“Nope. My folks decided to quit while they were ahead.”
She sent him a puzzled frown.
“I was a hard act to follow,” he said. “I think my mom’s exact words were, ‘Never again.’”
That surprised a laugh out of her. Good.
“I weighed eleven and a half pounds,” he said. “And when I started walking and talking, I was even more trouble.”
He felt her eyes on him. “When did you outgrow it?”
“Who says I did? Outgrow implies that somewhere along the line I grew up.”
She was still studying him, he was sure of it. Then again, it was easy to get convinced someone was staring at you when you were trying so hard not to look at them. He was afraid she was going to say something embarrassingly serious.
Instead, she said, “I remember the senior prank.”
Good. He was used to defending himself on that one. “It wasn’t just me,” he protested. “The other guys just . . . left me holding the goose.”
While the other seniors were doing something innocuous like toilet-papering houses, Scott and a couple of his friends had been thinking big. And talking bigger. So they’d kidnapped the rival school mascot, the goose of Mount Douglas High.
And ended up setting it free.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he protested. “When we got it back to Tall Pine High, we were going to put it in the principal’s office. Two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
Liv started to laugh.
“But when we got into the principal’s office and opened the cage, that sucker fluttered out so fast, right for the door, like he’d been waiting for that moment all his life . . .”
“And you didn’t think to close the door behind you first?”
He slapped the steering wheel. “That was Dane’s job. He had one job.”
She was laughing again. It felt good to hear her laugh.
“And who in the world knew the thing could really fly? I figured he had his wings clipped.”
She tried to get her breath. “So, you had how many accomplices?”
“Three. You’d think four guys could’ve handled one goose. Ron was standing lookout, fat lot of help he was—”
“But you were the only one who got in trouble.”
“Code of honor. I didn’t name names. It was my car they picked up on the security cameras, and the picture was pretty fuzzy . . . but I was a lot taller than the other guys. It was pretty obvious.”
“The clown car. I remember.”
Six-foot-four by the time he was sixteen, and he’d picked an orange VW bug for his first car. He had to admit, it was partly the ridiculousness of the size that had won him over. It was also a car he could afford on his salary from the local burger joint—and he’d been told Volkswagen Beetles were easy to work on.
“Yep. I took the rap. They almost didn’t let me walk at graduation. My folks finally talked them into letting me work it off by doing landscaping work for Mount Douglas High over the summer. But you don’t know the worst of it.”
Scott glanced at her, and of course she was watching him.
He said, “People hold me personally responsible for the goose population at Prospect Lake.”
“What? There were always geese at that lake. One of them chased me when I was four.”
He nodded. “Still. Whenever that happens to anyone around here, they let me know one of my geese went after them. Now, am I wrong? You have to have at least two geese to make more geese. Unless I kidnapped a pregnant goose. And the Mount Douglas goose was male.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, his name was Harold, for one. And I heard they made sure to get a male goose, because who wants to hassle with the eggs?” Scott shrugged. “I did my homework. You can’t say I didn’t case the crime scene.”
They reached the turn onto the main highway, the one that had brought them from the airport. This time Scott continued up the mountain. The next town, Mount Douglas, was nearly an hour away.
“How far is it?” Liv asked. “I don’t want to be gone too long.”
He sensed a little tension returning as she twisted in her seat, as if to look back at the responsibilities she was leaving behind.
“It’s not much farther.” He slid a glance her way, enjoying her puzzlement and the slight element of mystery.
They were leaving Tall Pine proper behind, as the businesses alongside the highway grew farther apart. They passed a lumber yard, an ancient gas station, and the town’s one and only car dealership. Then, open fields on either side of them. Last night’s snow, still pristine and unbroken, shimmered in the late morning light. Scott squinted, wishing he’d brought his sunglasses.
Liv showed a fresh interest in the world outside her window. She blinked against the bright glitter of sun on the snow. “Wow.”
“Nothing like this in Dallas, is there?”
