The Lodge on Holly Road Page 6

  “I’m Lalla. I’m named after a Orca princess.” Lalla pointed to her tiara.

  “Moroccan princess,” Missy corrected her, and Lalla nodded vigorously.

  “Of course. Anyone can see you’re a princess,” said the woman.

  That was the plan, always had been, from the moment Missy learned she was having a girl. She’d picked the name, not just because of her daughter’s mixed ethnicity and skin color, but because she wanted Lalla to know she was special and to grow up confident that she could become anything she wanted. There would be no low self-esteem in her family. No, sir.

  “This is Carlos,” Lalla continued. “He doesn’t believe in Santa.”

  The woman put a hand to her heart. “Oh, dear. I’d better not tell Santa that. It will hurt his feelings. You know, Icicle Falls is his favorite place to visit,” she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

  “I saw him,” Lalla said eagerly. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Olivia Wallace, and this is my home. I hope you’ll enjoy staying with us. We have you and your family in 205,” she said, addressing both Missy and John, who’d been standing next to Missy, enjoying the show. She handed a little envelope with the keycards to John.

  He turned red from his neck to the tips of his ears. “Um, we’re not really together. We just, uh, met on the way up.”

  Olivia flushed. “Oh, excuse me.”

  “John put the chains on my car,” Missy told her.

  “Well, that was nice. It’s good to see that chivalry is still alive and well,” Olivia said approvingly.

  “It sure is,” Missy agreed. “Okay, guys, let’s go see our room,” she said to the kids. They were off with a whoop, racing for the stairs. “And don’t run,” she called, trailing after them with their bags.

  She was still within earshot, so she heard Olivia say to John, “Now, there’s a sweet young woman.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty nice,” John said.

  He thought she was pretty nice. She thought he was pretty nice, too. Pity he wasn’t in the market for a woman.

  Except that even if he was, a classy guy like that who drove a nice car and not an old beater wouldn’t want to hang out with a girl like her, someone who lived in a dumpy neighborhood, shopped at Goodwill and garage sales and fed her kids mac and cheese from a box. At least she didn’t smoke anymore. She’d kicked that habit and was already saving money as a result. Still, she’d never make enough to put her in his class. Men like John dated girls who worked in offices and shopped at Nordstrom and Macy’s, girls who never got their hair done at inexpensive salons.

  She frowned. It shouldn’t matter what a person wore or what sort of car she drove. It was what she was like on the inside that counted. And on the inside Missy was an office-working, Nordstrom-shopping, high-end-salon kind of woman. Someday, someday soon, she’d have the life to prove it. And meanwhile, she was staying at a classy place and giving her kids a classy Christmas. So there, she concluded, lifting her chin. That chin-lifting stuff wasn’t such a good idea, made it hard to see the stairs. She tripped, and her suitcase slid down a couple of steps. Oops. She grabbed it and kept on going, her cheeks burning. Nordstrom on the inside, she told herself.

  * * *

  John watched out of the corner of his eye as Missy Monroe and her kids went up the stairs. He wondered if Missy was seeing someone, if there was some man hoping to step into her ready-made family. There had to be someone. She was too cute and too sweet to be totally on her own.

  Although if she was seeing someone, he probably would’ve come up here with her. After all, who did Christmas alone?

  None of your business, he reminded himself as Olivia gave him his keycard.

  “You’re in 207,” she informed him.

  Right next door to the Monroe family. For a millisecond he wondered if he wanted to be that close to Missy and company. He felt a little like an alcoholic who’d just been offered a bottle of twenty-year-old Scotch.

  But then he chided himself for being stupid. Yeah, Missy was cute, but so what? He was in love with Holland, and he wasn’t some low-life scum who hit on other women when he was about to become engaged, so it was no big deal. That resolved, he went to his room.

