Читать книгу The Lodge on Holly Road - Sheila Roberts - Страница 12

Chapter Five

Do You See What I See?

There were oohs and aahs from the kids the moment they hit town. Driving past all those buildings with the fancy paintings on them and the cute little signs dangling above the doors, the potted Christmas trees strung with twinkle lights sitting on every corner, it was as if they’d gone to Germany for the holidays. One shop even had a life-size Nutcracker standing guard outside. Wow.

Once they’d gone through the town itself, Missy’s directions sent her down Icicle Creek Drive, a wooded road surrounded by snowy woods. “See the llama farm?” she said, pointing. “That means we’re almost there.”

Sure enough, there was Holly Road, the side road veering off the main drag. She turned onto it and followed a scenic, curved road. She could already see herself walking down it, taking the kids into town to see the sights.

Then she saw their home for the holidays. Carlos and Lalla stared in awe at the Icicle Creek Lodge as if it was the Taj Mahal. It was pretty impressive—a big stone-and-timber building that looked like something from another time with a sweeping front lawn carpeted with pristine snow. The roof was strung with icicle lights and a tree bejeweled with colored lights sat on the front porch, which ran along the front of the building. Oh, yes, just like in the picture.

“Wow!” cried Carlos, racing toward the lodge.

“Not so fast,” Missy said. “I need you to help me carry in our stuff.”

“I can help,” offered John Truman, who had just gotten out of his vehicle. He’d caught up with them quickly after chaining up his own car and, true to his word, had been behind them all the way like some sort of guardian angel.

He sure was a cute guardian angel, with hair the color of red some women would pay a fortune for and freckles strung across his nose. He wasn’t as good-looking as other men she’d fallen for but she was willing to bet he also wasn’t a sleaze bucket.

There would be no falling for this guy, she reminded herself. He was already taken. “That’s okay,” she said, handing a grocery bag of snacks to Lalla, who, like her brother, couldn’t seem to stand still.

“Mama,” Lalla gasped, “I just saw Santa Claus.”

“There’s no such thing, stupid,” Carlos told her scornfully.

“Is, too!” Lalla shot back.

“Don’t call your sister stupid,” Missy scolded. She wanted to add that there was, too, such a thing as Santa, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it, considering that Santa had been rather a disappointment to her children, especially Carlos. “Where did you see Santa, princess?” she asked her daughter.

Lalla pointed to the lodge. “I saw him go inside.”

“Santa doesn’t stay in houses,” Carlos said impatiently. “He lives at the North Pole.”

So much for not believing in Santa, Missy thought with a smile, and gave her son the backpack with his clothes.

“Maybe he’s visiting friends,” John said. Missy had a trash bag with the kids’ presents in it and he insisted on carrying that, as well as the beat-up carry-on suitcase she’d picked up at a garage sale.

“Maybe we’ll see him,” Lalla said, and hurried up the front walk.

“Race you!” Carlos dashed ahead of her.

“I think they’re stoked,” John observed.

“They’re not the only ones,” Missy said. Oh, yes, this was going to be such a great Christmas. And she didn’t need a man to make it great. Still, as she made her way up the walk with her new friend beside her, she couldn’t help wishing he wasn’t already taken.

* * *

James wished he was in jeans and a shirt instead of this red Santa suit. If he were, he’d be more inclined to linger and talk to Olivia Wallace, the friendly owner of this B and B who was checking them in, supervised by a big orange cat sitting on top of the check-in desk. There was something pleasant about this woman, something that said, “Take a deep breath, relax, everything will be all right.”

She was plump and round-faced. Her hair was as gray as his, a pretty silver-white, softly curled and very feminine-looking. Put her in a red skirt and a lacy blouse and some granny glasses, and she could pass for Mrs. Claus. She’d moved her wedding ring to her right hand, which told him she was widowed. It would be comforting to talk with someone who’d been where he was.

Olivia smiled. “I swear, you’re the most realistic Santa I’ve ever seen.”

Realistic or not, who went out in public dressed like Santa? He felt like an idiot. “I don’t normally parade around in this outfit,” he said.

“I kidnapped him from work,” Brooke explained. She petted the cat and it purred and leaned into her hand for more. “He’s a professional Santa.”

“Oh, that must be fun!” said Olivia.

It had been. Once upon a time. James shrugged.

