Читать книгу The Christmas Inn - Stella MacLean - Страница 9

CHAPTER ONE

ELEVEN DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS and Marnie McLaughlan hadn’t finished her shopping, but that was the least of her worries. She eased open the back door of the salon. The only sounds were the comforting hum of the refrigerator in the staff room and the clacking of a keyboard in the office to her right. She waited for the familiar click telling her the door had locked behind her before she headed for the office.

This was the day she’d wished for and worried over.

She was about to sell her half interest in Total Elegance, the hair-and-aesthetics salon she and her partner, Shane Walker, had co-owned for the past ten years. Her brothers, the superachiever foursome, would jump out of their jock straps if they knew she was in the process of selling her part of the business without their input. She had come in today to get her copy of the agreement to go over with her lawyer before signing. She was quite proud of the fact that her brothers wouldn’t be involved. Their best-before date as inquisitive overseers had long since passed.

At the door of the office she had shared with Shane through all the growing pains of their business she hesitated. This was it. She would read the agreement one more time, then take it to her lawyer. She took a deep breath and tapped lightly. He glanced up, his spiked mullet bobbing like a rooster’s comb as he stood to greet her. “Hey, great to see you,” he said, all brightness and light. Marnie had only one wish where her soon-to-be-ex-partner was concerned. She’d like him to change his hairstyle. When she first met him he’d styled his dark hair to frame his face, softening his angular features, and now the vertical spike of hair only made his nose appear longer, his chin more pointed. Worst of all, his haircut made him look dated.

It was a word that everyone who was anyone in the beauty industry hated to hear, and Marnie didn’t have the heart to tell him. Then again, maybe he knew and just didn’t care. But why should she worry about it, anyway? In mere weeks, she’d be able to put Shane’s hair, and all the other issues that came with running a salon, out of her mind. “Freedom thirty-five,” she’d dubbed her decision.

“It’s great to see you, too,” she said, crossing the narrow space and sitting down in what passed for the guest chair—a warped, plastic lawn chair she’d pilfered from her parents’ garage.

“So, are we ready to sign?” he inquired, his eyebrows doing an odd dance over his forehead, a rather peculiar move for a man, and one that had left questions in the minds of some of their patrons as to his sexual orientation. But those in doubt didn’t know Shane’s history where women were concerned. He was a consummate professional at work and a regular tomcat at night—that is until a particularly clever feline had put an end to his roaming ways.

Her name was Gina, and Shane planned to marry her, which was why he’d offered to buy Marnie’s half of the business. Gina, it turned out, was also a hairdresser and she and Shane were working on more than marriage plans.

“Slow down, Shane. Like I told you yesterday, I want my lawyer to read it before I sign.” She reached for the document, intending to pop it into her oversized bag.

“Sorry. It’s just that I’m so anxious, you know. God!” He sandwiched his head between his hands. “I’ve never felt like this before! We’ll be celebrating our three-month anniversary in a week, can you believe that?” he asked, giving her the same wide-eyed look she’d seen at least a dozen times a day for the past few months.

If he launched into yet another of his long-winded sagas about the wonders of love at first sight, about his plans for marriage and a future with the soon-to-be Gina Walker, she was going to have to slap him. She’d never slapped anyone except her brother Scott for telling Andy Capson she wanted to go out with him. But if Shane didn’t stop talking about how great love felt, how happy he was… As far as Marnie was concerned, love was nothing more than a word in the dictionary somewhere between lovat—a tweed of muted green—and low—inferior or depressed.

All the boyfriends she’d had to date could be slotted into one of two categories: they either had issues around commitment, or they bordered on being illiterate. And if that wasn’t bad enough, they’d all turned out to be liars. Every man with whom she’d had a relationship had been dishonest in one way or another.

“Your three-month anniversary?” she repeated idly, as she skimmed the opening paragraphs of the sales agreement, glad to see the main terms of the agreement in writing, especially the financial ones. There was a non-competition clause, restricting her from opening a salon in the city, which was fine with her.

Shane put his hand on her shoulder. “Look, take your time and read through carefully, but I would like to have it all settled before Christmas. Is that possible?”

