Nicole looked out the windows and took in the garden and hillsides beyond. It seemed fitting that the John Muir Cottage was on the edge of town since it was a huge, old Victorian farmhouse.
A faint smile curved her mouth as she thought about the families that must have lived there, expanding the building to accommodate new generations of married children and grandchildren. She hadn’t resented their nomadic childhood the way Luke had, but having a real home with roots was immensely appealing.
Curiously she looked around the kitchen. It was nicer than the one in her condo, but since she didn’t cook, she hadn’t looked for a place with a showcase kitchen and appliances. The real-estate agent had objected, talking about resale value, but Nicole wasn’t worried about that. The condo met her needs and she didn’t expect to get married or sell anytime soon. Dating tended to be casual since she’d discovered that some men felt her connection to Luke Forrester was her biggest appeal.
With the ease of long practice, she pushed the thought from her head. She couldn’t regret being Luke’s sister, but it brought challenges.
A tap sounded on the front door and she remembered Luke mentioning that the catering service delivered breakfast between seven and eight in the morning. She peeked out to be sure it was them and opened the door.
“Hi,” said the woman carrying two insulated containers. “I’m from Sarah’s Sweet Treats Catering Service. I’m a couple minutes early, but I saw the light turn on in the kitchen. May I come in?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Nicole stepped back and the catering employee walked briskly inside. “I’m Nicole Forrester. You’ve probably met my brother and nieces.”
“Yes—cute kids. Did you get in yesterday?”
“Midafternoon.”
“Welcome to Poppy Gold. I’m Mariko Kirahara.” Mariko put the insulated containers on the counter. “Cold items are in the bag with the blue tag and hot in the other. Instructions are on the labels.”
“Don’t you need to take them with you?”
“Nope.” Mariko opened a cupboard door and removed identical bags. “These are from yesterday. The housekeeping staff puts them here for us. Have a great day.”
“You, too.”
Mariko left quickly, probably because she had other food to deliver. Poppy Gold was huge and must provide accommodations for hundreds of guests each day.
After Nicole had arrived the previous day, Luke and the girls had shown her around the Victorian village. The sledding hill and skating rink were huge attractions, along with the lighted historic vehicle parade that occurred each evening.
But Beth and Annie’s greatest excitement had been introducing her to Carlie Benton, the Poppy Gold activities director. Carlie seemed to have instantly inspired pure adoration from the twins.
Nicole sighed and investigated the coffeemaker. It was similar to the one she used at home, so she quickly filled the filter with coffee and poured water into the reservoir. Soon a rich fragrance filled the air.
Mmm. Making coffee was one of the few domestic skills she possessed. When she and Luke had talked late Saturday evening, he’d mentioned that Poppy Gold Inns had their own special blend. His description of “remarkably flavorful” had made her look forward to a taste. Her brother didn’t bestow praise lightly.
There were unopened containers of cream in the fridge and Nicole made her cup rich and sweet. But before she could take a sip, Luke appeared at the kitchen door.
“Did I wake you up?” she asked.
“It wasn’t you. I haven’t slept much since...well, for over a year.” He rubbed his face.
Nicole poured him a cup of coffee and sat in the picturesque breakfast nook, unsure how to respond. His reluctance to say Erika’s name was the reason everyone else danced around it, as well.
Understanding Luke seemed impossible. Maybe part of the problem was the age and experience gap. She was thirty; he was nine years older. By the time she’d started college he was already wealthy and successful. She hadn’t married, while he was a widower with two children. He was fearless; she was practically scared of her own shadow.
Still, even as a child, Luke had kept a piece of himself separate, watchful, as if holding off the world. Perhaps it was because she’d always had him to depend upon, while he’d only had himself. Nicole didn’t count their parents as reliable support; as Luke said often, Craig and Heather had a long way to go before they became responsible adults.
Luke sat down and stared into the steam rising from his cup.
“How late were you up?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. I was working. Three or four, probably. Tilly didn’t want to send anything for me to look at, but I insisted.”
Nicole pressed her lips together. Tilly Robinson was probably the only person in the world who would challenge Luke. Sometimes she won, sometimes she didn’t. Nicole envied her, and at the same time was frustrated that somebody else could be closer to Luke than his own family.
“Surely your business interests could survive a few weeks without your spending so much time on them,” she suggested carefully.
“If I can’t sleep, I might as well work,” Luke murmured, still looking only half-awake. “Oh, the tutor started yesterday. She’s coming weekday mornings at eight thirty to work with the girls for a few hours and will stay if we’re out for some reason. Beth and Annie are playing in their room. I’ll call them down for breakfast.”
Wanting to be useful, Nicole set the table and then unpacked the two insulated bags. The food smelled delicious. Everything was out on the table when Beth and Annie appeared and sat quietly. In a sad way it reminded Nicole of her own childhood, when they’d stayed with other families and were expected to be invisible. Luke had rebelled, but she’d learned the lesson all too well.
“Would you like orange juice?” she asked.
Beth shrugged, while Annie gave a small nod. Restraining another sigh, Nicole poured juice and glasses of milk. The silence bothered her. Surely childish chatter was normal, yet her nieces said little except “Please” and “Thank you” and “May I have some more?”
