The Lodge on Holly Road Read online

“Just lately, huh?” He thought of Corey Madison, one of her coworkers, who’d “just lately” been nosing around Holland. “Is there someone else?”

  “No! Well...no.”

  “What does that mean?” His eyes narrowed. “Who were you talking to on the phone when I came back?”

  “No one.”

  Right. “Did you really have to work late last night?”

  Her cheeks were as red as Santa’s hat. “Yes.”

  “Did you have to work with someone?”

  “John, cut it out. I don’t have to tell you every little thing I do.”

  “No,” he said stiffly. “You don’t. And obviously, you haven’t been.”

  She gnawed her lip for a moment. Then she sighed, a big long-suffering sigh. “We should never have gotten back together. We should have stayed broken up.”

  He turned away from her and glared at the ring box he was still clutching. She came over to him and put a hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off.

  “I’m actually doing you a favor,” she said softly.

  “Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”

  “I’m doing us both a favor. It’s stupid to be with someone you’re not totally crazy about.”

  “I was totally crazy about you.”

  There came another sigh. “I know. But I didn’t feel that way back, at least not lately. I just want someone who’s, I don’t know, not so nice.”

  He looked over his shoulder at her in shock. “I’m too nice? That’s why you won’t marry me? Seriously, Holland?”

  “I’m sorry, John. But sometimes nice is, well, boring.”

  “And you’ve been bored this weekend?”

  “No, I enjoyed it. And you’re sweet.”

  Sweet. That again. Yeah, he could see how much being sweet counted.

  She linked an arm through his. “And I have to admit I was even a little jealous when I saw you playing in the snow with that bottom-runger.”

  “You know, that’s a very ugly term, Holland,” John said irritably.

  Her eyes widened. “Well, excuse me.”

  “You’re a snob. And that’s why you’re dumping me, isn’t it? You think you can do better.”

  Her coaxing smile fell away. “Do you really want to end things like this, being mean?”

  He didn’t want to end things at all. “No,” he said at last.

  “We can still be friends, you know.”

  “Right,” he said, refusing to look at her. Why did women say dumb shit like that?

  There was a moment of painful silence, then she said, “I think I should go.”

  Good idea. John stood in stony silence.

  “Yeah, I should definitely go,” she said more firmly.

  He walked over to the window and gazed out at the snowy darkness while she moved around the room, collecting her things. He heard the sound of her carry-on rolling across the carpet as she made her way to the door.

  “John, I’m sorry,” she said. “I really am.”

  He didn’t trust himself to speak so he simply nodded. Then the door shut and she was gone and he was alone. He stood for a while, scowling out the window. Then he opened the champagne bottle and poured himself a glass. He turned on the fireplace and glared at the flames. Merry Christmas. Ho, ho, ho.

  Chapter Fifteen

  We Need a Little Christmas

  James changed back into the clothes he’d purchased in Wenatchee earlier that day. He frowned at the Santa suit lying lifeless on the bed. He should never have let himself get talked into putting the thing back on. And he wasn’t going to do it ever again. Enough was enough. He scooped it up and stuffed it in the garbage can.

  Then he stretched out in the comfy armchair next to the bed and stared out the window, determined to empty his mind of the images playing over and over—Missy Monroe’s upset face, her son running out into the snow. He hoped it hadn’t taken too long to get the kid back inside, where it was warm. And then there was poor John Truman, who was probably in need of a therapist right about now or at least a good, strong drink. Fa-la-la.

  Well, there was no sense hiding out here. James wasn’t about to let a few well-laid plans going awry ruin his time with his kids. He pushed off from the chair and went back downstairs.

  A few of the guests had drifted into the lobby now and the two friends, Vera and Jane, accosted him as he returned to the dining room. “That was a lovely gesture, playing Santa Claus like that,” Vera told him.

  “Too bad about the dog,” Jane added.

  “I’m afraid we didn’t handle that surprise very well,” James said.

  “I thought I heard her tell the boy they couldn’t keep it,” Jane remarked.

  “That’s been taken care of. I actually got permission from the young woman’s landlady for her to have a dog, and several of us have gone in on the expenses.” Mostly him, but that was okay. He liked the spunky single mom, and helping her had been one of the things that felt right about this Christmas without his wife. This new normal...

  Jane promptly fished a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet. “I’ll contribute to that.”

  “You don’t even like the girl,” Vera said.

  Jane pulled a frown. “I never said that. I said she looked like a Smurf.”

  “I want to contribute, too,” Vera said, and found a ten to press into James’s hand.

  “That’s very kind of you ladies.”

  “’Tis the season for giving, after all,” Jane said.

  “Now, if only there was something we could do for that poor young man,” Vera murmured sadly.

  “He’s better off without that woman,” Jane said.

  “How do you know that?” Vera demanded.

  “She frowns a lot,” Jane said with a scowl. “I think we should match him up with the hairdresser.”