“He’s been Santa for as long as I can remember,” Brooke continued, warming to the subject. “At family gatherings, for church events, orphanages, fund-raisers. He always goes to Children’s Hospital and visits the kids.”

Okay, this was becoming embarrassing. And now voices outside announced that more guests were arriving.

“I think I hear children,” he said. “Let’s get out of here before they see me and wonder what Santa’s doing wandering around the lodge two days before Christmas.”

“They’d probably love to meet you,” Brooke said.

Well, he didn’t want to meet them. “Honey, I really want to change out of this outfit.”

“Of course,” Olivia said, handing over the keycards for their adjoining rooms. “We serve breakfast from eight to ten. If you have any special dietary needs that weren’t addressed when you registered, please let us know. Christmas Eve we’ll be offering a special dinner at six and on Christmas Day we’ll serve dinner at five.”

“Fabulous,” Brooke said.

“The elevator’s right around the corner if you prefer to use it. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.” Olivia smiled at both of them again, but her smile seemed to linger on James.

“I hope we’ll see you around,” he said, and then felt instantly guilty. That had been...too friendly. His wife had been gone only a year. He had no right to be smiling at a woman, taking in her generous curves. Her breasts.

His thoughts traveled back to Faith’s mastectomy. A double. She’d mourned the loss of her breasts, but he’d just been glad to have her alive, still with him. Who cared about the breasts? Of course, she’d talked about reconstructive surgery and that had made him nervous. Even though it was a common procedure, what if something happened?

Something had happened. She’d barely gotten her new breasts when the damned cancer came back, this time in her spine. He’d nursed her the best he could, tried to learn to cook. But his specialty had remained heating soup. Thank God they’d had friends who brought over hot dishes. Thank God for his daughter. He wished he was thanking God that his wife was still alive.

Now the voices were getting nearer. Santa was in no mood to see anybody. He grabbed Brooke’s suitcase and marched for the elevator.

She hurried after him, catching up with him just as the doors opened. As they stepped off the elevator and walked under the archway toward the hall where their rooms were, she said, “Oh, look. Mistletoe.”

That made him even grumpier. But it wouldn’t do to be grumpy when he was with his daughter and she’d gone to so much trouble to make their Christmas good. “Well, then, I’d better kiss my angel,” he said, and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

She hugged him back. “We’re going to have fun.”

“Yes, we are,” he lied.

“Look!” came a childish voice from the lobby. “There he is.”

Crap. “Okay, let’s go,” he said, and picked up his pace.

* * *

“I saw him!” Lalla cried, pointing to the third landing. “He was right there and he was kissing a lady.”

If he was on the third-story landing, he was gone now. The kids would love it if there was somebody here playing Santa Claus. Missy hadn’t taken them to the mall to see Santa yet and she’d love to get their pictures taken with him.

Of course, they’d written letters to Santa. She’d helped Lalla write hers and it had read, “Dear Santa, I love you. Please bring me a grandma. My grandma is in heaven with the angels and can’t bake me cookies or read me stories. Merry Christmas. We will try to make you some cookies if Mommy can buy some cookie mix.” They hadn’t gotten around to the cookies, but Missy had assured Lalla that Santa would bring her something, anyway.

Carlos hadn’t been quite so loving in his letter. He’d written it himself and it was short and to the point. “Dear Santa, if you kant bring me a dog furgit it. Merry Kristmas, Carlos.” Well, okay, so Santa wouldn’t come through. They’d still have fun.

How could they not? She looked around the huge, beautifully decorated lobby. The carpet was dated but in pristine condition with a muted floral pattern. Sturdy ornate furniture gathered around a big fireplace on the back wall, impressive with its style and the carving on the mantelpiece. The fireplace was laid with wood, ready to be lit, and Missy could envision herself standing in front of it. A grouping of three large potted poinsettias sat on the coffee table and two wingback chairs flanked it. A baby grand piano occupied space in one corner and Missy knew from what she’d read on the website that later that evening someone would be seated at that piano, giving the guests a concert. But best of all was the antique sleigh sitting front and center in the lobby. It was decorated with red ribbon and greens and filled with presents and teddy bears. Some delicious aroma hung in the air, bringing the promise of cookies.

“Well, aren’t you two the most beautiful children ever,” the woman at the reception desk greeted them. “What are your names?”

“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.