Under The Mistletoe (Holiday Hearts #2)

by Kristin Hardy

  She rolled her eyes. “My powers of resistance are pretty strong.” Except where Gabe Trask was concerned.

  “That’s what you say now.”

  And she hoped to God she could keep to it, because it was becoming abundantly clear that Gabe was a problem.

  They turned toward the sprawling Victorian inn, the Crawford Arms, opposite the ski center. “This should be part of the hotel property,” Gabe told her. “It was built by Cortland a couple of years before the Mount Jefferson.”

  “How did it get separated from the hotel?”

  “The S and L sold it off when the Crawford Notch group bought the property to put up the ski resort. It belongs with us.”

  Like the ski center, the Crawford Arms had seen better days. It reminded her of a thirties sedan converted to a hot rod and left to rust. Some scary things had been done to it and the elements and time had played their hands. The elegance and clarity of the original design still showed through, however.

  It could be brought back, Hadley thought as they walked through. All it would take was work and money. Trading the innocuous furniture for a few fat sofas and throw pillows alone would make a huge change, and she’d bet twenty bucks that there was hardwood flooring underneath the mottled gold shag rug.

  For a moment, Hadley closed her eyes and imagined it restored, all warm wood and jewel tones, with a crackling blaze in the fireplace and the scents of cinnamon and apples in the air. The kind of home she’d always dreamed of living in. “It’ll need a full renovation but it could be wonderful,” she murmured.

  “We don’t need to do it all at once,” Gabe said, thumping a wall to test it. “We’d work it in stages over a couple of years, eventually make an addition to double the number of rooms.”

  Neither of them noticed as they continued to walk the property when “could” and “if” became “will.” Neither of them noticed when they began to talk as partners.

  “I met Roderick Miller of the current ownership group at a corporate event in Burlington a couple years back,” Gabe said later in his truck as they drove toward the exit. “I still have his card. I can call him, gauge the interest on their end.”

  “Let’s get our ducks in a row and then you can ring him, see what they’re looking for.”

  Gabe pulled back out onto the road.

  “So who owns the condo complex down the highway?” Hadley asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not part of what I have in mind for the buy, although there’s an adjoining parcel here that we could eventually develop as a small condo complex.”

  “That’s not why I’m asking. I need a place to live. I can’t keep staying in the hotel.”

  He flicked a glance at her. “You’re with the company. It’s not like it’s costing you.”

  “That’s part of the point. My room could be occupied by a paying guest. Besides, living in one room is going to make me crazy before too much longer.”

  This time his glance lasted longer. “How much time are you planning on spending here?”

  “Hard to say.” When she’d arrived, she’d hoped to set things in motion and be on her way by January, with occasional return visits. Now, with talk about the ski area and renovations, it looked more like months than weeks.

  “It’ll be tough to find a place this time of year. Everybody’s renting by the week for ski vacations and it ain’t cheap.” He stopped behind a truck that was waiting to make a left turn. “Of course, there’s an alternative. I live in the manager’s house behind the hotel. You could always stay there.”

  Before she could help it, her mind conjured up an image of the two of them cuddled cozily together on his couch. Too cozy, too together.

  Too dangerous.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Why? It’ll put you right on site.”

  Because he was already setting up house in her mind? “Where would I sleep, on the sofa?”

  Gabe laughed. “I’m not suggesting you bunk down with me. The manager’s house has three separate flats. Furnished, even, at least with the basics.”

  “I don’t know.” The last thing she needed was to live in the same house, listening to his footfalls, imagining where he was, what he was doing.

  “At least take a look at it. Why live three miles away and pay rent when you can live on site for free?”

  Because it might be the only way to keep her sanity? “I’ll think about it.”

  “Well, while you’re thinking, let me show you something else, just to round out your tour.”

  “What?”

  “The cog railway.”

  “So Cortland built this, too?”

