Wedding at Mistletoe Chalet

by Dani Collins

“Oh, my gosh. I wasn’t even there and you’re going to make me cry just imagining it.” Wendy blinked fast.

  “Right?” Kristen swallowed the lump in her throat. “So, yeah, I love my family and I love when I’m able to be with them, but watching you and Ted and Sarah is fun. It makes me excited for the family I’ll have one day.” She faltered as she revealed something that felt a little too close to the bone. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m a modern woman. Marriage and children aren’t my life goal.”

  “You can still want a family! I always did,” Wendy assured her. “And I’ve since realized you have to be clear in your head about what you want or you won’t recognize it when you find it. Look at me and Ted. It took us a year to realize, ‘Oh, here’s what I want. Right under my nose.’”

  Kristen chuckled and dipped to look in a cupboard, wishing it was that easy because she had thought she had a clear picture once before, had even felt like it was within reach. But her dream had popped and disappeared like a soap bubble.

  “Right now I’m trying to find almond extract. Hint?”

  Wendy pointed toward a cupboard next to the stove. “Top shelf.”

  Kristen opened the cupboard. “Aha!”

  She had all she needed so she plugged in the mixer and got started.

  Wendy’s kitchen helper came out that afternoon. She was an older woman with a German accent and a brisk attitude, but she filled the chalet with heavenly aromas of cloves and cinnamon, fresh bread and something with rosemary. Pots bubbled and every time Kristen walked through the kitchen, there was something different in her hands. First meatballs, then stuffed dough of some kind that got pinched into half circles. She made rice balls and deviled eggs and cute little spring rolls that she wrapped quick and neat.

  Kristen offered to start washing up, but they had a system and she realized it was more helpful to stay out of the way.

  At least Wendy wasn’t called away every few minutes for phone calls and the million other tasks required to keep Mistletoe Chalet running like a top.

  Kristen checked a couple into cabin three and a family into cabin five. She found a way to squeeze in a last-minute reservation and updated the chalet’s neglected social media accounts.

  “It’s my least favorite task,” Wendy admitted when she gave her the login credentials. “I never know what to say.”

  “The first thing I’m going to say is that March is filling up and people ought to make their plans now if they’re hoping for spring skiing.”

  “Really?” Wendy wore her hairnet and was keeping her hands in the air like a surgeon. “I’ve been scrambling along and haven’t looked at the big picture much.”

  Kristen clicked over to the monthly view in the reservation program. There were more ‘sold out’ days than ones with availability.

  “Wow. That’s great.” Wendy looked as anxious as she was excited though.

  “Social media doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Kristen said, wanting to pull her off the ledge of overwhelm. “I’ll make a few posts you can update on the fly, like snow reports. I bet people would go crazy for some of your recipes. You could schedule those to come out once a week. And I’ll add instructions on the Wi-Fi cards that tell guests how to tag the chalet, so you can share their photos in a couple of clicks. By January, this will be your favorite job, it’ll be so easy.”

  “I’m starting to think you’re my favorite,” Wendy said. “By January, I won’t be able to let you go.”

  It was the sort of personal value Kristen missed in her current job. As much as she liked the work and strived for excellence every day, she knew there was a certain interchangeability in her position. If she quit, someone else would slot into her role very quickly and she, Kristen Benz, wouldn’t really be missed.

  She wanted to be more than a cog. She wanted to feel needed and here at Mistletoe Chalet, she did. Later that afternoon, when she noted how Wendy had lost her cheery disposition, she said, “You’ve been on your feet all day. I can start dinner prep if you want to put your feet up.”

  “Really? I don’t know where my energy has gone. I’m not normally this lethargic,” Wendy said with genuine frustration.

  You’re building another human, Kristen wanted to point out.

  “You did a lot of work today, including making tonight’s dinner. I can handle getting it on the table.”

  Wendy squeezed Kristen’s arm. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

  Kristen was preparing the charcuterie boards when Sarah came in, ruddy-cheeked and starving, grinning ear to ear.