She looked up from the document as she considered what he’d said. As much as she loved the business, she’d often wished for something more. She was a good manager, and she wanted a bigger challenge in her life, but he hadn’t considered acting on her discontent until Gina had started at the salon. The unfortunate truth was that she couldn’t work with the woman. She was bossy and overbearing.

Marnie hadn’t busted her butt for ten years to end up taking orders from a woman whose only qualification, other than that of hairdresser, was that she had snagged the other owner. And with the cash from the buyout Marnie would be able to start a different business. She didn’t know what yet, but she’d figure it out. All she needed was a little time.

“Before Christmas? I don’t see why that should be a problem,” she said.

“Great. I’ll go out and put the coffee on so we can have a cup to celebrate. I brought a bag of these special beans Gina loves. They’re from Costa Rica. I’ll go grind them and be right back. Do you want a cappuccino? Or just regular?”

“Why don’t we splurge and have a cappuccino?”

He winked at her and smiled the goofy smile he’d recently acquired. “You got it.”

After he left, Marnie skipped through the legalese to the important parts of the agreement, and made sure they said what Shane had promised.

She sat back and let her gaze move around the office, remembering the long hours she’d spent there, the worries she and Shane had had over the finances, whether they’d be able to grow their client list and hire the best hairdressers. But most of all she remembered the sense of accomplishment she’d felt when she and Shane had been written up in one of the local magazines, commended for their successful partnership. And now, as she faced the fact that this would all be over in a few weeks, she felt a sudden pang of longing.

For ten years she’d lived and breathed Total Elegance. She’d borrowed her share of the start-up money, and then prayed that the salon would be enough of a success to pay off her loan. It was and she had. She’d proven to her family that she could succeed on her own terms, and it felt so good.

Marnie swallowed against the hard lump in her throat. This was not the time for tears. She and Shane had had a good ride, but it would be fun to spend a few weeks considering her next venture, sleeping in until noon, shopping when she felt like it.

Shane reappeared with two mugs in his hands, and with what had become his signature wide-body smile, only to come to a dead halt. “Hey, Marnie, is something wrong?”

His words startled her. “No. Nothing. Why?”

He passed her a cup with her usual two teaspoons of sugar and went to sit behind the desk, placing his mug on a coaster Marnie’s mother had crocheted for the office—to give it a homey touch, as she’d put it. “For a minute, I thought I’d left something out of the agreement,” he said, hefting his size-twelve shoes up onto the corner of the desk.

“Not at all.” She took a sip of her coffee, letting the aroma infiltrate her nostrils while the caffeine hot-wired her mind.

“Well, what do you think? Is it all right?”

“I’m sure it is.... I’ll miss this place.”

“I know you will, honey. If you’d like to work in the salon until you decide on a new career, that’s fine by me,” he offered, his words holding the nuance of a man who just realized that he should run the idea past his woman.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” she said. “But I think I’m going to concentrate on what I want to do next.”

“Have you considered going back to university?”

Having flunked her first year, she didn’t intend on repeating the experience. Besides, she didn’t want to waste her hard-earned cash on learning things she’d never use. She was far too practical. Of course, not having made up her mind about her future would mean she’d have to sit through the next dozen or so family dinners, and be subjected to all sorts of unwanted advice.

“School isn’t for me, at least not right—” A loud banging sound interrupted her.

“Someone’s at the back door at this hour of the morning?” Shane asked, a frown on his face.

“I’ll go and see,” Marnie said, hopping up from her chair and heading out back. Deliveries didn’t start until 9:00 a.m., and there was little chance that any of the staff would appear ahead of their shift. She peeked through the little hole in the middle of the door.

“No!” she moaned. Turning, she braced her back against the hard surface. She would unlock the door and let her nuisance of a brother into the salon when pigs wore roller skates. Scott couldn’t be certain she was there, and besides, even if he persisted in banging on the door, she wasn’t going to answer.

“Marnie. I know you’re in there, and we need to talk.”

* * *

LUKE HARRISON HAD ZERO interest in Christmas. As far as he was concerned it was everyone’s excuse to run up bills they couldn’t pay, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t excited for other people and for all the planning that came with the season.

