Christmas in Icicle Falls Read online

  Join USA TODAY bestselling author Sheila Roberts this Christmas as she returns for the final installment in her treasured Icicle Falls series

  When Muriel Sterling released her new book, A Guide to Happy Holidays, she felt like the queen of Christmas. She’s thrilled when the new tree she ordered online arrives and is eager to show it off—until she gets it out of the box and realizes it’s a mangy dud. But rather than give up on the ugly tree, Muriel decides to make a project out of it. As she pretties up her tree, she realizes there’s a lesson to be learned: everything and everyone has potential. Maybe even her old friend Arnie, who’s loved her for years. Except, she’s not the only one seeing Arnie’s potential...

  Meanwhile, Muriel’s ugly-tree project has also inspired her friends. Sienna Moreno is trying to bring out the best in the grouchy man next door, who hates noise, hates kids and hates his new neighbors. And while Olivia Claussen would love to send her obnoxious new daughter-in-law packing, she’s adjusting her attitude and trying to discover what her son sees in the girl. If these women can learn to see the beauty in the “ugly trees” in their lives, perhaps this might turn out to be the happiest holiday yet.

  Praise for the novels of Sheila Roberts

  “Crisp, charming and amusing storytelling.... A well-crafted plot and distinctive, genuine and endearing characters.... Roberts will delight and charm with her special brand of heartwarming romance.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Starting Over on Blackberry Lane

  “It’s always great to go back to Icicle Falls.... Sheila Roberts has created a magical place where friendship and love abound, and you never know who’s going to turn up here next. Another enchanting tale.”

  —Fresh Fiction on Starting Over on Blackberry Lane

  “The latest in Roberts completely charming Icicle Falls series is both a delightful celebration of the joys of small-town life and a richly rewarding romance sweetened with just the right dash of bright humor.”

  —Booklist on Home on Apple Blossom Road

  “Engaging, sweet, and dusted with humor, this emotional romance tugs at the heartstrings.”

  —Library Journal on Home on Apple Blossom Road

  “Roberts engages readers from the first page with her colorfully distinctive characters and her amusing storytelling. She expresses the pitfalls that occur through the holiday season with flair and fun. A delightful read.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Christmas on Candy Cane Lane

  “The Lodge on Holly Road is the ultimate in feel-good family drama and heart-melting romance.”

  —USA TODAY

  “The common thread and theme of making changes in your life for the better serve as an inspiration and make this novel a real page-turner.”

  —RT Book Reviews on The Cottage on Juniper Ridge

  Also by Sheila Roberts

  STARTING OVER ON BLACKBERRY LANE

  THREE CHRISTMAS WISHES

  HOME ON APPLE BLOSSOM ROAD

  CHRISTMAS ON CANDY CANE LANE

  A WEDDING ON PRIMROSE STREET

  THE LODGE ON HOLLY ROAD

  THE TEA SHOP ON LAVENDER LANE

  THE COTTAGE ON JUNIPER RIDGE

  WHAT SHE WANTS

  (also published as ROMANCE ON MOUNTAIN VIEW ROAD)

  MERRY EX-MAS

  BETTER THAN CHOCOLATE

  (also published as SWEET DREAMS ON CENTER STREET)

  Look for Sheila Roberts’s next novel available soon from MIRA Books.

  SHEILA

  ROBERTS

  Christmas in Icicle Falls

  For Sandy and her ugly tree.

  Dear Reader,

  Thanks so much for joining me once more in Icicle Falls. This will be our last visit to my favorite mountain town, and I have to admit, I’m a little sorry to say goodbye to all those characters who have become so real to me.

  But we’re going out with one final Christmas celebration and a few final pearls of wisdom from our resident wisewoman, Muriel Sterling. Muriel herself is going to learn a few things in this book and I hope you’ll enjoy watching her story unfold. Of course, she’s not the only one who’s going to have a sharp learning curve. Muriel’s old friend Olivia is going to learn an important lesson and maybe so will Sienna Moreno, a newcomer to town who’s got to deal with her grumpy neighbor, a modern-day Scrooge.

  So, grab a cup of your favorite holiday tea, and let me spin one final Icicle Falls adventure for you. I hope you enjoy the ride. Merry Christmas and, as Tiny Tim once said, God bless us, everyone!

  Sheila

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Our Favorite Recipes from Icicle Falls

  Olivia’s Eggnog Muffins

  Muriel’s Brie in Puff Pastry Appetizer

  Cecily’s Winter Salad

  Sienna’s Enchiladas

  Muriel’s Fruitcake Cookies

  Bailey’s Peppermint Cupcakes

  Acknowledgments

  Excerpt from Starting Over on Blackberry Lane by Sheila Roberts

  Chapter One

  This is the time of year to offer thanks for all the wonderful people in our lives.

  —Muriel Sterling, A Guide to Happy Holidays

  Thanksgiving, a day to spend with family, to give thanks for all your blessings, to...have a close encounter with your cranky neighbor’s shrubbery. Oh, yes, this was how Sienna Moreno wanted to start her day.