  Oh, man, Holland was going to love this. The room had it all—antique furniture but a state-of-the-art TV and DVD player, a small fridge for his champagne, a view of the mountains out the window, a snowy-white comforter on the king-size bed and an electric fireplace. Oh, yeah. This was going to be romance to the max. He could picture Holland and him in that big bed going at it and then cuddling together, watching the flames. If only Holland had come up tonight.

  Well, she’d be here tomorrow, and that would come soon enough. Meanwhile, what was he going to do with himself? He went to the window and looked out. The snowy scene beckoned him. What the hey, might as well go check out the town, find something to eat.

  He heard whoops coming from 205 as he walked past and for a moment wondered what Missy and her kids were going to do now.

  Never mind. He wasn’t up here to hang out with Missy Monroe and her kids. He was here for a romantic getaway with his girlfriend.

  Who hadn’t arrived yet. With a sigh, he walked down the hall.

  Chapter Six

  Santa Baby

  Brooke had experienced some doubt regarding the wisdom of her holiday kidnapping when her father first failed to get into the spirit of the thing, but only for a few minutes. Over the past year, Daddy had seemed to collapse in on himself, changing from the sociable man he’d always been to a hermit who preferred to sit at home and stare at the TV. That was not Daddy, and something had to be done.

  “He’ll be okay,” Dylan kept saying whenever she’d brought up the subject of what to do about their father. “You’ve gotta give him time. Jeez, I still miss Mom.”

  As if she didn’t? As if there hadn’t been a day in the past year when she hadn’t wished her mother was alive, when she hadn’t gotten blindsided by a memory and burst into tears? But she had a job and a Sunday school class to teach. And friends getting married and having babies. And that meant bridal showers and baby showers to shop for and weddings to attend (where friends tried to match her up with brothers and cousins, none of whom ever measured up to her idea of the ideal man). Life wasn’t a card game where you got to throw in your hand and say, “I fold.”

  And that was exactly what her father was doing. Granted, he’d had a rough time of it, first with taking care of Mom and then with having to live without her. But Brooke was starting to get worried. In the past few months he’d hardly cleaned the house, totally neglected the yard and had constantly made excuses when any of his friends invited him out for dinner. She’d thought he’d return to his seasonal job as a department-store Santa, but he’d even pulled the plug on that, and had only filled in for the past two days when his former boss begged him to help out. He couldn’t go on like this. It wasn’t healthy. So a change of scene was what the doctor had ordered (Dr. Brooke, that is).

  He’d perked up once they got to the lodge and smiled approvingly when they entered and he saw how beautifully the place was decked out for the holidays. And he’d smiled again when they were checking in. Of course, he wasn’t happy being stuck in his Santa suit but Dylan would be arriving any minute, and once Daddy had a change of clothes they could go wander around town and admire the Christmas lights. Then, later, they could enjoy the piano concert in the lobby and the home-baked Christmas cookies that had been promised on the website.

  The cookies probably wouldn’t be as good as Mom’s, and Brooke found herself wishing she’d taken the time to whip up another batch of gumdrop cookies to bring along. Maybe it was just as well she hadn’t, though. That would remind them all of Mom.

  She’d flipped on the switch for the fireplace, and her father was currently relaxing on his bed with his bl
ack boots and his Santa jacket off while Brooke sat at the desk, checking out the notebook filled with glossy pages about the various shops and restaurants in town.

  “I’ve heard about this Christmas shop,” she said, turning the binder so her father could see. “We might want to go there tomorrow.”

  He nodded. “Looks nice.” He let out a sigh. “Your mother would have loved this place.”

  Brooke could feel the sting of incipient tears. It had probably been unrealistic to think they could simply outrun their grief.

  Still, Mom would have wanted them to participate in the joys of the season, and this town seemed tailor-made for that.

  “Yes, she would,” Brooke said. “And I bet right now she’s up in heaven, smiling down on us.”

  For a moment she feared he was going to cry, but he nodded gamely and forced a smile.