  They stood on a snowy patch of ground outside the Mount Jefferson Cog Railway base station. Around them rose thick pine forest. Behind them, the hotel gleamed white in the sun.

  “What do you expect?” Gabe asked. “He was a railroad man. An inventor brought him a way to run a train up to the top of the mountain and he went with it.”

  “When was that?”

  “Around the time he was building the hotel.”

  Hadley raised her eyebrows. “Busy boy. So what’s with the skiers?” she asked, pointing to the forms schussing down the slope next to the rails.

  “That was J.J.’s idea. When he’s not competing, he does these nutso things like parachuting onto a glacier wearing skis.”

  “Mr. Extreme Sports?”

  “If it’s got snow and a fifty percent grade, sure. Starting up the Ski Train was one way to get a piece of the action. We didn’t have to do too much to the slope to get it ready—it was mostly cleared for the railway as it was.”

  Up along the mountain, the train came into view. “When did you open it?” Hadley asked.

  “Last season. The railroad used to be open only in summer. This time of year, it only goes halfway. About a forty-five minute trip.”

  “For five, ten minutes’ worth of skiing?”

  “It’s not the quantity, it’s the quality. We get a pretty steady stream of traffic, especially on the weekends. You’d be surprised.”

  A sharp whistle from the train interrupted them. Chuffing and clacking, it crept toward them, an old-fashioned steam engine with a broad, funnel-shaped smokestack, paired with an equally old-fashioned-looking wooden passenger car. Except it was backward. Instead of the car being hooked on at the end of the train, it pressed against the nose of the engine. When the train was headed up the mountain, the engine pushed the passenger carriage ahead of it. Coming down the mountain, however, it appeared to be backing away from a confrontation with the pushy orange conveyance.

  Something else about the engine looked odd. She frowned. “Why is it all tilted down?”

  “Keeps the boiler level on the steepest parts. When it’s up on the mountain, it’s about the only thing that’s level.”

  The engine came to a stop and with a giant chuffing hiss, the boiler released a cloud of steam. Gabe glanced at her. “Want to go say hello to the engineer? He knew Whit.”

  A bearded man in a navy-blue jacket and a Red Sox cap hopped from the cab of the engine to the ground, stuffing a pair of canvas work gloves into his back pocket. When he saw Gabe, he changed direction toward where they stood. “Gabe Trask. What brings you up here?”

  “Got to make sure you’re staying out of trouble.”

  “Never.” He shook hands and slapped Gabe on the shoulder. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Ed, I’d like you to meet Hadley Stone, Whit’s granddaughter. Hadley, this is Ed Wallace, engineer on the cog railway for, how long has it been, Ed? Thirty-five years?”

  “Thirty-six as of last year, and I knew Whit for thirty of ‘em.” Hadley found her hand swallowed up in a callused paw as Ed gave her an assessing stare. “Well, damned if you don’t have the look of him. Me and Whit spent a lot of years out on the lake fishing for wide-mouths.”

  “He fished?”

  A smile creased Ed’s worn face. “That’s code for sitting around in a boat an
d telling lies. Comparing notes about our grandkids. He said you were a world beater.”

  Gabe watched Hadley. He knew enough now not to expect uncomplicated pleasure. When her expression turned strained, he reached out to take her elbow. She didn’t move away.

  “What do you remember of my grandfather, Mr. Wallace?” she asked instead, intently.

  “Just Ed, young lady.” He pushed his cap back. “Whit? I’ll tell you about Whit. We used to take him up the mountain with us in the cab every year. One time, a cinder flew out of the fire-box, blistered the fireman’s hand so bad he couldn’t hold anything. Whit didn’t even pause, just stepped in and started shoveling coal. Did it all the way up and back down the mountain. Said it was the most fun he’d had in years.”

  Hadley tried to picture it, the man from the Forbes 400 list cheerfully shoveling coal. Always, she’d obeyed her father’s unstated wishes, keeping Whit out of their lives. Now, she was beginning to wonder why.

