Christmas at Mistletoe Lodge: New Holiday Romances to Benefit St. Jude Hospital

by Sabrina York

  “You’re right, Della. I’ll look through the applications I have and find a replacement. Please keep it to yourself.”

  “My lips are sealed,” Della said. “If you’re good holding the fort down, I’m going up to kick her in gear. Five sets of guests have checked out and people seem to arrive earlier the closer it gets to Christmas.”

  They had an official check-in time, but like everything else, they did their best to cater to the customer.

  “Get searching,” Della teased as she headed for the stairs. “The closer it gets to Christmas the busier we get.”

  Gina made herself comfortable at the desk and opened Owen’s envelope. She smiled at his words. He had invited her to once again share dinner with him at the time of her choosing. Her heart pounded. She carefully refolded the envelope and slid it into her pocket. Gina took in a few deep breaths and started looking through the stack of applications that had come in over the last three months. It’s not like she didn’t have a huge choice of applicants. But it took time to find new hires and she could use that time for all the other things on her list. Nonetheless, she was the manager and this was important for everyone’s morale. The desk phone rang.

  “Good morning, Mistletoe Lodge, how may I help you?”

  “Morning, sweetheart. It sounds like you’re having a pleasant day.”

  “Hi, Mom. How are you doing?”

  “I miss you. I knew I’d be seeing less of you, now that you have your own place. Even so it’s been over a week. I was hoping I could come over and you could show me your place and we could chat over lunch.”

  Gina looked at the stack of applications. She really needed to find someone. She’d just buckle down and get it done today around her mother’s visit.

  “Sure, Mom. That sounds good. How’s twelve-thirty sound?”

  “Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.”

  Gina had found three new candidates for the cleaning crew. She still had half an hour before her mom would arrive, so it was a good time to finally put up the last painting she’d purchased from the old tavern. She already picked out the perfect new home for the beauty—on the wall behind the reception desk. There all the guests would see the painting and the namesake of their Mistletoe Lodge.

  She felt the cold breeze on her back just as she straightened the oil painting. She made certain it was set and turned around to greet her mother. Her mother appeared transfixed on the painting, and Gina watched as all color drained from Mom’s face. Mom stepped in closer and studied the oil painting intently.

  “Mother, are you okay?” Gina asked. “You don’t look well.”

  “Where did you get this painting?” Carla asked as she tore her eyes from the painting and looked at Gina.

  “Remember I told you I went to an estate sale a few weeks back? I found a lot of great things. I can’t wait to show you what I put in my place. Anyway, I picked this up when I was there. That’s how I came up with the name Mistletoe Lodge.” Gina said as she proudly looked at the painting.

  Her mother continued to study it, as if it were her next research subject.

  “Mrs. Byrd, the lady managing the place, told me that at one time the beautiful old mansion was a well-known lodge where people would spend the night and get breakfast. An original bed and breakfast, but without the label. Look, they are bringing in this very bar. The bar was the selling point for me.”

  “Did she know the people in the painting?” Her mom asked the question so softly that Gina barely heard her.

  “I asked. She was upset that she couldn’t recall their names. Although I knew if anyone could do the research and figure out who they were, it would be you,” Gina said proudly.

  Carla slowly turned toward Gina. Now she was white as the snow covering the ground.

  “Mom, you’re not sick again, are you?” Gina asked with a hint of panic in her voice. Her mother was the only parent she had left.

  “Could we go to your place? I’d like to sit down and have a drink of water some place quiet.”

  “Sure. You stay right here. I’m going to find Della so she can take over the desk and let her know I’ll be gone for a bit.”

  The two women returned, both worried about Carla.

  “Take your time,” Della said when she saw Carla. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  Gina thanked Della, fighting to keep away tears. She couldn’t think the worst. There had to be another explanation for her mother’s intense reaction.

  She kept a close eye on her mom as they walked down the back stairs to her apartment. Gina opened the door and spoke softly to Angel, reassuring her that everything would be okay. Angel still tended to get very upset if she thought someone might be hurt or in pain. Since this was Angel’s first time meeting her mom, Gina didn’t want any negative reactions.

  Gina helped her mother to a chair in the living room and went to get her a glass of water. When she returned, she was stunned at what she saw. Angel had her head in Mom’s lap; her mom was stroking Angel’s head and crying.

  “Mother, take a drink.” Gina knelt next to Angel and placed the glass in her mother’s hand. “Please tell me what’s got you so worked up. Are you sick?”

  “What?” Her mom looked at her as if she were seeing her for the first time. She reached out and took Gina’s hand. “No. My health is fine. I’m sorry I worried you.” Carla sniffed and took a drink from the glass. “I didn’t tell you the truth as to why I relocated to Glenville. I had every intention to tell you, after I figured out the truth for myself. Except then I got sick and my life came to a standstill.” She studied her daughter. “I guess I never realized until this moment that yours did, too.”

  “I don’t understand,” Gina said.

