Christmas Sugar ~ Melanie Moreland

by Moreland, Melanie

  “She wants to live on the bluff. In a house that lets her see the ocean everywhere she goes. The very tip of the property is her favorite place in the world.”

  My mind flipped through the scope of the property. “You can’t sell it and leave that piece intact. There’d be no access without resurveying it. Changing the entire lay of the land, dividing it—and giving up the most valuable piece.”

  “I know. She knows it too. It can’t be done and have the land hold the same value. She tells me it was simply a dream, and not one she ever expected to come true. She knows I have to sell. She’s a smart woman and she’s seen the numbers—but sometimes it doesn’t make it any easier. I feel as if I’ve failed her, failed my son, by not being able to look after her.”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t agree.”

  “She wouldn’t say so if she did. Alex is, without a doubt, an angel. She never complains. She works too hard and takes on too much. Everything and everyone come first. She deserves so much more than a timeworn inn that is falling down around her, an old man who needs special care, and more stress than anyone should carry. She deserves love and laughter. She deserves to be looked after and to feel safe. And most of all, she deserves to be cherished.”

  He leaned back in his chair, fixing his all-knowing eyes on me.

  “There’s more to life than work and responsibility. More than money and success. Love is a rare gift not everyone is given, Dylan. If you find it, you should grab it and hold on to it. You never know when it might be taken away.”

  I stared at him, not knowing what to say.

  What did love have to do with my buying his property?

  “I’m headed into Halifax for some tests. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. You can present your offer to me then.”

  “I’m ready to present it now.”

  “I won’t look at it until I come back. I want you to look around—really look around. Open your eyes and see what’s here. Discover the hidden potential. Then we’ll talk.” He paused and sighed. “Alex will look after you while I’m gone.”

  I snorted. “Or kill me. I don’t think she likes me at times.”

  His gaze was amused. “Alex is a strong woman, because she’s had to be. Her bark is far worse than her bite.”

  I chuckled as he echoed my own thoughts from earlier.

  “She doesn’t deserve to be trifled with.”

  Realizing he’d probably heard our conversation in the hall, I felt a slight twinge of guilt. “I don’t plan to do that.” Thinking of her fiery temper, I smiled. “I think she is rather . . . amazing.” I found myself confessing.

  He nodded and returned my smile. “She’s a complex woman—the perfect woman for a complex man who is ready to start really living life.”

  With those strange words, he had dismissed me.

  I couldn’t stay in my room any longer. I needed to move, to explore, and fill my head with thoughts other than Alex.

  I stopped at the front desk and collected the keys for the dreaded minivan, approaching it cautiously in the parking lot. After adjusting the seats and mirrors, I drove into town, taking my time to enjoy the scenery. Both Mrs. C and George kept telling me to look around me; although, I wasn’t sure what it was they wanted me to see.

  In town, I walked around, checking on the various buildings I owned, some still with operational businesses, others closed. I could see a lot of potential everywhere I looked. Places for local artisans, a few higher-end stores, and fresh real estate ideas started forming in my head. Several of the buildings would make great condos on the upper floors, if remodeled and priced right. If the new resort brought the kind of traffic I projected it would draw, it could result in increased occupancies.

  Once again, a win-win situation.

  I enjoyed my walk. It was a nice town with lots of history and remarkable architecture. Nestled among the same sort of large pine trees that surrounded the inn, it was incredibly picturesque. The wharf was deserted this time of year, but I imagined in the summer it was a bustling place. If my plans came together, it would be that much busier in the years ahead.

  Smiling, friendly faces greeted me everywhere I went. I rarely bought gifts, but I found a unique pewter sculpture I knew Arlene would love. Another store supplied me with the perfect handmade fishing lures for her husband. After I made the purchases, I had them shipped directly back home. They were the two people I always bought Christmas gifts for, along with their grandchildren. My staff received bonuses.

  I wasn’t sure what I’d do in regard to Amy. I wondered if there was a place I could send her to learn how to be a better PA, but then I realized Mrs. C would call me an ass for thinking that way. The problem was I’d had the best for so long, no one would ever be as good as Arlene Carson.