  Why, oh, why, had she ventured out in her car on an icy street to go to the grocery store for more milk when she could have asked her cousin Rita Reyes to bring it? Rita’s husband, Tito, worked at the Safeway meat department. He could have picked up a gallon.

  But oh, no. She had to go out on her cheap no-weather tires. She should have stretched her budget a little further and gotten those snow tires like Rita had told her to do. “Here in the mountains, you want snow tires,” Rita had said.

  Yes, she did, especially now as she was skidding toward Mr. Cratchett’s front yard.

  “We’re gonna die!” her nine-year-old son, Leo, cried, clapping his hands over his eyes as they slid up and over Mr. Cratchett’s juniper bush. Sienna could hear the branches crunching under them, the bush equivalent of breaking bones. Madre de Dios!

  The good news was the bush brought her to a stop. The bad news was she was stopped right in front of Mr. Cratchett’s house.

  Maybe she hadn’t damaged the bush too much. “It’s okay, honey. We’re fine,” she assured her son and got out of the car on shaky legs. She probably couldn’t say the same for Mr. Cratchett’s landscaping.

  She was barely out of her car before her neighbor stormed down the walk, an ancient navy pea coat thrown on over pajama bottoms stuffed into boots, a knit cap pulled over his sparse gray hair. He was scowling. Great.

  “What have you done to my juniper bush?” he demanded.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Cratche
tt. I hit a slippery spot.”

  “You shouldn’t be out if you don’t know how to drive in the snow,” Cratchett growled.

  She wasn’t sure how she’d learn to drive in the snow if she didn’t get out in it but she decided this wasn’t the time for that observation.

  He leaned over the bush like a detective examining a corpse. “This thing will never come back. You’ve damaged it beyond repair.”

  “I’ll buy you a new one this spring,” Sienna promised.

  “You certainly will,” he snapped. “If you don’t, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer. You’re becoming a real nuisance.”

  “So are you,” she muttered as she got back into her car.

  “He’s mad,” Leo observed.

  There was an understatement. “It’s okay,” she said as much to herself as her son. She put the car in gear, held her breath and inched toward their driveway. The car swayed as they turned in. Ooh.

  “I want to get out,” Leo said.

  “Stay put. We’re fine.” She bit her lip as she braked—oh, so gently—and the car fishtailed to a stop right before she hit the garage door.

  She let out her breath. There. Something to be thankful for.

  She could see Cratchett standing on his front walk, glaring at her. “You shouldn’t be driving,” he called.

  Yeah, well, neither should he. She’d seen him behind the wheel and he was scary even when there wasn’t snow. Honestly, what had she ever done to deserve inheriting him?

  “Just lucky, I guess,” teased her cousin Rita Reyes later as Sienna recounted her day’s adventures to her family over their evening Thanksgiving feast.

  There were plenty of people present to enjoy it—Rita, her husband, Tito, and their toddler, Linda, were present, along with Sienna’s tía, Mami Luci, and Tito’s sister and brother-in-law and their two small children. It was Sienna’s first holiday celebration in her new house and she loved being able to fill it with company.

  Especially on Thanksgiving, which was her favorite holiday. The food—turkey and pork, tamales, Mami’s arroz con gandules, coquito and flan for dessert; the music—salsa, merengue and bachata; and, of course, time with family. With her parents and two brothers still in LA, it was a comfort to be able to have her aunt and cousin living in the same town. It was also nice to have them right here to complain to.

  No, wait. No complaining on Thanksgiving. She was simply venting. Justifiably venting. “I mean, it’s not like I meant to run over Mr. Cratchett’s juniper bush.”

  “You didn’t exactly get practice driving in snow down in LA,” Rita said consolingly. “That man.” She shook her head in disgust as she helped herself to more fruit salad. “Neighbors should come with a warning label.”

  “This one should have,” Sienna said. “He shouldn’t be allowed to have neighbors. He should be a hermit. Actually, he’s already close to one. He hardly ever comes out of that big, overgrown house of his except to yell at me.” Okay, maybe that was a slight exaggeration.

  Or not.

  “Mr. Cratchett’s mean to me, too, Mommy,” put in Leo.

  Tito shook his head. “Threatening to call the cops over a baseball through the window.”

  “I didn’t do that,” Leo declared hotly. “It was Tommy Haskel. Tommy said it was me.”

  Poor Leo had taken the fall and Sienna had bought Mr. Cratchett a new window.

  “Culo,” muttered Tito. “I should have come over and taken a baseball to the old dude’s head.”

  Tito’s sister pointed her fork at him. “Then he really would have called the cops.”

  “He’s been there, done that,” Sienna said. “Remember?”

  “Yes, making such a stink when we had your housewarming party,” Rita said in disgust. “Too loud, my ass. It was barely nine.”

  “Maybe that’s what got us started on the wrong foot,” Sienna mused. That had been back in the summer. Even after all those months it would appear she and her crusty neighbor still hadn’t found the right foot.

  Tito shook his head. “No. The dude’s a cabrón.”