  Carla looked down at Angel and avoided Gina’s eyes. She wet her lips. “I lied when I said I wanted to move from Boston to a small town where I could raise your sisters and brother.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It wasn’t a total lie. I just didn’t tell you the complete truth.”

  Gina rubbed the back of her neck. She moved to a chair across from her mom.

  “I’m not going to do the research you asked me to do,” Carla stated.

  “Okay, now you’re confusing me even more.”

  “This was never the way I wanted to tell you this.” Carla put the glass down on the side table, opened her purse, and began searching through it. She pulled a discolored envelope from her purse. “I received this envelope from the attorney after your dad’s death.”

  “Your father’s family is from Glenville. Everyone up until your grandparents. I know it’s strange, it just never came up. Your dad’s parents died long before we were married, and he never talked much about his family.” Carla looked down at the envelope she cradled in her palms.

  Her mom was right. To Gina’s recollection, her dad had never mentioned her grandparents.

  “Anyway, at the time the attorney gave me this envelope, I was so distraught over the loss of your dad that I locked it away in my safe deposit box. As the pain-filled days crept by, I never gave the envelope another thought. I don’t know why. I had no idea what it held.” Carla stopped to take another drink. “One day I had to make a trip to my box to get a few legal documents and this envelope slipped free from the pile. I felt like it was a sign from your dad, so I opened and read it. Glenville wasn’t a place I just discovered on the internet or a town I randomly chose. It’s the town where the Jamersons have lived for decades.”

  Gina blinked and screwed up her face. “Why did you keep the knowledge of dad’s family a secret from us?”

  “Because his family wasn’t just another regular family. Decades ago the Jamersons were the bedrock of this community. The Jamersons were well known and respected generations ago. They practically built Glenville. I thought we would find a few Jamersons here and you children could learn the history of your dad’s family. I hoped that by moving here I could introduce you children back into a community that your dad’s family was once a part of. I’
ve been researching the Jamersons. There is a great deal of Jamerson history from decades ago, however it abruptly stopped. From that point, it’s as if the Jamersons stopped existing and I haven’t been able to figure out why. Something terrible must have happened for not even one Jamerson to have been mentioned in the later years. It concerns me. I don’t want you children being made the scapegoat of something that took place decades before you were even born. Maybe I should never have brought you kids here.”

  “People here in Glenville know we are Jamersons.”

  “Yes, they do. Although it doesn’t seem like anyone remembers them or maybe they don’t want to remember. What I don’t understand is why your father never told me where his family came from and why they left when he was alive.”

  “Didn’t he leave you an explanation?”

  “No. The attorney said that the contents explained everything.

  “What else is inside?” Gina asked.

  “There is this handwritten note on what looks like a napkin. The owner of the mansion claims he lost the mansion in a card game. The winner of the game and new owner was Tom Jamerson. And the signed note is dated December 1903.”

  “Who was the owner?” Gina asked.

  “I don’t know. It is illegible now.”

  “And you have nothing else to verify this claim,” Gina said.

  “Yes, I do.” Carla delicately withdrew an old snapshot from the envelope. She showed Gina the snapshot of the same two people who were in the painting. Only the photo was taken at an angle that only included a few feet of the end of the mansion. “Those people in the painting are the Jamersons, your great-great-grandparents. Hence my reaction when I came face-to-face with the painting.”

  “That’s them, standing next to the sign,” Gina said as she studied the photo. “I wonder why it was taken at this angle and didn’t include the mansion?”

  “My guess is that there once was a stack of photos, now there’s only the one. They probably gave the artist the photo they wanted to have captured in a painting, which was a photo that included the mansion, Mistletoe Lodge sign, and Tom and Joan Jamerson.”

  “Who was their heir?” Gina asked.

  “Tom’s first born. Your great granddad. He and your great-grandmother moved to Boston when they were first married. I do know that much. They never returned to Glenville. Their first born should’ve inherited everything and since they only had one child, that would be your granddad. He and your grandmother also had only one child, your father. I need to do some research to locate their will and see if they mentioned the mansion.” Angel was laying down, leaning against Carla’s legs. She reached down and scratched Angel’s head. “Now I understand the meaning of the statement your father insisted be included in his will: any properties owned by his family were to be given to his first born. Your father’s wish was to stay true to what his ancestors requested.”

  Gina dropped her hands and the photo into her lap.

  “Are you saying that I am the owner of that old mansion?” she asked in shock.

  “So it would seem. However proving it will be another matter.”

  Rose quietly crept into her mother’s sitting room. Her mother was sleeping, and Betty wouldn’t be home for another few hours. Rose was determined to find something to prove that the Brocks were indeed the legal owners of the mansion turned tavern.

  Her mother had rattled on about the mansion whenever she’d heard mention of it on the local news. During one of her less lucid moments, she’d droned on and on about how the mansion was stolen from the Brocks. At the time, Rose thought it was all made up in her mother’s mind. Only the more Rose thought about it, the more she started to believe that her mother must have recalled something that triggered her reaction. Rose was going to find that something, and then she would take back the tavern and get her lawyer to show the court the tavern was never a part of Dad’s will and that she, as the oldest living competent Brock should be the sole owner. She would find the proof that she needed and get the deed signed over to her before Owen knew what hit him.

