“Daddy!” the little boy yelled, a red-and-green cap balanced precariously on his head.
“Where did you get the elf hat?” Luke asked. Scooping Ethan up and holding him close, he breathed in his scent—usually a mixture of dirt from playing with his dump trucks in the garden plot next to the back patio, and sweat from racing around the property. But today there was just a hint of cinnamon, enhanced by frosting smudges on his cheeks, which meant Ethan had been in the kitchen driving the pastry cook crazy with his questions and his pleas for more sweets.
“Mary gived it to me,” Ethan said, triumphantly.
Luke had planned to spend the day with his son, but an urgent call from the owners of the inn had meant he’d been forced to work on cost figures this morning. He was proud of his management of the inn, which was located only a few miles from some of the best skiing in the eastern United States.
Digging a tissue from his pocket, he wiped the frosting off Ethan’s cheeks. “Hope he hasn’t been too much trouble.”
Mary smiled, a warm smile that had been so welcome in those early months after Anna’s death in a car accident. She’d been the mother figure to a one-year-old toddler who had no comprehension of why his mommy had left, only that she was gone from his life. Mary had helped both his son and him through the proceeding months of agony and loss, and her generous support and advice had held Luke’s life together during a very difficult time.
“Evelyn and Ethan made a batch of sugar cookies with Santa faces on them for the children who are coming.”
“How many cookies did you eat, Ethan?” he asked.
The boy grinned and held up five fingers.
“You didn’t! Did you share them with anyone?”
Mary laughed. “Henry probably has a tummy ache. I put him in his crate in your apartment. It seemed safer that way.”
Henry was a stray part-terrier, part-spaniel that had arrived at the inn on one of the coldest nights in January last year. Henry and Ethan had been constant companions since that frozen evening. “Great. We don’t need a four-footed tree trimmer joining the excitement.”
“Daddy, I patted the branches of the tree.”
“You patted them?” He glanced at Mary.
“Yep. He patted the tree and helped open the boxes of ornaments.”
“I found a red bulb this big,” Ethan said, opening his arms wide and grinning at his father.
“Wow! You’ve been busy,” he said, reveling in the joy of his son’s face. The past three years since his wife’s death had been the hardest of his life. Each morning he woke to the fact that Anna wouldn’t be there to share the day, to see their son grow into a young man, to face each moment with her inexhaustible enthusiasm. In those early weeks after her death, he sleepwalked through each meaningless day. His only connection to the world around him was Ethan. All those lonely months had been made bearable by the presence of his little boy.
But there was a part of him that couldn’t forgive his wife’s reckless behavior. She’d insisted on driving to Boston to do some last-minute Christmas shopping and hadn’t heeded his warning to stay there until the ice storm had passed and the roads had been cleared. As much as he tried, it had been hard for him to understand how she could have acted the way she did, knowing the risks involved. The kind statements from their friends about how Anna did what she thought best were drowned out by the heartbreak of life without her.
“Are we ready to start trimming the tree?” Mary asked, reaching for Ethan.
Luke hugged his son before putting him down. “Don’t know about you, but it will be the bright spot in my morning.”
Ethan nodded so vigorously his elf hat fell off, and he raced from the room.
“Where does he get the energy?” Luke asked.
“Kid power is what I call it.” Mary chuckled as she rescued the hat. “And I should know.”
“By the way, how’s Troy doing at college?”
“Not bad for his first term. Better than his sister and brother did. Peter and I were figuring out the amount of free cash we’ll have once Troy is out of school. We’ll be living well, let me tell you,” she said, a smile spreading across her round face.
Luke had never thought that far ahead: he’d been too busy keeping his life on an even keel and working long hours at the inn. Because of the good friends he’d made since he’d come to work at the inn, he wanted to stay on there for the long term, and maybe someday own an inn like his grandfather had. Owning an inn was not the career his parents had dreamed of for their only child. His father had wanted him to get a law degree and become a partner in his law firm—a profession Luke had no interest in, despite his father’s love for it.
“I’m sorry your parents can’t come for Christmas this year. Ethan is growing up so fast, and Christmas is all about children.”
“I am, too, but it seems they have a prior commitment to spend Christmas with friends in Australia.”
It hurt to say those words, words that only increased the disconnect he felt where his parents were concerned. He’d tried to get them to be more involved in Ethan’s life, and they’d made promises they hadn’t kept. And now with it being Christmas…
“The FedEx truck will be here tomorrow,” Mary said, as if she were reading his thoughts. But in all honesty, it would shock him if his parents had the foresight to send a Christmas gift to their only grandchild.
“We’d better get out there before Ethan hangs all the ornaments on one branch,” he said, remembering last Christmas when he’d let his son decorate a small tree for their apartment, and Ethan had hooked every ornament on a branch near the bottom of the tree. Luke had left it that way and had emailed several photos of Ethan’s efforts to his parents in Hong Kong.
They walked together to the front hall, where a throng of inn guests and local residents had already gathered around the tree. A group of carolers from Wakesfield had arrived to provide the entertainment, filling the large entry hall with familiar Christmas songs. Luke made his way through the crowd to the tree where Ethan was attempting to string a garland of colored popcorn onto a branch. “Hey! Don’t pull the tree over,” Luke warned, kneeling to help him.
