by Susan Hatler
I tilted my head. “I hear sleigh bells. That’s our cue.”
We went outside and spotted horses, hauling along a large sleigh. Three rows of seats, covered in crushed red-velvet, sat below the black top that provided some protection from the elements, but allowed guests to look out the open sides in order to take in the scenery.
“Oh, how adorable! Is it comfortable?” Diane asked.
“Plush and comfortable,” I said, assuring her. “There are phone chargers in the sleigh, a solar panel on the top that, although you can’t see it, heats the seats, too.”
Diane clasped her hands together. “It’s amazing. How long will we be in the sleigh?”
“Just until we get to The Sharing Tree. There are fur lap robes and piping hot cocoa on board as well. Everyone ready?”
Adam gave me a look that said he wasn’t at all ready for this and he glanced at his cell phone. The others voiced their enthusiasm, though. I’d take it.
The sleigh driver wore a long black coat over cold weather pants, and stepped down in his tall boots to help us aboard. The soft furs were the epitome of luxury and the cocoa, which was held in silver thermoses, was passed out in warmed cups. A moment later, off we went, with the bells ringing and the main portion of my group exclaiming about the ride and the horses and the stunning scenery—and Adam talking in a low voice into his cell phone.
Chagrin hit. He had to get off his phone or he was never going to fall in love with the tour and Silver Bells. Should I grab the cell and toss it over the side? Probably not appropriate to do to one’s boss, so I decided on a less invasive tactic.
I leaned toward him, and whispered, “Adam, I need you to connect with the tour right now . . . for the sake of the business. If you’re on your phone, then the rest of the guests will want to be. Touring the outdoors is about being unplugged and experiencing nature.”
He held a finger up. “One minute.”
“Okay,” I said, and counted to twenty. Four times. Then I nudged my elbow into his side.
He gave me a sheepish grin, but slipped the phone into his pocket as it promptly rang again. Frustration set in and I tried to ignore the ringing by pointing out the sights as we went around the back of town so we could come up Main Street to view all of the charming independent shops as we flashed by them: Overlook Outdoor Adventure Tours (our newest competitor), Jingle Bells Bakery, Sleigh Café, Rudolph’s Reads book store, the C.M. Salon/Parker’s Furniture store. Then we passed the giant Christmas tree in the town square followed by the courthouse, Prancer’s Pancake House, the Sugar Plum Inn, and the community center where my besties and I had performed for Ms. King last Christmas.
The sound of The Falls grew louder as we approached them, breathing in the clean air and taking in the sky at dusk and the sight of snow covering the mountain above us. I shot a look at Adam to see his reaction and found him burrowed down in his seat, his fingers flying over the keyboard of his phone. Maybe he was the thing I should toss out of the sleigh. His thigh brushed mine, and heat seeped into every fiber of my being.
“Adam? You’re missing it.” I surveyed his profile. Intent. Focused. Why couldn’t he concentrate on this tour like that? I nudged my leg against his to get his attention.
“What?” He looked over at me, caught my expression, and stowed the phone yet again. “Sorry, work thing in New York.”
Sharon sat in front of us next to Trevor and turned around, looking over her shoulder at me. “Oh, I wish my husband were still here.” She shot a look at Adam. “He was such a workaholic. I loved him dearly, but taking that man on vacation could be trying.”
The not-so-subtle dig wasn’t lost on Adam, whose phone rang again. He gave an embarrassed smile as his fingers dipped into his pocket. The phone went silent. I gave Sharon a grateful smile.
Christmas River slid and snaked along the bottom of the mountain, a lovely ribbon of dark blue. Christmas Falls, 84-feet high and foaming, burst over the top of the small cliffs above and spun downward in a whirling, fantastic way that was all white foam, liquid tones, and majesty. I had always loved The Falls, and its beauty always enchanted me.
The sleigh stopped and we all got out and hiked the stairs to The Falls.
“Is that The Sharing Tree?” Sharon asked.
