Christmas in Kentbury

by Burgoa, Claudia

  “You don’t have the cash flow,” I remind him. “The resort is just starting to pay back what we invested.”

  “Do you want to back out from our agreement?” His nostrils flare.

  “No, we have a deal. Actually, I want to stay in business for longer than ten years—as per our current contract.” I stop dancing around the subject. “We’ll discuss it later though.”

  A couple of years ago, he came to me because the lodge was losing a lot of money. The rest of the family businesses were solid, but the hotel wasn’t bringing in enough guests. If he renovated it and marketed it as a ski resort, he’d be able to turn it around. To do that, he needed my help. I had to convince Lee to sell the B&B and for her to focus on the other businesses.

  I not only hated his plan, but I also wanted to break every bone in his body for even thinking about taking the Victorian house away from Lee. Instead, I lent him the money to renovate the lodge. I would be his silent partner for the next ten years. Once the contract expired, he’d pay me back—with interest.

  Long term, it’d be more useful for my family if I keep that fifty percent ownership that’ll pass directly to my kids. After all, we wouldn’t break tradition, it would all stay within the family.

  “What happened to, ‘I’ll be a silent investor’?” He glares at me.

  “I’m keeping your secret, aren’t I?”

  “You’re still butting into my business, and now you want to take the vineyard.”

  “Holden’s retiring from the Airforce, he might want to invest in that—and I’d help him. You’re not financially stable enough to make that kind of move.”

  He swallows and stares at me for a couple of seconds. “I see. The hero comes back home, and you would have a cozy place for your big brother.”

  I nod and stare at him. What’s his problem?

  “If I acquire the vineyard, it’d be part of the family business,” he explains as if trying to persuade me not to do it.

  “Bishop and Lee would be part of it. Hops seems to like the idea since it’d be a perfect complement to the cider business,” he says carefully. “We’d have to apply for a loan. Harris Estate is in good standing. We have assets.”

  “You can’t put the resort up as collateral, nor the B&B,” I remind him.

  “It’ll boost our business. We can sell cider to the liquor stores that buy the wine,” he explains agitated. “That’s another push to help not only the Harris name but the town. What do you want from me, Miller?”

  “To even consider including you in the vineyard transaction,” I say, grinning, “you’d have to change some things. I’d no longer be a silent partner. You’ll have to come clean to your siblings about my role in the resort. Last but not least, if, and only if Holden is okay with that, we’ll make you a partner in the vineyard.”

  “Since when did you become an asshole?”

  I stand up, getting ready to leave. “The day that you tried to fuck with Lee. They’re your family, not pawns to move around.”

  “You’re supporting the wrong Harris. She’s leaving.” He grins with satisfaction.

  I narrow my gaze, my mouth tasting like bile.

  “Are you the one who pushed her to leave?” I fire the question, holding myself because I want to punch the grin off of his fucking face. “Did you do it so you can have her share of the estate?”

  “No, but her leaving helps us,” he responds with a victorious smile. “I can make a few changes to the house. You can only fit so many guests as it is now.”

  The fucker’s going to add rooms and take away the historical element to the place.

  “While she’s in New York, she’ll learn how to run a big hotel. I want her to run the resort.”

  Oh, fuck. Why didn’t I see this yesterday? Whatever he used to play with her mind and get her out of here must be eating her inside. King isn’t a bad person, he’s just too focused on his goals to pay attention to others.

  I chuckle, rolling my eyes. “Enjoy your little victory dance while it lasts.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lee’s right, you can be so obtuse.”

  Ten

  Heath

  On my way to Lee’s house, I stop by Henry’s house to give him instructions for the next week. There’s no way I can convince Lee to stay today. First, I have to figure out what happened on Saturday. Then, I have to convince her to stay with me. Third, I need to do all this away from our family.

  When I arrive home, Bishop and Lee are in the living room.

  “Sorry for arriving so late,” I apologize shedding off my coat.

