The Lodge on Holly Road Read online

  Her enthusiasm was underwhelming. When had Holland turned into a stick-in-the-mud? Never mind, John told himself. Once they were on the ice she’d have a blast.

  They walked up the little hill to the ice rink. He could see Missy and her kids out there, wobbling around. She spotted him, waved and went down on her butt, then came up laughing.

  Holland had seen Missy go down. Now she said, “I don’t know about this, John. I don’t want to get hurt.”

  “You won’t,” he blithely assured her. “I’ll hang on to you.”

  “Do you know how to skate?” she asked dubiously.

  “Of course,” he lied. “Well, roller-skating,” he amended. “I used to go every Saturday. This can’t be that much harder.”

  Yes, it could, he decided once he had his skates on. Same principle as roller-skating, but darn, it wasn’t so easy balancing on that thin blade. Still, John was confident he’d get the hang of it pretty quickly. “Come on,” he called, motioning for Holland to join him on the ice.

  She wobbled her way onto the rink and promptly went down with a squeak. Before John could even get to her, some guy in jeans, a parka and a cowboy hat was helping her up. John didn’t like the flirty smile she gave this clown.

  John arrived on the scene just as the guy put an arm around her and asked, “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, and thanked the stranger.

  “Anytime,” he said. And then, seeing John’s frown, he skated off.

  As soon as the guy was gone, she dropped her smile and said to John, “If I go down one more time, we’re out of here.”

  “Got it,” he said with a nod. “But you won’t. It’ll all come back to you. Now, take a nice, long glide,” he coaxed, then demonstrated. “Like this.” Not bad, he thought, pleased with himself.

  She followed suit and managed to stay upright. “I did it,” she said, smiling again.

  “I knew you could.” He held out his hand and she took it, and they cautiously began to make their way around the rink.

  More experienced skaters zipped past them. In the middle of the rink a woman was practicing some fancy twirls. A little boy wearing a Santa hat chased a little girl in jeans and a pink parka. Off to the side of the rink someone was selling roasted chestnuts. John inhaled, suddenly hungry.

  Behind them he heard childish laughter and then a cry of panic. He turned to see Missy’s kids barreling toward them. Carlos had obviously been chasing Lalla, but she’d fallen down, and now he’d tripped over her and lost his balance, and here he came, arms windmilling.

  “Look out!” John said to Holland, and tried to pull her out of the way.

  But it was too late. Holland turned just in time to see Carlos sliding into her legs. She crashed to the ice with a shriek, bringing John down, too, turning them all into a heap of arms and leg.

  And now here was Missy, struggling to skate up to them. “Oh, my gosh. Are you okay?” she asked Holland.

  “No, I’m not okay,” Holland snapped, tears in her eyes. “I think my wrist is broken.”

  Oh, no. This couldn’t be happening, not when everything had been going so well. John scrambled to his feet. “Here, babe, take my hand.”

  “Let me help,” Missy said, coming to her other side.

  “I’m fine,” she said, throwing off Missy’s hand and sending her flying backward onto her butt. “Is there a doctor in this stupid town? Oooh, it hurts.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Missy said to John as she got laboriously to her feet. “Carlos, I told you not to chase your sister. Now, you guys apologize,” she said sternly.

  “Sorry,” both children mumbled, heads hanging.

  Holland waved away their apologies. “Get me out of here,” she said between gritted teeth.

  Now the guy who’d picked Holland up the first time she fell was back. “Here, let me help,” he offered, taking her arm and skating her confidently over to the bench where they’d left their shoes, leaving John to follow behind.

  “I’m so sorry,” Missy said to him. She couldn’t seem to stop apologizing.

  “Hey, stuff like this happens,” he reassured her. She nodded, but her expression was doubtful.

  Once at the bench he knelt at Holland’s feet to remove her skates. Or rather skate. The other guy already had one off.