As of today, The Mirabel Inn was fully booked for what he and his staff had named the Christmas Getaway Event. The event had been designed for married couples who didn’t have family plans or who had finally decided to skip the Christmas madness, and simply have a quiet, elegant holiday by themselves. He’d done it on a smaller scale last Christmas but had run into problems when other guests booked into the inn who weren’t part of the program—one of the single women had flirted with one of the married men, resulting in the wife packing up and leaving. A messy, uncomfortable situation he didn’t want to have repeated this year.

This year the event included five days—three before Christmas, plus Christmas Day and the twenty-sixth. It had taken months to put together a good marketing campaign, but it had paid off. The only room left in the inn was a small one, with a double bed, that was earmarked for renovation, making it into an office for the housekeeper Mary Cunningham.

He’d been up since six that morning, thanks to his four-year-old son, Ethan, who’d been promised a chance to help decorate the huge balsam fir that was presently being strung with lights in preparation for a tree-trimming party. The staff and their families had been invited to a luncheon due to start at noon, after the tree trimming, a party to show appreciation for the staff of the inn. Luke, as the manager, had to be there to kick off the celebration. It was important to hold this party before the getaway event began as many of the staff would be working throughout the holidays.

Despite his aversion to Christmas, Luke enjoyed this event because he got a chance to give back to the staff and their families whose support was important to the success of the inn. The lunch buffet would be set up in the glassed-in patio along the south side of the two-hundred-year-old inn. The chef, Max Anderson, was making lobster quiche, this year’s special dish, along with the usual turkey, ham and all the vegetables, rolls and condiments people enjoyed as part of the Christmas festivities. Family members of the staff, who liked to bake, provided the desserts, showcasing the recipes of some of the best bakers in the region.

Tidying the cost projections report he’d been reading at his desk, he placed it on top the pile, intending to work on it later. When Luke had first come to work at The Mirabel Inn, he’d gotten rid of the stark furnishings in the office and added his own touches along with state-of-the-art computers to assist in managing the inn. But his favorite piece in the office was an antique oak desk with hidden drawers, pigeonholes and a roll-up top, a special gift from his grandfather. Grant Harrison had left the desk to him in his will, and now it was a part of his life. A daily reminder of his grandfather, who had owned one of the largest inns in Connecticut years before.

He was closing his computer when someone knocked on the door. Before he could answer, Mary Cunningham opened the door and Ethan rushed in behind her.

“Well, hello there, big guy,” Luke said, getting up from his desk in time to catch Ethan in his arms.

“Daddy!” the little boy yelled, a red-and-green cap balanced precariously on his head.

“Where did you get the elf hat?” Luke asked. Scooping Ethan up and holding him close, he breathed in his scent—usually a mixture of dirt from playing with his dump trucks in the garden plot next to the back patio, and sweat from racing around the property. But today there was just a hint of cinnamon, enhanced by frosting smudges on his cheeks, which meant Ethan had been in the kitchen driving the pastry cook crazy with his questions and his pleas for more sweets.

“Mary gived it to me,” Ethan said, triumphantly.

Luke had planned to spend the day with his son, but an urgent call from the owners of the inn had meant he’d been forced to work on cost figures this morning. He was proud of his management of the inn, which was located only a few miles from some of the best skiing in the eastern United States.

Digging a tissue from his pocket, he wiped the frosting off Ethan’s cheeks. “Hope he hasn’t been too much trouble.”

Mary smiled, a warm smile that had been so welcome in those early months after Anna’s death in a car accident. She’d been the mother figure to a one-year-old toddler who had no comprehension of why his mommy had left, only that she was gone from his life. Mary had helped both his son and him through the proceeding months of agony and loss, and her generous support and advice had held Luke’s life together during a very difficult time.

“Evelyn and Ethan made a batch of sugar cookies with Santa faces on them for the children who are coming.”

“How many cookies did you eat, Ethan?” he asked.

The boy grinned and held up five fingers.

“You didn’t! Did you share them with anyone?”

Mary laughed. “Henry probably has a tummy ache. I put him in his crate in your apartment. It seemed safer that way.”

Henry was a stray part-terrier, part-spaniel that had arrived at the inn on one of the coldest nights in January last year. Henry and Ethan had been constant companions since that frozen evening. “Great. We don’t need a four-footed tree trimmer joining the excitement.”