  It’s cold outside. The national weather service reported a freeze warning. Sometimes they are wrong, but if the humidity lingering in the cold air is any indication, we’re going to have a bigger storm than they’re predicting.

  That translates into revenue for everyone in town. The reservations at the ski resort are going to triple by Wednesday. The same will happen with the Bed & Breakfast. My biggest worry is Lee who wants to drive to Manhattan tomorrow morning.

  “It took you a long time.” Bishop gives me a disapproving look. “Were you two fooling around with the guests?”

  I sigh, seriously does he have to bring that up in front of his sister?

  “Of course not, I was caught up in a meeting.”

  Lee frowns and stares at me for a long time. It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask what kind of meeting, but she just says, “It’s okay, Cassie’s already in bed.”

  “Thank you, what was going on with her earlier today?”

  Lee shrugs.

  She doesn’t respond and turns her attention to Bishop. “Are you ready to go?”

  Hops nods, glaring at me.

  What the fuck did I do to him?

  “At what time are you planning on leaving tomorrow, Lee?” I ask as she puts on her snow boots.

  “Around five in the morning,” she answers looking around for her hat. “If Cassie needs anything call Dad or my brothers.”

  I nod and go to my room for the hat she forgot last week.

  “Here.” I put it on her and caress her delicate cheek with the back of my hand. “I’m sure the other hat one will turn up later this week.”

  “Cassie might not have school tomorrow,” Lee continues, stepping away from me. “Check with Dad or Hops if you need help.”

  “Please, don’t worry about it. I have it covered. Thank you for today.”

  “Any time.”

  “Drive her carefully, Bishop,” I request as they climb in his truck.

  I go to Cassie’s room to check on her. She’s not in bed, but inside her tent with a book and her flashlight.

  “Shouldn’t you be in bed, young lady?” I try to feign anger, but I love when she hides in her secret place to read.

  “Why is Lee leaving town?” She glares at me.

  “Where did you hear that?” I sigh.

  I’m not ready for this conversation.

  “Grampa Harry and Uncle Hops were talking about it,” she explains. “I don’t want her to go.”

  “It’s just an interview,” I say, trying to keep things real but not giving her any hopes, yet.

  “I know, with the baby hospital,” she says in a grown-up tone.

  I blink twice and stare at Cassie. “What do you mean?”

  “Uncle Hops said that she was going to buy guy’s junk and have a baby in New York,” she explains and lifts her hands while shrugging. “What’s guy’s junk?”

  Fucking Bishop, how many times do we need to tell him to be careful of what he says around Cassie?

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean that,” I mutter, astonished by the news.

  My mind works hard trying to catch up with everything that’s been happening this weekend. And suddenly, it freezes, and I just can’t think anymore. Lee mentioned a family. A guy, kids, and a home.

  Why would she just plan on getting pregnant?

  “Then what did they mean?” Cassie stares at me with a challenging lo
ok.

  Her hearing is perfect as well as her comprehension. She listens to every conversation and learns too fast. I don’t want her to learn yet what’s “guy’s junk.” Certainly, when she learns, I want her to know the right words. Not Bishop’s version.

  “Why don’t we ask Lee the next time you see her,” I offer.

  “That won’t be until next Saturday. She’s going to be leaving for a week.” Her lower lip quivers when she says, “Dad, can we convince her to stay?”

  “I can try.” I play it down. “You have to go to bed.”

  “Grandpa Harry said that there’s not going to be any school tomorrow,” she protests. “He knows a lot about the weather.”

  Steve shouldn’t have mentioned the weather to Cassie. He’ll have to deal with the sleepy, grumpy kid tomorrow.

  “We’re not sure, sweetie, you have to go to bed.” I don’t budge.

  She rolls her eyes and finally walks out of the tent and climbs onto her bed.

  “Maybe we can buy a big house,” she suggests. “Lee can live with us.”

