There’s room at the inn…but maybe not for long!
As a favor to her brother, Marnie McLaughlan has agreed to spend Christmas at the lovely Mirabel Inn—as a mystery guest. But Marnie knows this favor is bound to be complicated because the owners need a confidential report immediately. Marnie’s impressions could affect their decision to sell.
From the outset, the inn is not what she expects…and neither is the manager, Luke Harrison. She quickly develops a rapport with this very attractive widower and his adorable little boy. He knows something is up, yet she can’t tell him that the inn—which is home to Luke and his son—is in danger. Marnie’s torn between her obligation to her brother and her growing love for Luke. Fortunately, things have a way of working out at Christmas!
Luke sat at his desk, staring at Marnie McLaughlan’s reservation
It was made out to a Mr. and Mrs. Scott McLaughlan, and yet she’d shown up here alone…and without a wedding ring. Where was Mr. McLaughlan? Amanda at the front desk said he’d been very friendly on the phone and so disappointed when they didn’t have a vacancy that she’d offered him the room on the top floor. But why hadn’t he arrived with Marnie if he was so anxious to come here?
Luke tapped the desk, his mind running over the possibilities.
His concerns aside, he’d been surprised to find his son, Ethan, hanging off the woman’s leg when he got to the front of the house, but she seemed to take it in stride. What could have been an embarrassing situation had turned into a pleasant interlude with a beautiful woman. And with her heart-shaped face framed by dark curls and her well-toned body, Marnie McLaughlan was gorgeous and sexy….
Her husband probably planned to arrive later, a simple enough explanation, and Luke hadn’t given her much opportunity to explain why they hadn’t arrived together. He would simply come up with a diplomatic way to find out when her husband was going to join her. It was essential that there be no disruptions during the inn’s Christmas event for couples, and a woman as beautiful as Marnie McLaughlan could prove to be a serious disruption…
Dear Reader,
Christmas is my favorite time of year. I love nothing better than to root around in my dozens of boxes of Christmas decorations, digging out all the ornaments, lights, wreaths and mantel decorations needed for every room. Each year my husband and I decorate two fir trees in our home, simply to be able to breathe in the scent unique to evergreens. Christmas for me is both a happy time with my family and also a sad time, as I recall one very lonely Christmas during which I spent hours caring for my sister Elizabeth as she made her graceful exit from this world.
This book is also based on my experience as a mystery guest for a hotel chain near my hometown. Being a mystery guest is a lot like living in a parallel universe, as you will see in The Christmas Inn.
But most of all, this story is about a man who’s surrounded by a self-made wall of loneliness and the inability to forgive, and a woman who has to overcome her fear of rejection to find that common ground called love.
I believe that inside each of us is a Luke or a Marnie waiting to be rescued from our insecurities and fears to find the one person who makes life truly worthwhile.
Please enjoy The Christmas Inn, and stay in touch by visiting my website, www.stellamaclean.com.
Thank you, and may your Christmas season be filled with love, hope and the spirit of giving.
Sincerely,
Stella MacLean
The Christmas Inn
Stella MacLean
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Stella MacLean has spent her life collecting story ideas, waiting for the day someone would want to read about the characters who have lurked in her heart and mind for so many years. Stella’s love of reading and writing began in grade school and has continued to play a major role in her life. A longtime member of Romance Writers of America and a Golden Heart finalist, Stella enjoys the hours she spends tucked away in her office with her Maine coon cat, Emma Jean, and her imaginary friends while writing stories about love, life and happiness.
Books by Stella MacLean
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1487—HEART OF MY HEART
1553—BABY IN HER ARMS
1655—A CHILD CHANGES EVERYTHING
Other titles by this author available in ebook format.
This book is dedicated to all those people who serve the public as members of the hospitality industry. Thank you for being there and making the lives of people like me more enjoyable.
And thank you to Sharon Allaby, friend, reader and fabulous cook.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
ELEVEN DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS and Marnie McLaughlan hadn’t finished her shopping, but that was the least of her worries. She eased open the back door of the salon. The only sounds were the comforting hum of the refrigerator in the staff room and the clacking of a keyboard in the office to her right. She waited for the familiar click telling her the door had locked behind her before she headed for the office.
This was the day she’d wished for and worried over.
She was about to sell her half interest in Total Elegance, the hair-and-aesthetics salon she and her partner, Shane Walker, had co-owned for the past ten years. Her brothers, the superachiever foursome, would jump out of their jock straps if they knew she was in the process of selling her part of the business without their input. She had come in today to get her copy of the agreement to go over with her lawyer before signing. She was quite proud of the fact that her brothers wouldn’t be involved. Their best-before date as inquisitive overseers had long since passed.
