Читать книгу The Lodge on Holly Road - Sheila Roberts - Страница 10
ОглавлениеIt’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas
Olivia Wallace’s Icicle Creek Lodge was decked out for the holidays. Her oldest son, Eric, and his burly friend Bubba Swank had hauled in her antique sleigh from the lodge’s storage garage and it was now set up in the lobby, brimming with brightly wrapped faux presents. The staircase banister was dressed in greenery, and mistletoe had been hung in various key spots around the lodge and in the private family quarters. The big tree on the front porch was decorated with lights. Red poinsettias filled in any gaps.
Olivia Wallace smiled as she surveyed her domain. George would have been so proud.
That thought always comforted her. And made her a little wistful. How she wished her husband was here to help her run this place. Not because Eric wasn’t doing a wonderful job. He loved the lodge as much as Olivia did, and would probably take it over someday. No, it was more because she knew how happy she and George would have been. They’d shared the vision for this place and he’d never lived to see what a huge success it had become. They’d grown, added on, developed a reputation. Oh, yes, George would have loved this.
Well, most of it. Olivia hid a frown as one of her more difficult guests came down the stairs with his wife, his rolling suitcase thump-thumping behind him. He missed the last step and went tottering off sideways.
Oh, no! Please don’t fall. This descendant of Ebenezer Scrooge would sue her by New Year’s Day if that happened.
He righted himself, thank God, and she could hear him muttering all the way across the lobby to where she was manning the reception desk. “Those stairs are uneven.”
At times like this Olivia really didn’t like being an innkeeper. She braced herself for the barrage of complaints.
Sure enough, Mr. Braxton marched to the reception desk, his wife walking behind him like a reluctant shadow, and slammed down his keycard. “We didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Olivia said.
“The people down the hall were up partying all night.”
There had been two younger couples who’d been en route to Seattle to spend Christmas with family and had decided to stay the night. Olivia had suggested they try Zelda’s for dinner and they’d gone merrily off, full of good cheer. They’d probably overindulged in huckleberry martinis or the other house specialty, a Chocolate Kiss. She imagined they’d been a bit noisy on the way back to their rooms. Still, that wasn’t her fault.
“Making a racket in the hall at all hours,” Mr. Braxton continued.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Olivia said. “I do wish you’d come down and said something to me. I’d have been happy to talk to them.”
“Ha! Come down in my bathrobe and pajamas? I think not. And breakfast this morning.”
Olivia stiffened. “What about breakfast?”
“All those carbs.”
No one made crepes like Olivia. She served them stuffed with wild huckleberries and berry-flavored whipped cream. And she always served some sort of protein along with them. “If I remember correctly, breakfast also included sausages,” she said, some of the sweetness seeping out of her voice. “And fruit.”
“I thought it was very good,” said Mrs. Braxton, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her husband ignored her. Now he produced his printed bill. “I want a refund.” Behind him, his wife studied her feet.
Ooh, of all the cheap, contemptible... Olivia would have liked nothing better than to tell this man exactly what she thought of him.
But men like this rarely saw their shriveled souls for what they were. So, instead of saying, “You win the bad-boy lump of coal award for the day,” she said, “I’m sorry your stay wasn’t to your satisfaction. We try hard to give all our guests a pleasant experience.”
“Well, you failed with me!”
“I can refund fifty percent of your room price.” Sometimes, when guests had a complaint (and that was rare), Olivia gave them a gift certificate for a free night. Not Mr. Edward Braxton. She had no intention of encouraging him to return.
“I want a full refund,” he insisted.
This man was a bully. And there was only one way to treat bullies. “Mr. Braxton,” she said firmly, “you stayed in a lovely room with a beautiful view. We even left Sweet Dreams chocolates on your pillow.”
“My wife ate mine,” he muttered.
“And we gave you a lovely breakfast this morning, featuring my very own gourmet crepes. Which you ate. You made no complaint at breakfast, nor did you inform me of any special dietary needs when you registered. And there was a place on your registration form to do so. Now, you are a businessman, correct?”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Yes.”
“Then I ask you, would you give yourself a full refund?”
His brows formed an angry V. “Now, see here.”
“It’s Christmas, and in the spirit of the season, I’m offering you a fifty-percent discount. Would you like it?” she finished in a tone of voice that plainly said, “Take it or leave it.”
“Fine. I’ll take it.”
“An excellent decision,” she said.
“But I don’t like it,” he growled after they’d finished the appropriate paperwork.
“I’m sure you don’t,” she agreed.
“Come on, Thelma,” he snapped at his wife, and made for the front door.
“Bah, humbug,” Olivia muttered as she walked through the door marked Private into her family’s living quarters.