“Daddy, I love popcorn,” he whispered, bringing the strand to his mouth. “Want some?”
“You can’t eat that. It’s a decoration for the tree.”
Ethan’s lips formed a pout. “I’m hungry.”
“You can’t be.”
Ethan ignored him as he pulled on the strand of popcorn.
“Here, let me help,” Luke said, following the string down past Ethan’s feet to a spot under the bottom of the tree where it had become entangled. Reaching in, he freed it, and then lifted Ethan so he could place the garland on the outer tips of the branches.
The people standing around the tree clapped, and Ethan smiled as he hugged his father’s neck. Balancing his son in his arms, Luke finished stringing the popcorn on the tree.
The group gathered closer as they all joined in decorating the tree. Several of the men took turns hoisting Ethan up so he could reach the higher branches. Everyone was intent on decorating the huge tree, reminding Luke once again how lucky he was to have this extended family as part of his life for the past eight years.
The sense of family and being together for the holiday season caused a lump to form in Luke’s throat. It wasn’t that he disliked Christmas as much as the idea that his son would never remember a Christmas that included his mother.
But he couldn’t focus on the past, especially with so much riding on the next few weeks. He’d heard rumors from other managers of hotels and inns owned by Advantage Corporation that the CEO, Angus McAndrew, and his management team were looking at all their resort holdings with an eye to selling some of their properties. He hoped the rumor wasn’t true, but he knew better than to think that they’d be concerned with what he believed or how he felt.
Still, it was worrisome because he’d worked for Advantage for years, starting at a smaller inn and then being
promoted to manager of The Mirabel. Right now, with Ethan finally happy and content once again, he didn’t look forward to any change that would affect his son’s life, not to mention his own. If Advantage chose to sell this inn, they would probably offer him a job somewhere, but if they decided that his performance wasn’t up to their standards or they didn’t have a position to offer him, he could end up looking for a job with another organization. In either case it would mean a different location and a new place to live. For now, he didn’t want to consider the impact it would have on them. He just wanted to watch his son enjoy the festivities that would kick off the Christmas season.
“Up, Daddy,” Ethan demanded, a large angel dangling from his fingers as he held his arms up to his father.
“An angel wants to put an angel on the tree,” Mary said over the din created by the crowd.
And Ethan was an angel—the baby he and Anna had dreamed of and waited years for. “Okay, Ethan, let’s see you hang this ornament,” he said, holding his son aloft as he leaned into the branches to hang the angel near the center of the tree. The staff had already placed a huge lighted star on top. Luke stepped back with Ethan still held high in his arms.
“This is probably the nicest tree we’ve ever had at the inn,” Mary mused, as they all gazed up into the tree.
* * *
STILL KEEPING THE DOOR CLOSED against her brother, Marnie considered her options. How had he known she was in here? Knowing him, he would’ve driven by her house, then over here and found her car in the parking lot. Had he discovered her plan to sell?
Scott was the last person she wanted to see right now. He’d rant on and on about how she was making a huge decision without seeking the family’s advice first. The unspoken issue was that Marnie McLaughlan, the youngest member of the McLaughlan clan, wasn’t allowed to make any changes in her life without their involvement.
“Go away, Scott,” she yelled through the door. “I’m not doing anything that concerns you.”
“Marnie, listen to me. Mom is all worked up over Christmas and worried about you. You know what she’s like,” he said.
Her mother loved the holidays; she relied on Marnie’s support for whatever scheme she had in the works. This year she planned to have Santa arrive complete with sleigh and elves, which meant that Marnie had to be there to act as Mrs. Claus, a role she’d flat-out refused, much to her mother’s chagrin. The problem with Eleanor’s party schemes was that they always seemed to involve an unattached male—usually the temporarily single son of one of her mother’s bridge-playing friends—with whom she’d be forced to socialize. “I’m well aware of our mother’s ability to be a drama queen.”
“Not fair, Marnie. Mom has always had your best interests at heart.”
Right. Good old Mom, not to mention good old Dad and my four good old brothers.
How she’d like to snap her fingers and have Scott disappear. But Scott’s Velcro tendencies were legendary once he decided to become involved in something. He beat a tattoo on the door, making her clap her hands to her ears.
If, just once, her family could see her for what she was rather than what she wasn’t, her life would be so much easier. Reluctantly she turned the lock, opened the door and forced a smile. “What brought you here so early this morning?”
“I heard that you were selling your half of the business.”
“Who told you?”
“Dad heard about it through some friend at the Elks Club—a friend of a friend of a woman named Gina something or other. Is it true?”
“I’m not going to change my mind.”
Dressed in his uniform of an immaculately tailored dark suit, silk tie chosen to match the tiny thread of magenta woven into the suit fabric, Scott gave her a persuasive smile—the one he usually saved for his marketing clients—as he stepped past her into the tiny office.
“Hello, Shane, it’s great to see you, and I hear that congratulations are in order.” Scott was about to plunk himself down in the lawn chair, took a closer look and reconsidered.