At the door of the office she had shared with Shane through all the growing pains of their business she hesitated. This was it. She would read the agreement one more time, then take it to her lawyer. She took a deep breath and tapped lightly. He glanced up, his spiked mullet bobbing like a rooster’s comb as he stood to greet her. “Hey, great to see you,” he said, all brightness and light. Marnie had only one wish where her soon-to-be-ex-partner was concerned. She’d like him to change his hairstyle. When she first met him he’d styled his dark hair to frame his face, softening his angular features, and now the vertical spike of hair only made his nose appear longer, his chin more pointed. Worst of all, his haircut made him look dated.
It was a word that everyone who was anyone in the beauty industry hated to hear, and Marnie didn’t have the heart to tell him. Then again, maybe he knew and just didn’t care. But why should she worry about it, anyway? In mere weeks, she’d be able to put Shane’s hair, and all the other issues that came with running a salon, out of her mind. “Freedom thirty-five,” she’d dubbed her decision.
“It’s great to see you, too,” she said, crossing the narrow space and sitting down in what passed for the guest chair—a warped, plastic lawn chair she’d pilfered from her parents’ garage.
“So, are we ready to sign?” he inquired, his eyebrows doing an odd dance over his forehead, a rather peculiar move for a man, and one that had left questions in the minds of some of their patrons as to his sexual orientation. But those in doubt didn’t know Shane’s history where women were concerned. He was a consummate professio
nal at work and a regular tomcat at night—that is until a particularly clever feline had put an end to his roaming ways.
Her name was Gina, and Shane planned to marry her, which was why he’d offered to buy Marnie’s half of the business. Gina, it turned out, was also a hairdresser and she and Shane were working on more than marriage plans.
“Slow down, Shane. Like I told you yesterday, I want my lawyer to read it before I sign.” She reached for the document, intending to pop it into her oversized bag.
“Sorry. It’s just that I’m so anxious, you know. God!” He sandwiched his head between his hands. “I’ve never felt like this before! We’ll be celebrating our three-month anniversary in a week, can you believe that?” he asked, giving her the same wide-eyed look she’d seen at least a dozen times a day for the past few months.
If he launched into yet another of his long-winded sagas about the wonders of love at first sight, about his plans for marriage and a future with the soon-to-be Gina Walker, she was going to have to slap him. She’d never slapped anyone except her brother Scott for telling Andy Capson she wanted to go out with him. But if Shane didn’t stop talking about how great love felt, how happy he was… As far as Marnie was concerned, love was nothing more than a word in the dictionary somewhere between lovat—a tweed of muted green—and low—inferior or depressed.
All the boyfriends she’d had to date could be slotted into one of two categories: they either had issues around commitment, or they bordered on being illiterate. And if that wasn’t bad enough, they’d all turned out to be liars. Every man with whom she’d had a relationship had been dishonest in one way or another.
“Your three-month anniversary?” she repeated idly, as she skimmed the opening paragraphs of the sales agreement, glad to see the main terms of the agreement in writing, especially the financial ones. There was a non-competition clause, restricting her from opening a salon in the city, which was fine with her.
Shane put his hand on her shoulder. “Look, take your time and read through carefully, but I would like to have it all settled before Christmas. Is that possible?”
She looked up from the document as she considered what he’d said. As much as she loved the business, she’d often wished for something more. She was a good manager, and she wanted a bigger challenge in her life, but he hadn’t considered acting on her discontent until Gina had started at the salon. The unfortunate truth was that she couldn’t work with the woman. She was bossy and overbearing.
Marnie hadn’t busted her butt for ten years to end up taking orders from a woman whose only qualification, other than that of hairdresser, was that she had snagged the other owner. And with the cash from the buyout Marnie would be able to start a different business. She didn’t know what yet, but she’d figure it out. All she needed was a little time.
“Before Christmas? I don’t see why that should be a problem,” she said.
“Great. I’ll go out and put the coffee on so we can have a cup to celebrate. I brought a bag of these special beans Gina loves. They’re from Costa Rica. I’ll go grind them and be right back. Do you want a cappuccino? Or just regular?”
“Why don’t we splurge and have a cappuccino?”
He winked at her and smiled the goofy smile he’d recently acquired. “You got it.”
After he left, Marnie skipped through the legalese to the important parts of the agreement, and made sure they said what Shane had promised.
She sat back and let her gaze move around the office, remembering the long hours she’d spent there, the worries she and Shane had had over the finances, whether they’d be able to grow their client list and hire the best hairdressers. But most of all she remembered the sense of accomplishment she’d felt when she and Shane had been written up in one of the local magazines, commended for their successful partnership. And now, as she faced the fact that this would all be over in a few weeks, she felt a sudden pang of longing.
For ten years she’d lived and breathed Total Elegance. She’d borrowed her share of the start-up money, and then prayed that the salon would be enough of a success to pay off her loan. It was and she had. She’d proven to her family that she could succeed on her own terms, and it felt so good.