Right now the only family living there was Eric and her and Muffin the cat. They could easily make room for a wife. And children. Or remodel.
Three bedrooms were at the back. The rest of the family quarters was like any other small home, entered through a front door with a window of etched glass. Once inside, visitors found a great-room-style layout with a small but state-of-the-art kitchen, a dining area and a cozy living room, complete with an electric fireplace, where she could hang Christmas stockings.
Three stockings hung there now. One was marked Olivia, and her boys usually slipped in a couple of stocking-stuffer-size boxes of Sweet Dreams chocolates. The next stocking in line had Eric’s name on it. That she would fill with nuts and candy bars and his favorite hot sauces and jellies from Local Yokels, which specialized in Northwest products. The last stocking belonged to her younger son, Brandon, who was currently in Wyoming but who managed to get home for Christmas every year. Brandon was her wandering boy, trying to find himself. But his internal compass always brought him home for important holidays. His stocking would get filled with Snickers bars and Corn Nuts, his all-time favorite snack.
Normally the sight of her decorations cheered her. The ceramic nativity set on the mantel had been a gift from her mother-in-law years ago, and she cherished it. Her little tree was loaded with ornaments she’d collected over the years. And she’d hung mistletoe in the archway between the kitchen and dining room. She frowned at it. Why did she put that up every year?
Her frown deepened. All right. This was a very bad attitude she had brewing. She’d been perfectly happy until her encounter with her grumpy guest.
“Mr. Braxton, I am not going to let you ruin my day.” She picked up her knitting (a scarf she was finishing for her friend Muriel Sterling-Wittman for Christmas) and got to work. Knitting always made her feel good. She imagined herself poking Mr. Braxton in the bottom with one of her knitting needles, and that made her feel even better.
She’d barely gotten started when the doorbell rang. Oh, she knew who that was, and the mere thought of what she’d find when she opened the door was enough to drive the memory of Ebenezer Braxton from her mind. Yup, there stood Kevin from Lupine Floral, looking like a fashion model in his trendy jeans and gray wool coat. And he was wearing the red scarf she’d knit for him the Christmas before.
“I have something for my favorite innkeeper,” he sang, holding out a huge holiday floral arrangement.
“You’d better not let Ann Marie or Gerhardt Geissel hear you say that,” Olivia cautioned with a smile. Although, knowing Kevin, he said the same thing when he delivered floral arrangements to them.
He grinned and winked. “I can see you’re all ready for Christmas here at the lodge.”
“Of course we are. It’s my favorite time of year.”
“This place could be a movie set,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Olivia, you are the queen of Christmas.”
“Well, if I’m the queen, then you and Heinrich are my princes. I look forward to your lovely arrangements every year. Please tell him that.”
After a few more pleasantries, Kevin was on his way to flatter more of the residents of Icicle Falls, and Olivia took the arrangement over to the kitchen counter and removed it from its box. As she’d expected, it was a feast for the eyes with red and white roses, delicate ferns and baby’s breath. Candy canes bloomed inside the big red ribbon bow wrapped around the vase. Gorgeous.
She didn’t have to read the card to know it was from Eric but did, anyway, just so she could delight in the message. “Merry Christmas to the world’s best mom. Love, Eric.”
She pulled a tissue from her sweater pocket and dabbed at eyes that had suddenly grown misty. She had such a wonderful son. She was so lucky that he’d opted to stay in Icicle Falls and help her run the lodge. As if that wasn’t enough, every year he sent her a Christmas bouquet. He’d been doing it for fourteen years, ever since George died. At first the arrangements were small and simple, fitting a young man’s budget, but as he’d gotten older they’d gotten more elaborate. And more expensive.
The door from the reception area opened and he walked in.
“Look what came,” she greeted him.
“Well, whaddya know. I guess Santa came through again.”
“Santa Son,” she said with a smile. “They’re lovely. I wish you wouldn’t be so extravagant, though.”
“You’re worth it,” he said, stopping to kiss her on the cheek before going to the refrigerator to forage for lunch.
“There’s leftover potpie,” she said. As if he didn’t know; as if that wasn’t what he was looking for. It was one of his favorite meals and she made it for him on a regular basis.
“Got it,” he said, pulling out the casserole dish. “So, has everyone checked out?”
“All but our last guests. I haven’t seen them yet.”
“The couple with the baby? They just left.”
“Well, then, that’s it until our Christmas guests start arriving. I’ll get their room and the Braxtons’ cleaned after lunch.”
He shook his head. “Why you gave Morgan time off the day before Christmas Eve I’ll never understand.”
“Because we don’t usually have that many rooms to clean. She can have a break and we can save some money.”
“We don’t need to save money anymore. And it would be nice if you didn’t kill yourself right before the Christmas rush.”
