Sure, all he had to do was dig out his magic wand. “I can’t follow her around the country, and she can’t stay here.”
“If you want to badly enough, you’ll figure something out,” Molly retorted. “I never meant to raise a hermit.”
His chin came up at that. “I’m not a hermit.”
“My mistake. I thought if you hide out all the time and refuse to let anyone into your life, then you’re a hermit.”
“There are people in my life.”
“Name six.”
“You, Gabe, Nick. Lainie.” He thought. “Hadley and Sloane.”
“Your brothers’ girlfriends and fiancées don’t count yet. You’ve only met them twice.”
“Deke.”
She snorted. “Will you listen to yourself?”
“Muriel.”
“Why not mention the postman?” Molly sighed and put a hand to her son’s cheek. “Oh, Jacob. Somewhere along the line you started closing all the doors, and I don’t know how that happened. At first I thought it was that Marjorie Butler going off the way she did after she left for college. You started growing your beard out, hiding in the sugarbush—”
Jacob stared. “Jesus, Ma, that was sixteen, seventeen years ago. I’m not hung up on a girl I dated before I could even drink.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” He folded his arms grumpily. “That’s insulting. I mean, what about René and Ellen and Brenda and…” Christ, what was her name? Blond, pretty, allergic to dogs… “I get involved with women,” he said.
At least until they started pushing for more than he wanted to give.
“I’d hardly call it involved if you can’t even remember their names.” Her voice was tart.
“Lorraine,” he said triumphantly.
“Well, I don’t know, what am I supposed to think? None of them have even stuck around much longer than a season.”
“I’m a maple-sugar farmer, Ma. Most women want something more than hauling buckets and sweating over an evaporator.” An image of Celie in the glow of the fire came unbidden. He pushed it away and forced a smile, squeezing his mother closer. “Besides, I’ve got you to take care of and the farm. Losing those trees isn’t going to be easy to get around these next couple of years, but we’ll make it. I’m not going to let you down.”
Molly smiled. “I know you won’t,” she said with a smile that slowly faded. “I don’t know, maybe it’s seeing Nick and Gabe so happy. Maybe it’s thinking about your father….” She took a shaky breath. “Maybe you look at me and think that you never want to go through what I’m going through right now. Don’t think that. Don’t think you’re better off alone. Because, even now, I wouldn’t trade a moment I had with your father for anything in the world.” A tear escaped and slid down her cheek.
Jacob felt his throat tighten.
“It’s no good to be alone, Jacob. Trust me, I know.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.
She wiped her eyes. “Well, look at me, a fine ambassador for maple sugar on snow. I need some fresh air. Do me a favor. I set out some maple goodies in the basement to take with us. Go on down and get them, please. I’ll meet you outside.” And she walked out the door, leaving him with his thoughts.
It had taken way too much of the morning to catch up on her lab work after her time-wasting Friday but at least Celie was caught up. And if she were lucky, maybe she’d get a few minutes to spend with Jacob. She reached the steps of the gift shop just as Molly came out.
“Oh. Celie,” she said blankly. “Jacob’s down in the basement getting some boxes.”
“Well aren’t you all dressed up. You look really…” Celie took a closer look at Molly’s face, saw the swollen eyes, the pink nose. “Are you okay? Dumb question. Of course you’re not okay.” Celie reached out to catch her hands.
Molly’s smile wobbled only a little. “Having one of those days, I’m afraid. And Jacob and I are supposed to go over to Gabriel’s hotel to do maple sugar on snow.”
Not that she seemed in any shape to go. “Stay home,” Celie said positively. “Close down the gift shop. Put on your fuzzy slippers and have a good cry.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“It’s what you should do.”
Molly’s blue-gray gaze was direct as she thought it over. “Only if you can do me a favor,” she said at last.
“Sure, what?”
“Go to the hotel with Jacob and take my place.”