  “Good day out there?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Sarah nodded as she tucked into a helping of chili over a fully loaded baked potato. She made a noise and quickly took a sip of milk. “I love Wendy’s chili, but whew. Hot.” She fanned her mouth.

  “She made a mild one if that’s too spicy.”

  “This is the mild one. I mean it’s warm-hot, but I’m so hungry I don’t want to wait for it to cool.”

  Kristen brought her a few cubes of cheese and some grapes that had just come from the refrigerator.

  “Thank you.” Sarah popped one of each into her mouth.

  “Do you ever have times when you can’t ski?” Kristen asked as she got back to work at the island.

  “Not very often. Two or three times we’ve had people come who didn’t get to ski at all. Dad gave them a discount to come another time. They did and they were happy. Mostly we just wait an hour or so and the weather clears up. We always warn people that we can’t control the conditions and there might be delays.”

  Kristen nodded. Wendy had trained her to remind guests of exactly that when she took a reservation.

  “On days like today, when visibility isn’t great, we make sure we stick close together,” Sarah said. “Everyone has to have whistles and wear avalanche beacons, but no one has ever gotten lost. Dad’s pretty cautious.”

  “Have you had avalanches?”

  “People with search and rescue come out every day and close different areas if they have to. Dad talks to them on the radio in the cat. They tell him if there’s a turn in the weather or if they have to set a charge because there’s a risk.”

  Wendy came into the kitchen looking refreshed.

  “Thank you, Kristen. I feel so much better.” She glanced over the boards that Kristen was almost ready to carry into the dining room. “Good day out there, Sugar Bear?”

  “Really good,” Sarah assured her. “I used my skis for a while, to keep Mrs. Entwhistle company.”

  Kristen lifted her brows. Had Sarah used that as an excuse to speak with Mrs. Entwhistle about the bouquet?

  Sarah met her gaze and nodded, flicking her attention to Wendy to make sure Wendy still had her back turned and wasn’t aware of their silent communication.

  “I meant to ask you if I could run a couple of errands tomorrow?” Kristen said to Wendy. “Nothing urgent, but I’d like to pick up a few things.” Like silk flowers.

  Sarah took a bite of chili and sealed her mouth over it, watching and listening.

  “Of course! You’ve been working long hours all week,” Wendy said. “But you might want to check the weather. They were calling for a lot of snow over the next few days.”

  Kristen didn’t feel like she’d been putting in long hours. Baking cookies and chatting with guests was hardly ‘work,’ but she was eager to help Sarah.

  “I’ll see how it looks tomorrow, then,” Kristen said.

  “Would you mind if I went with you?” Sarah asked in an oh-so-casual tone. “My friend Anita sometimes helps her mom at her store in the mall. I could maybe hang out with her while you’re shopping, otherwise I might not see her until school starts again.”

  “I have her mom’s dish from the other day,” Wendy recalled. “I meant to take it with me into town the other day and totally forgot. I left it in the car so I’d remember next time, but I’ll get it, if you don’t mind returning it?”

  “Happy to,” Kristen said.

  We
ndy went into the garage and Kristen shared a smile of collusion with Sarah. Their plan was working out perfectly.

  That is, until Kristen walked outside the next afternoon to brush off her car and found the shock of her life in the parking lot.

  Chapter Five

  Finn’s late-model Volvo had been his brother-in-law’s commuter car until Carlos had been assigned a company vehicle. Finn called the car Vivi and she was more square than sexy, but the price had been right for his thin student budget and she had served him well. These days he barely drove her more than a few miles between the hospital and his leased apartment. He half expected her to give up the ghost on this long haul back to Montana. He really took his chances with the detour up a winding mountain road between Big Sky and Bozeman into Mistletoe Chalet.

  But stalwart little Vivi made it. He patted the dashboard as he parked and cut the engine, then took a moment to study the lodge.