  Yep, they were having fun now. They needed Dylan and his goofy sense of humor to liven things up. They’d been waiting almost an hour. What was taking him so long to get up here?

  She’d called twice but only got his voice mail; she hoped that meant he was somewhere in the mountains and didn’t have reception. If that was the case, at least he was getting close.

  As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Finally. Brooke hurried to open it, but instead of her brother she found Olivia Wallace, bearing a tray with grapes, Brie cheese and crackers.

  “Oh, good, you’re here. I thought perhaps you might be when no one answered next door. This is your complimentary fruit and cheese,” Olivia said. “I hope you enjoy it.”

  “We will,” Brooke assured her. She was aware of her father scrambling to put his jacket back on so he wouldn’t look like a slob.

  But Olivia wasn’t coming in to visit. She wished them “Bon appétit” and then left.

  “That was thoughtful,” Daddy said as Brooke set the tray on his bedside table.

  As if the woman had done it just for them. “It’s included in the price, Daddy.”

  His brow furrowed. “I hate to think what you kids are spending on this.”

  “You’re worth it,” she said, and kissed his cheek.

  Twenty minutes later most of the cheese and grapes were gone, and Brooke was anxious to get her father out of his room and experiencing the sights and sounds of the town, but there was still no sign of Dylan. She took her cell phone from her purse and called him again.

  “Yo,” he answered.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in the lobby checking in.”

  “Finally,” she said.

  “Hey, I had to work late.”

  Dylan was a systems analyst at Microsoft and working late happened sometimes. Everyone couldn’t be lucky enough to be a teacher.

  Although her brother never saw her as lucky. “I’d go nuts if I was stuck in a room full of snot-nosed kids making paper chains,” he often said.

  Brooke always thought this was ironic considering the fact that, at twenty-four, her brother was the world’s oldest child. He could play video games for hours, never remembered important dates like birthdays and anniversaries and had yet to master the art of wrapping a Christmas present. His idea of a gift bag was a paper sack. Sheesh.

  And she did more than make paper chains. She helped young minds discover and learn new things. She loved her job and she could hardly wait to have children of her own. She didn’t want to raise them by herself, though, so that meant she needed to find a man. Why was it so hard to find a good man these days, anyway?

  Another few minutes, and Dylan entered the room. He looked like a younger version of their father with a boyish face and a husky build. And, like Daddy, he sported a beard. Only unlike Daddy, his was brown and he kept it trimmed close to his face. In addition to being cute, he was also charming and never lacked for girlfriends. But he was far from ready to settle down.

  “Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas,” he said.

  “That’s my line,” Daddy joked. He got off the bed and came to hug his son.

  “Great choice, sis,” Dylan said to Brooke. “This place rocks.”

  “Have you seen your room?” she asked.

  “Just dumped my stuff in there.” He handed Brooke a plastic grocery bag. “Here’s the eggnog you wanted.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and moved to store it in the little refrigerator.

  “Never mind the eggnog,” her father said. “Give me my clothes.”

  Dylan’s easy smile fell away, replaced by a look of panic. “Clothes? Crap.”

  He’d forgotten to go by Daddy’s and get some clothes! She was going to kill him. “Please tell me you didn’t forget.” Why was she bothering to even say that? He had.

  “Oh, man. I totally spaced. My bad.”

  “Your bad is right,” she snapped in frustration. She’d planned everything, made their reservations, picked up their father. All Dylan had to do was pick up Daddy’s car and bring some clothes for him. How hard was that? “I can’t believe you forgot the clothes,” she wailed. Her well-laid plans, all ruined.

  “Hey, there’s stores up here,” Dylan said with a frown.

  She knew he hated it when she went into older-sister mode and got on his case. But darn, she hated it when he acted like the baby of the family and got all irresponsible. “There won’t be any stores open by now,” she said, frowning, too. “And Daddy doesn’t want to be stuck in his room all night.”