  Especially not Amy.

  I stopped in front of a window, examining the boots on display. I went inside and chose a pair I thought would be suitable for walking around the grounds of the inn. I wanted to see more of the property, but I couldn’t do that in my dress shoes and I wasn’t the type to wear someone else’s discarded boots.

  I had to tamp down my grin when I remembered my conversation with Alex over my shoes.

  As I waited for the clerk to find my size, a pair of tiny red slippers caught my eye. Walking over, I picked them up, grinning at the foolishness of them. Boot-like, fuzzy, and graced with a red bow on the outside decorated with white polka dots, I knew instantly Noelle would love them. I could see her tripping up and down the hall in them, grinning as she held out her foot to show them off to me. “Pwetty, wight, Mr. Dywan?” I could hear her saying.

  Except, I didn’t know her size.

  When the clerk reappeared, she smiled at me. “For your daughter?”

  A strange thrill went through my chest at those words, but I shook my head. “A . . . friend’s daughter. She’s four, I think, but I don’t know her size.”

  “Is she big for her age?”

  “No, she’s petite—like her mother.”

  “A small, then.”

  The words were out of my mouth before I even realized it. “I want a pair of boots for her son as well.”

  “Do you know his size?”

  “Ah . . . no. Seth’s seventeen, I think.”

  She looked surprised. “Alex’s Seth? Alex is your friend? The boots are for him?”

  “Yes.” I replied, feeling as though I needed to justify my actions. “He’s been a great help to me.”

  “He needs a twelve, and if the slippers are for Noelle, a small is perfect for her.”

  Remembering Mrs. C’s words when it came to her grandchildren, I nodded. “I can’t buy a gift for one without giving something to the other one.”

  “Of course not. That’s very kind of you. They’ll love it. And Alex . . . ?” Her voice trailed off.

  “Alex?” I prompted.

  Her eyes were sad as she spoke. “She’s such a wonderful person and has given up so much for those kids. Everything she does is for them.” Her fingers ran over the fuzzy red of the slippers. “Luxuries like these are rare for them.”

  I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat.

  “Are there any, um, luxuries, Alex likes? Anything you could suggest?” I asked. “Something she would never treat herself to?”

  She grinned as she handed me the boots I wanted to try on. “There’s a chocolate shop on the corner. The dark chocolate-covered caramels are decadent. All made by hand. Alex is crazy for them.”

  “Thank you. I’ll pick some up for her to say thank you for her hospitality.”

  She extended her hand. “I’m Jodi, by the way.”

  I accepted her handshake. “Dylan. Nice to meet you.” I stood, testing the boots. “These fit well. I’ll wear them, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.”

  Twenty minutes later, I was on my way back to the inn. The passenger seat contained three parcels: a pair of winter boots Jodi assured me Seth would think were cool, a nonsensical pair of fuzzy red
slippers Noelle would wear with delight, and the biggest box of dark chocolate-covered caramels I could buy at the chocolate shop.

  Three simple gifts. None of them costing a lot of money—at least not for me—and yet, somehow, I knew they were the most important items I’d bought in a long time.

  Gifts I was anxious to be well received.

  I left the minivan in the parking lot and headed toward the bluff. The skies were getting darker, the temperature dropping. I knew a storm was coming, and I wanted to see the view before it hit. I followed a narrow path twisting between the trees, going uphill. I paused at the edge of the trees, my breath catching at the spectacular vista in front of me. The edge of the land was large and flat, bordered entirely by pine trees and rocks, leading to the edge of the bluff. You could see for miles in any direction, the vast scope overwhelming. It was as if you were on the edge of the world, with nothing around you. I could see why it was Alex’s favorite spot.

  I moved closer, mesmerized by the water, the blues and grays swirling, crashing against the icy rocks below. I could imagine how it looked in the summer, when the ocean was calm, the colors sparkling in the sun. Each season would bring its own beauty.

  “Incredible, isn’t it?”