  “Oh, well. Let’s not think about him anymore,” Sienna said. There were plenty of nice people in town to make up for her unneighborly neighbor. She liked Rita’s boss, Charley Masters, who owned Zelda’s restaurant, and Bailey Black, who owned a tea shop, was quickly becoming a good friend. Pat York, her boss at Mountain Escape Books, was great, and Pat’s friends had all taken her under their wings.

  “Good idea,” agreed Rita. “Pass the tamales.”

  Venting finished, Sienna went back to concentrating on counting her blessings. So she didn’t have husband. Who wanted a creep who walked away when the going got tough, anyway? She had her family, new friends, a wonderful job and a pretty house that she’d been able to purchase from the previous owner on a private contract with a very minimal down payment. It wasn’t as big as Cratchett’s corner-lot mansion—nobody’s was—but it had three bedrooms, two baths and a kitchen with lots of cupboard space, and it was all hers. Or it would be in thirty years. And she had the sweetest son a woman could ask for. Her life was good, so there’d be no more complaining, er, venting.

  * * *

  Olivia Claussen’s feet hurt. So did her back. For that matter, so did her head. Serving Thanksgiving dinner to all her guests at the Icicle Creek Lodge was an exhausting undertaking, even with help.

  Thank God she’d had help. Although one particular “helper,” her new daughter-in-law, had been about as useful as a roadblock.

  “I was a waitress at the Full Table Buffet,” Meadow had bragged when Olivia had asked if she’d be able to give her a hand with the holiday dinner service. “No problemo.”

  She’d showed off her experience by setting the tables wrong, spilling gravy in a customer’s lap and then swearing at him when he got upset with her. She’d capped the day off by leaving halfway through serving the main course.

  “Meadow doesn’t feel good,” Olivia’s son Brandon had explained.

  Meadow didn’t feel good? Olivia hadn’t felt so good herself. She’d been nursing a headache for days. Perhaps it had something to do with the arrival of her new daughter-in-law? But running an inn was not much different from show business. The show must go on.

  And so it had, but Olivia was still feeling more than a little crabby about the performance of one particular player. “Whatever did he see in her?” she complained to her husband, James, as he rubbed her tired feet. Besides the obvious, of course. The girl was pretty—in a brassy, exotic way. Brandon had always dated good-looking women.

  James wisely didn’t answer.

  Olivia had been longing to see her baby boy married for years, but she hadn’t expected him to sneak off to Vegas to do it. She certainly hadn’t expected him to commit so quickly, before anyone really had a chance to get to know this woman. Before he really even had a chance to get to know her!

  Brandon had met Meadow when he was skiing. She’d been hanging out at the ski lodge at Crystal Mountain after her first ski lesson and there was poor, unsuspecting Brandon. They’d wound up having dinner together and then spent the night partying, which led to private ski lessons followed by private parties for two. And then it was “Oops, I’m pregnant.” And that was followed by “Surprise, we’re married!” This sudden turn of events had taken place quite clandestinely. He’d known this girl only a few months. Months! And had never said anything about her. Now suddenly they were married. And, well, here they were.

  Not that Olivia wasn’t happy to have her wandering boy home again, ready to help run the family business. It was just that the woman he’d brought with him was taking some getting used to. Actually, a lot of getting used to.

  The couple had started married life in Seattle, and Brandon had settled down and gotten a job working for a large company that was slowly taking over the
city. The benefits were great, but the hours were long and Meadow had complained about not seeing him enough. So he’d called his mom and suggested coming back to Icicle Falls. Olivia had loved the idea of her son coming home. The bride, not so much. But the lodge would be passed on to him and Eric eventually anyway, so of course, she’d gotten a little suite ready for them, one similar to what her older son, Eric, and his wife had, making them all one big, happy family.

  With a cuckoo in the nest.

  “She tricked him into marrying her, I’m sure,” Olivia said to James.

  “Now, Olivia, you don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “I can’t help but wonder.”

  Her second son had always been a bit of a ladies’ man, but she’d never known Brandon to be irresponsible. The idea that he’d gotten someone pregnant—someone he barely knew and who was so clearly not his type—didn’t make sense to her at all. It was just so unlike him. In fact, the more she’d thought about it after hearing the news, the more she couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion that the whole pregnancy thing had been a ploy to chain Brandon down. Olivia’s suspicion only grew when, just a few weeks after they were married, they’d told her the pregnancy had ended. It was a terrible thing to think, and yet Olivia couldn’t shake the feeling that there probably hadn’t ever been a baby—only a trashy girl looking to snag a good-looking man and some financial security.

  Okay, she had to admit that Brandon did seem smitten with Meadow. So there had to be something hiding behind the revealing clothes, the lack of manners, the self-centeredness and the haze of smoke from her electronic cigarettes. Such a filthy habit, smoking, and so bad for your health.

  “I’d rather smoke than be fat,” Meadow had said to Olivia when she—politely—brought up the subject. “And if I didn’t do this, I’d be eating all the time instead.”

  Olivia was a little on the pudgy side. Was that a slur?

  Not only did Meadow appear to disapprove of Olivia’s looks, she obviously disapproved of her decorating skills. The first thing out of her mouth when she’d seen the lodge had been “Whoa, look at these granny carpets.”