  “I’m fine,” her father said. “I can find something on TV. You kids go have fun.”

  The only thing she’d have fun doing was throttling her irresponsible brother and that would hardly make for a warm and fuzzy family Christmas. She let out a huff of exasperation. “I’m going to go ask where we can buy some clothes,” she announced, and yanked open the door.

  As she left she heard her brother say, “So, what channels do we get?”

  Great. They’d both watch some stupid movie with things blowing up and that would be that. Their first night in Icicle Falls with its snowy streets and pretty Christmas lights and the boys would be watching Bruce Willis save the world. She scowled as she marched downstairs.

  The plump and friendly Olivia was not at the reception desk. Instead, a tall man with dark hair receding from his hairline and glasses was busy helping two older women check in. They were both dressed in heavy winter coats, leggings and snow boots. The short one wore a felted red hat over curls still as blond as if she were twenty and not seventy-something. “And in about an hour we’ll have a piano concert down here in the lobby,” he was telling them.

  “That sounds wonderful,” declared the other woman. She was as tall and skinny as her companion was short and chunky, and her salt-and-pepper hair hung in a long, lanky curtain to her shoulders. “Didn’t I tell you this was a good idea, Vera? It beats staying home wondering if those spoiled brats of yours are going to come by.”

  The plump Vera had been smiling up until that moment. Now she took her keycard from the man and calmly told her companion, “At least I have brats.”

  “If that’s the best marriage can do, I’m glad I never got married,” retorted her friend. “Come on, let’s go up to the room. I want to call and make sure Tiger is all right.”

  “Talk about spoiled,” Vera muttered as the two women walked past Brooke. “That cat’s better treated than most children.”

  “That’s because he’s better behaved than most children.”

  And so the bickering continued as the two women towed their suitcases toward the elevator.

  Well, fa-la-la, Brooke thought as she approached the reception desk. The man behind it looked more attractive the closer she got, and she realized he was younger than she’d originally thought. Maybe early thirties. He was well built and had a strong jaw and brown eyes behind those glasses. No wedding ring on his left hand. Not that she was ac
tively looking. Okay, she was. Sort of.

  “Hi,” he greeted her. “May I help you?”

  “I hope so,” she said. “My father and brother and I all have adjoining rooms on the third floor.”

  “Is there a problem with your rooms?” he asked, his voice incredulous.

  “No, no. They’re great. But we do have a problem.”

  Now he seemed mildly suspicious.

  At that moment Olivia reappeared from a door behind the reception desk. “Oh, hello,” she said to Brooke. “How is Santa settling in?”

  Her son looked at her, brows knit.

  “I kidnapped my father from his Santa gig,” Brooke explained, and the man nodded and smiled. He had a pretty darned sexy smile. Let’s get back to why you came down here, she told her wandering thoughts. To Olivia she said, “I’m afraid Santa’s not doing very well. My brother forgot to bring up my father’s clothes and he’s got nothing except his Santa costume.”

  That made the man behind the counter snicker.

  Brooke decided his smile wasn’t so sexy, after all. She supposed her father’s predicament sounded funny, but it wasn’t. He wasn’t going to go strolling around the streets of Icicle Falls in his Santa suit, and that meant there’d be no getting him out and lifting his spirits. She frowned, and Mr. No Longer Sexy coughed and cleared his throat, then donned a more serious expression.

  “Of course, he’d fit right in if he did go out in it,” Olivia said. “I’m sure you got a glimpse of how the town is decorated when you arrived.”

  “Yes, it’s lovely,” Brooke said. “But the problem is, well, he’s not in much of a Santa mood this year.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “I was hoping you could tell me if there’s someplace in town where we might find him some clothes.”

  Olivia shook her head and bit her lip. “We’ve got Manly Man, but I’m afraid they closed for the holidays yesterday. It’s a family-run business and they’re on their way to Florida to be with family.”