As Shane launched into the story about how he met his new love, and soon-to-be new partner, Marnie leaned back against the wall and enjoyed the look on Scott’s face. Her brother had problems with any conversation he didn’t control. Scott wasn’t mean. He was constantly thinking ahead to the next step in his plans, and thus he didn’t have much patience for small talk. Not surprisingly, it didn’t take him long to interrupt Shane and ask a couple of pointed questions concerning the contract.
“Shane, you don’t have to answer,” she said hurriedly, wanting to block Scott’s interrogation of her friend.
Shane closed his mouth and sank his neck into his turtleneck. “That’s right, I don’t,” he confirmed, his eyebrows rising to meet his hairline.
“Shane, would you excuse my sister and me for a couple of minutes?”
With an expression of resignation Shane rose from the chair. “I’ll be in the salon going over the renovation plans,” he said, giving Marnie his “chin up, kid” smile as he walked past her out the door.
“You have yet to sign, and he’s already going over plans?” Scott asked, disbelief evident in his tone.
“They’re old blueprints Shane and I had considered a couple of years ago. He and Gina are going to revisit them and see if they’re feasible for the expansion they want to make.”
“This Gina person is certainly moving fast.”
“That’s their business, not mine. What’s the family’s problem with me selling to Shane?”
Scott scooped up the agreement Marnie had carelessly left lying on the desk and took his time reading it before he answered. “We want to be sure you’re being paid fair market value for the business and this building. And that Shane hasn’t slipped in a noncompetition clause that would stop you from working as a hairdresser once you leave here,” he muttered. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing at the page.
“What?” she asked, refusing to glance at the page.
“You can’t work in Boston as a hairdresser?”
“We agreed it was only fair. My client list and the goodwill I’ve built up in the city are part of what he’s buying beyond the physical assets,” she said, exasperated with Scott’s attitude.
“Marnie, I’m your brother, and I don’t want—”
“Scott, will you leave it alone?” she said, struggling to remain calm. After all, her brother did have his good qualities; the problem was she couldn’t remember any of them at the moment.
Still clutching the agreement, Scott leaned against the ancient file cabinet in the corner. “Okay, you take this to your lawyer, and you sign it. What happens the day after you sign? What are you going to do with your life?”
“Run away to the south seas? Go on safari for a few weeks?”
“Get serious. You must have a plan.”
“I’m working on that. Please tell Mom not to worry,” she said, thankful that he was still concentrating on the agreement and couldn’t see the uncertainty in her eyes. Her family always looked for reasons to freak out over what she was doing and how she was doing it. She understood their concern in the beginning. Two major surgeries she’d had to undergo, one when she was eight to fix a heart defect and one when she had a serious car accident fifteen years ago, had given her family reason to worry. But not anymore.
Scott placed the document on the desk before turning his intense gaze on her. “Tell you what. Angus McAndrew, the CEO of Advantage, you remember him, don’t you?”
Scott once worked for Advantage Corporation in their PR department. “He’s the guy who got me in to see that superrenowned orthopedic surgeon in New York after my car accident.”
“Our family owes Angus a lot. I’m convinced that without his help, you wouldn’t have had such a complete recovery.” He smiled down at her, warmth showing in his eyes. “Even though I left his company to start my own business, he and I have stayed in touch. He has a property in the Berkshires, The Mirabel Inn, and he’s going to put it up for sale.
But before he does, he needs a business survey of the region, which one of my staff is working on, and he wants to know that the inn has no operational issues that could derail the sale. He’s asked me to hire a mystery guest right away as he has a potential buyer for the inn and he wants to make the kind of pitch the purchaser can’t resist. You’ll work the three days prior to Christmas, all expenses paid. All you have to do is fill out a bunch of forms. Shouldn’t be too stressful,” he said.
Ever since her car accident fifteen years ago and her difficulties with her rehabilitation, her family had kept a close eye on her. In those first months after the accident, she had desperately needed their help and support. Now, years later, it felt more like they simply wanted to run her life. “Why do it right before Christmas? A mystery guest? What does that mean?”
“Angus is a perfectionist, and he leaves nothing to chance. He’s also very driven, and when he wants something, he goes after it. If he wants to sell this property he’ll do it Christmas Day if he has to. As for being a mystery guest, it means you behave like a regular guest, and the management doesn’t know who you are or what you’re doing there. Meanwhile, you collect information for me on how the inn functions, based on questionnaires the company will provide. Before you leave here, I’ll give you the questionnaires so you can read them over to know what aspects of the inn to evaluate. Once you’ve completed an area, such as the spa or the bar, for instance, you enter your responses online, and then email them to me on a daily basis. I’ll take care of the rest. I’ll be in touch with you each day to see how you’re making out with the survey, and we’ll take it from there.”
“I don’t like sneaking around, trying to get proof that someone isn’t doing something right. Besides, why would I want to go north where it’s cold and I don’t know anyone?”
“Because you need time to think before you sign this agreement.”
“I can sign my agreement without going off alone to someplace cold first,” she said, feeling she’d got him on this one. “I don’t need to go away to think about my future.”
The Christmas Inn Page 2