Snowflakes and Mistletoe at the Inglenook Inn

by Helen J Rolfe

  Myles had no idea what was going to happen but it was time for him to get out of there. He’d well and truly had enough. He left the hotel and went into the small shop outside, bought a toothbrush, ducked back into the hotel to use the facilities in the foyer and got rid of the remnants of food colouring from his mouth. He checked his appearance in the mirror. His neck was still a pinkish-red but it had mostly died down and he felt sure it would be fine for the meeting this morning, so went on his way.

  It was as he stood at the taxi rank out front that he heard the porter talking to one of the girls Myles recognised from earlier and when he heard the words, ‘Darcy just got fired’, his heart sank. That wasn’t what he’d wanted to happen. Not at all. If only he hadn’t been so pig-headed about someone being held accountable. Then again, this was a top hotel. He had a right to come here and not leave with memories of such an awful experience.

  What a bloody mess.

  The mess had happened six months ago and Myles had all but forgotten about it. Work had swallowed him up whole, he’d been headhunted and taken up a position in New York, and, now, here he was. He was waiting for an apartment on the Upper West Side to be renovated for him – the firm had arranged it – and for now he was being put up in the Inglenook Inn in Greenwich Village, where once again he’d crossed paths with Darcy Spencer.

  Myles completed two loops around the reservoir and went for a third to bring him up to a decent mileage. The reservoir was magnificent even on a grey and cold December day with a low-lying mist that obscured the tops of the city buildings. He made the most of the last remnants of sunlight that made the water sparkle before it would soon be plunged into darkness when dusk fell, and he barely felt the cold he was working up such a sweat. The fresh location also took some of the pain away from pounding the pavements, and by the time he made his way back to the 86th Street station he was exhausted, but pumped up and ready to tackle the work he’d put to one side. He wondered if he would bump into Darcy again. She’d got the chef, Rupert, to deliver his sandwich earlier, probably relieved not to have to face him again. He’d cost her her job in London after all and there was no way she was going to forget that in a hurry.

  As he arrived back at the Inn and climbed the steps up to the front entrance he nodded a greeting to Rupert, who was heading out. The Inn was already well dressed for Christmas and Myles did his best to take it all in his stride. The brownstone was among the many properties lit up for the season in Manhattan. Around the front door were white lights that shone against the darkened street and didn’t give up when the rain or the wind tried to win, a giant garland finished with a red velvet ribbon hung on the door that opened, and the front stoop didn’t escape the Christmas feel either. Garlands in green, entwined with white lights, wound round the railings all the way from the street to the door. Tasteful slender pine trees in pots guarded the entry point but at least the front of the building had escaped the gaudy flashing lights so many people loved. Myles wasn’t sure his stay would’ve been a long one if he’d had to face those every time he returned from the office because to say he wasn’t a big lover of Christmas was an understatement.

  In the lounge, a communal space and where he now knew Darcy could probably be found at the desk on plenty of occasions, sprigs of holly poked out of the sides of picture frames, flames of poinsettia lit up side tables, an arrangement repeated on small tables as you reached the top of each section of the internal staircase. The tree was apparently on its way but for now there was a big fireplace with four stockings lined up, hanging from the mantelpiece, and rather than having names on them, each had a Christmas phrase: Happy Holidays; Believe; Do Not Open till December 25th; Joy. Garlands wound their way up from the foot of the bannisters to the top with tasteful white lights just pleasant enough to not give Myles a headache as he took the stairs towards his apartment, his solace away from all the merriment. All of the decorations so far had been in place since Thanksgiving, which heralded the start of the silly season for New Yorkers he was fast beginning to learn. He’d seen photographs on the website before arriving in New York but, he figured, at least whoever was in charge of the decorations hadn’t gone massively over the top. There was an artificial tree in the dining room that he had to endure when he chose to have breakfast there instead of in his apartment, but usually he sat so he couldn’t even see it and, instead, read the news on his iPad.