“Daddy, I patted the branches of the tree.”

“You patted them?” He glanced at Mary.

“Yep. He patted the tree and helped open the boxes of ornaments.”

“I found a red bulb this big,” Ethan said, opening his arms wide and grinning at his father.

“Wow! You’ve been busy,” he said, reveling in the joy of his son’s face. The past three years since his wife’s death had been the hardest of his life. Each morning he woke to the fact that Anna wouldn’t be there to share the day, to see their son grow into a young man, to face each moment with her inexhaustible enthusiasm. In those early weeks after her death, he sleepwalked through each meaningless day. His only connection to the world around him was Ethan. All those lonely months had been made bearable by the presence of his little boy.

But there was a part of him that couldn’t forgive his wife’s reckless behavior. She’d insisted on driving to Boston to do some last-minute Christmas shopping and hadn’t heeded his warning to stay there until the ice storm had passed and the roads had been cleared. As much as he tried, it had been hard for him to understand how she could have acted the way she did, knowing the risks involved. The kind statements from their friends about how Anna did what she thought best were drowned out by the heartbreak of life without her.

“Are we ready to start trimming the tree?” Mary asked, reaching for Ethan.

Luke hugged his son before putting him down. “Don’t know about you, but it will be the bright spot in my morning.”

Ethan nodded so vigorously his elf hat fell off, and he raced from the room.

“Where does he get the energy?” Luke asked.

“Kid power is what I call it.” Mary chuckled as she rescued the hat. “And I should know.”

“By the way, how’s Troy doing at college?”

“Not bad for his first term. Better than his sister and brother did. Peter and I were figuring out the amount of free cash we’ll have once Troy is out of school. We’ll be living well, let me tell you,” she said, a smile spreading across her round face.

Luke had never thought that far ahead: he’d been too busy keeping his life on an even keel and working long hours at the inn. Because of the good friends he’d made since he’d come to work at the inn, he wanted to stay on there for the long term, and maybe someday own an inn like his grandfather had. Owning an inn was not the career his parents had dreamed of for their only child. His father had wanted him to get a law degree and become a partner in his law firm—a profession Luke had no interest in, despite his father’s love for it.

“I’m sorry your parents can’t come for Christmas this year. Ethan is growing up so fast, and Christmas is all about children.”

“I am, too, but it seems they have a prior commitment to spend Christmas with friends in Australia.”

It hurt to say those words, words that only increased the disconnect he felt where his parents were concerned. He’d tried to get them to be more involved in Ethan’s life, and they’d made promises they hadn’t kept. And now with it being Christmas…

“The FedEx truck will be here tomorrow,” Mary said, as if she were reading his thoughts. But in all honesty, it would shock him if his parents had the foresight to send a Christmas gift to their only grandchild.

“We’d better get out there before Ethan hangs all the ornaments on one branch,” he said, remembering last Christmas when he’d let his son decorate a small tree for their apartment, and Ethan had hooked every ornament on a branch near the bottom of the tree. Luke had left it that way and had emailed several photos of Ethan’s efforts to his parents in Hong Kong.

They walked together to the front hall, where a throng of inn guests and local residents had already gathered around the tree. A group of carolers from Wakesfield had arrived to provide the entertainment, filling the large entry hall with familiar Christmas songs. Luke made his way through the crowd to the tree where Ethan was attempting to string a garland of colored popcorn onto a branch. “Hey! Don’t pull the tree over,” Luke warned, kneeling to help him.

“Daddy, I love popcorn,” he whispered, bringing the strand to his mouth. “Want some?”

“You can’t eat that. It’s a decoration for the tree.”

Ethan’s lips formed a pout. “I’m hungry.”

“You can’t be.”

Ethan ignored him as he pulled on the strand of popcorn.

“Here, let me help,” Luke said, following the string down past Ethan’s feet to a spot under the bottom of the tree where it had become entangled. Reaching in, he freed it, and then lifted Ethan so he could place the garland on the outer tips of the branches.

The people standing around the tree clapped, and Ethan smiled as he hugged his father’s neck. Balancing his son in his arms, Luke finished stringing the popcorn on the tree.