  Holland looked accusingly at John. “We should’ve just gone to Zelda’s like I wanted.”

  “Sorry,” John said. “We’ll get you to the doctor for some pain pills and you’ll feel better.”

  “I would’ve felt fine if I hadn’t fallen,” she snapped. “We should get this x-rayed. I want to make sure it’s not broken.” The very thought of having a broken wrist was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

  “Oh, babe...” John hurried out of his rental skates and into his boots. “Here, I’ll go return our skates and we’ll be out of here.”

  “I can do that for you,” the stranger told him.

  “Thanks,” John said.

  “Your best bet is to go straight to the hospital,” their Good Samaritan went on. “It ain’t much but the docs are all good. They’ll get you fixed up.”

  “Thank you,” Holland said, managing a weak smile.

  John escorted her to the car, telling her how sorry he was the entire time.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Except I wish we’d just gone to that Zelda’s.”

  Man, oh, man, so did he.

  * * *

  Missy felt a stab of jealousy as she watched John Truman escort his girlfriend back to their car. That woman was such a drama queen. And she sure didn’t deserve her man.

  Some women had all the luck. Great hair, great figures, great boyfriends. Holland What’s-Her-Name probably had a perfect home growing up, too, with a perfect mother who was still married to Holland’s father. The mother probably drank only mineral water. Or a glass of white wine when she went out with the girls. And at this time of year she undoubtedly had pictures hanging on the wall of Holland all dressed up and sitting on Santa’s lap.

  Missy had gotten to see Santa once. She still remembered it. She’d been six and she’d cried because under the beard the guy looked a lot like her mother’s boyfriend who yelled a lot.

  “I can’t believe I paid good money for you to sit there and cry,” her mother had said, hauling her out of the department store. Good old Mom, with her boozy breath and her string of men and her attempts to get it right as a parent. Somehow, like the visit to Santa, Mom never quite succeeded.

  And here was Missy, following in Mom’s footsteps.

  Not in everything, she corrected herself. Not with the booze, that was for sure. Missy never drank anything stronger than soda pop. But the men? Sigh. She’d certainly failed in that department. She tried to imagine being with a man like John Truman.

  She suspected there weren’t many men like him, though. He was the kind of guy who was in a class all by himself, and he sure deserved a better girlfriend than the one he had.

  Like you? Yeah, right.

  * * *

  The Claussen family finally returned to the lodge late in the afternoon with a change of clothes for James and several bags filled with gifts for the guests, plus wrapping supplies.

  “That’s a lot of stuff,” Dylan observed, looking at the pile on Brooke’s bed.

  “It’s going to be so much fun watching everyone open their presents,” Brooke said. “And I can’t believe we lucked out and found this great velveteen bag in that Christmas store. It’ll be perfect for holding everything. So, guys, I don’t suppose you’d like to help me wrap all this,” she said even though she knew the answer.

  “You don’t suppose right,” her brother said. “That’s a girl’s job.”

  Brooke shook her head at him. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Hey, I he
lped pay for it. That’s help enough. I did my part.” He turned to their father. “Dad, want to play some Ping-Pong?”

  “Unfair,” Brooke said in mock protest. “You guys get to go off and play Ping-Pong while I have to stay here and wrap?”

  “Whose idea was it to buy out every store in town?”

  “We can stay,” her father offered. “Help with some of the wrapping.”

  She shooed them out the door. “Never mind. I’ve seen the kind of wrapping you guys do.”

  “See, Dad? It pays to be incompetent,” Dylan said. “Come and find us when you’re done,” he added, and rumpled Brooke’s hair as he moved toward the door.

  “Are you okay with doing this, angel?” Daddy asked. He seemed reluctant to leave her on her own.

  “Of course she is,” her brother answered for her. “She loves doing this kind of stuff.”

  It was true. She did. “I’ll be fine,” she told her father. “Anyway, you should enjoy your break while you can. Come dinnertime you’ll be busy.”