“Yes,” I said, leading the way to the grand tree, strewn with colorful lights, its ornaments swinging and dancing in the wind. The air was colder up here and the roar of the Falls more noticeable. I raised my voice and said, “Couples come here every December to hang ornaments and pledge their love,” I said, shooting a meaningful look at the Burkharts. “And others hang ornaments in remembrance.”
“Remembrance?” Sharon asked.
“For those we’ve lost,” I said, thinking of Ms. King and Mr. Kline.
I opened a black velvet bag and pulled out the surprise ornaments I always brought for guests on these tours. “I have ornaments if anyone would like to hang one?”
“Oh, how thoughtful, Faith.” Sharon plucked an ornament from me. “I’ll hang one in honor of my husband.”
“I’ll take one for my wife,” Trevor said, in his gruff and drawling voice. “Thanks, Faith.”
The Burkharts looked at each other and then she took the heart ornament I dangled in my fingers.
I held the last one out to Adam. “Maybe you’d like to—”
“No, thanks.” He turned away from me, tucking his scarf closer to his neck and watching the others hang their ornaments. My eyebrows came together as their laughter and low words floated toward us in the wind. He nodded his head in their direction. “The guests seem to be enjoying themselves. By the way, that hot chocolate was delicious.”
“Thanks,” I said, a little jarred from his reaction after declining the ornament. He used to live here so he knew the tradition. I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t want to hang an ornament in remembrance of his dad. I planned to hang one for Ms. King, but not tonight on the tour. I wanted to do that privately and I supposed maybe Adam did, too. I moved over to the railing and stared up at The Falls as Adam came up beside me.
He peered at me. “Did you make the hot chocolate?”
“No, but it was my idea to serve it to the guests. Your dad was great at thinking up things like the sleigh, but once the guests were in, it was like hang on until we get there.”
He stared at me a moment. “You add the smaller touches that make the tour more personal.”
“Is that a compliment?” I asked.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “The best.”
I stepped a little closer. The wind ruffled his hair, mussing it a bit. I wanted to reach out and fix it, or just touch that hair to test the texture of it. His eyes fastened a direct gaze on mine. My heartbeat picked up a little. I had to remind myself he was my boss, Mr. Kline’s son, and that he was trying to sell the business I wanted to save. Not to mention he was a straight up city boy whereas I thrived up here in the mountains. Opposites might attract, but our goals were different.
After about twenty minutes, a luxury SUV pulled up to the bottom of the stairs to take us to the next stop on the tour.
Adam shoved his hands into his pockets. “Is that a Cadillac Escalade?”
“It is,” I said, leading the group toward our plush ride. We got in and headed up the mountain. I glanced at Adam’s profile. How could I get him to understand how much Silver Bells meant to me, to the people who came to the store to shop, to the guests who took the tours that gave them the special moments most of us were currently experiencing? Why couldn’t Adam see that everything in life was about moments? Small, and large, and that we have to grab them when they come, and make them when they don’t?
“I could use some help right now, Mr. Kline,” I whispered.
And just like that, the lights went on.
Not in my brain. On the mountain. The old ski resort, It’s All Downhill From Here, had thousands of soft, solar lights strung on its lodge and all over the trees. The glow, white, gleaming, made the trees look a
s though they were wearing a mantle of stars. More lights outlined the striped red-and-gold yurt we were headed to that billowed in the slight breeze.
Adam’s mouth dropped open. Mine formed a smile. I leaned close and whispered, “Gotcha.”
The others were staring and laughing and exclaiming. Adam looked at them and then back at me as we came to a halt. The doors were opened by our driver. We stepped out into brisk air.
I turned to the group. “Follow me, please.”
We walked along a path lit by more solar lights. The pines gave off their spicy-sweet scent. The view was fantastic. Below lay our charming town, a shimmering sheet of colorful lights. The Falls spilled down and the river was a long silvery stripe. The side of the mountain was dotted with smaller trees, and they drew my eyes back to The Sharing Tree.
