles away."

"I'm right here. Right next to you."

Tears threatened to spill from her expressive blue eyes. "But for how long, Jim?"

Jim didn't have an answer to that. The age barrier that stood between them was negligent now. She was five months away from being an adult. Making her own decisions despite her father's warning.

But the time away from Sleepyside had taught Jim other facets about himself. Things he wasn't at all pleased to learn. The fear remained that he still couldn't give her what she needed. Trixie was all about running into danger and finding mysteries. And Jim? Well, he was self-aware enough to know he was all about security and keeping people safe.

He would crush Trixie's mystery-loving soul if he tried to smother her in bubble wrap and keep her safe. But he would crush his own if he continued to watch her hurdle headlong into danger.

He could hear Honey's voice in his head. Scolding him. Then cowboy up and talk to her. Take that bracelet off her wrist. Let her get over you the way you've apparently gotten over her.

But Jim couldn't do that, either. He would never be "over" the force that is, was, and would always be Trixie Belden.

"The breakfast bell will ring soon," Jim said, ignoring her plea.

She looked down and nodded. "Let's get ready. I am in serious need of some hot coffee and a full breakfast."

Trixie smiled as she made it down the stairs. Dan and Honey were snuggled onto the couch. Mart and Di were curled into the mattress in front of the burning coals of the fire.

After putting the last of the wood on the fire, the six friends sleepily stumbled around and got ready to leave the warm confines of their adopted home.

"At least it's not still snowing," Honey commented as they made their way down toward the main house.

"When Dave and I were getting the SUVs, I saw their fleet of trucks. They've got a snowplow. It won't be too long before they get the road out of here cleared." Jim's hand tightened on Trixie's. Just the thought of flying back to Europe hurt.

"How's ag college going?" Jim asked Mart.

Mart sighed heavily. "I'm just not sure it's what I want anymore."

Trixie lifted her eyebrows but didn't say anything.

"Did you have anything else in mind?" Jim asked.

Mart shrugged but pushed on. "I'm a little embarrassed, really."

"It's us, Mart. We've been friends too long for that," Dan gently chided.

"I mean, unless you want a career of crime and theft," Trixie teased. She touched her brother's shoulder with her free hand. "If that's the case, Honey and I are honor-bound to hunt you down and lock you up."

Mart grinned but stayed quiet. "I started writing restaurant reviews for the college newspaper," he finally blurted out.

Jim blinked. That didn't seem all that outrageous to him. "Well, it does combine your two great loves— words and food."

"This is only my first semester. Changing majors wouldn't be a big hairy deal. But I'm thinking of maybe coming back to Sleepyside. Applying for Westchester Community College and getting a degree in English or journalism with a minor in culinary arts."

"It sounds like a perfect fit. What's the problem?" Trixie asked.

"I feel like I'm failing Moms and Dad. You know?"

"They love us, Mart. They'd never consider us failures. Over anything." Trixie's voice was low but sincere.

Jim smiled at Trixie. With all the arguments and spats the two of them had gotten into over the years, Jim couldn't have been prouder of the woman Trixie had grown into. Instead of taking this moment of Mart's vulnerability and using it against him, she was encouraging her brother.

"I guess," Mart said, brushing off the words of his friends as they entered the warmth of the main house just as the first breakfast bell went off. "Except maybe a life of crime and getting locked behind bars?" Mart joked feebly.

"Perfect timing," Dan said as he unwrapped his old scarf from around his neck.

"Well, you know, Daniel old chap," Mart said, laughter lighting up his blue eyes. "My gastrointestinal needs never fail me."

"Yeah, yeah, we all know. Food is your friend," Di returned.

After taking off their outerwear, they got steaming cups of fresh coffee and settled into one of the big tables in the center of the room.

"Sorry," Dave said as he entered the dining area. "Half the staff didn't show up. We will have breakfast for you, but it will be a slightly abbreviated affair."

"You have hot coffee and electricity," Honey said with a warm smile. "That's plenty for now, and we understand."

"Love that waistcoat," Di commented as she cradled her coffee in her slender hands.

Dave paused. "Oh, this old thing? It just protects my work shirt from stains."

Di frowned but didn't say anything.

"An improvement," Mart said as he sat down. He opened the folder Trixie handed them with Mr. Wheeler's instructions.

"How's that?" Jim asked, wondering where Mart's mind was going now.

"Dave's announcement reminded of Trixie volunteering us all to work at Uncle Monty's ranch in Arizona." Mart's blue eyes glinted with humor at his sister.

"We've already accepted a job to be here," Trixie reminded him.

"Oh, right. Because volunteering us to work while we're on vacation is so much better?"

Jim could tell Trixie was starting to get uncomfortable with Mart's line of teasing but wasn't sure how to nip it in the bud. That was always the problem with these two. They knew exactly what to say to each other guaranteed to start an argument.

On the one hand, Jim was relieved to know something never changed. But on the other? He hated their bickering.

Next to him, Dan grimaced. "How many adventures did you guys have? Your passports must be full."

Honey leaned into him and took his hand. "We can't change the past, Dan. But if it helps, on this one it was long before you came to live in Sleepyside."