“Cleaning two rooms isn’t going to kill me. I’m not that old yet.”
Her son wisely didn’t argue the point.
She fingered a red rose. “I’m glad we’ve got so many people staying with us for the holidays.” Having other people to think about made it so much easier.
“Yeah, we’ve got plenty this year.”
“It’s going to be wonderful,” Olivia predicted.
“As long as we don’t get any more Braxtons,” Eric said. “I hope you didn’t give him a refund.”
“Did he ask you for one?”
Eric nodded. “Ran into me in the upstairs hall. Please tell me you didn’t give in to that jerk.”
Olivia shrugged. “Fifty percent off.”
Eric shook his head. “You’re too soft, Mom.”
“Well, it’s Christmas.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to humor jerks like Braxton.”
“I couldn’t bring myself to be as small as him, not at Christmas. Anyway, he’ll get what’s coming to him. We all do at some point.” And sometimes people got what they didn’t deserve, like losing a spouse. Olivia shooed that thought away. “Heat me up a little of that potpie, will you? Then I’m going to get those rooms cleaned and finish my shopping before the day gets away from me,” she said, forcing cheer into her voice. “Can I pick you up anything?”
“Nah, I’m fine. And I’ll clean the rooms. I’ve done all my outside work for the day and I need something to do.”
He was always working, but she decided to let him have his way.
“All right, then, you’re in charge,” she said when lunch was done and she was ready to leave for the store. Actually, he was pretty much in charge even when she was at the lodge, which left Olivia free to enjoy cooking for their guests. What would she do without him?
It was a question she asked herself a lot lately. She wanted her son to find a nice woman and settle down, but so far no one in Icicle Falls had fit the bill. What if Ms. Right lived somewhere far away and didn’t want to move to Icicle Falls? Olivia wasn’t sure she could run the lodge alone, wasn’t sure she wanted to. But she hated the idea of closing it. It had meant so much to George. And to her.
What will be, will be, she told herself. Meanwhile, she had a lot to be thankful for. Eric was here, helping her. And Brandon, her baby, would be coming home for Christmas. Both her boys at the lodge. It was going to be a perfect holiday. Well...almost perfect. As perfect as it could be without George.
Once at the Safeway, she got busy picking up the items on her grocery list. Her friends Pat Wilder and Ed York had come in to get some lunch at the deli and she stopped to visit with them for a few minutes. Honestly, those two acted more like infatuated teenagers every day, she thought as she made her way to the produce department.
She realized she was suddenly feeling slightly Scroogey herself. She could have blamed it on the grumpy Mr. Braxton but she knew the real reason. Still, it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Probably better to quit hanging mistletoe around the lodge, too.
No, no. People needed to celebrate. Someone would make good use of that mistletoe, even if it wasn’t her. She made a quick detour to the baking aisle, grabbing some chocolate chips and more flour. When she got home she was going to bake cookies.
* * *
Eric had dinner with his mom, then left her finishing up a knitting project and enjoying some old Christmas movie on TV to go meet up with his pals for a pre-Christmas beer fest at Zelda’s, a favorite hangout for locals and tourists alike.
He found the place brim full of holiday cheer and people. A tree dressed up in pink ribbons and lights greeted visitors when they came in and the bar was decorated with silver tinsel and bells. The cocktail waitresses all wore Santa hats. So did half the customers.
Eric went over to the table where Bubba Swank and Rob Bohn were waiting for him. They hadn’t waited to order, however, and had both already made a dent in their beers. Bubba raised his in salute. “Merry Christmas. Got your shopping done?”
“Of course,” Eric replied. “Unlike you slobs, I don’t leave it till the last minute.”
“You also don’t have anybody but your mom to shop for,” Rob said.
His mom and his brother, but it didn’t take long to buy iTunes and Bavarian Brews gift cards. “Yeah? And who’ve you got to shop for besides Ivy?” Eric retorted. Rob and Ivy had a couple of kids, but Eric knew who bought the presents for them, as well as all the other people on their Christmas list.
“My parents,” Rob insisted. “And my brothers.”
“And you buy their presents? Not your wife?”
Rob was silent, and Bubba gave a snort.
“So, you going to Seattle to see Gina?” Eric asked Bubba.
“First Christmas with the girlfriend,” Rob put in. “I’m betting that’s a yes.”
Bubba frowned at his beer. “Actually, that’s a no.”
“Uh-oh,” said Eric.
“Uh, you still have the girlfriend, right?” asked Rob.
Bubba shook his head. “She broke up with me day before yesterday. By text.”