  Just great, she’s already planning our future. I can’t even think how I’m going to convince Lee to let me take her on a date.

  Cassie presses her lips together and moves her mouth from one side to the other. “Byron can sleep with me every night.”

  There’s that little bonus to her plan, she’s getting a pet too.

  “I heard Uncle Hops say that she wants a home and a family,” she continues.

  At least now I understand why Cassie has been upset all day. She overheard that Knightly might leave Kentbury and wants me to fix it.

  “Lee is our family, isn’t she, Dad?” she asks with hopeful eyes. “You always say that. We can all live together.” Then, she gives me a mischievous smile. “You two can have a baby. Remember what you told me?”

  I hold my breath because I just can’t with this kid and her ideas.

  “When a mom and a dad love each other, they make babies. You love Lee, don’t you? She’s our Lee,” she continues.

  This kid is on a roll.

  “And if she’s a mom,” she pauses looking at me seriously. “Well, she can be my mom too.”

  She gives me a sharp nod and smiles widely. It’s like she solved the crisis. She stopped the end of the world.

  “That’s what I’m going to ask Santa for. To keep Lee with us and make her my mom.”

  I grab one of the frames that she has on her nightstand. It’s a picture of Lee holding Cassie when she was only a month old. She stands right next to the Christmas tree, at her father’s house. The day my daughter came into our lives, Lee didn’t just welcome her, she loved her from the first moment she held her.

  “Let me worry about that, okay?” I kiss her forehead. “Your job this week is to be on your best behavior. Promise?”

  She pushes herself up and jumps into my arms, hugging my neck. “I promise, but please, don’t let her go. Santa doesn’t always bring me what I want, I trust you more.”

  Eleven

  Knightly

  Bishop and Kingston have a list of instructions on what to do while I’m gone. It’s just a week, but that’s all the time they need to fuck up my guests, my gift shop, and their lives. Not that I should care.

  When did I become the oldest of the three?

  I swear, I was the baby. Now, they need me to hold their hands every single day. From this point forward, I’m just going to focus on me—well at least until next Saturday. I’m sure that while I’m in Kentbury, they won’t leave me alone.

  If everything goes as planned, I’ll arrive in New York around ten or eleven. That would give me plenty of time to find a salon to fix my messy hair and maybe get my nails done. At three o’clock I have my appointment at the fertility clinic. It’s just a consultation where the doctor will explain the process and the cost of going through artificial insemination.

  On Tuesday, I have an all-day interview. If that goes well, on Wednesday, I’ll have another round of interviews.

  Kingston doesn’t like the idea of having a child without a father, but I want to know my options. Ideally, I would love to meet a guy and fall in love. But if that doesn’t work, I can adopt or just have a baby.

  “You got this, Lee, who needs fucking Heath Miller?” I say, dragging my bags toward the living room.

  “I hope you do,” he answers.

  The man himself stands by the door. He’s wearing his winter gear.

  I need to start locking my door.

  Where is he going?

  “Why are you here?”

  “There’s a big storm coming. It’s snowing already. But if we leave now, we might reach Manhattan before they close the roads.”

  “We?” I cross my arms, looking at him defiantly. “You’re not coming with me.”

  “Lee, you drive like a pro. However, a blizzard is about to hit us. The roads are going to be bad, and neither your father nor I would be able to breathe knowing that you’re out there alone.”

  He uses a dirty trick. My father and the snowstorm. Mom died in these same conditions. I was just three months old. I could fight him, but this isn’t about him or me. It’s about Dad.

  “Okay,” I yield.

  He nods and walks toward me, taking my bags. “I’ll load them in my truck. Let’s go.”

  But as I’m about to step out of the house, I suddenly remember my kid. “Wait, what about Cassie?”

  “Your Dad’s already at my place. He’s taking her for the week,” he says reassuringly. “Everything is under control. We’ll be away, enjoying New York for a week and Kentbury will remain in one piece.”