Mart frowned. "That's right. You were still a Cowhand while we were turned into ranch hands."

While everyone started reading the dossier Wheeler International had created, Dave came back in with a large serving bowl of oatmeal.

Jim rubbed the familiar logo for Wheeler International as he read the report. Apparently, business at the ranch had dropped off due to the haunted cabin. At first, when word got out, people wanted to stay there because it was exciting. But after a few bad Yelp! reviews, it was starting to hurt business.

Naturally, his father didn't believe in ghosts. Jim knew Trixie didn't either. But by the general murmur of discussion, Honey and Di were on the fence.

"Dave, we found this outside last night. Down near the middle part of your driveway."

Dave stilled, and the oatmeal landed with a heavy thud. Even Jim noticed the widening of his eyes. "What were you doing out there last night? You could have been hurt." Dave's hands flexed as though wanting to rip the offending scarf out of Trixie's hands.

"Ahoy the house!"

"Holy crap, that dude is in flipflops," Mart said.

Jim looked up as a man with shaggy blond hair entered the dining room. He wore board shorts, a tank top, and flipflops. Sniffing loudly, he shuffled into the room, filled up his coffee cup, and sat down with the Bob-Whites. "This seat taken?"

Mart waved his hand. "By all means. But you must divulge the causes of your manner of dress?"

"Huh?"

Trixie snorted. "I believe my brother wants to know why you're in flipflops during a snowstorm."

"Ohhh. What's to say? I like the beach."

Mart chuckled. "Fair enough. I'm Mart Belden." He put his hand out to shake and introduced the rest of the Bob-Whites.

"Mateo Brewer." The man waved at the friends and when Dave came out with a steaming bowl of scrambled eggs, began helping himself.

"Are you here for vacation?" Trixie asked.

Beside her, Jim stiffened. He could practically scent the curiosity rolling off Trixie in waves.

"I'm a distant relative, ma'am," Mateo reassured her. "You can usually find me closer to Carolina Beach."

Trixie narrowed her eyes and presented the scarf. "You didn't happen to lose this, did you?"

Even Jim noticed how Mateo's entire demeanor changed. Gone was the casual, surfer dude and in his place was a man with suspicious eyes and stiff shoulders. "Where did you find that?"

But before Trixie could answer, Brian came in through the door. "Electricity at last! Do you know how hard it is trying to read in the dark?" He held up the book Hot Lights, Cold Steel by Michael J. Collins, M.D.

"Our brother, Brian," Mart said, his blue eyes cooling a bit at Brian's words.

Brian shook his head and went for a cup of hot coffee. After taking a sip, he pulled out his cellphone. "No service. Perfect. I need to call someone, and there's no service. We're in the mountains. Aren't we technically closer to the satellites?"

"Cell waves travel in a straight line. Anything in that line of sight that the cell wave travels in will block the wave, and there will be no signal." Mateo waved his hands. "Mountains block the signal."

"Here," Jim said with a sigh. He pulled his sat phone out of his back pocket and handed it to Brian. "Make your call." Brian grabbed the phone and went out to the foyer to make his call.

Trixie smiled up at him, and for that solid bubble in time, Jim felt on top of the world. His girl actually smiled at him. Maybe there was hope for them after all.

As the rest of the Bob-Whites and Mateo ate, Dan and Jim decided to find wood for the rest of the night. Even if the electricity was restored, the fire was a cozy feature.

"Do you guys need any help?" Mart asked when Dave came back in to begin clearing the tables. "I know a guy who's a pretty good dishwasher."

Dave sighed. "A little help with breakfast dishes would be fantastic, thanks. We don't run the dishwasher when the generator is going so a little help would be much appreciated."

"I can help, too," Di said, rising. "Just hand me an apron. After all, many hands make light work."

"Are you sure? I know you're here to do a job," Dave said.

Di waved her hand. "I think Trixie and Honey are going to do some investigations into the Cardinal Cabin and I'm honestly over ghosts, spiders, and things that go bump in the night."

"Cardinal Cabin?" Mateo blurted out, his eyes darting from Trixie, Dave, and back to the scarf in Trixie's hands.

"Yes." Trixie held up the key. "Erica gave it to me already."

There was a tense moment before Mateo laughed, his surfer persona back in place. "Well, enjoy, it's a dusty old cabin to explore."

Mart and Di excused themselves and followed Dave into the kitchen. After filling up their travel mugs with hot coffee, Dan and Jim went to chop wood. Brian came in while Jim was putting on his knit cap.

"I'll meet you all for lunch. I really need to finish reading this book."

Trixie frowned at him. "Why are you even here? I was hoping we could all do this together. Like the old days."

"The old days are gone, Trix. I have a lot more responsibilities now than I did when I was sixteen. And to answer your question? I'm not really sure."

As Brian passed them, Dan called out. "We're chopping wood for the A-frame. It'll be much warmer than the log cabin."

Brian rolled his eyes. "We'll see. I need quiet to read."

"Up to you, man. But I'm only chopping wood for one fireplace, and the A-frame has our food. You might want to check in with those lily-white hands of yours to see if they're up to cutting your own wood."