“But I don’t know the first thing about maple sugar on snow,” Celie protested. “I’d just be a lump.”
“Don’t be silly. Jacob and Gabriel can teach you everything you need to know when you get there. Otherwise, I’ll just go.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Celie ordered. “Of course I’ll fill in. I’m happy to do it.” Especially if it was with Jacob. “It’ll be a nice break. Besides, I’ll get to see what all the fuss is about with Gabe’s hotel.”
“Oh, it’s gorgeous. You’ll love it.” Molly rummaged in her pocket to pull out a recipe card. “Now give this to Gabriel when you get there. It’s directions on how to prepare the syrup. He already knows about the donuts and the dill pickles.”
Now that stopped her. “Dill pickles?”
“Of course. You have to have dill pickles for maple sugar on snow.”
Celie had been envisioning some kind of maple-flavored snow cone. Clearly she had a learning curve ahead of her.
“Don’t look so worried,” Molly said. “It’s easy enough and Jacob can guide you through it.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Oh, answer questions about sugaring and the farm. Make nice with the guests. Mind Jacob.”
“That I can do,” Celie assured her.
“Really?” Molly seemed to really focus on her for the first time.
And Celie could feel her face heat. It was one thing to sleep with a man, it was another to pass the news on to the mother of the man in question. “You know. I mean, I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble.”
“I’m sure you will,” Molly said but the glance she gave Celie was far too speculative.
“Yes, well.” Celie looked down at her jeans and parka and then at Molly’s nice slacks. “I guess I should probably change into something nicer.”
“If it’s not too much trouble?” Molly asked apologetically. “It’s kind of a fancy place.”
“Not at all. I’m representing the farm. Let Jacob know I’ll be back in about twenty minutes will you?”
“My pleasure.”
Jacob paced in the parking lot. Granted, he never looked forward to the annual sugar-on-snow trip, but he was always paradoxically anxious to get there, perhaps relying on the theory that the sooner he started, the sooner he’d be done. That worked with most things he did, though regrettably not this particular venture. Still, he had a schedule to meet, which always left him itching to leave.
When he saw Celie’s car drive up, it was with a wash of relief. Then she opened the door and got out.
She looked as if she were draped in a column of fog. It was a long, narrow knit skirt and a drapey-necked sweater combo that looked soft as a kitten and blue as smoke. She’d cinched it around her waist with some kind of soft leather belt that matched her high-heeled boots. Silvery ear bobs flashed at her lobes; her lips looked red as sin.
And he was struck dumb.
“Are you ready to go?”
Soon, he told himself. His brain would unfreeze soon. He’d be able to form words and maybe even move. In the meantime, he could only stare.
Celie rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, don’t look so paralyzed. It won’t be that bad. I’ll do the bonding.”
“You look amazing,” he said slowly.
And now it was her turn to stare. “What?”
“You look amazing.”
“I heard what you said. It’s just that…” She shook her head. “You’ve never said anything like that to me before.”
/> “Oh, come on. I’ve given you compliments.” Hadn’t he?
She laughed, her face alive with pleasure. “Trust me, I’d have remembered.”
“Then I’m an idiot,” he said.
“I’ll let you off the hook if you say it again.” She pirouetted in front of him.
He looked at her from under his eyebrows. “You’re amazing.”
“I believe it was ‘you look amazing,’” she corrected. “Although I’ll take the variation, too.”
“Can we go now?” he muttered.
Celie stepped up and wound her arms around his neck. “You’re cute when you get embarrassed,” she whispered.
His arms slid around her, he couldn’t help it, feeling her body under the impossibly soft sweater and for just a moment, the hell with being in public, he let himself taste her because if he didn’t he was going to lose it right there.
“Mmmm. We should probably go,” she murmured against his mouth.
He had no desire to go. He had no desire to do anything but get her back to his house and talk her right out of that fuzzy, smoky outfit. But they had places to be and it was about thirty degrees out, so he made himself release her. They got in the truck and he turned the key. “You ready?” he asked hoarsely.