The group gathered closer as they all joined in decorating the tree. Several of the men took turns hoisting Ethan up so he could reach the higher branches. Everyone was intent on decorating the huge tree, reminding Luke once again how lucky he was to have this extended family as part of his life for the past eight years.

The sense of family and being together for the holiday season caused a lump to form in Luke’s throat. It wasn’t that he disliked Christmas as much as the idea that his son would never remember a Christmas that included his mother.

But he couldn’t focus on the past, especially with so much riding on the next few weeks. He’d heard rumors from other managers of hotels and inns owned by Advantage Corporation that the CEO, Angus McAndrew, and his management team were looking at all their resort holdings with an eye to selling some of their properties. He hoped the rumor wasn’t true, but he knew better than to think that they’d be concerned with what he believed or how he felt.

Still, it was worrisome because he’d worked for Advantage for years, starting at a smaller inn and then being promoted to manager of The Mirabel. Right now, with Ethan finally happy and content once again, he didn’t look forward to any change that would affect his son’s life, not to mention his own. If Advantage chose to sell this inn, they would probably offer him a job somewhere, but if they decided that his performance wasn’t up to their standards or they didn’t have a position to offer him, he could end up looking for a job with another organization. In either case it would mean a different location and a new place to live. For now, he didn’t want to consider the impact it would have on them. He just wanted to watch his son enjoy the festivities that would kick off the Christmas season.

“Up, Daddy,” Ethan demanded, a large angel dangling from his fingers as he held his arms up to his father.

“An angel wants to put an angel on the tree,” Mary said over the din created by the crowd.

And Ethan was an angel—the baby he and Anna had dreamed of and waited years for. “Okay, Ethan, let’s see you hang this ornament,” he said, holding his son aloft as he leaned into the branches to hang the angel near the center of the tree. The staff had already placed a huge lighted star on top. Luke stepped back with Ethan still held high in his arms.

“This is probably the nicest tree we’ve ever had at the inn,” Mary mused, as they all gazed up into the tree.

* * *

STILL KEEPING THE DOOR CLOSED against her brother, Marnie considered her options. How had he known she was in here? Knowing him, he would’ve driven by her house, then over here and found her car in the parking lot. Had he discovered her plan to sell?

Scott was the last person she wanted to see right now. He’d rant on and on about how she was making a huge decision without seeking the family’s advice first. The unspoken issue was that Marnie McLaughlan, the youngest member of the McLaughlan clan, wasn’t allowed to make any changes in her life without their involvement.

“Go away, Scott,” she yelled through the door. “I’m not doing anything that concerns you.”

“Marnie, listen to me. Mom is all worked up over Christmas and worried about you. You know what she’s like,” he said.

Her mother loved the holidays; she relied on Marnie’s support for whatever scheme she had in the works. This year she planned to have Santa arrive complete with sleigh and elves, which meant that Marnie had to be there to act as Mrs. Claus, a role she’d flat-out refused, much to her mother’s chagrin. The problem with Eleanor’s party schemes was that they always seemed to involve an unattached male—usually the temporarily single son of one of her mother’s bridge-playing friends—with whom she’d be forced to socialize. “I’m well aware of our mother’s ability to be a drama queen.”

“Not fair, Marnie. Mom has always had your best interests at heart.”

Right. Good old Mom, not to mention good old Dad and my four good old brothers.

How she’d like to snap her fingers and have Scott disappear. But Scott’s Velcro tendencies were legendary once he decided to become involved in something. He beat a tattoo on the door, making her clap her hands to her ears.

If, just once, her family could see her for what she was rather than what she wasn’t, her life would be so much easier. Reluctantly she turned the lock, opened the door and forced a smile. “What brought you here so early this morning?”

“I heard that you were selling your half of the business.”

“Who told you?”

“Dad heard about it through some friend at the Elks Club—a friend of a friend of a woman named Gina something or other. Is it true?”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

Dressed in his uniform of an immaculately tailored dark suit, silk tie chosen to match the tiny thread of magenta woven into the suit fabric, Scott gave her a persuasive smile—the one he usually saved for his marketing clients—as he stepped past her into the tiny office.

“Hello, Shane, it’s great to see you, and I hear that congratulations are in order.” Scott was about to plunk himself down in the lawn chair, took a closer look and reconsidered.