  Startled, I looked down. Alex was sitting on one of the lower rocks, her knees pulled to her chest. Her dark gray coat blended so well with the wet rocks, I hadn’t even noticed her. Her hair was damp and plastered to her head, and I wondered how long she’d been sitting out in the frigid, wet air. Her voice sounded strange, and when I looked closer, I could see she’d been crying. My brow furrowed as I studied her—she looked so defeated.

  I stepped forward, worried over two things: she’d been crying, and she was too damn close to the edge of the cliff. There was ice around, the frosty rocks glistening in the light. If she slipped, she could hurt herself or worse. I held out my hand. “Alex, come here.”

  She frowned up at me. “Why?”

  I indicated the ocean that crashed against the rocks with a loud fury. “You’re too close to the edge. It’s making me nervous.”

  She craned her neck, looking over the cliff. She shrugged and hugged her knees closer. “I’m used to being close to the edge, Dylan. It’s fine.”

  Her words made me shiver and my chest feel odd. I had a feeling she wasn’t talking about the rocks.

  “Please, Alex.”

  With a sigh, she took my hand, letting me pull her up. In my haste, I pulled her too fast, and she stumbled. My arms shot out, grabbing her, pulling her tight to my chest. I held her close, feeling her heart beating wildly against my skin. Mine was racing as well.

  I stepped well back from the rocks, dragging her with me, not letting her go. I fisted my hands in her wet hair, tugging the strands so her head lifted. “Are you all right?”

  She blinked. “I’m fine.”

  “Why are you sitting out here alone? Why are you crying?”

  “I’m fine. It’s the wind—my eyes were watering.”

  I didn’t believe that for a second.

  “I want to help.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I want to make you smile.”

  To my horror, more tears filled her eyes, spilling over and down her cheeks.

  “Tell me,” I begged, a feeling of desperate helplessness running through my body. “Let me fix it.”

  “Fix it?”

  “Yes.” I wanted to tell her I’d fix anything that made her sad.

  “But you’re the cause, Dylan,” she stated quietly.

  “What?”

  “You’re buying the inn and the land. It’s my home. The only one I know. The only one my children know. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m losing my home, George is leaving us, and I don’t know what my future holds.”

  “Alex, I . . .”

  She shook her head. “I know if it’s not you, it will be someone else. I know George has to sell. My head knows this . . . But my heart”—she closed her eyes—“my heart hurts.”

  I touched my forehead to hers. “I’m sorry.”

  “Ignore me, Dylan. I simply needed to come here and think a little. I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

  Her words sliced through my chest. Bending down, I cupped her cheek and pressed my mouth to her lips. Her hand grabbed my wrist, and I wound my other hand around her waist, tugging her close again. Time—the world—ceased to exist. All that was real, all that mattered, was how she felt, how she tasted. All that mattered was that moment.

  Until she pulled away.

  Tears clung to her lashes as she smiled bravely. “Take care of the land, Dylan. This is a special place.”

  I nodded, unsure what to say.

  “I’ll send your dinner up to your room about seven.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “A storm is coming, so the inn will be pretty quiet. I need to go and make sure everything is done and secured, so I can send the staff home.”

  I reached out. “Alex . . .”

  She stepped back, shaking her head. “I can’t, Dylan. I’ve already lost enough. I can’t afford to risk losing anything else.”

  I dropped my hand. Our eyes locked, her green gaze filled with so much pain it was blatant. I had nothing to offer her, nothing I could say that would make anything better. Her life was about to change again—and once more, not for the good.

  The worst part? I was the reason for it.

  I PACED AROUND MY ROOM, running my hands through my hair in vexation. Over and again, Alex’s words replayed in my mind.

  I was taking away her home. No matter what else she said, or how accepting she was about it, it was still the honest truth. It didn’t matter it was something that would happen even if I stepped back and didn’t buy the property. George Walsh had to sell. The hotel had to go, and Alex and her family had to leave the place they all loved.