Marnie swallowed against the hard lump in her throat. This was not the time for tears. She and Shane had had a good ride, but it would be fun to spend a few weeks considering her next venture, sleeping in until noon, shopping when she felt like it.
Shane reappeared with two mugs in his hands, and with what had become his signature wide-body smile, only to come to a dead halt. “Hey, Marnie, is something wrong?”
His words startled her. “No. Nothing. Why?”
He passed her a cup with her usual two teaspoons of sugar and went to sit behind the desk, placing his mug on a coaster Marnie’s mother had crocheted for the office—to give it a homey touch, as she’d put it. “For a minute, I thought I’d left something out of the agreement,” he said, hefting his size-twelve shoes up onto the corner of the desk.
“Not at all.” She took a sip of her coffee, letting the aroma infiltrate her nostrils while the caffeine hot-wired her mind.
“Well, what do you think? Is it all right?”
“I’m sure it is.... I’ll miss this place.”
“I know you will, honey. If you’d like to work in the salon until you decide on a new career, that’s fine by me,” he offered, his words holding the nuance of a man who just realized that he should run the idea past his woman.
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” she said. “But I think I’m going to concentrate on what I want to do next.”
“Have you considered going back to university?”
Having flunked her first year, she didn’t intend on repeating the experience. Besides, she didn’t want to waste her hard-earned cash on learning things she’d never use. She was far too practical. Of course, not having made up her mind about her future would mean she’d have to sit through the next dozen or so family dinners, and be subjected to all sorts of unwanted advice.
“School isn’t for me, at least not right—” A loud banging sound interrupted her.
“Someone’s at the back door at this hour of the morning?” Shane asked, a frown on his face.
“I’ll go and see,” Marnie said, hopping up from her chair and heading out back. Deliveries didn’t start until 9:00 a.m., and there was little chance that any of the staff would appear ahead of their shift. She peeked through the little hole in the middle of the door.
“No!” she moaned. Turning, she braced her back against the hard surface. She would unlock the door and let her nuisance of a brother into the salon when pigs wore roller skates. Scott couldn’t be certain she was there, and besides, even if he persisted in banging on the door, she wasn’t going to answer.
“Marnie. I know you’re in there, and we need to talk.”
* * *
LUKE HARRISON HAD ZERO interest in Christmas. As far as he was concerned it was everyone’s excuse to run up bills they couldn’t pay, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t excited for other people and for all the planning that came with the season.
As of today, The Mirabel Inn was fully booked for what he and his staff had named the Christmas Getaway Event. The event had been designed for married couples who didn’t have family plans or who had finally decided to skip the Christmas madness, and simply have a quiet, elegant holiday by themselves. He’d done it on a smaller scale last Christmas but had run into problems when other guests booked into the inn who weren’t part of the program—one of the single women had flirted with one of the married men, resulting in the wife packing up and leaving. A messy, uncomfortable situation he didn’t want to have repeated this year.
This year the event included five days—three before Christmas, plus Christmas Day and the twenty-sixth. It had taken months to put together a good marketing campaign, but it had paid off. The only room left in the inn was a small one, with a double bed, that was earmarked for renovation, making it into an office for
the housekeeper Mary Cunningham.
He’d been up since six that morning, thanks to his four-year-old son, Ethan, who’d been promised a chance to help decorate the huge balsam fir that was presently being strung with lights in preparation for a tree-trimming party. The staff and their families had been invited to a luncheon due to start at noon, after the tree trimming, a party to show appreciation for the staff of the inn. Luke, as the manager, had to be there to kick off the celebration. It was important to hold this party before the getaway event began as many of the staff would be working throughout the holidays.
Despite his aversion to Christmas, Luke enjoyed this event because he got a chance to give back to the staff and their families whose support was important to the success of the inn. The lunch buffet would be set up in the glassed-in patio along the south side of the two-hundred-year-old inn. The chef, Max Anderson, was making lobster quiche, this year’s special dish, along with the usual turkey, ham and all the vegetables, rolls and condiments people enjoyed as part of the Christmas festivities. Family members of the staff, who liked to bake, provided the desserts, showcasing the recipes of some of the best bakers in the region.
Tidying the cost projections report he’d been reading at his desk, he placed it on top the pile, intending to work on it later. When Luke had first come to work at The Mirabel Inn, he’d gotten rid of the stark furnishings in the office and added his own touches along with state-of-the-art computers to assist in managing the inn. But his favorite piece in the office was an antique oak desk with hidden drawers, pigeonholes and a roll-up top, a special gift from his grandfather. Grant Harrison had left the desk to him in his will, and now it was a part of his life. A daily reminder of his grandfather, who had owned one of the largest inns in Connecticut years before.
He was closing his computer when someone knocked on the door. Before he could answer, Mary Cunningham opened the door and Ethan rushed in behind her.
“Well, hello there, big guy,” Luke said, getting up from his desk in time to catch Ethan in his arms.
The Christmas Inn Page 1