“Seriously?” Of course, breakups happened all the time, but Eric was surprised to hear about this one. Bubba was a nice guy, good-looking with a six-pack and the kind of strong jawline that seemed to draw women like a magnet. He owned a big place on Mountain View Drive and had a successful business. Plus he was a great guy. If Bubba couldn’t hang on to a woman, what hope was there for someone like Eric, who wasn’t exactly calendar-boy material and who worked running his mom’s lodge?
“That’s harsh, man,” Rob said. “How come?”
“She said she didn’t see it going anywhere.”
“Which meant she didn’t want to move,” Rob deduced.
Bubba nodded. “I think that’s about it.”
“I guess she doesn’t know what a gold mine Big Brats is. Did you tell her you’re a millionaire?”
Bubba shook his head again and took a long swig of beer. “Only a half millionaire. She can probably do better in Seattle.”
“I doubt it,” Rob said. “But that’s the problem when you get involved with tourists. They come up for some laughs and then they return to their real life. You were good enough to flirt with, hang out with this summer, but when it came right down to it...”
“I guess I should’ve known,” Bubba said with a shrug.
“Yeah, you should have,” Rob said. “Drink local and date local.”
“First you gotta find someone local,” Bubba said. “We can’t all meet a cute little cheerleader in high school and live happily ever after.”
Now Rob wasn’t looking quite so happy.
“Uh, you guys are okay, aren’t you?” Bubba asked.
Rob smiled but it seemed forced. “Sure. We’re okay.”
“Yeah?” Eric wasn’t buying it.
“Okay, we’ve got some shit going on. Well, I’ve got some shit going on.”
Rita Reyes was at their table now, ready to take Eric’s order. “Merry Christmas, Eric,” she said. “How are things at the lodge? Are you guys full up?”
“Not quite,” he said. “There’s still time to make a reservation for Christmas dinner.”
“Someday I’m gonna treat myself and do that. Your mom’s Christmas dinners are legendary. So, what can I get you?”
“Hale’s Mongoose.”
“I’ll have another,” Rob told her, and she nodded and hurried off. “There’s a fine-looking sugarplum,” he said, admiring the view as she threaded her way among the tables.
“Hello,” Bubba said, tapping him on the head. “Married man?”
Rob frowned.
“So, what’s going on with you two?” Eric asked, returning them to the subject at hand.
Rob contemplated his beer. “Sometimes I wonder if, aw, I don’t know. I think we got married too young.”
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of leaving Ivy,” Eric said.
“I don’t know,” he said again. “Sometimes I feel like I missed out somehow.”
Eric couldn’t believe his ears. Rob and Ivy were the perfect couple. In fact, he’d envied his old high school buddy. Rob seemed to have the perfect life. He’d married into a great family, and Christmas Haus, the shop he and Ivy owned, was a gold mine. It was originally called Kringle Mart, and they’d recently changed the name and doubled their business. In addition to sitting on a gold mine, he was married to a pretty woman who was about as nice as they came. A perfect life, a perfect marriage. If Rob couldn’t make it, who could?
Lately, Eric had been feeling the pull toward marriage. It seemed as though all his friends were happily paired off, either married or in a serious relationship. Well, it had until tonight.
“You’re nuts if you leave,” he told Rob.
“Yeah, probably,” Rob agreed. “But I wish I’d stayed single like you, man. Your life is your own. You can do what you want. All of that, plus good home cooking.”
Who was he kidding? Eric’s life was tied up in running the lodge and watching over his mom. Yeah, the home cooking was great and there was nothing else he’d rather do than run the lodge, but living with your mom didn’t exactly make for a great sex life.
“Yeah, right,” he said. “My life’s so great, that’s why I’m hanging out with you two—who, by the way, are a real pair of downers.”
“Love can be a downer,” Rob said morosely.
Rita was back with their beers. Just in time because Rob had swilled all of his. He lifted up his glass. “Okay, guys, here’s to the new year. Let’s hope it gets better.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Eric said. And better for him would include a woman. He was getting tired of his bachelor existence, tired of things not working out. His younger brother didn’t seem to mind going through women like candy but Eric did. He was ready to settle down.
Except if someone in a practically perfect marriage like Rob could be discontented, if a nice guy like Bubba couldn’t hang on to a woman, what chance did he have? And where was he going to find Ms. Right? Date local, great idea. But he’d tried the local girls and nothing had come of it. He’d even expanded his search to nearby Wenatchee and that hadn’t panned out, either. Was he too picky?
No, he decided. It wasn’t picky to want what his folks had. They’d been so happy. Maybe that was some older-generation thing. Maybe it didn’t work that way for people his age anymore. Who knew?
All he knew was that hanging out with his friends should have put him in a good mood and instead they were a holiday bummer.
Never mind, he told himself. Santa’s still alive and well, and it’s Christmas in Icicle Falls. Your life’s not so bad.
But hey, Santa, if you’re listening, it could be better.