After several stabs at conversation, Nicole gave up. She wasn’t accustomed to a large breakfast, but the ham-and-asparagus frittata was delicious, along with the rich cheese sauce, cinnamon rolls, fluffy biscuits and sausage gravy. A fruit compote of melon and assorted fresh berries accompanied the meal.
Gradually Luke began looking more alert, but Nicole didn’t attempt any more conversation. It was too much like talking to herself.
* * *
WITH CHRISTMAS KICKOFF day over, Carlie was both relieved and regretful. It was a huge amount of work for everyone, but also a gloriously fun event. The one spot of not-so-much-fun had been Luke Forrester.
I don’t do interviews.
Honestly, how fatheaded could someone get?
They’d had former US presidents stay at Poppy Gold, also members of Congress, rock stars, actors, a few high-profile writers and other people worthy of interest. And none of them had ever been interviewed by the Glimmer Creek Gazette unless they were the ones who initiated the contact.
Carlie might not particularly like Luke, but the thought of asking a grieving widower for an interview was appalling.
“Carlie, I’m getting coffee. Want some?” Tracy called from the outer office.
“No, thanks. I’m going out for a while.”
Despite Luke Forrester’s egotistical assumptions, Carlie hadn’t forgotten her idea about Annie and Beth each having a Christmas tree in their room. She wanted to check the storage areas for appropriate decorations; it would be important to have a variety to satisfy Annie’s and Beth’s individual tastes.
From the computer inventory she could tell that most of the decorations stored in the top floor of the El Dorado Mansion hadn’t been used, so she went there first. Unli
ke some attics in old houses, the ones at Poppy Gold were clean and organized. It wasn’t long before she’d put together a large assortment of ornaments and had selected two artificial Christmas trees.
Outside she found the sun had vanished and clouds covered the sky. Spats of rain were coming down and Carlie hoped it wouldn’t be a big storm. Uncle Liam probably had his crew out already to cover the sledding hill with tarps to help preserve the thick layer of snow.
It took several trips to get everything to her office, but Carlie was happy with the mix of ornaments she’d found. While Poppy Gold favored Victorian-style decorations, they tried to mix things up year to year.
Now she just had to discuss her plan with Luke. Normally talking to a guest wouldn’t be a problem, but he had a talent for rubbing her the wrong way.
* * *
WITH HER BROTHER working again and her nieces studying with the retired schoolteacher, Nicole finally left a note saying she didn’t know how long she’d be gone and went for a walk. It had become cold and gray with a light drizzle coming down, but as if to brighten the day, the lights on the houses, trees and bushes suddenly switched on.
It was pretty, but even though she didn’t have any clothes for hiking, she was more intrigued by the wilder countryside she’d seen from the front porch of the suite. She decided to head in that direction.
Nicole went southeast and after a mile or two encountered a country road. It was quiet with little traffic except an elderly couple who stopped to ask if she needed assistance. After she assured them that she was all right, they waved and drove away.
Once they were gone, Nicole debated whether to continue or return to the house. The house, she decided. Yet as she turned back toward Poppy Gold, a faint “miiiaaaw” caught her attention.
Nicole looked around nervously, her pulse leaping before settling down again. While she wasn’t familiar with the wild animals in California, she was reasonably certain the cry had come from a domestic feline.
“Kitty, kitty?” Nicole called, scouting around the edge of the road. It was ridiculous to think cats automatically responded to “kitty, kitty,” but surely they could recognize a welcoming voice.
Under a bush, she spotted a kitten, thoroughly bedraggled in the light rain. It looked at her and shrank backward.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she whispered frantically, fearful it would run away. “It’s okay—I’m not going to hurt you.”
She extended a hand and the kitten closed its eyes, as if resigning itself to its fate.
Nicole crawled far enough under the bush to get hold of the small thing. It trembled at her touch, though whether from cold or fear, she didn’t know. Close up, she saw fur was matted over a wound on its leg, but she didn’t have anything to use as a bandage.
Whispering a string of soothing words, she took off her jacket and tucked the baby in the middle, cupping it gently to her stomach. At the moment, all she could do was provide some warmth.
She got out her cell phone to call for a taxi, but there was no signal.
“Drat,” she muttered.
Trying not to jostle the kitten too much, she hurried toward Poppy Gold. But when she reached the Victorian village, she found herself at one of the outer parking lots, rather than the John Muir Cottage. She picked up one of the facility’s courtesy phones.
“Poppy Gold front desk. May I help you?”
“I found a kitten out in the brush. The poor thing is half-starved and needs a veterinarian, but I don’t know where to take it,” she said, the words spilling out with an undeniable edge of panic. “I’m not even sure where I am. I meant to go back to the John Muir Cottage, but I only arrived yesterday and I—”
“It’s all right, ma’am,” the man interrupted soothingly. “You’re calling from the Jumping Frog parking area. I’ll dispatch a shuttle to take you to the veterinarian we use at Poppy Gold. The clinic is just a few blocks away.”
“Thank you. I apologize for being, um, hysterical.” Nicole peeked inside the fold of her jacket, trying to see how the kitten was doing.
