The Lodge on Holly Road Read online

  * * *

  Now that everything was squared away with the landlady, Brooke was anxious to make this happen. “Is there an animal shelter around here somewhere?” she asked Olivia.

  “There is. It’s on the edge of town and off toward Sleeping Lady Mountain. Why don’t I show you the way,” Olivia proposed. “I’ve got time before I have to start dinner.”

  No ulterior motive there. “Oh, we don’t want to bother you,” Brooke said. “You must have things you need to do.” Didn’t she have dishes to wash or...something?

  “It’s no bother.”

  That apparently decided it. Daddy slapped his thighs and stood up. “Let’s go.”

  Was this woman going to tag along with them all day?

  “Can you give me twenty minutes to put everything to rights in the kitchen?” Olivia asked her father.

  No.

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Wonderful. I’ll meet you all in the lobby.”

  “Great,” Daddy said.

  Great, thought Brooke, and frowned.

  “So, what’s your problem?” Dylan asked twenty minutes later as they waited in the lobby for their father and Olivia to join them.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. I saw the snotty look on your face when Olivia offered to come with us.”

  “I did not have a snotty look!” Brooke protested.

  “Yeah, you did.” He shoved his hands into his jeans front pockets and rocked back on his heels, clearly enjoying his moment of superiority.

  “Well, if I did, I didn’t mean to,” she said stiffly.

  “And I saw how you tried to talk her out of coming.”

  Since when were men so observant? “I did not,” she lied.

  “Look, if Dad wants to hang out with her, so what? What do you care?”

  “So what? Are you kidding? Mom’s only been gone a year! Daddy doesn’t need some man-hungry woman sweeping in and getting her hooks into him. I don’t care if she can cook.”

  “Hey, he’s lonely.”

  “And he’s vulnerable. And she’s—”

  “My mother,” said a voice at Brooke’s elbow.

  Chapter Ten

  The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

  Brooke gave a start and turned to see the man who’d been working the reception desk the day before. He was still as good-looking as before but he seemed taller.

  Maybe that was because she was suddenly feeling rather small. The sizzle of embarrassment rose from her neck to the roots of her hair.

  “Any man would be lucky to have my mom,” he said.

  Olivia’s son, of course. She should have guessed. The sizzle grew hotter.

  Still... “I’m sure that’s true, but right now my father doesn’t need a woman in his life,” she said defensively. “My mother just died a year ago. Anyway, he has a daughter to take care of him.”

  Now the man practically sneered at her. “No offense but there are some needs a daughter can’t fill.”

  Brooke’s face flamed with a fresh infusion of embarrassment and Dylan laughed. She scowled at him.

  He was ignoring her, though, thrusting out his hand. “I’m Dylan Claussen. This is my sister, Brooke, the warden,” he added, making Brooke fume.

  She was not a warden. She was simply watching out for their father’s interests. And their mother’s memory.

  “Eric Wallace,” said the man, giving Brooke a smile as cold as an icicle.

  She lifted her chin. No smile for him. If he could do icicles, she could effect an entire ice cave.

  Their father had joined them and was introducing himself to Eric Wallace when Olivia arrived. “Eric,” she said, looking adoringly at her son. “Are you going to join us?”

  No, not him, too.

  “Any objections?” he asked Brooke.

  “Of course not,” her father answered for her. “The more, the merrier, right?” he said, placing one arm around her shoulders.

  She smiled weakly, then caught sight of Eric Wallace’s gloating expression and dropped the smile.

  Missy Monroe was coming down the stairs now, her kids racing ahead of her. The little girl managed to fall down the last three steps, landing on her hands with a thud and a noisy howl. Eric picked her up and set her on her feet.

  “Thanks,” Missy said. “They’re excited to get out and play in the snow.”

  “I don’t blame them.” He winked cheerfully at the kids. “Have fun, guys.”

