The Lodge on Holly Road Page 17

  Why was he talking to Olivia and not her? She was the one he should be conferring with. She was Santa’s helper. She was...jealous? Surely she couldn’t be that petty.

  “You done wrapping presents?” Dylan asked.

  She nodded. “I was just trying to find Missy. I think she’s still in town.”

  “I bet that place is a zoo right about now,” Dylan said. “Come on, let’s go play some Ping-Pong before dinner.”

  “In a minute,” she said, and started for the kitchen. “I’d better go see what’s going on tonight.” Of course her father didn’t need her help with something he’d been doing his entire adult life. But she didn’t like the idea of him having a quiet tête-à-tête with Olivia Wallace.

  Dylan caught her arm. “I think they’ve got it under control. Come on, sis. The game room’s empty.”

  “I’m going to check on Daddy first.”

  Her brother frowned. “Cut him some slack, will ya? We’re up here to enjoy ourselves.”

  “I’m not trying to stop Daddy from enjoying himself!” she protested.

  “He doesn’t need you shadowing him everywhere he goes.”

  “I’m not,” she said, freeing her arm. “We’re supposed to be up here having fun as a family.”

  “That’s right. So let’s play Ping-Pong,” he said, grabbing her again and steering her toward the lower level.

  She wriggled out of his grasp. “You go on down. I’ll be there in a minute. I have to put away my coat.” And she could do that by way of the kitchen.

  Her brother wasn’t fooled by the old coat ploy. He shook his head but moved in the direction of the bottom floor game room. “Don’t be all day.”

  She ditched her coat in her room and then went in search of her father. She found he’d migrated from the kitchen and was now parked at a table in the dining room with Olivia Wallace, drinking a cup of coffee. “Daddy, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  He smiled at her. “Well, hello there, angel. Are all our presents wrapped?”

  She took a third seat at the table. “Wrapped and ready to deliver.”

  “Great,” her father said jovially. There was a new energy in his voice. Brooke would have congratulated herself on the fact that she’d talked him into playing Santa up here, but seeing the way he was looking at Olivia Wallace she knew she couldn’t take credit for his good mood. Sadness settled over her. It should have been her mother sitting at the table with them.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Olivia asked her.

  “No, thanks. I just came to talk to Daddy about tonight.”

  “I’d say we’re about as prepared as we can be,” her father said. “I’ll slip out right after the main course and Santa will make his appearance during dessert.”

  “When are you going to give Carlos his dog?” Brooke asked.

  “We’ll save that for the end,” Olivia replied. “My son will be waiting out on the patio with him. Normally, we don’t allow dogs in the dining room unless they’re service dogs, but for tonight we’ll make an exception. That’s a very sweet dog.”

  “Doesn’t sound like your cat thinks so,” her father said, and the two smiled at each other.

  They were already becoming friends, swapping stories.

  “We’re going to save the engagement ring until last,” he continued.

  “The grand finale,” Olivia added. “It’s so exciting to be celebrating not only Christmas but true love, as well.” She and Daddy exchanged smiles so warm that Olivia’s cheeks grew pink.

  “Everything okay, Brooke?” her father asked, and she realized she was frowning.

  “Oh, yes, fine.”

  “Well,” Olivia said, “I’d better get back to work.” She stood, and Daddy stood, too, the perfect gentleman. “I’ll look forward to seeing you both later this evening.”

  Her father stared after her, like a teenage boy with a crush. With the uncharitable feelings swirling inside her, Brooke felt like the Grinch.

  Even worse, she could feel the beginnings of a migraine stealing up on her. She’d been clenching her jaw.

  “Are you okay, angel?” Daddy asked, looking at her in concern.

  “I think I’m getting a headache,” she admitted.

  “Not a migraine, I hope.”

  She shrugged. “I’d better go take a pill and lie down for a little while.” So much for getting to see the tree-lighting ceremony. Her only consolation was the knowledge that at least Olivia would be busy in the kitchen and out of their hair.

  Her father put an arm around her. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your room.”

  * * *

  Olivia felt her smile fading as she returned to the kitchen. Interested as she was in James Claussen, much as she enjoyed his company, this wasn’t going to go where she’d hoped it would. His daughter didn’t want her in their lives and was going to bar the door; that was plain to see.

  She wished there was something she could do to win Brooke over, to show her that she wasn’t out to replace her mother, but she didn’t know what. Oh, children were so hard to deal with! Once they got taller than their parents, they suddenly thought they were in charge.

  Eric entered the kitchen just as she banged a pot onto the stove. “Whoa, I guess I’d better leave before you start throwing knives around. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Nothing she was going to tell her son about, anyway.

  “That’s some nothing,” he said.

  “Don’t mind me, dear. I’m just having a moment.” She’d had her share of moments on Christmas Eve in the past, but she’d always pulled herself out of them. There was too much to be grateful for and she refused to wallow around in self-pity. She pinned a smile on her face. “I’m fine.”

  He looked at her dubiously.