  He reached the top of the brownstone and pushed open the door to his apartment. He wondered what Darcy would say to him when he next saw her. Their first encounter had ended badly, their second had ended with him seeing her in next to nothing and with her stomping off as she remembered what had happened back in London.

  He sighed, mainly from exhaustion but also at the thought that of all the hotels he could’ve walked into in Manhattan, he had to walk into hers.

  Chapter Three

  Darcy

  Darcy climbed onto the bar stool and put her cell phone next to her on the table while her friend, Isabella, brought over the drinks. She’d only be out for a couple of hours, but she liked guests, or Rupert, to be able to get hold of her whenever they needed.

  ‘Get that into you.’ Isabella had squeezed through the crowd chattering away beneath the glowing yellow globe lights that punctuated the night sky, and handed Darcy a glass of red wine. ‘It’s the French one, same as we had last week.’

  ‘Thanks.’ The wine took seconds to make her relax and she felt her shoulders drop.

  ‘How’s your day been?’

  ‘Manic.’

  ‘But you love it, right?’

  Darcy smiled. She really did. ‘I prepared for the new arrivals, checked them in, arranged a restaurant booking for a family of four and pointed them in the direction of Central Park, oh, and I told some other guests about the bar we found a few weeks ago for cocktails over near the Chelsea Market. They seemed happy with that. I just wish the Christmas tree had been here in time. I explained to every guest that it’s on its way, but it would’ve been so much better to wow them from the start.’

  ‘It’ll arrive soon enough,’ Isabella assured her. ‘You’ve got plenty to keep yourself busy until then. You’re an innkeeper, social events coordinator and a Manhattan map, all rolled into one.’

  ‘I also saw a face from the past.’

  Isabella sat up a little straighter. ‘Oh?’

  ‘Myles Cunningham.’

  ‘Who’s that? Should I know him?’

  ‘He’s the one I told you about.’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘Well even I’d forgotten his name. I think I’d tried to blank it out.’ Isabella looked questioningly at her as she sipped her wine. ‘Remember how I lost my job in London because some guest made a huge fuss and wanted someone to be held accountable for a practical joke gone wrong?’

  Isabella’s eyes widened. ‘Him?’

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘He’s staying at the Inglenook Inn? I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Neither do I.’

  ‘Talk about a small world.’

  ‘Far too small.’

  ‘Weren’t you tempted to punch him after what happened?’

  ‘I wasn’t really in a position to do that.’ She filled her friend in on the unfortunate skirt incident.

  ‘Oh, Darcy!’ Isabella had a hard time holding back the laughter. Her eyes were actually watering. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s so funny. It could only happen to you.’

  ‘I was mortified.’

  ‘Why? You’ve got great legs and a pretty good butt.’

  With an eye roll, Darcy said, ‘Punching him wouldn’t accomplish anything, would it? It would only mess things up for me.’ Her anger had already subsided since their run-in, which was more than could be said for her embarrassment. ‘And he wasn’t exactly in the wrong back there in London. Even I can admit that.’

  ‘He got you fired.’

  ‘You heard about it the day I lost the job, when I called you,’ Darcy explained. ‘I was
livid and of course I blamed him, thinking he condoned his colleague’s behaviour, but looking at it from a hotel guest’s point of view, he had every right to demand someone was held accountable.’

  ‘What happened to the other girl who lost her job? I’ll bet she didn’t get a reference.’

  ‘I’ve no idea, she wasn’t a close friend. I was in charge of them all so I think there was a certain boundary none of them wanted to cross. But I still felt I had to stick up for her. Groping is unacceptable. It happened to me a few times when I worked in the kitchens and my manager swept it under the carpet every time I mentioned it.’

  ‘You’d think in this day and age they’d be worried about lawsuits.’

  ‘They obviously weren’t. Anyway, I got away from the hotel where it was an issue and was happy in the other positions I managed to find. That morning I was tired. We’d all worked long shifts the day before, because of the party, and I had a million and one things to do. I guess he caught me at the wrong time and when I saw another manager thinking that kind of behaviour was OK, I just flipped.’