The atmosphere in the cab of the truck shifted again with a new silence from Liv.
Women. It was too easy to say the wrong thing. Give her another fifty years, he thought.
A moment later a large sign with an arrow showed up on the right, marking a turn that otherwise would have been easy to miss. Fashioned from rustic wood— pine, what else?—it looked as if someone had already gotten out here to brush away any snowfall that might have obscured the letters last night.
“‘The Snowed Inn?’” Liv let out a laugh that was half a groan.
He could really get used to hearing that laugh.
“Not my idea,” he said. “That’s one bad joke you can’t blame me for.”
From the sign that marked the turn, it was just a few hundred yards to the inn itself—a long two-story building reminiscent of a ranch house or a ski lodge. It was flanked by pine trees that, ironically, had needed to be transplanted to the spot. Before that, the land had been a large vacant field. Scott watched Liv to see if she recognized the location. The uniform blanket of new snow surrounding the building would make it harder. The tall trees neatly outlining the far outer edges of the property would be the best clue.
Scott pulled up in the wide front driveway. “Any idea where we are?”
Liv frowned, then looked past the hotel to the trees that once would have formed a barrier to keep the people outside the property from seeing the big outdoor screen. “It’s the old drive-in movie theater, isn’t it?”
“A cigar for the lady,” Scott said, and one of the wide double doors of the inn swung open.
He’d hoped Mandy would be the one to greet them, but it was Jake Wyndham who stepped out, wearing a pullover sweater over a collared shirt. Barely over thirty, Jake had come to Tall Pine from back East a couple of years ago and managed to get this place built literally from the ground up. People in town—the females, especially—often remarked that Mandy Reese had landed quite a catch when she and Jake got married.
Like most of the women in Tall Pine, Liv looked suitably impressed as the brown-haired, brown-eyed East Coast transplant walked up to the truck. Scott groaned inwardly. Not that it should bother him.
Then she murmured, “He looks really . . . preppy.”
Scott laughed out loud as he climbed out to help Liv out of the truck. Not one to wait, she already had her door open. “Hold on,” he said. “The driveway could be pretty slippery.”
But by the time he reached her side of the truck, to his mild annoyance, Jake had beaten him to the gentlemanly act of giving Liv a hand down. It wouldn’t do, of course, for The Snowed Inn to be held liable for a visitor taking a spill from the snow and ice in the driveway. But Scott knew Jake didn’t think that way. No, Mr. Ivy League just had really good manners.
“Welcome to The Snowed Inn,” Jake said, releasing Liv’s elbow once she stood steadily on the ground. “I’m Jake.” He cast a questioning glance past her to Scott.
“We come bearing Christmas trees.” Scott rested his hand on the back of the pickup. “And I thought you might be able to give Liv the nickel tour while we’re here.”
>
“Absolutely. And thanks.” Jake nodded to Liv before turning back to Scott. “Let’s grab the trees and get out of the cold.”
Scott picked up one box while Jake took the other, although it was hardly a two-man job. Scott winked at Liv as she followed them inside, hoping his instincts were right and she’d like what she saw. Maybe that’s what this errand was all about. His gut told him she needed some distraction and Christmas cheer. Especially this Christmas.
Chapter 7
Liv followed the two men as they set the Christmas tree boxes on top of the check-in counter in the hotel lobby.
Lobby didn’t really describe the front area of The Snowed Inn.
With everything that had happened this week, Christmas had only peripherally entered Liv’s mind. That changed when she walked through the door. The scents of pine, cinnamon, and crackling logs embraced her. Pine garland, red berries, and white lights served as accents on every available surface, from the mantel of the fireplace on the left wall to the banister of the curved staircase in the center of the room. A big Christmas tree stood next to the stairs, tinsel shimmering from every branch. Strung popcorn wrapped around the tree from top to bottom. Without thinking, Liv reached out and fingered one of the puffs of popcorn. Sure enough, it was real. She couldn’t help but smile.