  It was a sleeping giant, sturdy and well kept under its thick blanket of snow. Pretty, too, in a majestic, romantic way. That’s probably what had appealed to Kristen. She wasn’t a girlie-girl type like his middle sister. Penny was always in full makeup and dressing as though she was shooting a fashion spread. Kristen wasn’t like that. She had never been afraid to get dirty and climb trees when they’d been kids, but a butterfly or a blooming flower had always stopped her in her tracks.

  Taking up residence in a Christmas card was exactly in character for her.

  The steadily falling snow began to obscure his view. He twisted to put on the jacket he hadn’t needed this morning in the hotel’s underground parking garage. Then he checked for his phone and wallet, climbed from the car and pocketed his keys.

  The whole drive here, he’d been trying to think what he would say when he saw her. He still didn’t know, but it was long past time for them to clear the air.

  A noise had him glancing to the right as he shut his door. A woman in a light purple jacket and white gloves was sweeping off a hatchback in the corner of the parking lot. The tails of her brown hair stuck from beneath the snug fit of her white hat.

  Despite uncertainty with his welcome, a rush of anticipation shot through him.

  “Kristen?”

  *

  It was her name. She even recognized the voice. But as she stopped and turned and stared through the falling snow, it didn’t compute that she was seeing who she was seeing.

  He wore a puffy blue ski jacket, but it didn’t soften broad shoulders that still looked wide enough to carry the world. His brown hair had been recently trimmed. It was ruffled and growing speckled with snow. She knew that crooked grin as well as she knew her own in the mirror, but it still seemed impossible that she was seeing him.

  “Finn.” He pointed at himself and frowned with disbelief, adding, “Garrett. I know it’s been a long time, but—”

  She laughed. It came out a little dry, given the mixed feelings that had tumbled out of their dusty old boxes lately, but it wasn’t like she’d been nursing heartbreak all these years. She had gone on with her life and refused to hold a grudge over their juvenile relationship and inevitable breakup.

  “I know who you are! I’m stunned speechless. What are you doing here?” She leaned her scraper-brush tool against the side of her car and met him midway as he walked toward her.

  He didn’t answer. His gaze was sweeping over her features in a way that almost seemed greedy for the sight of her.

  “You look great,” he said, making her cheeks grow warm and her heart stumble.

  “You, too,” she said. Then, because she would have done it with any other old friend from home, she stepped in to offer a hug.

  The way his arms closed around her was both sweet and alarming. He was her brother’s best friend and their parents were lifetime neighbors and couple-friends and workmates. His oldest sister, Sheryl, had babysat Kristen when she was little and she had known all the Garrett children her entire life. Whenever she was home, she asked after all of them, keeping tabs as closely as she did with her extended blood relatives.

  This should have been a hug of familial affection. It was cushioned by their heavy jackets and gloves and neither of them hung on awkwardly long, so it wasn’t weird or sexual. It was familiar and warm.

  But memories flooded through her, showering their brief embrace in a sparkle of prickling awareness. She tingled as they broke apart. She smiled, but it felt a little forced.

  His grin was having a hard time sticking, too. He searched her gaze again, but she didn’t know what answers he sought.

  “Really,” she managed to say. “How are you here? To hear it from Mom, you’re chained to your rounds at the hospital.”

  “Turns out there are labor laws.” He held up hands in a shrug that implied, What do you know? “I do get vacation.”

  “Every eight years, whether you need one or not?”

  “Pretty much.” He chuckled and it almost became an easy moment of camaraderie, if not for the way he was watching her so closely. “I’m on my way to spend Christmas with Mom and Dad.” He cocked his head in the vague direction of west.

  “I heard.” Why did admitting that make her feel so self-conscious? Maybe because his expression sobered as she said it. “You haven’t been home for Christmas in ages.”

  “No,” he agreed. “This is my first in… I honestly can’t remember.”

  “I was supposed to go to Mom’s, but my parents won the Hot Spot.”

  “I heard.” He nodded and there was a long beat of silence while the falling snow muffled any sound in the world around them.

  “You seem to have driven a long distance out of your way so we could tell each other stuff we already know,” she said wryly.