“Don’t be concerned. Dr. Cartwright will take good care of your new friend.”
Maybe it was the hint of an English accent or his composure, but Nicole realized her pulse and breathing had slowed to a more normal rate.
They talked for another couple of minutes until Nicole saw one of the Poppy Gold courtesy shuttles drive into the parking area.
“It’s here,” she said into the phone. “Thanks again.”
As she sat in the vehicle, Nicole reached into the warm nest she’d made of her jacket. She was reassured when the kitten licked her finger, but it seemed to take ages before she saw a sign for the veterinary clinic. Apparently they treated both small and large animals, which bothered her. Wouldn’t it be best to have a specialist?
She mumbled her appreciation to the shuttle driver and rushed inside. Luckily the waiting room was empty.
The receptionist smiled. “You must be the guest from Poppy Gold. They gave us a call that you were coming. Is the blood from you or the cat?”
Distracted, Nicole looked down at her hand. There were streaks of red, smeared by the misting rain, where tiny claws had dug into her skin. “Me, I think. It has a wound, but it wasn’t bleeding.”
“All right. Dr. Cartwright and his technician are finishing up in surgery, so let me get some basic information for the file.”
Nicole provided her name, address and cell number, which were entered into the computer. She couldn’t say much about the kitten, other than that she’d found it outside the town.
“I was out walking, so I don’t have my wallet,” she explained. “But I’ll pay the bill, whatever it is.”
“We can worry about that later,” said a deep voice. “I’m Dr. Gideon Cartwright.”
The tall, dark, unsmiling man was the last thing Nicole had expected. Weren’t country vets supposed to be white-haired and kindly looking? Her knowledge of animal care was limited to the All Creatures Great and Small stories by James Herriot, but this guy seemed too grim and handsome to be someone who birthed cows and horses and that sort of thing.
“Um, Nicole Forrester.”
“You can wait out here while I treat the patient, Ms. Forrester. It may take a while since my technician is with a dog coming out of anesthesia.”
Nicole bit her lip. Despite her limited experience, she knew staying in the reception area wasn’t usual. People generally stayed with their pet unless they were having surgery or something.
She wasn’t good at standing up to anyone, but she gulped. “I’m going with you.”
His face tightened. “Very well.” He gestured toward the interior door.
In the exam room, Nicole tried to set the kitten and jacket on the table, but the kitten dug its claws into her blouse, connecting with the skin beneath. She winced and gently unhooked the tiny, very sharp scimitars.
The veterinarian reached out a hand. “Let’s see what we have, then.”
Nicole wouldn’t have thought the baby cat had enough energy to react, but it looked at the tall man and spit.
“Male, three to four months old,” the doctor murmured. He swiftly snipped the sharp ends of the baby’s claws before probing the kitten’s partially healed wound.
In repayment, his patient gave him a swat.
“Feisty, aren’t you?” Dr. Cartwright observed without heat. He put a clear gel into a syringe and squeezed a few drops onto the baby’s gums.
“Wh-what’s that?” Nicole asked.
“Glucose. I want to get some calories into him. This little guy is half-starved. By the way, did he bite you?”
“No. He hooked his claws into my hands and clothes, but he hasn’t bitten or done any real scratching.”
The examination continued, punctuated by additional doses of the gluc
ose. A blood sample was taken and the doctor left for a short while. Nicole let out a breath and put the baby back on her jacket, figuring it was warmer than a stainless-steel exam table.
Then she called Luke to let him know what was going on, but his phone immediately rolled to voice mail. “Hi, Luke, it’s me,” she said. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I’ve rescued a kitten and have taken it to a veterinarian. See you later. ’Bye.”
Nicole sat in a chair, looking into the kitten’s eyes and rubbing his neck.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “This is to help you. I’m not trying to be mean.”
A tiny pink tongue appeared. He licked his jowls, appearing quite disgusted by the flavor of the glucose gel.
They both jumped when the door swung open and Dr. Cartwright burst into the room. “Other than being malnourished, he seems to be okay. The blood tests came back clear. I’m going to treat that wound now.”
A couple of times Nicole wanted to snatch the kitten away, especially when the doctor shaved the fur around the injury. The little cat was hissing and sending looks that accused her of major betrayal.
“Maybe it would be easier if I helped hold him,” Nicole offered shakily.
“You’ll ruin your clothes.”
She glanced down. Her blouse and slacks were already snagged and covered with dirt. Her shoes were soaked with mud and deeply scored from the rocky terrain. “I’ll have to toss everything, anyway.”
“Fine.” He gestured. “Put your hands here and grasp firmly.”
When the injured area was finally shaved, Nicole let out a relieved breath. Dr. Cartwright didn’t seem bothered by the kitten’s distress, but it nearly broke her heart. Maybe a veterinarian had to be tough and not allow things like that to get to them.
“Where did you find him?” the doctor asked.
“By the road leading out of town, under a bush with shiny red bark. I was hiking and heard him cry.” She wasn’t sure why she’d mentioned the bush, but she was flustered by how stern and unfriendly Dr. Cartwright seemed to be.
Christmas with Carlie Page 7