  Oh, no. No matchmaking. James wasn’t getting any further involved in John Truman’s affairs. He excused himself and hurried on toward the dining room.

  He found Brooke babysitting Lalla, who was now hunched over a table, busy with some paper and crayons. “Have you seen John?” she asked him.

  James shook his head.

  “Do you think maybe you should talk to him?”

  “Let’s give him a chance to get over the shock of what’s happened.”

  Most of the plates had been cleared, and he didn’t see so much as a crumb of dessert. He settled for pouring himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table and wondered if there was any cake left.

  “His girlfriend’s already gone,” Brooke continued. “I saw her leaving with her suitcase. Gosh, wouldn’t you think he’d be sure before he asked her to marry him?”

  “Sometimes people are sure because they’ve been seeing what they want to see.”

  “I’m sorry everything went so badly,” she said with a sigh.

  He put an arm around her. “Not everything. Everyone else loved their presents.” He’d said it to console his daughter, who was looking so disappointed, but he realized he, too, needed to hear those words. In spite of things going haywire, they’d still managed to spread some holiday cheer.

  At that moment Olivia joined them. “Thank you for watching our girl,” she said to Brooke. “I understand you were a little under the weather. How are you feeling?”

  “Much better, thanks.”

  “Could I bring you some food?” Olivia asked.

  “Oh, no, I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all, my dear. I made a plate for you. I’ll warm it up and be right back.”

  “That was nice of her,” James said as Olivia hustled off.

  “Yes, it was.” Brooke said it almost grudgingly. She seemed to have taken a dislike to Olivia, and that was
a shame because James certainly liked her.

  They’d just sat down when Missy Monroe returned to the dining room, with Dylan, her face glowing with a smile worthy of a greeting card. She practically ran to their table. “The guys told me what you did. I don’t know how to thank you,” she said to James as her daughter scrambled into her arms, anxious to show off her picture.

  “It wasn’t just me. Lots of people contributed, including Jane and Vera.”

  Missy’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  “Really,” he said, smiling at Olivia, who was back with the plate of food for Brooke. She slid it in front of her and then, as if by unspoken agreement, everyone settled around the table.

  “I’ll follow you to your place with Buddy’s dog food after we check out,” James said. “I can look at the fence situation while I’m there.”

  “We don’t have a fence,” Missy said. She seemed embarrassed, as if it was somehow her fault.

  “Well, not to worry. I’ll get that squared away with your landlady and take care of the pet deposit.”

  “Oh, my gosh. You have to pay a pet deposit?” Missy looked stricken.

  “That’s pretty standard,” James said, shrugging off his generosity.

  “No, that’s freaking fabulous,” Missy said. “No one’s ever done something this kind for me. Ever.” She looked around the table at everyone, her eyes sparkling with tears.

  “Well, then, I’d say it’s way past time,” Olivia said, reaching over and giving her arm a pat.

  “And if, for any reason, this doesn’t work out, I’ll keep the dog at my house, and you and your children can come visit,” James finished.

  “You really are Santa,” Missy said in awe.

  Not anymore. “Just one of his helpers.”

  “It’s too bad you can’t do something for that poor boy.” Olivia shook her head.

  “What poor boy?” Missy asked.

  “Young John,” Olivia said. “How awful to be publicly rejected like that.”

  “Rejected?” Missy repeated.

  “Oh, yes, I forgot. You weren’t here. I’m afraid his proposal didn’t go well.”

  “Poor John,” Missy said. “And to have it happen at Christmas.”

  “I can’t even imagine what he must be feeling right now,” Brooke said.

  Losing the love of your life? James knew exactly how the kid was feeling. He suddenly became aware of his daughter looking at him. It was the same look Faith used to give him when she wanted him to do something, a look that was a mix of urging and expectation. You absolutely must do this and I won’t let you rest until you do.

  Oh, no. James drew the line at advice to the lovelorn. He shifted his gaze away from his daughter—only to find that she wasn’t the only one looking at him that way. Every woman at the table wore the same expression. Here he’d thought this was a particular gift of his wife’s and daughter’s. Obviously, it was universal.

  “James, that poor boy needs some encouragement, and you’re just the man for the job,” Olivia said, casting her vote of confidence.

  “Absolutely.” Brooke smiled, obviously happy to have an ally.

  “Ladies, your concern is admirable,” James said, “but in situations like this a man wants to be alone.”

  “But he might...do something,” Missy worried.

  James doubted that. “He’ll be fine. He just needs time to process this.”

  “Can’t you go help him process?” Brooke pleaded. “Dylan could go with you.”

  “No way,” Dylan said in horror.

  “Eric could go with you,” Olivia offered. “I think he’s downstairs with Carlos and the dog.”

  If the women had anything to say about it, every man in the place would be dispatched to the room of the unfortunate John Truman for a sob session and a group hug. James decided not to linger. “Okay, I’ll check in on him when I go back to my room,” he said, and hoped the women got the underlying message. After that, I’m done for the night. And he was. Suddenly, he felt tired.