As Shane launched into the story about how he met his new love, and soon-to-be new partner, Marnie leaned back against the wall and enjoyed the look on Scott’s face. Her brother had problems with any conversation he didn’t control. Scott wasn’t mean. He was constantly thinking ahead to the next step in his plans, and thus he didn’t have much patience for small talk. Not surprisingly, it didn’t take him long to interrupt Shane and ask a couple of pointed questions concerning the contract.

“Shane, you don’t have to answer,” she said hurriedly, wanting to block Scott’s interrogation of her friend.

Shane closed his mouth and sank his neck into his turtleneck. “That’s right, I don’t,” he confirmed, his eyebrows rising to meet his hairline.

“Shane, would you excuse my sister and me for a couple of minutes?”

With an expression of resignation Shane rose from the chair. “I’ll be in the salon going over the renovation plans,” he said, giving Marnie his “chin up, kid” smile as he walked past her out the door.

“You have yet to sign, and he’s already going over plans?” Scott asked, disbelief evident in his tone.

“They’re old blueprints Shane and I had considered a couple of years ago. He and Gina are going to revisit them and see if they’re feasible for the expansion they want to make.”

“This Gina person is certainly moving fast.”

“That’s their business, not mine. What’s the family’s problem with me selling to Shane?”

Scott scooped up the agreement Marnie had carelessly left lying on the desk and took his time reading it before he answered. “We want to be sure you’re being paid fair market value for the business and this building. And that Shane hasn’t slipped in a noncompetition clause that would stop you from working as a hairdresser once you leave here,” he muttered. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing at the page.

“What?” she asked, refusing to glance at the page.

“You can’t work in Boston as a hairdresser?”

“We agreed it was only fair. My client list and the goodwill I’ve built up in the city are part of what he’s buying beyond the physical assets,” she said, exasperated with Scott’s attitude.

“Marnie, I’m your brother, and I don’t want—”

“Scott, will you leave it alone?” she said, struggling to remain calm. After all, her brother did have his good qualities; the problem was she couldn’t remember any of them at the moment.

Still clutching the agreement, Scott leaned against the ancient file cabinet in the corner. “Okay, you take this to your lawyer, and you sign it. What happens the day after you sign? What are you going to do with your life?”

“Run away to the south seas? Go on safari for a few weeks?”

“Get serious. You must have a plan.”

“I’m working on that. Please tell Mom not to worry,” she said, thankful that he was still concentrating on the agreement and couldn’t see the uncertainty in her eyes. Her family always looked for reasons to freak out over what she was doing and how she was doing it. She understood their concern in the beginning. Two major surgeries she’d had to undergo, one when she was eight to fix a heart defect and one when she had a serious car accident fifteen years ago, had given her family reason to worry. But not anymore.

Scott placed the document on the desk before turning his intense gaze on her. “Tell you what. Angus McAndrew, the CEO of Advantage, you remember him, don’t you?”

Scott once worked for Advantage Corporation in their PR department. “He’s the guy who got me in to see that superrenowned orthopedic surgeon in New York after my car accident.”

“Our family owes Angus a lot. I’m convinced that without his help, you wouldn’t have had such a complete recovery.” He smiled down at her, warmth showing in his eyes. “Even though I left his company to start my own business, he and I have stayed in touch. He has a property in the Berkshires, The Mirabel Inn, and he’s going to put it up for sale. But before he does, he needs a business survey of the region, which one of my staff is working on, and he wants to know that the inn has no operational issues that could derail the sale. He’s asked me to hire a mystery guest right away as he has a potential buyer for the inn and he wants to make the kind of pitch the purchaser can’t resist. You’ll work the three days prior to Christmas, all expenses paid. All you have to do is fill out a bunch of forms. Shouldn’t be too stressful,” he said.

Ever since her car accident fifteen years ago and her difficulties with her rehabilitation, her family had kept a close eye on her. In those first months after the accident, she had desperately needed their help and support. Now, years later, it felt more like they simply wanted to run her life. “Why do it right before Christmas? A mystery guest? What does that mean?”