  “We’re going to make a snowman,” Lalla said loudly. “But first we have to go buy Mommy some mittens on accounta she forgot hers,” Lalla finished with a long-suffering sigh.

  “You know, I think we have some in our lost and found that no one ever claimed,” said Olivia. “Let me check before you go buying any.”

  “Oh, wow, that would be great.” Missy smiled at the assembled group. “You all off to go shopping?”

  “You could say that,” Dylan said, grinning widely.

  “Come on, Mom, let’s go,” Carlos implored, obviously eager to get out in the snow.

  “In a minute,” she said.

  “Grown-ups always take so long, don’t they?” Brooke said to the boy. “I’ll play rock, paper, scissors with you while we’re waiting.”

  “What’s that?” Carlos asked.

  “Don’t do it,” Dylan cautioned. “She’s psychic. She’ll beat you every time.”

  The game kept Carlos entertained until Olivia returned, carrying a pair of red mittens that looked hand-knit. “These should fit.”

  They did, and Missy barely had them on before the kids were towing her toward the door. “Thank you,” she called over her shoulder. “See you later.”

  And here came John Truman, all bundled up. “Come on, John,” Carlos called.

  “I love to see young people having a good time,” Olivia said happily. “This is such a wonderful season.”

  Yes, it was. Even with the sad memories attached, Christmas was still Brooke’s favorite holiday. And she supposed she should be glad her father was enjoying himself. Still, it upset her that he could so quickly forget about Mom and latch onto another woman. As if all their years together didn’t matter. Mom was the love of his life. How many times had he said that? How could he so easily forget the love of his life to hang around with someone new?

  “We should take Eric’s Land Rover,” Olivia suggested. “If we find a dog, we’ll need a way to transport it home.”

  “We can take Brooke’s SUV and follow you,” Dylan said.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Daddy followed Olivia into the Land Rover, leaving his daughter and son to fend for themselves.

  “She’s taking over, like...some kind of alien invasion,” Brooke muttered.

  “No, she’s not,” Dylan said in a tone of voice that made Brooke feel as if she was five.

  “She is, too!” Why couldn’t anyone but her see this? Olivia Wallace was like a giant eraser, rubbing out their mother’s image.

  “Hey, we wanted him to have a good Christmas. Remember?” Dylan said as they got into Brooke’s SUV. “He’s having fun, so what the heck?”

  What the heck? “He’s rushing into friendship with some woman he’s just met! It’s...it’s disloyal.”

  Disloyal or not, it was happening, and all Brooke could do was fret and fume as Olivia and her father walked through the animal shelter, debating over the right kind of dog for a little boy.

  The animals were housed in a small single-story house. But this house was decorated with posters sporting sayings such as Find a New Best Friend and Wag More, Bark Less. Beyond the reception area, a big room with a long counter and file cabinets standing behind it like sentinels, they had found the cat room, currently empty of kitte
ns.

  “Cats don’t come into heat until the beginning of February and then go out in October,” explained Dr. Wolfe, the local vet who was volunteering that day. “That’s why we have no kittens at Christmas.”

  “Just as well we’re on the hunt for a dog,” Daddy said.

  “Well, we’re a little sparse on dogs at the moment, too,” Dr. Wolfe told him, “but we have a couple of good ones who sure could use homes.”

  The dog area had fourteen large cages but only three of them were occupied. And now Daddy and Olivia were debating the benefits of big and woofy over small and yappy. Eric was with them, and Brooke watched as he bent in front of one of the cages and held his hand out to a mutt that was barking and wagging his tail.

  “Hey, boy,” he said, and the dog jumped and barked. “This one sure is friendly.”

  He was also the doofiest-looking dog ever, resembling Clifford the Big Red Dog of children’s book fame.

  “He’s rather big,” said Olivia, who was leaning toward a Chihuahua trembling against the far wall of the cage.

  “What do you think, Brooke?” her father asked.