  “Good,” Brooke said, as if that settled everything.

  “Come on, sis,” Dylan said, pushing away from the table. “You still owe me a game of Ping-Pong.”

  “Lalla, let’s go find your brother and our dog.” Smiling, Missy rose, too.

  “You all enjoy the rest of your evening,” Olivia said as the group broke up, and James found himself wondering what she was going to do now. Probably clean the kitchen. Put away the leftover cake. If there was any. Was there any?

  He turned to ask and saw that she was already gathering the last of the cups and saucers. She’d be busy cleaning up and then she’d probably want to have some family time. He didn’t need cake that badly.

  He was about to leave when his daughter took him by the arm. “Daddy, have I told you recently what a great guy you are?”

  He patted her hand. “You can stop with the flattery. I’m already doing what you ladies want.”

  “And what John needs,” she added.

  “Nobody really knows what another person needs,” he said.

  She looked at him thoughtfully but didn’t say anything.

  Once he got to John’s door, he knocked, half hoping the kid wouldn’t open up.

  But he did. He was holding a nearly empty bottle of champagne in one hand and he gave James a tipsy smile. “Hi, Mr. Claussen.” He threw the door open wide. “Come on in. Have a drink. Help me celebrate true love.”

  The TV was going, some action movie by the sound of it. As James came farther into the room and got a look at the screen he realized it was the old Arnold Schwarzenegger movie True Lies. On the bed sat a half-consumed box of chocolates.

  John picked it up and offered it to James. “Want one?”

  James shook his head. “No, thanks. I just stopped by to see how you’re doing.”

  “I’m doing great,” John said, falling back on the bed and sloshing champagne on himself. “Just great.” And then he did what no man would willingly do if he was sober. He started crying.

  James sat down on the bed and let him go at it.

  “I loved her,” John wailed. “I don’t understand what happened.”

  “She wasn’t the one,” James said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It’s that simple. If she was, she’d have been over the moon and you two would have been drinking this together.” He gently removed the bottle from John’s hand and set it on the bedside table. “I understand how you feel, though. It’s a sucker punch when you lose someone, a kick to the gonads.”

  John sniffed and nodded. “This was going to be the perfect Christmas. Tomorrow we were going to go back and show the ring to the families. Now there’s nothing to show,” he moaned. “What am I going to tell my parents?”

  “That you haven’t found the right woman yet.”

  John scowled. “She was the right woman.”

  “What was so right about her?”

  John’s eyebrows drew together. “She was...” He leaned toward James, nearly tipping himself off the bed in the process. “Hot,” he finished as James rescued him.

  “Okay, that’s good,” James said. “What else?”

  “She had style, you know? And she liked to have fun. I like to have fun,” he added with a scowl. “I went dancing with her every weekend.”

  “Did you like that?”

  “Sure I did. I was with Holland.”

  So far James wasn’t seeing much more than an infatuated young man being led around by a beautiful woman. “What other things did you like to do together?”

  “Movies. We went to movies.”

  Movies, dancing and heat. There was a lot more to life than that. “Had you two talked about the future? Where you planned to live? If you wanted kids?”

  “I want kids,”
John said. “I want to live in Icicle Falls.” He burped loudly.

  “And would your lady friend have liked that?”

  “She would have. Eventually.”

  James nodded, taking this in.

  “Everything was going so well,” John lamented.

  Only in his mind, James was sure. “Well, you know, sometimes things just seem to be going well. Do you think that might have been the case with you and your girlfriend?”

  John scowled and shook his head vehemently. “Everything was fine. Until Corey Madison. He’s a shit, but that’s what she wants. You know what she told me?” John slurred. “That I’m too nice. Who breaks up with a guy ’cause he’s too nice?”

  A very shallow woman.

  “I guess she wants...drama,” John said with an exaggerated wave of his hand that made him list sideways. He struggled back up to a sitting position and frowned at the carpet. “What’s wrong with women, anyway?”

  “Sometimes they don’t get it,” James said diplomatically. “But, son, if you remember any of our conversation tomorrow, I hope you’ll remember this. Things didn’t work out for a reason. There’s someone out there who’s even better for you than the woman who turned you down, someone you’re meant to be with, someone who’ll take one look at that engagement ring and throw her arms around you. That’s the woman you want to be with.”

  John ate another chocolate and nodded.

  “Now, why don’t you just relax and enjoy this movie,” James suggested. “And I’ll hang on to the rest of the champagne for you.”

  “We were going to drink that tonight,” John mumbled, slumping back among the bed pillows.

  “There’ll be more opportunities for champagne in the future, don’t worry,” James assured him.

  “My life sucks.”

  “Life does that sometimes,” James said, and started for the door.

  “Mr. Claussen,” John called after him.

  James turned.

  “You’re all right.”

  “So are you, son,” James said, and left John getting into the chocolates.

  What a night, he thought as he walked back to his room. He was pooped. Maybe he’d relax on his bed and watch the end of True Lies.