  Her father made a face.

  “You’re going to love it,” she said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll find you guys as soon as I’m done.”

  “Come on, Dad,” Dylan urged. “The Ping-Pong table’s waiting.”

  “Okay, if you’re that anxious for a beating,” Daddy said, and clapped Dylan on the back. “Let me just change out of these borrowed duds and then you’re in for a whipping.”

  “I don’t think so,” Dylan retorted. “My can of whup-ass is bigger than yours.”

  “So you say.”

  Brooke watched fondly as father and son left the room, still teasing each other as they went. Getting away from sad memories, making new ones—yes, this had been a positively inspired idea. She smiled as she set to work wrapping fancy little soaps in pink tissue paper. In addition to bath goodies for all the ladies and the teenage girls, they’d found a bargain on novelty Christmas ties for the men. Brooke had gone all out for Missy and her family, getting a box of imported glass tree ornaments for Missy and a classic board game for each of her kids. Of course, the big presents would be the dog and then the grandma for a day.

  It was sweet of Olivia Wallace to play grandma to little Lalla. The woman really was nice.

  But not what the Claussen family needed. They needed to come together, learn how to go forward with only her mother’s memory. And that memory deserved to be honored, not pushed aside in favor of someone new.

  Brooke realized she was strangling the little package she was wrapping. She took a deep breath and loosened her hold on the ribbon. Oh, Mom, why aren’t you here with us? Her mother had been much too young to die. She was supposed to live until she was ninety, not be gone by sixty-two.

  Brooke shook off the sad thought. New memories, she reminded herself. Her mother wouldn’t want them to be sad. Still, how could she not be? “I miss you,” she murmured.

  Suddenly her quaint room felt lonely. Maybe this would be a good time to find Missy and tell her about the dog. She hurried through her gift-wrapping, stuffed Santa’s sack with all the pretty packages and then left to search for the future proud owner of a big red dog.

  She went downstairs to the reception desk to get Missy’s room number, but when she rang the bell no one showed up. That was odd. Usually there was someone manning the desk. Well, Missy and her kids probably weren’t in the room, anyway. She looked out the front door to see if they were on the lawn, playing in the snow. The only one there was the snowman Missy and Lalla had made earlier that day.

  She went down to the lower level and checked the pool. No one in there. She was on her way back to the main floor when she encountered Eric Wallace coming down the hall with the dog straining at the leash. “I see the dog’s taking you for a walk,” she said, unable to resist teasing him.

  “That’s about it. So much for watching the desk. This guy is a full-time job. Sit,” he commanded, and gave the leash a firm pull.

  The dog got the message and dropped to his haunches and sat, tongue hanging out.

  “That’s impressive,” Brooke said.

  “We’re making progress. I think we’ll be okay by tonight as long as he doesn’t catch sight of my mom’s cat.”

  “I can hardly wait to see Carlos’s face,” Brooke said. “This is going to be a wonderful Christmas Eve dinner.”

  “Every Christmas Eve dinner at Icicle Creek Lodge is,” Eric said. “My mom goes all out. But having Santa there, that’s really going to be great,” he added.

  The dog whined and stood, eager to get moving again.

  “Yeah, I know,” Eric said. “He wants another walk. This is our third time out,” he explained to Brooke.

  “Kind of like having kids,” she said.

  “Except kids know how to use the bathroom,” he said. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then asked, “You want to walk with us? The lodge has some of the best views in town right out back.”

  Going for a walk in the snow did sound romantic.

  But she didn’t want to be romantic with Eric Wallace. Well, in a way she did, but getting too chummy with him would just encourage her father to get chummy with Eric’s mom. “I should find Missy. I’ve been looking all over for her.”

  “She’s probably still in town. Five minutes. Don’t leave me alone with this brute.”

  It would be rude to refuse. “All right,” she said. “Just let me get my coat.”

  He nodded. “We’ll meet you out on the back patio.”