Her eyes flashed with mischief. “I’m ready for anything.”
She’d always preferred the wilderness over buildings. Give her a tent on a tree-covered mountainside and she’d be happy. All the same, when she caught sight of the Hotel Mount Jefferson gleaming in the afternoon sun, all she could do was stare. After all the talk, she’d imagined a nice resort but something more modest.
She hadn’t imagined a fantasy palace.
At close quarters, it wasn’t any less magical. When the doorman in the red greatcoat tipped his hat at them and pushed open the door with its etched-glass panes, she sighed in wonder. When they walked into the frankly opulent lobby, she didn’t have any breath left to sigh—she’d lost it all.
“My God, it’s beautiful.” She turned in a slow circle, staring.
“Jacob!” someone cried.
Celie turned to see a slender, fragile-looking woman with white-blond hair hurrying toward them.
Toward Jacob.
“It’s so good to see you.” The woman reached out both hands to catch his.
Celie was startled to see a genuine smile on Jacob’s face; even more startled when he leaned down and kissed the woman on the cheek. He turned to her. “Celie, I’d like you to meet Hadley Stone. Hadley, this is Celie Favreau, who’s out working with the maples. Hadley owns the hotel. She’s my brother’s boss—in more ways than one.”
Hadley grinned and held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Celie. Welcome to the Hotel Mount Jefferson.”
“It’s so gorgeous here. It must be hard to believe it’s real.”
“Every morning when I wake up I have to pinch myself.”
“I thought that was my job,” complained a voice behind them. Celie glanced over to see Gabe.
“Hush, you,” Hadley said.
He was scrupulously careful not to touch her, Celie noticed, but an almost palpable connection hummed between them. Hadley wore a winter-white jacket over a swirling skirt in tones of blue and green. Something in the way Gabe looked at her made Celie almost certain he was plotting ways to get it off at the first possible moment.
Molly Trask and her husband shared some first-class genes, Celie thought, watching Gabe and Jacob shake hands. Very different and equally gorgeous. Or almost equally gorgeous. Without being the least bit biased, she’d take Jacob in a heartbeat.
Gabe nodded at the box on the ground by Jacob’s feet. “So, did you bring the syrup?”
“One thirty-gallon barrel of Vermont Fancy, coming up.”
“Is that like extra-fancy ketchup?” Hadley asked.
He smiled. “In this case, it actually means something. It’s a really light syrup that comes from the first sap of the year. I’ll bring you some Grade A Amber, too, when it comes off in a couple of weeks.”
“I’d like that.” Hadley glanced at Gabe. “In fact, I think eight hundred gallons would just about take care of it. Right, Mr. Food and Beverage?”
Gabe gave her a surprised glance and one of those high-wattage smiles that would have vaporized a lesser woman’s blood. “We’ll need at least that much for the year. I could authorize that buy,” he studied Jacob impudently, “provided I knew the syrup came from a high-quality operation.”
“You’d better start talking nicer if you think you’re going to get five percent of my output,” Jacob growled.
Gabe grinned. “Where’s the barrel?”
“Already on your loading dock, where do you think?”
“I’ll get things rolling in the kitchen, then,” he said, already pulling out a walkie talkie phone and punching buttons. “Hadley, can you get them settled?”
“Sure.” She watched him for a fraction of a second longer than necessary as he strode off, Celie noticed, then turned to Celie and Jacob. “We’re set up over in the conservatory,” she said briskly, and led them across the lobby.
Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with the rope, Celie thought with amusement. It was quickly supplanted by pleasure the moment she stepped into the airy, glassed-in room. Enormous windows looked out on the vast sweep of the mountains beyond, making her feel as though she could breathe more deeply, as though she was lighter somehow. Guests sat here and there reading newspapers or savoring the view. She wished she could join them.