“I think she likes it.” Scotty’s voice pulled her attention past the tree, where he and Jake still stood by the gleaming dark wood check-in counter.
Liv stepped forward to join them, but she had trouble keeping her eyes still. A six-foot nutcracker figure stood guard on the other side of the stairs, and the half of the lobby to the soldier’s right was filled with cozy-looking chairs and sofas, as well as a second fireplace. Reluctantly, Liv dragged her eyes away from the unexplored half of the inviting room, joining Scotty and Jake by the counter.
“Thanks for the trees,” Jake was saying. “How did we luck into two?”
She tried to think of the simplest way to condense the story. “We were going through my grandmother’s things. Scotty said this would be a good home for them.”
“This is Liv Tomblyn,” Scott said belatedly. “She’s—”
“Olivia Neuenschwander’s granddaughter. Of course,” Jake said, as if he should have known all along.
“You knew Nammy, too?” She was just about positive she’d never seen him before. And somehow, as friendly as he seemed, he didn’t quite feel like a Tall Pine native.
“Mandy did. Mrs. Neuenschwander was one of her best customers at the Christmas store.”
The Christmas store. Mandy Claus. Memories started to take shape in Liv’s mind.
“I’m sorry about your grandma,” Jake was saying. “I know she was over eighty, but things like this are never easy.”
Yesterday so many people at the memorial had told her how nice it was that Nammy had stayed active up to the end, that she hadn’t been sick. Other than her family, Jake and Scotty were the only people who hadn’t tried to gloss over her grandmother’s death with a well-meaning platitude.
“Thanks,” Liv said, and meant it.
“So,” Scott said. “About that nickel tour.”
A door behind the counter opened, and a pretty dark-haired woman came in through it.
“Mandy,” Jake called across the counter. “Two more trees.”
The woman’s face lit up in a ready smile, and Liv recognized her. Yes, it was that Mandy. They’d been in the same grade all through school. Somewhere around third or fourth grade, Mandy had made the local news when she told everyone she’d seen Santa Claus in her living room. Years of teasing had followed, and Liv remembered her as sweet but shy.
Mandy still looked sweet, and she might still be shy, but her smile was warm and easy as she came around the counter to join Jake. “Are these from you?” She looked from Liv to the boxes. Then back to Liv as recognition filled her eyes.
Liv said, “Hi, Mandy.”
“Liv.” Mandy abandoned the boxes and headed straight for Liv. “I’m so sorry about your grandma. I would have been there yesterday, but Mrs. Swanson asked me to fill in for her at the Christmas store. She didn’t want to miss the memorial.”
Mandy reached Liv, and they had that awkward moment of Do-we-hug-or-don’t-we?
“Thanks,” Liv said, and then took the hug.
“I worked at The North Pole shop until last year,” Mandy said as she stepped back. “Olivia could never resist anything with a little red-haired girl. She talked about you and Rachel all the time. You’ve got—what is it, an interior design business?”
Apparently Nammy had a lot of trouble getting Liv’s line of work across to people. “Home organizing. It’s a little hard to explain.”
Mandy looked puzzled, but beside her, Jake was nodding. So, at least one person in Tall Pine had heard of such a thing. Definitely not from around here, Liv decided.
“She specializes in closets,” Scotty put in, although Liv was pretty sure he was still unclear on the concept. At least this time he wasn’t making fun.
“I think she said you were opening a chain of them?” Mandy asked.
“We just opened a storefront about two years ago, that’s all.” It seemed Nammy had gone around telling people she could fly.
“Everybody always knew you’d do well,” Mandy said.
Liv felt her face warm. She’d heard a lot of that yesterday, too. Voted most likely to succeed in the yearbook, alongside Mark Knopp. He’d been accepted at UC Berkeley and, as far as she knew, he hadn’t been heard from since. Maybe he’d invented some kind of new computer superconductor that people relied on every day without ever realizing it was there. Or maybe Mark had just figured that it was easier to meet expectations when you weren’t around.
“About that grand tour,” Scott said again.