We went to the yurt. Inside, the cutesy yet serious wood stove blew warm air toward us. The inside of the tent was red-and-gold with a high peaked ceiling and an upper framework that held Christmas lights, which blinked and winked. “Jingle Bell Rock” played over the hidden speakers. The table was set low to the cushioned seats, covered in silver and blue fabric. A chef, wearing an apron and tall hat, stood waiting and ready, a smile on his face.
Adam’s leg pressed against mine as we sat down. Little tingles ran along my leg where his thigh had brushed. The feast was delicious. Wild sockeye salmon, sliced very thin and smoked, and served with slices of rare and equally tender wild venison. Perfect risotto with just a hint of cheese. Elegant salad, Italian style, made with mozzarella and fresh tomato, and basil right off the living plant on the chef’s station, along with a dribble of oil and vinegar. Good wine, delicious bread, amazing company. What more could one ask for on a Silver Bells Luxury Tour?
We left the yurt in time to watch the constellations cluster and form through the telescopes, not that any were really needed on such a clear night.
On the way down the mountain we sang Christmas songs. As we finished one, Sharon turned to me. “You’re a choir girl, aren’t you?”
My cheeks heated. “I used to be. How did you know?”
“I used to teach choir.” She tapped her ear and smiled at me. “I always know a choir singer.”
I smiled, reminded of Ms. King as we slowly cruised down Main Street. The quaint and lovely shops were mostly closed now, but they still looked beautiful, with their long oblongs of golden light spilling out like a corridor along the street.
When we arrived back to the Silver Bells Luxury Tours store, everyone thanked me, gave generous tips, and then departed. The Escalade pulled away.
I stood there, staring at Adam. “What did you think?”
“The Stargazer Tour is one of the most amazing experiences I’ve ever had,” he said, looking right at me as he spoke.
My heart sped up. He got it! He finally got how special Silver Bells was! My chest filled with joy and I opened my mouth to speak—
“You were right. I had to experience it myself to really understand what makes it so great,” he said, his gaze locking on mine as he smiled. “Now I know exactly how I’m going to pitch this business. And I know a man who may want to buy something like this.”
And just like that, my heart dropped to my stomach.
Chapter Five
The walk back to the business office last night had been painfully awkward. Adam could probably tell how devastated I was that he still wanted to sell the business instead of honoring his father’s dream by taking over running Silver Bells. All of the things I’d wanted to show him had been forgotten as I’d fought to keep back the tears, which were stinging my eyes.
When Adam had suggested lunch the next day to discuss things, I had no choice but to say yes since he was still my boss (although for how much longer I didn’t know). At noon the next day, I found myself sitting across the table from him at BBQ, a favorite haunt of the locals.
Even though tourism was slightly up this year from last, the place wasn’t too packed. Pippa, the waitress, had taken one look at his handsome face and managed to find us a table for two hidden away in the corner. I didn’t have the energy to tell her this was a business lunch. I wondered if he always received special treatment because of his looks, but then I felt ungracious as he had looked genuinely upset at the way events had unfolded last night.
Dressed in his usual business suit, he seemed out of place at BBQ, but if it weren’t for the worried expression on his face he seemed almost at ease in these casual surroundings. A crackling log fire burned in the fireplace and added heat to my already flushed face.
“Faith, I am so sorry you’re taking this so hard. I thought my dad, or at least his attorney, would have spoken to you about the fact that I planned to sell the business. I can’t stay in Christmas Mountain, it’s not my home.”
I felt like sticking my bottom lip out as I had as a sulky teenager, but I forced myself to sit up straight and keep a professional look on my face. “But this was your home once. Why can’t it be again?” I asked, rationally.
Adam took a sip of his soda and placed the glass down before leaning forward. “Faith, I left Christmas Mountain when I was sixteen, which means I’ve spent almost as long away from here. I only have a handful of memories of my time here.” He traced a finger down the length of his glass, making a path for the drop of condensation, which ran down after it. “It’s not my home,” he repeated, the corners of his mouth turning downward.