  She thought that Eric Wallace had a very nice butt. Oh, no, she scolded herself, down, girl. She was not interested in Eric Wallace. He came with a man-hunting mama. Anyway, they’d gotten off on the wrong foot. He wouldn’t be any more interested in her than she was in him.

  Except part of her was interested. The man had certainly stirred up her sedentary hormones. But just about anything in pants would do that. She spent most of her time with five-year-olds, so her hormones were easily stirred.

  She told them to cool it and approached the cage with the Clifford clone. He barked again, then jumped up and put his paws on the door, tail still wagging, tongue hanging out. Pick me, pick me!

  “It’s gotta be this guy,” Dylan said, and the dog barked in agreement.

  “He does have a lot of personality,” Brooke said.

  “He’s a friendly one,” Dr. Wolfe agreed. “But he’ll need some obedience training.”

  “What’s his story?” Olivia asked.

  “Dot Morrison found him hanging around Pancake Haus earlier this month. I think somebody dumped him.”

  “You mean just left him?” Brooke asked, horrified. What kind of person would do a thing like that?

  Dr. Wolfe frowned. “People move, or decide they don’t want an animal, so they drive to a neighboring town and dump him. Or her.”

  “That’s terrible,” Brooke said. A new thought occurred. What if, for some reason, Missy Monroe didn’t want this dog? Would it wind up back here? She looked at her father. The wistful smile on his face gave her the answer to that question. Clifford the Second would have a new home for Christmas, if not with Missy and her kids, then with Daddy.

  “I’d want this dog if I was a kid,” Dylan said. “Hey, I want this dog now.”

  Clifford the Second would definitely not be homeless.

  “Well, he is sweet,” Olivia conceded. “How old is he?”

  “I’d say somewhere between eight and ten months,” said Dr. Wolfe. “He’s already been neutered and I gave him his shots.”

  “We’ll take him,” Daddy said.

  Dr. Wolfe nodded approvingly. “You might consider putting in a microchip.”

  Obedience training, microchips—the costs for this good deed were mounting.

  But her father didn’t blink. “Great idea,” he said.

  Another expense came to mind. “Daddy, what if Mrs. Entwhistle doesn’t have a fenced yard?” Brooke asked as they followed Dr. Wolfe to the office to fill out pet adoption papers. The dog could run out into the street and get hit by a car.

  “Yeah, I should have asked. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

  Generous as usual. This was one of the reasons she loved her father so much. He was as close to a real-life Santa as any man could get. “Daddy, you’re really something.”

  “That’s me,” he joked. “Now, how about you help me out and take care of letting Missy in on Santa’s surprise? And be sure to tell her we’ve cleared this with her landlady.”

  “I can do that,” Brooke said.

  “Thanks,” he said, and smiled broadly.

  * * *

  Brooke had no problem with doing what her father had asked, but she wasn’t going to let him foot the bill for pet deposits and fences and heaven knew what else. She’d take money out of her savings if she had to. Fifteen minutes later, the adoption paperwork was filled out. Dr. Wolfe became concerned and nearly stopped the deal when he learned the dog was going to be a gift. “That sort of thing often doesn’t work out.”

  “Don’t worry,” Daddy assured him. “If the dog doesn’t work out with our friends, he’ll have a home with me, and I’ve had dogs all my life. And I’ve got a big fenced yard.”

  “And if you don’t want him, I do,” Dylan said.

  “I don’t think this dog is going to wind up homeless.” Olivia smiled at the vet.

  “I guess not,” he said, smiling back.

  And so with the papers completed and a hefty donation made, the dog was theirs. Well, technically Daddy’s. And the mutt was happy to be out of doggy jail. He nearly knocked Olivia over jumping up on her, and if Eric hadn’t grabbed his collar he would’ve been out the door.

  “We’re going to have to buy a leash for him,” Daddy said.

  “And dog food,” Dylan threw in.