“About the Christmas trees,” Liv began, at the same time.
Scott nodded at her, as if yielding the right-of-way. “Go ahead.”
“What kind of trees are they?” Mandy asked. “Why did she have two?”
Liv stepped forward and fingered the brittle old blue-and-white box. If anyone could appreciate this tree, it was probably Mandy. “It’s one of those old silver aluminum trees—”
“With the wheel that makes it change colors?” Mandy looked fascinated.
Liv caught a glimpse of Jake’s face behind Mandy, his brow furrowing dubiously.
* * *
The nickel tour of The Snowed Inn turned out to be well worth the trip.
Jake and Mandy led them through each of the guest rooms upstairs, all currently vacant following the weekend crowd. Each room had a different decorating theme. The “Reindeer Room” featured reindeer figures and fabric patterns. “White Christmas” had a snowflake motif, with pine cones and gold accents to add color. “Heart of Christmas” was accented with red hearts on blankets, throw pillows, and a lovely quilted bedspread. At the far end of the hallway, a honeymoon suite was decorated in white lights and antique lace.
“Most of the rooms have Christmas trees,” Mandy said. “But we’re still short a few, and I really wanted to have one for every room in time for Christmas, so you’re a lifesaver.”
“After Christmas, will you take down the trees?”
Mandy and Jake exchanged glances.
“We’re still talking about that,” Jake said. “Obviously, Christmas never ends here. But having trees up just in December might keep the Christmas season a little more special.”
“But since the guests aren’t here year-round, the trees would be special year-round,” Mandy said.
Jake smiled; it was obviously an ongoing discussion. “We’ll talk about it in January.”
Through most of the tour, Scotty hung back. Of course, he’d seen it before. And, as Jake and Mandy frequently pointed out, he’d installed a lot of the inner workings: wood-burning stoves, old-fashioned pedestal sinks, and all of the bathroom flooring, using brick or stone instead of the usual tile.
Another Mandy touch: decorative air fres
heners gave off holiday scents like cinnamon, cider, pine, cookies, or apple pie.
“I can’t handle the cookie or pie scents for too long,” Jake said.
“They make him hungry,” Mandy said.
They didn’t quite finish each other’s sentences, but the connection between them was obvious. Coming back down the stairs, Mandy led them to a set of double doors leading off the lobby. “This room is Jake’s baby. We call it the Man Cave.”
“I got to thinking some people—husbands, especially—might like a place they could go that’s a little less Christmas-centric. So we did this.”
The doors opened onto a large room where red and green gave way to earthier tones: a brown leather sofa, two easy chairs to match, and a bookcase on one wall loaded with volumes that didn’t look like the usual Reader’s Digest condensed books some people used as decorating props. A cabinet in the center of the bookcase wall held a flat-screen television. Another cabinet door opened to reveal a movie collection that filled several shelves.
In one corner stood a single concession to Christmas: a tall, skinny artificial pine tree decorated only with pine cones.
“Another handy feature,” Jake said, “is it’s really easy to get a conference table in here to use it for a meeting room.”
“And do you hang out here a lot?”
“I thought I might, back when we were planning it. But in point of fact, no. For one thing, I’m usually too busy. For another”—he shrugged, casting a look Mandy’s way—“the hotel’s a home away from home. We wanted to give it that Christmas warmth, and I think we succeeded. I like it here and—no, I really don’t burn out.”
Jake led the way out to the unexplored section of the lobby, with all the tables and cushiony chairs. “Now, in here, we have Mandy’s pride and joy. We just started this up last week.”
A counter ran along the back of the room with several tall stools and a window for taking orders. “A hot drink bar,” Mandy explained. “For coffee and hot chocolate. Jake didn’t start off to go into the restaurant business, but I thought it would be a cozy touch.”
“And Mandy makes the world’s best hot chocolate,” Jake added, standing next to his wife. “We just got this part going last week. We learned a lot about food service regulations.” They exchanged a visible shudder.
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