  “Did you want a cup of coffee? A snack?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I came in to see if there’s anything you need me to do before I go camp out at the reception desk.”

  Thinking how blessed she was to have such a good son made it easy to turn her smile into something genuine. “No, Margaret got all the prep work done for me earlier this afternoon. Everything’s under control here.” Including her emotions.

  “Okay,” he said.

  Fresh snow was falling, and he’d probably rather be out doing a quick run around the property on his cross-country skis. But she’d given her front desk staff the day off, which meant extra work for her and Eric. He never complained, though.

  He did so much around the lodge, and she knew he loved the place. But sometimes she wondered—would he have remained here if his father hadn’t died?

  This was hardly the time for a serious discussion when she had Christmas Eve dinner to prepare, but the question tumbled out, anyway. “Sweetheart, would you still be here if your father had lived?”

  He blinked in surprise. “What kind of question is that?”

  She leaned against the stove and studied him. He was an attractive young man, his eyes serious behind the glasses. Even as a child, he’d often worn that same serious expression, contemplating a book or looking out the window at the snow. Once, when he was about five, she’d asked him what he was thinking and he’d replied, “I’m wondering what the mountains would be like if there was never snow.” He could have become a scientist, a doctor, any number of things. Instead, he’d taken business classes and helped her run the lodge. They had a limited staff and did most of the work themselves.

  “I sometimes worry that I tied you down here,” she said.

  He sighed loudly, as if she’d said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “What makes you say that?”

  “You could have done anything.”

  “I am doing something. I’m helping you run the best lodge in the state.” He came over and hugged her
. “I like it here.”

  “Do you really?”

  “Of course.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you later.” And then he was gone.

  And she had a big meal to prepare for her guests. But as she worked, she kept thinking about her oh-so-responsible older son. He was heavily invested in running the lodge and someday it would be his. Well, and Brandon’s if he wanted a share in it. But she hated the thought of him here alone, always observing other people’s lives with no life of his own. He needed someone.

  “Oh, Lord,” she prayed, “there must be a nice girl somewhere out there for my son. Help him find her.” She was giving up on herself, but Eric was young and had his whole life before him. Seeing him happy would be the best Christmas present she could ask for. “In the new year,” she added, deciding she’d better make her request more specific.

  Yes, if Eric could find someone and be happy, then she could be happy. She resolutely pushed the image of James Claussen’s smiling face from her mind. The next generation was what mattered, not the longings of a woman well past her prime.

  And yet there was James again, refusing to be ignored. “Oh, brother,” she muttered. It was foolish to fall in love at her age but she was well on her way. Still, how could a woman not fall for a real live Santa?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Merry Christmas, Darling

  John was relieved to learn that Holland’s wrist wasn’t broken. Still, the sprain was enough to ruin the holiday mood, even once she got some painkillers inside her, even after he’d run to the local drugstore and picked up an ice pack. Now she sat on their bed, propped up with pillows, the TV tuned to reruns of House Hunters.

  “Are you sure you don’t feel like going out to the Christmas Eve ceremony?” he asked. “It might make you feel better.”

  “I feel fine right here,” she said. Her cell phone rang. She checked caller ID, then ignored the call, tossing the phone onto the nightstand.

  “Who was that?”

  “Just someone from work.”

  “On Christmas Eve?”

  “Most people have to work on Christmas Eve, John.”

  He bristled at her condescending tone of voice. “A lot of people get Christmas Eve off.”

  “And the rest of us have to specially ask for it off.”

  From her tone of voice, he could tell she was wishing she hadn’t asked for the day off, hadn’t come up here.

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry you fell.”

  “Me, too. If only those bratty kids weren’t staying here.”

  What happened at the ice rink had been an accident, but John decided this wasn’t the time to mention that. Instead, he took her hand.

  “You should go to the Christmas Eve thing,” she said.

  “Without you?” What would be the point of that?

  “You can take pictures.”

  “No, this is our romantic weekend together. I’m not leaving you,” he said. He scooted over and put an arm around her.

  “I know you want to go. Anyway, you’ll be bored stiff hanging around the room.”

  “I could never be bored with you,” John insisted.

  “You could today. I just want to take a nap.”

  By herself, without him. He got that message pretty clearly. “Oh. Well, okay.”

  “Just go to the tree lighting,” she said. “I’ll rest here and be fine by dinner.”

  He nodded and got off the bed, and she immediately spread out, pulling the coverlet over herself, focusing once more on the TV. This sure wasn’t how he’d envisioned them using the bed.

  Feeling dismissed and frustrated, he grabbed his coat and left the room. Never mind, he told himself. She’d feel better by dinner. And she’d feel really good when she saw the ring. Cheered by that thought he left the lodge and joined the crowd of holiday revelers as they surged toward the town square.

  This was quite a sight. The town was lit up like a movie set, all colored lights and fat red ribbons. A brass quartet dressed in Dickensian costumes was playing “Joy to the World.” People of all ages and sizes milled around, clad in parkas and mittens and knit caps. Many were nursing to-go cups, and the aroma of the coffee joined with that of roasted chestnuts and danced around his nose as he took pictures on his cell and sent them to Holland.