“Angus is a perfectionist, and he leaves nothing to chance. He’s also very driven, and when he wants something, he goes after it. If he wants to sell this property he’ll do it Christmas Day if he has to. As for being a mystery guest, it means you behave like a regular guest, and the management doesn’t know who you are or what you’re doing there. Meanwhile, you collect information for me on how the inn functions, based on questionnaires the company will provide. Before you leave here, I’ll give you the questionnaires so you can read them over to know what aspects of the inn to evaluate. Once you’ve completed an area, such as the spa or the bar, for instance, you enter your responses online, and then email them to me on a daily basis. I’ll take care of the rest. I’ll be in touch with you each day to see how you’re making out with the survey, and we’ll take it from there.”

“I don’t like sneaking around, trying to get proof that someone isn’t doing something right. Besides, why would I want to go north where it’s cold and I don’t know anyone?”

“Because you need time to think before you sign this agreement.”

“I can sign my agreement without going off alone to someplace cold first,” she said, feeling she’d got him on this one. “I don’t need to go away to think about my future.”

“Well, I need you to think about my future and the future success of my company. Angus McAndrew is offering my firm a chance to do work for him, based on how well I handle this project, and how quickly. I need your help.”

She blinked. “My help? Why me? You must have dozens of people you could order to go to the Berkshires.”

He peered at his hands for a couple of minutes. “Peanut, you’re the one person I know who has the expertise to evaluate the inn’s hotel operations and its spa on such short notice.”

Scott must really need her help if he was using the old nickname he’d given her when she was a kid with a leaky heart valve. He’d been so sweet to her back then. She had to admit that with his drive and encouragement her recovery had actually been kind of pleasant. He’d been so good to her, so full of fun ideas to help her forget that she’d just been through major surgery. She owed it to Scott to help him.

“Okay,” she said “But there are conditions.”

“Name them.” He eyed his cell phone.

If she stayed at this inn, she’d be free of all the family pressures involved in getting ready for Christmas. That alone would be fantastic. But there was another equally attractive reason to do it. Despite what she’d said to Scott, she did need to escape for a little while. She’d put so much effort into proving that she could run a successful business that she’d neglected herself in the process. Thanks to her brother she was being handed an opportunity to relax and evaluate her life.

“I want you to tell Mom and the rest of the family that you’ve sent me on an urgent assignment, and I won’t be back until Christmas.”

“What? Mom won’t believe that.”

“Why? It’s the truth.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he said, “Yeah, but I was hoping you’d do the explaining.”

“I’m working for you—you can deliver the news. All I want is a few days of peace and quiet away from the McLaughlan family, and that includes Mom. Agreed?”

He squinted at her. “You’re sure that’s all?”

“If you can pull it off.”

“Of course I can.”

“You’re going to keep Mom, Dad, Liam, Gordon and Alex off my case for the entire four days that I’m away doing this job for you?” she asked.

“I will, but you’d better turn off your cell phone or I can’t be held responsible.”

“I’ll manage my cell phone if you promise me that Mom won’t follow me to the inn.”

“Nothing would drag Mom away from her kitchen this close to Christmas.” He patted her on the head. “I promise to keep everyone out of your life for four full days.”

“Which four days?”

“Okay, you’ll arrive there on December 21st, and do your survey work December 22nd, 23rd and 24th, getting back here as early as you can on the 24th.”

“That close to Christmas?”

Scott shrugged. “Afraid so.”

“Angus McAndrew doesn’t celebrate Christmas?”

“He does, but it seems that this deal is very important to him, and he hopes to have it to bed by the New Year. That means he needs the results Christmas week.”

“If you say so.”

“I do, and I wouldn’t be asking you to do this, but I need someone I can trust completely.”

He brother trusted her and needed her, and she really owed him a lot. “Okay, I’ll go to your precious inn.”

“And you have to keep everything confidential. You can’t tell anyone at the inn that you’re doing this, and under no circumstances are you to tell anyone that the inn is about to be sold. Understood?”

She gave him a snappy salute. “Aye, Captain.”

He wrapped her in a bear hug. “Thanks, Peanut.”

“And there’s something else.”

He looked at her as if she were a flawed business proposal. “Let’s hear it.”

“Stop calling me Peanut.”

His jaw worked, he frowned and rubbed his cheek. “Won’t happen again.”