  Common sense told me she would find a job in town—or another local area. Once George was settled and she had a new place, her life would become somewhat normal—maybe even better. Without the worry of looking after George or all the heavy responsibilities involved in running the inn, her life might get easier, in fact. She could devote all her time to caring for Noelle and Seth.

  One thought kept nagging me, though. Who would care for Alex?

  I slugged back another shot of brandy, unsure how many I’d consumed since getting back to my room. I squinted at my watch. It was almost seven, so Alex should be here soon with my dinner. Maybe I would talk to her some more.

  When I heard the knock at the door, I lunged for it, throwing it open. Seth stepped back, startled. “Hey, Dylan.”

  “Oh.” I peered around him into the empty hall. “Hey. Where’s Alex?”

  “She’s, ah, busy. I brought your dinner.” He grinned, thrusting the tray forward. “I didn’t even forget this time—it’s still hot!”

  I took the tray, feeling disappointed.

  “What is she busy doing?”

  “She has some things to take care of. I’m looking after Noelle.”

  I sighed. “Yeah, fine. Thanks for dinner.”

  He looked at me strangely. “Dylan, you okay? You look weird.”

  “I’m fine. Hungry, I guess.”

  “You’ll love your supper. Alex makes awesome Tater Tot Casserole. It’s Noelle’s favorite.”

  What the hell was a tater tot?

  I had no idea, but it did smell delicious.

  “Thanks.”

  “You can leave your tray outside, and I’ll get it later.”

  “I can bring it down. I thought I might watch the hockey game in the bar later.” I had noticed it had a decent-sized TV, unlike the small, out-of-date one in my room.

  “Okay. You’ll have the bar to yourself.” He turned to go, then paused. “Alex asked if you need anything to knock on the door down the hall. Room 200. There isn’t anyone at the front desk.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re the last guest. She’s out right now. But I ca
n get you anything you need.”

  “Oh. Okay, fine.”

  He left, and I sat down, lifting the lid, inhaling the fragrant meal in front of me. Beside the large portion of casserole still bubbling it its dish, there was a salad and some sort of cheesy bread, literally dripping with butter. A ramekin of salad dressing was on the side, which was thoughtful since I rarely used any—or had butter on my bread, never mind with the addition of more cheese.

  I ate everything, including the salad dressing. I’d never tasted anything like it. I assumed the tater tots were the strange little puffy things on top of the casserole. I liked them—I liked them a lot.

  I sat back, replete, but disappointed.

  There was no pie.

  I had really liked that pie.

  I flung my napkin on the tray, wondering if maybe Alex would find me a piece when I went down to the bar. If I asked very politely, surely she wouldn’t refuse.

  Taking my tray, I went downstairs to the quiet main floor. It was strange not to see anyone anywhere, and I felt as if I was snooping as I pushed open the kitchen door and slid my tray onto the counter. It was small but clean and organized. I smirked. Of course, it was organized. Alex ran it.

  I looked around, but I couldn’t find any pie. There were lots of breakfast items and some containers I assumed held the “snacks” Alex had offered my first night. But no pie. Wandering back into the bar, I noticed something else.

  There was no Alex. There was no one.

  Grabbing the remote, I turned on the TV, finding the hockey game. I settled onto one of the sofas in the room, and after glancing around guiltily, lifted my feet to the coffee table and relaxed.

  The hockey game was boring, and I started getting restless. I could hear the storm outside beginning to pick up, the wind getting stronger. Remembering that Seth said Alex was out, I began to worry. Why was she out on a night like that? She was the one who told me how bad the storms could get. Why would she leave the inn?

  Maybe I had missed her. Maybe she came back while I was eating. Getting up, I tried the doors, but I found them locked. Obviously, no new guests were expected. I went back to the bar and checked the large coffee urn, but it was cold. I paced around the room, wondering about going upstairs and checking to make sure she hadn’t come back while I was eating in my room. If she wasn’t there, I was certain I could convince Seth to tell me where she was. I’d feel better knowing. But I hesitated. Alex might not want to see me, so I decided not to ask. I found a passable scotch behind the bar and poured a shot. Alex could add it to my bill. I sat back down and resumed watching the hockey game.