  Rose searched all the drawers and shelves in the sitting room. She was pulling hat boxes off a shelf when she heard what sounded like paper in one of the boxes. She pulled the lid off and discovered handwritten notes and tons of old black and white photographs. Rose set the box aside and continued searching the rest of the hat boxes. Three boxes each contained letters, notes, photos, and copies of legal documents.

  Rose put all but the three boxes back on the shelves. She peeked back into her mother’s bedroom and saw her mom was still asleep. Rose grabbed the three boxes and headed for her room. She placed the boxes on her bed and locked the door to her room. No one was coming in until Rose went through every slip of paper and photograph in all the boxes. She settled on her bed and opened the first box.

  She was nearly finished emptying the second box when she found a large padded envelope. Written on the envelope was a date: December 1903. Wasn’t that the year her mother said the Brocks lost the mansion?

  She opened the envelope and discovered an old partial deck of cards and a few discolored photographs. A man and woman were in a few of the images and were standing in front of the mansion/tavern. She flipped the photos over and on the back side, written in what appeared to be fountain pen, was a name: Jamerson. She set the photos aside and sorted through the rest of the stack, checking the back of each photo. One photo showed two men standing together. The backside of the photo read: Fred Brock and Tom Jamerson. Why would her mother hold onto photos of what appeared to be a couple standing in front of the mansion decades ago? Why keep this photo of Fred and Tom together? It must be because this was the man who stole the mansion from her family. Just who were the Jamersons?

  9

  Owen strolled into his parents’ attorney’s office. The attorney his father had worked with had passed away a few years back. Owen had spoken to the attorney who took over his parents’ estate once or twice, but this was his first opportunity to sit down with the man face to face.

  “Mr. Welch, Mr. Brock has arrived,” the woman at the reception desk said into her phone. Even the receptionist was new. She put the phone down, stood, and smiled at him. “This way, sir.”

  “Mr. Brock, it’s nice to finally meet you in person,” Mr. Welch said.

  “And you,” Owen responded.

  “So, what is it I can help you with?”

  “We need to discuss the future care of my mother. We’ll either be bringing in a full-time nurse or she’ll go into a nursing home and we’ll need to discuss what it will take to put the house on the market.” Owen knew Welch wouldn’t have a say about the future of the house. He was testing him to get a feel of the type of person he was working with.

  “I’ve been told Mrs. Brock will be going into a nursing home,” Welch said as he leaned back in his chair. “And there’s no need to discuss the sale of the house. Rose will be living there. I’ve already drawn up all the paperwork. All I need now is your signature and Rose’s.”

  “Who gave you the authority to draw up the papers?” Owen asked.

  “Rose. We’ve met several times over the last two months. Everything will go smoothly.” Welch nodded at Owen.

  Owen studied the man before he continued. “Did it ever occur to you to investigate who is the executor of the estate?”

  “I assumed Rose was the executor,” Welch answered.

  “I see. I’ve come here today to tell you that we no longer need your services.” He pulled a business card from his breast pocket and tossed it across the desk. “You can transfer all my family’s files to the address on my card.”

  “Pardon me?” Welch sucked in a sharp breath and straightened up in his chair. “But Rose…”

  “Is not the executor of the estate. I am. I also have legal guardianship over my mother, so the decision about where she lives is not Rose’s either. You shouldn’t have drawn up anything without consulting me.”

  “I have outstanding hours that need to be
paid.” Welch sputtered and struggled to find his words. “I’ll send my bill to Rose. She’ll pay me.”

  “By all means send it to her. I froze Mother’s and the house expense accounts today. Rose only has access to her own accounts.” Owen stood, towering over the little man. He leaned over the desk and spoke in a low voice. “I suggest you go away quietly.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Welch said puffing out his chest. “You should treat me with respect because your older sister and I have a personal relationship. We’ve started seeing each other.”

  “Whatever the two of you do on your own time has nothing to do with me or Mother. But neither you nor Rose will be involved in decisions involving the rest of the family.”

  Welch flushed a bright red and tightly closed his mouth.

  Owen turned and walked out of his office without so much as a backward glance. The receptionist had obviously overheard the altercation. Her mouth formed a huge circle and she looked like she was about to spring out of her chair as Owen approached her.

  “My assistant will be contacting you in the next thirty minutes. I trust she will have no issues getting all my family’s files transferred to my office.”

  “No, sir!” She crammed her fingers into the keyboard and typed. “Right away, sir.”

  Owen hit the steering wheel of his rental car with the palm of his hand. “Rose.” He’d hoped he was wrong about her seeing that weasel. “You’ll never change.” He shook his head as he pulled his phone from the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

  “How’d it go, Owen?” Barb asked.

  “The guy is a weasel. He gives us all a bad name,” Owen responded.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks. Me too. I really need to face the fact that Rose is only concerned with Rose. I was hoping mother would come before Rose’s needs.”

  “I’ll take care of everything,” Barb said.