  “He had a gift for enjoying life, Whit did. I always figured to see you up here with him one of these days.” Ed shrugged. “But there’s never enough time for everything, I guess.”

  “I guess not,” she said softly.

  Behind them, the whistle of the engine tooted impatiently.

  “That’s my cue,” Ed said. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  “The pleasure was mine,” she said.

  “Ed Wheeler’s a good man,” Gabe said on the ride down the mountain.

  Hadley sat mutely, staring out at the passing trees.

  “If you want to go up on the railway, we can arrange it.”

  Hadley didn’t answer.

  “You didn’t know your grandfather, did you?” Gabe asked softly.

  The silence stretched out until he began to think she wouldn’t answer.

  “No,” she said finally, her reply almost inaudible. “I only met him once, briefly, at a dinner function.”

  Gabe tried to imagine it, not knowing family. “I don’t get it. He always talked like he knew you, like he was up with what you were doing. What happened?”

  “It was an ugly divorce. My grandmother isn’t a very forgiving woman. Once she and Whit split, she never had a good word to say. My father never spoke to him after that.” Hadley looked out the window again. “She came from a very wealthy New York family. Back then, it was easier to keep the father from having visitation rights.”

  So much energy put into vindictiveness and in the end the children were the ones who suffered. “Did she ever get past it?”

  Hadley shook her head. “All my life I’ve been told Whit was a miserable human being who didn’t care about anyone or anything but making money. He tried, I know he tried in the past five or ten years to get in touch with my father, but Robert always froze him out. He said it was just an old man trying to suddenly wipe the slate clean.”

  “And you met him only once?”

  “At a charity dinner, during cocktails. I don’t usually go to those sorts of things but it was a Stone Enterprises event so it was a command performance. I turned around and he was just there.” A tap on the shoulder, a turn into shock.

  “What did he say?”

  “He introduced himself. I knew who he was, of course. I’d seen his face on too many magazine covers.” She’d smiled automatically and for a moment his eyes had looked kind. “I shook his hand and then I glanced over my shoulder and my father was behind me.” And the tension had suddenly been palpable, like the hum before a lightning strike. “Whit said, ‘Hello, Robert,’ and my father didn’t even answer him. He just took my arm and escorted me away.” She took an unsteady breath. “We left him standing there. And now I don’t even know why.”

  Her breath hitched again and Gabe knew she was crying.

  “It’s foolish to get upset,” she said, swiping angrily at her cheeks. “It’s done, there’s nothing I can do to change it.”

  “Isn’t that the hardest part of all? To discover that you might have wanted to?”

  And she did cry then, weeping for the man she’d never known, while Gabe pulled off to the side of the road and just rubbed her shoulder helplessly.

  “Loyalty can be a good thing, but sometimes it can be misplaced,” he said after the storm had passed. “I don’t know what happened with your grandparents and your father, but Whit was a good man.”

  “I just don’t understand. How can the person I grew up hearing about be the same man you and Ed and Lester knew?”

  Gabe pulled the Explorer back out on the road. “People make mistakes, they change. Your father did speak to him once after the divorce, by the way.”

  “When?” She stared at him.

  “When Robert was thirteen or fourteen, I think. Junior high. He was being sent away to prep school.”

  “My grandfather told you about this?”

  “When he promoted me to manager. It started out as a cautionary tale over dinner, I think, but it stretched out over a long couple of brandies.” Gabe pulled to a stop at the intersection with the highway. “He said it was important to keep success in perspective, that thinking the people he cared about would wait had cost him his marriage.”

  “Win the battle, lose the war.”

  “And how. But they were gone and he figured the hell with them, he had empires to build. About twelve years later he was hammering out a deal to merge Aerotech with McCutcheon Aircraft. He was in a conference call with a half-dozen other folks, including the COO and chief legal counsel for McCutcheon. Final negotiations.” Gabe let a car pass and pulled out onto the road. “And this kid gets past his secretary and barges into his office. Says he’s Whit’s son, that he’s run away and he wants to come live with him. Meanwhile, the chief legal counsel of McCutcheon is starting to get nasty over the final offer.”