  Five minutes later, Brooke joined Eric on the large patio that extended beyond the dining room. A few tables and chairs had been left out, and off to one side she saw a fire pit surrounded by chairs. Glass windows ran the length of the dining room and the curtains were open so she could see inside. The tables were set with linen tablecloths and Spode holiday china, and crystal glassware glowed in the lamplight. The main buffet table sported a huge holiday arrangement; all the other tables held smaller versions of it.

  “It looks so elegant in there,” she said as they made their way across the patio.

  “Christmas is my mom’s favorite holiday.”

  “Ours, too,” Brooke said. They walked past the outdoor pool, which was deserted and waiting for the return of warm weather, and strolled through a garden area. “I bet this is beautiful in the summer.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it is. But I like it in winter, too.”

  It was like a fairyland. The trees were strung with white twinkle lights. Snowflakes began to float down, dancing in and out of the light. “Did you put up all the lights yourself?” Brooke asked.

  He nodded again. “But it was my mom’s idea. She’s always thinking of ways we can improve the place.”

  Was he trying to put in a good word for his mother? “I guess that keeps you busy.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t mind. She’s a great mom and I’m happy to do anything that makes her happy.”

  More extolling his mother’s virtues. “Are you trying to sell me on your mother?”

  They turned down a trail now, ducking under snow-laden tree boughs. “I don’t have to sell anyone on her,” he said, his voice taking on a sharp edge. “Everybody loves her and for good reason. She’s got a big heart.”

  Okay, this was getting awkward. “I’m sure she does.” What to say now? “Look, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I never meant to insult your mom. But you’ve been down this road. You know what a disaster it can be for people—especially people who’ve lost a spouse—to jump into new relationships when they’re not ready.”

  He nodded and waited while the dog sniffed at a bush. “I also know that nobody gets to decide for someone else when they’re ready.”

  It was getting cold out here. She pulled her coat collar more tightly around her neck. “Do you always lecture your gue
sts?”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing?” he countered.

  “It’s pretty obvious.”

  “I wouldn’t presume to tell someone how to live her life.”

  Late afternoon winter darkness had swallowed most of the daylight now, so it was hard to read his expression. But she was getting his underlying message loud and clear. And she didn’t want it.

  “I guess I’ll go back in,” she said. “Thanks for showing me around.”

  “My pleasure,” he said.

  He was a good man, responsible and kind. If only he’d been just another guest here. She would’ve gone farther down that path with him and seen where it led.

  * * *

  Eric watched Brooke scurry back to the lodge, shoulders hunched. “That went well, doncha think?” he said to the dog.

  His four-legged companion ignored him, moving forward to sniff at a snow-clad huckleberry bush.

  “I must be the world’s biggest idiot,” he mused. What was wrong with him? Why was he setting himself up as a shrink, running around lecturing someone else on how to handle her parent? Who made him Dr. Phil?

  More to the point, why was he always picking women he had a snowball’s chance in hell of ending up with? Maybe he was a masochist. Had to be. Otherwise, why would he have suggested a walk to Brooke?

  She was a guest, just someone passing through. And someone determined that her father and his mother not enjoy so much as a minute of holiday romance. He got it, of course, understood that overprotectiveness. But seeing it aimed at his mother didn’t sit well.

  Too bad he and Brooke hadn’t met under different circumstances. He had a feeling they would have hit it off. She was exactly the kind of caring woman he’d been looking for. And she was easy on the eyes. But she sure wasn’t easy on his mom, and that wasn’t going to cut it.

  “Come on, boy,” he said, tugging on the dog’s leash. “We’ve had enough.”

  * * *

  Back inside the lodge Brooke saw her brother coming through the lobby. “Where’s Daddy?”

  Dylan nodded in the direction of the dining room. “Dad wanted a break. He stopped by the kitchen to talk to Olivia about Santa’s appearance later.”