  “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” said a voice at his elbow.

  He turned to see Missy Monroe smiling shyly up at him, her glasses frosted and her blue hair peeking out from underneath her cap. Next to her, the kids gazed around, enthralled.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “How’s your girlfriend?” Missy asked. “I hope she didn’t break her wrist.”

  “Nope. Just a sprain.”

  “Oh, good. I’m glad it’s not broken. I guess she didn’t feel like coming out, huh?”

  “She’s resting.”

  Missy nodded, taking that in. She looked so sad.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” John said.

  “It was my kids’. Same thing.”

  “Hey, it could’ve happened to anyone.” He’d already told her that, but found himself repeating it, not wanting her to feel guilty.

  “I know. I wish it hadn’t been us, though.” She put an arm around Lalla. “But they’re just kids. I couldn’t get too mad at them.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Mommy, look! There’s Santa!” Lalla pointed to the gazebo. “I told you I saw him,” she said to Carlos.

  The band had finished its song, and now the town’s mayor was welcoming everyone and wishing them all a merry Christmas. “And, as you can see, Santa has stopped by to join us.”

  “Ho, ho, ho,” said the man in the red suit. “Have all you boys and girls been good this year?”

  “Yes!” cried all the children in the crowd.

  “Yes!” squealed Lalla, jumping up and down. Next to her, her brother frowned.

  “Well, then, you can expect a visit from me later on,” Santa announced. “But first, I want to hear you all sing my theme song.”

  That was the cue for the brass quartet to play “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” The crowd began to sing along, including John and Missy, who hugged each of her kids. She smiled at John and he smiled back, feeling as though he was in some old-fashioned movie.

  Santa made his exit and one of the local pastors offered a prayer. The band played the introduction to “Silent Night” and once again the crowd began to sing, many people using the lighter app on their cell phones and waving them back and forth.

  Holland would’ve said this was corny, and she would’ve been right. But it was also fun. And singing that old Christmas carol reminded John of the real meaning of the season, something he had to admit he’d lost track of. There was a quality about this town that made a guy stop and think, made him remember what was important in life. Once more he envisioned himself experiencing this place someday with his own kids.

  But could he see Holland doing this? Hmm. Probably not.

  Okay, so she sneered at small-town celebrations. So what? It was all right that they saw some things differently. A couple didn’t have to have everything in common.

  Look at his folks. His dad loved football and his mom hated it. That hadn’t kept them from being happily married for forty years. Anyway, he and Holland had plenty in common. They never lacked for stuff to do on the weekend; they’d have plenty to keep them together once they were married.

  The song ended and Missy said, “This is super, isn’t it? Just like a Christmas movie, only it’s real.”

  John couldn’t help noticing that she didn’t use the word corny. “Yeah, I was thinking exactly the same thing.”

  Missy was looking around in delight. She was so easily pleased. The smallest activity was a big adventure. She’d prob
ably have loved that sleigh ride.

  Whoa. Where were his thoughts going? John pulled away from them in shock. No, no, he assured himself, you weren’t having disloyal thoughts. It was just...an observation. And Holland would have enjoyed this ceremony. If she didn’t have a sprained wrist she would’ve been right here with him.

  “I need to get back to the lodge and see how Holland’s doing,” he said to Missy. Holland, my girlfriend. The woman I’m in love with.

  Missy blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. I hope she’s feeling better.”

  “Me, too,” he said, and hurried off.

  He found Holland propped up in bed, drinking tea and still watching TV, her cell phone to her ear. “John’s here. I’ve gotta go...I will,” she added impatiently, and ended the call. “So, how was it?” she greeted him.

  “Impressive. I sent you pictures.”

  She dutifully brought them up on her phone. “Wow, what a zoo. I’m glad I didn’t go.”

  “I think you had to be there.” He joined her on the bed. “How’s your wrist?”

  “Better, thanks to the pain pills.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, relieved. “Dinner’s in about half an hour.”

  She nodded. “Great. I’m starving.”

  That was a good sign.

  Holland changed into a clingy black dress with a sexy neckline. “Zip me up?” she asked, lifting her hair and turning her back to him. Just as if they were already married, he thought and smiled.

  He obliged and she did a little spin so he could get the full effect. “How do I look?”

  “Incredible,” he said.

  “You’re sweet,” she told him, and gave him a kiss.

  Oh, yeah, and what a kiss it was. It sealed and solidified everything in John’s mind once more. For a while there, it had felt as if they’d taken a wrong turn, gotten lost in an unfamiliar neighborhood, but that feeling was gone now and they were back on familiar ground. He was back on familiar ground. The fancy dinner would be the perfect setup for the big moment. Suddenly he felt like a little kid on Christmas Eve, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Santa. Oh, yeah, Truman. You knocked it out of the park this time.