  The most delicate part of a deal. “God, what did Whit do?”

  “Asked Robert to sit down and wait. The conference call took another hour, and somewhere in there Robert left.”

  “And hated him the rest of his life. He must have gone straight back. I never heard anything about him running away.”

  Gabe nodded. “It would have been a huge, dramatic deal, especially at that age. He’s in a spot he can’t stand, he runs to his father for help and Whit blows him off.”

  “Utter betrayal.”

  Gabe nodded. “Whit screwed up and he knew it. He made another go at trying to get visitation at that point, but neither your grandmother nor Robert was having any.”

  “That’s how Robert is. Once you blow it with him, you blow it for good. There are no second chances.”

  “Tough to live with.”

  “Tough way to live. Whit tried to call me a couple of times after the charity dinner. I…I never took his calls.” And it was hard, so hard to know he’d watched her and beamed over her from afar.

  Gabe turned onto the long road that led up to the Mount Jefferson. The hotel, she realized, her stomach clenching. And her, with a face all patchy from crying. Embarrassing wasn’t the word for it. She reached into her purse for sunglasses.

  “You won’t need those,” Gabe told her as he drove back by the manager’s house and parked. “You can come in and see Cortland House now, wash up and get yourself together.”

  Gratefully, Hadley nodded.

  It was very like the Crawford Arms, a big clapboard farm house with a broad, wraparound porch and paned windows. He led her through the front door and into the little foyer. “There are flats on the second and third floors, your choice. My place is in through here. Hold on, let me get the keys.” He ducked through the door for a moment, then reappeared and nodded toward the stairs. “Come on up, I’ll show you.”

  The baluster felt silky smooth in her hands, softened, she imagined, by the hands of generations of tenants. When Gabe unlocked the door, she saw afternoon sun slanting across wide-planked, golden oak floors and slipcovered furniture. And it felt like coming home.

  Impulsively, she turned to him. “When can I move in?”


  Chapter Eight

  Hadley stood at the bathroom mirror and slipped on her earrings, ruby-and-diamond to match her scarlet suit. She made a face. Suits, suits, suits. She’d never really noticed just how regimented and, well, boring her wardrobe had become. Not that she had time or interest in shopping, but it would have been nice to have some options, something that didn’t look quite so obsessive compulsive.

  Then again, she thought as she walked out into the hotel room, if the shoe fit…

  The space was faultlessly tidy, the bed made when she’d gotten up, her work files and computer neatly stacked on the small table that served as an inadequate desk. She’d always found disorder suffocating, worse now when the sum of her personal space consisted of a single room. It was a good thing the move to Cortland House was happening soon.

  Her cell phone burbled and she picked it up off the polished cherry dresser and flipped it open. “Hello?”

  “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  “Hello, Mother, how are you?”

  “Fine, fine. A little crazy getting ready for Gstaad.”

  “You don’t leave for two weeks, do you?”

  “Well, no, but you know I like to get my packing planned early. And the twins are on about it day and night. We’re trying to convince your father that we should stop by Paris on the way for some shopping.”

  “Good luck with that.” Hadley tried to imagine Robert following her mother and the twins along the Champs-Elysées.

  “He shouldn’t mind. After all, he wants his daughters to have nice things,” Irene said lightly. “And the twins are growing up so quickly, I’m only going to have so many opportunities for these sorts of outings with them now. I never could get you to enjoy it.”

  Hadley hadn’t ever viewed shopping as a sport the way her mother and the twins did. The times she and Irene had tried it had left them both feeling awkward and misunderstood. How did you manage closeness when you had nothing in common?

  “Speaking of the twins,” Irene continued, “I wanted to remind you that we’re going to be leaving at the end of next week. Don’t forget about those Louis Vuitton bags. I need to get them in time to bring with us.”