  “And a dog dish and some chew toys,” Brooke added. So much for buying inexpensive, token gifts for Santa to give out. But it would be worth every penny when they saw the expression on the little boy’s face. “Plus I think we need to get a big green ribbon to tie around his neck.”

  “I think we need to buy Missy a year’s supply of dog food,” her father said. “This guy’s going to eat like a horse.”

  “Hi, ho, Silver,” joked Olivia. “Well, let’s get him home. By way of Safeway,” she told her son. “We can pick up a leash and dog food there.”

  Brooke was about to say goodbye and suggest a run to Wenatchee for some pants and a shirt for her father when he said, “I’ll come with you and pay for it.”

  Olivia shook her head. “Oh, no. We’ll get the bill for that. I want to help with the pet deposit, too.”

  “We can talk about it at the store,” Daddy said genially.

  So now they were going to the store together. “We’ll come, too.” Brooke was determined not to let her father out of her sight.

  “Okay,” Olivia said. “But you must let us pay for half. After that, we can take the dog back to the lodge and watch him while you get some more clothes and the rest of your presents.”

  Brooke nodded curtly. The sooner they got her father out of Mr. Wallace’s clothes, the better. It would be one less connection to Olivia.

  “That’s very kind of you,” Daddy said.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  All right, we won’t, thought Brooke. “We’d better buy our supplies so you can get Clifford back to the lodge,” she said with a polite smile.

  Eric fell in step with her as they left the animal shelter. “Clifford?”

  “He reminds me of the big red dog in those children’s books.”

  He smiled. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

  He did have a nice smile. And maybe she was a bit too...vigilant. “About earlier today. I didn’t mean to insult your mother.”

  He stiffened.

  “But really, it’s too soon for my father.”

  “I get that,” Eric said. “And I felt the same way after my dad died. Chased off more than one man.”

  “I’m not chasing anyone away,” Brooke protested, even though that wasn’t true. But it was too soon.

  “The thing is, our parents are grown-ups. The
y don’t need to ask our permission if they want to see someone.”

  She’d only just met this guy and he was lecturing her? She frowned.

  “My mom’s not out to replace yours, any more than your dad’s out to replace mine.”

  “We’re not ready. He’s not ready,” she said, correcting herself.

  Eric nodded. “Sometimes things happen whether we’re ready or not.”

  Okay, she’d had quite enough of Mr. Dr. Phil. “Well, thanks for your input,” she said, her words frosty, and marched to her SUV. “I don’t like that man,” she told Dylan as they climbed in.

  “Why? He seems fine to me.”

  “He’s a know-it-all.”

  “Ha! A bigger know-it-all than my sister?”

  “You’re not funny.”

  He seemed to think he was. He was still chuckling when they pulled up in front of the Safeway.

  She scowled at him.

  “Think I’ll go in with Dad and the Wallaces,” Dylan said, “before you lock me up, warden.”

  “Ha, ha,” she said, and hurried to her father’s side.

  It turned out Olivia wasn’t just going in to help select a leash. She wanted to pick up a few grocery items.

  “We can get the dog supplies while you’re doing that,” Brooke told her. Maybe, if they were lucky, Olivia would meet some man in the produce department.

  “That’s okay. I’m on it,” Eric said. “I’ll get the dog stuff.”

  “Well, then, shall we go see what they have in the way of candy canes?” Daddy asked Brooke. “Santa can’t show up tonight without candy canes.”

  That worked for her. She squeezed her father’s arm as they walked along. “Mom would have loved this adventure.”

  “Yes, she would have,” her father said. For the first time in a long time he didn’t look as though he wanted to cry.

  That was good but... Please, Daddy, don’t rush into anything. You don’t even know this woman.

  * * *

  John and Carlos had begun construction on the snow fort when Holland called to tell John she was on her way.

  “You finally awake?” he’d teased.

  “It’s Christmas Eve, John. I don’t want to get up at eight in the morning on my day off.”