  ‘Do you need your cell phone there?’ Isabella frowned as Darcy’s hand fiddled with her device, sitting obediently beside her.

  ‘I like to be contactable. I’m determined not to mess this up.’

  ‘How on earth would you do that?’

  ‘I don’t think I will, but it’s a huge responsibility in Sofia’s absence. I’ve done something I’m not sure Sofia will like.’ She pulled a face.

  ‘Well unless you’ve burnt the place down, I think you’ll be fine.’

  ‘Isabella, I’m serious.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘You know how I told you I thought Sofia needed to be a bit more proactive with the Inn, drum up more business?’

  ‘Yes, we all think she should.’ Isabella, like Dylan and Cleo, and Sofia’s own daughter, Gabriella, all wanted to see the Inn succeed. But Sofia seemed happy to let it chug along and they were all afraid that one day it wouldn’t be enough, that competition would make it an unviable business. Of course nobody could predict the future, but Sofia needed to give the place a fighting chance. ‘All the effort you’ve been putting in for Christmas is a wonderful start,’ Isabella assured her. ‘So what have you done that isn’t so great?’

  ‘I’ve managed to get talking to an editor from a major magazine.’ She told Isabella the name of it and her disclosure was met with an impressed look. ‘The editor is coming to stay at the Inn over Christmas. She’s said she’ll do a write-up of her experience of Christmas at the Inglenook Inn.’ Darcy put her head in her hands at the importance of it. ‘It’ll be a feature article in late January. She says people will still be in the winter mood, a lot of families are looking to secure bookings for the following year, so it could give the Inn an enormous boost.’

  ‘Then I really don’t see what the problem is.’

  ‘What if I fail, Isabella? What if I can’t pull Christmas off? Sofia always said she didn’t want to open at that time of the year because it was when she wanted to focus on her own family, and I pushed the idea. What if this feature article ends up reporting on a terrible Christmas?’

  ‘Now why on earth would it do that?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just feel out of my depth. I’m panicking.’

  Isabella put her own hand on Darcy’s and squeezed it tight. ‘Sofia would never have left you in charge if she didn’t believe in you.’

  ‘I guess you’re right. But I won’t tell her about the article, not until I know it’s going to be a good write-up.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Isabella picked up her wine from the cardboard coaster. ‘I’ll take my Executive Assistant job any day; I don’t know how you do yours with all the responsibility.’

  ‘You have lots of responsibility too.’

  Isabella shrugged. ‘It’s manageable though. You put in the long and erratic hours.’

  ‘All hotel work is like that. It’s not a nine-to-five job.’ It was one of the things Darcy loved about working in the hotel industry. She thrived on the unpredictability – it kept her on her toes and gave her a buzz she knew she wouldn’t get in a job where she was doing the same thing every day. ‘And how is your new job going?’

  Isabella hooked her blonde, bobbed hair behind her ears. ‘Busy, but good, and I get to walk away at five or six o’clock in the evening and forget about it.’

  ‘Is your boss still as nice as you thought she was?’

  ‘She’s no Sofia,’ Isabella smiled. Through Darcy she’d come to know Sofia really well too. ‘But she’s a lot better than my last one. She keeps me busy, rushing to and from meetings, distributing paperwork and minutes, booking her flights or accommodation, invoicing, but on the whole I think she’s one of the better ones. I’m not sure how she’d react if I ever did anything wrong – which I’m paranoid about by the way, after booking a flight on the wrong day in my previous job.’

  Darcy had wondered the same about Sofia, whether she would be a different person if Darcy messed up this responsibility and the Inn’s reputation or turnover suffered because of it.

  They chatted more about work, going right back to the mind-numbingly boring jobs they’d taken out of school – washing up in kitchens, delivering newspapers, helping at the local Dairy Queen – and Darcy talked passionately about her love of hotels. Isabella had never had the same drive and openly admitted that she wanted a steady, reliable job that wasn’t necessarily exciting but that could help her pay the bills and stay in the city.