I felt a pang of sympathy for him since he looked genuinely upset. I chewed thoughtfully on a slice of my beef brisket, and took a sip of water before speaking. “Why did you leave?”
Adam sat back in his chair and pushed his plate away, raking his fingers through his dark hair with his other hand.
I tried to suppress a smile. “You have a . . . you have a bit of . . . barbeque sauce in your hair.”
He looked at me and then at his hand, before grabbing a napkin and wiping his forehead. “Sorry, I’m a mess today.”
“You missed it.” I took the napkin from him and leaned across the table, wiping away the sauce, which he had managed to miss despite swiping at it several times. As I did so he held my gaze, not speaking and yet telling me he had a world of hurt in his soul. I hadn’t even realized that I was still wiping his skin until he took my hand and lowered it to the table, before letting go. Oops.
“My parents broke up when I was in my teens,” he said, staring into his glass. “Dad fought Mom for custody, but she said this area wasn’t a good place to raise a child. She found some hotshot lawyer who won the case. At the time I was in full teenage angst mode and living in New York sounded cool. I guess I bought into the bright lights, big city dream.”
“But it was a mistake?” I prompted.
For a moment, he remained silent. “I can’t say it was a mistake. I made friends, went to a great high school and then college. Mom married a rich guy so we didn’t want for anything. It was a good life.”
I waited. “But . . .?”
He glanced up at me. “No buts.”
“There was a definite but there, Adam. But if you don’t want to tell me . . . ” I wanted to press him for more but he looked so vulnerable and sad that I changed the subject. “The forecast calls for snow tomor—”
“Something was missing.”
I blinked. “Pardon?”
“But . . . something was missing.” Adam looked at me, his blue eyes shining as though he were fighting back tears. “For all of the money and privileges we had, something was missing, but I could never bring myself to admit it. At least, not aloud.”
His head dropped a little and it broke my heart that such a beautiful man had such a troubled soul. “But in private?” I asked.
He sat up. “In private, I missed my dad, with his crazy ideas about Christmas, and his hand-carved toys, and his dreams. All of his personality traits that drove Mom crazy were the things I missed.”
I frowned, trying to understand. “Why didn’t you come back? When you were old enough, I mean? From wh
at I understood, your dad would visit you but you didn’t visit him here. I’ve been working at Silver Bells since last Christmas and the only photos I ever saw of you were the ones your dad had on his desk, and you looked about ten years old.”
“He had photos of me?” he asked, his voice thick.
“Of course,” I said, wondering how he couldn’t have known this. “He loved you and was always telling people how proud he was of his successful son.”
“Wow.” He sucked in a deep breath and leaned forward onto his forearms. “I never came back to visit. How could I? I had abandoned him. I was too ashamed to come back to the place I used to lo—” He stopped abruptly, bowing his head.
A glimmer of hope lit up my heart. “The place you loved?”
He let out a breath and nodded. “And then, as I got older, there was no reason to come back, until . . .” His voice trailed off, his eyes searching mine.
“Until now,” I finished, feeling terrible that it took his dad passing away to bring him back to his hometown.
Silence sat heavily between us for a few moments, before Adam cleared his throat. “When we get back to the office, would you get the accounts together for the past year for me, please?”
My forehead wrinkled. How could he go from opening up in a real way to all business? “Of course I can do that, but the past twelve months don’t really reflect the true earning potential of Silver Bells. Tourism has been struggling a bit the past few years and we’ve had kind of a quiet spell since your dad passed, but with a Kline back at the helm I’m sure—”
“Please, stop.” He snapped his head up and looked at me. “I’m selling Silver Bells, you know that. In fact, I have potential buyers coming on Monday to take a look around and they want to see the past twelve months’ accounts.”
My stomach roiled. “Maybe I should also print our most profitable years.”
“The buyers aren’t interested in what happened before, only what the place is turning over now. If it’s not making a decent profit, they plan to close it down and build a day spa.”