  “It wasn’t that far.” He glanced at the chalet. “I wanted to talk to you. Maybe I should have called ahead.” He looked toward her car. “You’re leaving?”

  “Just running to town. I probably have time for coffee once I’m there,” she said with only a little apprehension. He wanted to talk to her? About what? “I’m just waiting for Sarah—there she is.” She turned as she heard the front door open.

  Sarah came outside, but only as far as the porch. She wasn’t wearing her jacket, boots or hat. She gave the dog a distracted pat, encouraging him to go down the stairs.

  “Yes, you can go roll.”

  Bonzo noticed them and trotted toward them in his cheery lope.

  “This is Bonzo,” Kristen said, bending to offer her gloved hand for a sniff. “He’s friendly.”

  “I can tell.” Finn crouched to scrub Bonzo’s ears and make a pal for life.

  “Come meet Sarah.” Kristen led Finn to the bottom of the front steps. “Her parents own Mistletoe Chalet. Sarah, this is Finn Garrett.”

  “The guy you told me about. Hi.” She smiled from the covered porch and stood with one foot on top of the other, hugging herself against the cold.

  Kristen’s mind went blank a second, then she blushed afresh as Finn sent her a sharp look of curiosity. “We were looking at Sarah’s collection of board games. I told her you and I always used to win at Pictionary. That was a long time ago.”

  “Too long.”

  The warmth of nostalgia in his gaze was something she could easily buy into. She dragged her attention back to Sarah. “I was just telling Finn that you and I are headed into town. We’re going to catch up over coffee. Where should I tell him to meet me?”

  “Our kitchen?” Sarah suggested with a rueful squinch of her freckled nose. “Wendy looked up some tracking numbers. She asked if you would mind waiting until tomorrow so we can pick up some parcels that will arrive then.”

  “Oh. Um, of course. But what about…?” The Entwhistles were checking out the day after tomorrow.

  “It should still work,” Sarah said with a nod.

  “Great.” Except now she wouldn’t have an hour of driving to wonder why Finn wanted to talk to her. If he was making some grand point of telling her he was getting married or something, she might kick
him in the ankle.

  “Come meet Wendy,” Kristen said, inviting him up the stairs. “I don’t think she’ll mind if we visit in the kitchen for a few minutes.”

  “Wow,” Finn said a moment later as they entered the great room.

  It was fully Christmas now with the fire crackling and the sparkling tree and the picture windows onto a view of snow falling heavily enough to soften the view across the valley into textured grays.

  “I see why you wanted to work here.”

  “Gorgeous, right?”

  Wendy was catching up on the bookkeeping in the office.

  “Wendy, this is a friend of mine from when we were kids, Finn Garrett. He dropped by to surprise me.”

  Wendy welcomed him and they chatted briefly about where he had been boarding the last few days and about how they were both having a big Christmas with family.

  “I was going to make fresh coffee unless you need me to do something?” Kristen said, silently adding, please, please, please.

  “Take as long as you want! I felt bad asking you to wait until tomorrow before running into town. I have to get these bills paid or I’d join you,” she added with a flustered wave at her messy desk.

  Kristen took Finn into the kitchen and asked, “Would you prefer cocoa?”

  “Whatever is on tap is fine. I just wanted a chance to see how you’re doing.” He dipped his head to look out the window over the nook toward the cabins. He wore a turtleneck with a flannel shirt over jeans. “This is a nice operation.”

  “Run by really nice people,” she agreed. “Speaking of operations… Have you done any lately?”

  She was joking, trying to keep the mood light, and was therefore taken aback when he said casually, “A C-section a week ago.”

  “Really?” She stopped transferring cookies to a plate to stare in awe. “Are you, like, an obstetrician?” When had that happened?

  “Family practice, but I was picking up a shift in the ER.”

  “Wow. Was it your first delivery?”

  “Seventh. Fourth by surgery. The OB was right there, but she let me lead. It went well. It was a girl,” he added with a humble smile.