A long table covered in pale-green linen held ice buckets and a gleaming silver coffee urn. Hadley led them to a white-covered table a bit further along. “This all right?” she asked.
“Perfect.” Celie looked around her as Jacob put down the box, admiring the garland-draped pillars and the parabolic cutout in the ceiling. “I think if I worked here this would be my favorite room.”
“Oh, it is,” Hadley agreed. “At least until I walk into the next one.”
“I can see how that would be.”
Hadley helped Celie open up the box. “So what do you have in here?”
“Goodies from Molly.”
“Oh, maple cream. My favorite,” Hadley said as she pulled it out. “And sugar and maple pepper.” A private smile flickered over her face as she looked at it. “Well, let’s put them all out so that people can try them.”
Celie finished unpacking the box with its various grades of syrup and candies while Hadley hunted up plates and knives and napkins.
“We’ll be bringing out everything for the maple sugar on snow shortly. In the meantime, is there anything else you need?”
Celie considered. “Toast fingers, if you have them, or something to put the maple cream on.”
“Right. I’m sure we can come up with something. And I’ll put out the maple sugar with the coffee so people can try it there.” She pulled out a pen and wrote on a little card in surprisingly beautiful calligraphy.
“You’re the calligrapher as well as the manager?”
Hadley smiled as she fitted the card into a little metal stand and put it by the maple sugar. “I’m the everything that needs doing. Really. It’s in my job description.”
“Ask her about filling helium balloons,” Gabe put in, walking up with his phone in hand. He checked his watch. “Okay, everything’s set back in the kitchen. We should be ready to roll in ten or fifteen minutes. Jacob, we’ll want you to stand up and say a few words before we get started, kind of a welcome and maybe a Q and A.” A hunted look flashed over Jacob’s face and Gabe burst out laughing. “God, that was priceless. Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered.”
Jacob gave him a hard look. “You know, I almost pitched you out the window when they brought you home from the hospital. But I didn’t. I was feeling generous.”
“What a guy.”
“I can undo that mistake at any time,” Jacob said pleasantly.
Gabe winked at Celie. “Big brothers are all the same. No sense of
humor. All right, all right, I guess Hadley will M.C. and you can do the demos, Celie.”
“I could if I knew what I was doing, maybe,” she said.
Both Trask men turned to stare at her. “You’ve never done maple sugar on snow?”
“Never.”
“But you grew up in maple country,” Jacob said blankly.
“I had an underprivileged childhood.”
“Clearly we need an intervention.” Gabe put his arm around her. “If you’ll just follow me—”
“I think you’re needed at the front desk to sort paper clips,” Jacob said, neatly turning Gabe to transfer his arm to Hadley. “Guess that means I’ll just have to show her myself.”
Chapter Fourteen
The room off the hotel’s kitchen had once been a private dining room, since converted to storage. Celie and Jacob sat there at a bare table, amidst the extra chairs and trays and service items. Elegant, no, but it was quiet, at least, and currently empty.
Jacob busied himself setting down plates and bowls and cutlery. Eventually the mix resolved itself as a plate with a plain cake doughnut and a dill spear, next to a bowl of ice and a small dish of maple syrup.
“Now about those pickles,” Celie began.
“Critical.”
“But it’s maple sugar on snow, not dill pickles on snow.”
“All part of the process.”
“And just where is the maple sugar?”
He shot a look at her. “Okay, so you’ve got your boiled down syrup and your doughnut and your ice.” He held them all up in turn. “The idea is that you drizzle the maple syrup over the ice to harden it.”
“Where’s the snow?”
“It’s shaved ice. Same difference.”
“But they call it maple sugar on snow. There’s supposed to be snow. There’s supposed to be maple sugar.”
“You adapt.”
“Okay, I’m adapting.” Fighting a smile, she folded her hands in front of her like an obedient schoolgirl. “What now?”
“Then you eat it.”
Vermont Valentine (Holiday Hearts #3) Page 17