  ‘Sherry just moved out to Brooklyn,’ Isabella announced when Darcy returned from the bar with two more glasses of red wine and discreetly checked her cell phone. Sherry was Isabella’s older sister and had recently got engaged to someone who had gently been trying to shoehorn her out of Manhattan to somewhere more affordable for the last six months. ‘I mean, what’s next – Connecticut, New Jersey?’

  Darcy had no intention of leaving Manhattan either, although flipping through a travel magazine as she so often did to gain a well-rounded understanding of the overall industry, its trends, challenges and hot topics, she had seen a gorgeous inn in Vermont and it had sparked something inside of her. She’d never thought about owning her own hotel, she really wanted to ground herself in Manhattan in one of the bigger hotel chains, but being responsible for the Inglenook Inn had set off fireworks in her mind. Even chatting to Cleo and seeing how happy she was settled in Inglenook Falls with her knitting store when she hadn’t wanted to leave the city at all was enough to tell Darcy that dreams could quite often morph into something else entirely, or a change could unexpectedly come your way.

  ‘I’m sure they’ll both be really happy in Brooklyn,’ said Darcy. ‘It’s not exactly far.’

  ‘Try telling Sherry that,’ Isabella smiled. ‘So anyway, how long is Mr Bigshot from London staying with you?’

  Darcy wiped her elbow after realising she’d leant on a sticky patch of the table. It was warm in here and their winter coats were piled up on a stool next to them, gloves stuffed in pockets, scarves coiled beneath the coats so they wouldn’t be knocked to the floor. ‘He’s not staying with me, he’s staying at the Inn. And he’s booked in until well after New Year’s. He works for some big company in the Financial District and they’re renovating an apartment for him.’

  ‘Nice. Being spoiled like that almost makes me want to work for a big firm with all the perks.’

  ‘He puts in a lot of hours, judging by how much he’s out of his apartment. Even when he’s at the Inn I know he works because he has an office set up, paperwork everywhere.’

  ‘You seem to be taking more of an interest in him than any of your other guests.’ Isabella’s smile practically erupted on her face.

  ‘Calm down, I’m not. It’s just that he’s the only one you’ve asked about. If you were talking about the O’Sullivan family I could tell you they’re a party of four – parents, two sons – and they’re visiting all the way from Ireland. One son likes orange juice, the oth
er prefers apple, and they’ve brought with them a roll-out mat to play toy cars in their apartment. And if you asked me about the other couple I checked in today I’d tell you that they have recently become engaged and are in the throes of planning their wedding in Seattle, where the bride-to-be is from, although there’s some contention because the groom always wanted to marry in his home state of Colorado.’

  Isabella held up a hand. ‘OK, enough. I don’t need their measurements as well. Although…maybe getting Mr Bigshot’s would be interesting.’

  ‘Drink your wine and be quiet,’ Darcy grinned, although her mind did skip momentarily to the man staying at the Inglenook Inn and his sharp suits, strong jaw and chocolatey eyes.

  Darcy’s cell phone buzzed and she picked up the text from Rupert to say he was heading home from the Inn in twenty minutes, and so Darcy’s cue to leave had them bundling up in their coats and weaving their way through the dimly lit bar to the front doors and onto Canal Street. She’d lit the fire in the lounge before their new guests’ arrival this afternoon – it was a perfect way to welcome them to New York City – and she’d known it’d been the right thing to do when the guests had congregated beside it before they went for dinner, but what she didn’t like doing was leaving it unattended, which was why she’d asked Rupert to let her know when he was leaving so she could get back and be on duty.

  Wrapped up snuggly warm, their breath puffing into the cold night air, Darcy pulled on her gloves and looped a camel scarf around her neck. ‘We’ll catch up again soon.’

  ‘You bet.’ Isabella kissed her friend on the cheek. ‘I need to make sure you’re getting some time away from the Inn. All work and no play makes Darcy a dull girl.’

  ‘Goodbye, Isabella.’ Darcy smiled.

  The walk blew away the rest of the cobwebs lurking and even though not a single flake of snow had fallen from the skies in Manhattan so far this winter, there was a feeling in the air that suggested it wouldn’t be all that far away.