  “This isn’t a vacation, Miller,” I warn him.

  He gives me a smug smile and tilts his head. “We’ll see.”

  I groan, he’s so fucking infuriating.

  * * *

  The roads are snow-packed by the time we cross the state line between Vermont and Massachusetts. Most of the cars are slowing down. Not us. Heath Miller doesn’t believe in slowing down during a storm. We shouldn’t linger around drivers who doubt themselves, those are the ones who cause accidents.

  For me, it’s unnerving to sit next to him while he’s driving because I have to be quiet. The silence is killing me slowly. He has one rule. We don’t talk when he’s driving during a storm. It distracts him. Seeing that we have another three or four hours to go, I close my eyes hoping to sleep for the rest of the trip. It’s almost impossible. When we arrive in Hartford Heath wakes me up, “fucking asshole, get out of the road.”

  “Lovely,” I grunt. “Good morning to you too.”

  “Sorry, I’ve been trying to control myself, but these fuckers are just getting on my nerves.”

  Needless to say, the next hundred miles are stop and go. We crawl along with the traffic. The no talking rule switches to swear words all the way to Manhattan. It’s twenty minutes after one when we finally arrive at The Ambassador Hotel. It’s new, it’s trendy, and I’m not sure how I feel about it all, yet I’m still excited to be here. I have less than two hours to eat lunch and find a Blow Dry Bar for my hair.

  If I’m lucky, I can squeeze the visit to the nail salon after my appointment with the fertility clinic. If not … I look at my chipped, uneven nails. My nails will have to do with a nice clipping and a coat of the clear nail polish I have in my bag.

  “Where are you staying?” I ask Heath.

  “Hopefully, they have a room next to yours,” he says, handing the bags to the bellboy. “I requested that when I made my reservations.”

  “You planned this?”

  “I’d call it improvising,” he corrects me and takes the ticket from the valet attendant. “Careful now, I know every inch of my truck, Frey.”

  The kid’s eyes widen when Heath says his name. It’s funny to see the reaction of people when he talks to them as if they’re old friends. Most people forget they are wearing a name tag.

  “Make sure it doesn’t have a scratch, and I’ll tip you well by the end of
the week,” he warns him in the friendliest tone he can use.

  Heath is very particular about his cars. God forbid someone sees his Porsche Carrera. That thing is as old as my father, but according to Heath, it’s a treasure.

  I look at the kid who gives Heath a dismissive gaze.

  “Seriously, don’t scratch my car?” Heath shrugs. “They need to learn to be careful with other people’s stuff. Plus, maybe I can hire him to work at Jared’s.”

  I give him an infuriating side glance and continue walking toward the entrance. He follows right beside me.

  “Thank you for driving me even though it wasn’t necessary. I’m sure Dad appreciates the gesture.” I dismiss him as we enter the luxurious hotel.

  There’s a big Christmas tree right beside us, which reminds me that next weekend we’re putting up the trees. It’s going to be the last time I spend it with the Millers. Dad would drive from Vermont to spend the holidays with me. I’m not sure if Bishop would follow. Kingston won’t entertain the idea.

  It’s the high season, why would he waste his time celebrating something that’s based on commercialized merchandise? We’re lucky that he lives close by and takes a few hours to be with us. He’s a combination between Mr. Scrooge and the Grinch. Sometimes he can be so fucking obtuse, cold, and heartless.

  “Are you going to tell me why I’ve been on your shit list since Saturday?”

  “There’s no such list, and if I had one, you’d know why you’re on it,” I say, and then warn him, “I hope you have plans for the week. I’m going to be too busy to spend time with you.”

  Seriously, how can I find dates if I have this guy following me around? I double check my phone to verify that my profile is visible on Tinder. Bishop helped me open an account last night.

  When I check in, the clerk asks me for my credit card. Only two out of the five nights I’m staying are paid by the hotel. Heath hands over his.

  “Just put everything on my card.”