Chance Allsop cursed the promise he’d made to his ailing mother.

“You’re all alone in this world after I pass, Chance. You have plenty of money; promise me you will go.”

“I promise, mum.”

His mother’s dry hand had clasped his, and she’d smiled, her faded blue eyes filled with love. He missed her.

She’d whispered, “It’s magical. You’ll find someone just like your father found me.”

Chance narrowly avoided rolling his eyes. All his life he’d heard how his father had swept his American mother off her feet and brought her to England, where Chance had been born—also a miracle as his mother was not supposed to be able to have children. Hence the ridiculous name he’d been saddled with.

“Go,” Edmund had insisted. “You’re driving me bonkers hanging around with nothing to do but be in the way. Go to America and at least try to abide by your mum’s last wishes. She wouldn’t want you sitting around moping as you have been.”

“I haven’t been moping.”

“You have. Your mother would be very upset.”

Rosemary Allsop would have been upset. Chance couldn’t deny that. Although he did regret telling his closest friend of the promise he’d made to her. Before he could talk himself out of going, again, Chance had logged on to his laptop, opened a browser, and clicked over to the travel website.

The NorthStar Theater still existed; he’d done that much research before buying the plane ticket to Seattle. As far as he could tell it was still in business—although, from his internet research, it looked like it was more of an art house theater these days, showing independent films from around the world, with special showings of classics once a month. This month it would be a holiday movie.

“The car you reserved isn’t available, but we can offer you an upgrade,” the semi-surly young woman behind the car rental counter muttered. Chance supposed working at the airport over the holidays had to be difficult, with the multitudes of humanity flying in from around the country and world, all needing to be at their destination hours earlier.

“How much is that going to set me back?”

His flight had been delayed. He wanted to head to Skagit, but it was dark and cold and he needed some sleep. He’d take the fancy SUV and try not to gripe about it. He couldn’t believe he was actually here, in the USA. Growing up an only child, he’d heard the story of how his parents met so many times it had become a sort of creation myth.

Chance’s father had been in the US on a lark, having spent the summer slumming around, hopping trains and buses and sometimes hitchhiking. Skagit had been an unexpected stop, but the bus had broken down and he’d figured he might as well stay a few days. Edward Allsop—a quintessential English name for a half Brit, half East Indian—needed to kill some time while he decided what direction to take next, so he decided to catch a movie.

According to his father, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen was standing in front of the theater when he arrived. After waiting in the short line, he impulsively bought two tickets. The girl was still waiting, and the movie was about to start. Edward felt bold, so he approached her and asked if she was waiting for someone.

“I think I’ve been stood up,” Rosemary answered.

“Ah, no,” said Edward, “I was just a little late.” And that, apparently, was that.

Chance always rolled his eyes when he heard that part. Good lord, what had his mother been thinking? Regardless, Edward convinced Rosemary to go to the movies, and a month later Rosemary left Skagit forever, marrying her “prince” and living the rest of her life on the outskirts of London.

There was an impatient “Sir?” Chance gave himself a mental shake and returned to the present, where the rental counter lass had a sour look on her face.

“My apologies, jet lag.”

She quoted a price for the rental that should have had Chance walking away, but he honestly didn’t care how much it cost at the moment, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t have the money.

After signing several pages of documents that declared anything and everything that happened to the car would be his fault, and no sort of insurance would cover any damage but he had to have the insurance anyway or hellfire would rain down on him (and that really wasn’t covered), thirty minutes later he was finally behind the wheel of the rental car and looking up a hotel room on his phone. An hour later he was dead asleep, flat on his face, still fully clothed.

---

The next day, after a bit of a late start (jet lag having kicked his arse), Chance was on the road. It’d never occurred to him to worry about the Christmas holiday or the weather. The entire trip was absurd enough; he shouldn’t have to worry about extraneous things like the weather. And yet, as he drove northward, what appeared to be snowflakes started to fall, mixed in with the rain. He’d figured Skagit was much the same as home, wet and rainy over the holidays. Snow was unexpected. He was glad to have rented an all-wheel drive.

The exit sign for Skagit appeared in the distance. Chance flicked the turn indicator and eased off the highway. At the bottom of the ramp he turned left and pulled to the side of the road. He entered the address of the NorthStar Theater into the car’s navigation system, cursing himself for not doing it earlier. He’d drive by and take a look, then find a hotel. With the way the snow was falling, he was going to be lucky to get there in one piece.

The streets of Skagit were fairly empty, only a few other drivers risking the road, although when Chance passed what had to be the local mall he saw the car park had a few cars in it. Last-minute shoppers inside trying to find the perfect gift—or one for the person they’d forgotten. Chance had finished his shopping before leaving home, leaving Edmund a pleasant bottle of scotch to sip by the fire.

A few blocks later, the navigator told Chance to take another turn, and there ahead of him was the theater. He drew a deep breath as he turned the corner, taking in the nearly one-hundred-year-old building. It didn’t bode well that the marquee was unlit. He knew from his internet search there was supposed to be a showing at five p.m. and another at eight. It was after five now, yet everything was dark.

After negotiating a maze of construction barriers and cones from a work site across the way, Chance pulled over and parked behind a battered car that had definitely seen better days. Why was the NorthStar closed? Chance hadn’t traveled thousands of miles only to find the damn theater locked up tight—when online it very clearly had said it would be open.

He got out of the car and made his way around the corner to the box office, trying to get a glimpse inside. He couldn’t see anything in the gloom except a lot of boxes and a countertop where he assumed refreshments were sold. There wasn’t anyone waiting to take his money, no ticket taker, no one guarding the door. Next to the window was a display case where, Chance presumed, movie times were usually announced. It too was empty. He knocked on the front doors: no answer. Firmly closed. Bloody hell.

The theater took up most of the block. Chance shrugged and decided to walk around the building to see if there was another entrance. The hotel he’d found said check-in was available until ten p.m.; he had plenty of time. What if this whole trip had been for nothing? He’d traveled all this way to stare at an empty, broken-down cinema, the fates laughing at him. That would be more than ironic.

He passed two doors, both of which were locked, before rounding another corner and discovering an alleyway. His heart rate picked up. There was a door propped open but no one in sight.

Chance wasn’t dressed for skulking in alleys. His feet were cold and damp in his impractical leather loafers. He’d stopped and purchased a winter coat at an outlet mall on the drive north, but that didn’t help his feet. The mall had been an absolute nightmare; he hadn’t had the patience to look for wellies. Still, he picked his way across the snowy ground and peered in the open door. As he did, something brushed up against his ankle. Barely keeping himself from screaming, he looked down to see a tiny, filthy kitten.

“Hello, poor little thing. Where did you come from? What are you doing out in this weather?”

Chance bent down and scooped it up; it weighed almost nothing. He was chilly, but the kitten was shivering. Then he noticed a ragged paper cup with milk in it next to the bins. Someone else had been trying to lure the kitten to safety.

He tucked the creature under his jacket, ignoring how dirty it was and the state his shirt would be in.

“Let’s see if we can’t find your person. What were you thinking, coming outside in this cold?”

Not surprisingly, the kitten didn’t respond, but Chance could feel its humming purrs as it warmed up inside his coat.

“Hello?” he called out quietly. “Hello?” His voice sounded loud to his own ears.