He’d barely gotten inside and turned on the TV when someone was knocking on the door. It would be Brooke, with or without Dylan in tow, full of fresh plans to entertain her old man. Or worse, wanting to know how his conversation with John had gone. It had gone about the way he’d expected it would. The boy was hurt and humiliated, and the only cure for that was time and another woman.
James opened his door, wishing he’d put out the do-not-disturb sign.
Instead of his daughter he saw Olivia Wallace, wearing a red dress and bearing a plate with a piece of yule log cake. Well, well. Now he was glad he hadn’t put out that sign. “What have we here?”
“You never did get dessert,” she said, holding the plate out to him.
“It looks great,” he said, taking it. “Would you like to come in?”
“Just for a moment,” she said. “After dealing with everyone’s problems you’re probably ready for some time to yourself.”
“I am ready for a break,” he admitted. “But I’ve spent a lot of time by myself lately. I’d appreciate some company.”
She smiled and seated herself in the armchair.
He held up the bottle he’d confiscated from John. “There’s just enough here for a Christmas toast. Would you like to join me?”
“That would be lovely,” she said.
James snagged two plastic glasses from the bathroom and poured. There wasn’t much left, only a couple of sips each. Young John was going to have a headache come morning. He handed Olivia a glass. “What shall we toast to?”
“How about to Santa?” she suggested.
“Anything but that,” he said.
Her gaze landed on the red fabric overflowing the wastebasket. “Oh, I see.”
“It’s time for someone else to take over,” James said.
“I hope you change your mind about that,” she said softly. “You were a wonderful Santa.”
He merely shrugged.
“Well, then, let’s toast to something positive, to the new year and new beginnings.
New beginnings. Was he ready for a new beginning? What do you think, Faith?
Out of the blue came another knock on the door. He opened it, and there were both his kids. “Are you ready to do something?” Brooke asked.
Actually, he was.
Chapter Sixteen
All I Want for Christmas Is You
“There are a bunch of games in the lobby,” Brooke said. “I thought maybe we could play some Trivial Pursuit.”
“You kids go on,” James said. “Your old man’s going to kick back and have some downtime.”
Brooke stood in the doorway, stunned. “But...it’s Christmas Eve,” she protested.
“And it’s only eight,” Dylan pointed out. “You can’t be tired already, Dad.”
“And Santa always stays up late on Christmas Eve,” Brooke added, trying to cajole him into cooperating.
“I know,” James said, “but right now Santa needs some time off for good behavior.”
His daughter peered into the room and, at the sight of Olivia, her eyebrows pulled together into an angry V. “Daddy,” she said sternly.
He stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him and said, “Brooke,” just as sternly.
“You shouldn’t be hanging out with that woman,” she hissed. “Mom’s only been gone a year! It’s not right.”
“Jeez, Brooke,” Dylan said miserably.
“Do you think I’m not aware of that? Do you think there hasn’t been a single day this whole wretched year when I haven’t woken and asked myself, ‘Why get up?’ When I haven’t wished I was dead, too? I’ve had a constant ache in my gut, and every time a stranger passed me on the street wearing a smile I’ve wanted to punch him. I haven’t had a good year and I don’t need to be reminded of it.”
His daughter’s eyes flooded with tears. “Oh, Daddy.”
James immediately regretted his harsh words. He softened his voice. “I will always love your mother, always be grateful for the life we had together. But, Brooke, tonight I would like to lose the ache, hope that the new year holds some happiness. I’d like to talk with someone my age who’s been where I’ve been. Can you understand that? Can you let me have that?”
The tears had spilled out now and were running down her cheeks. She bit her lip and nodded.
James pulled her to him and hugged her, kissed the top of her head. Then he said, “Now, why don’t you go do something fun with your brother?”
She swallowed a sob and nodded again. Then she pulled away slowly, as if reluctant to leave.
“Go on, have fun,” James urged. “Your mother would want you to.”
From the expression on her face James doubted she was going to have any fun. He suspected there’d be more crying and for a moment he felt sorry for his son. But only for a moment. After the year he’d had, trying to keep himself going, trying to comfort his kids, Santa needed a break.
“Come on, sis,” Dylan urged, and gave Brooke’s arm a gentle tug.
She let him move her off down the hall, and James slipped back inside his room.
“Is everything all right?” Olivia asked.
“I think it will be,” he said. “It’s hard to move on.”
“Especially for a daughter.”
“And a dad. But damn, Olivia, I’m lonesome.”
“It’s hard going it alone,” she said. “And I don’t believe anyone should have to if they can find...” Her sentence trailed off.
She didn’t need to finish it. “You know,” he said, “I think I’m about done trying to go it alone. How about you?”
Her face lit up like the Christmas tree out on the front porch. “Yes, James, I am, too.”
* * *
“Hello? Did you even hear the question?”
Brooke made a halfhearted attempt to bring her attention back to the game spread out between her and her brother on the upstairs lobby table.
Dylan frowned and threw down the question card. “Okay, fine. Go mope or make a voodoo doll of Mrs. Wallace and stick pins in it. Come back when you’re ready to act like an adult.”
“Oh, that’s cute,” she snapped.
“Yeah, about as cute as the way you’ve been acting.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the way I’ve been acting,” she protested.
“Yeah, there is and you know it. Dad’s got a lot of years left in him. You want him to spend them all being miserable and alone?”
“Of course not. I just don’t want him to rush into anything when he’s still so vulnerable.”
“Yeah, and Mrs. Wallace would be a huge mistake. That woman’s a real bitch,” Dylan taunted.
“You don’t need to be a smart-mouth,” she said, hurt.
He crossed his arms and frowned at her. “Do you want Dad to be happy or not?”
“Of course I want him to be happy!”
“Then, for God’s sake, let him be happy. And be glad your plan worked. You brought him up here to get his mind off Mom.”
“But not to forget her.”
Dylan shook his head. “Do you really think he’s ever going to do that? Weren’t you listening to anything he said back there?”
Maybe she hadn’t been.
“If you want to do something—Ping-Pong or whatever—I’ll be downstairs,” Dylan said, leaving her to clean up the Trivial Pursuit cards. Obviously, neither of her men wanted anything to do with her right now.
She put away the game, feeling unappreciated. All she’d wanted was for them to have a happy Christmas together, to make some new memories. Well, they were making memories, all right, but not the kind that would bring a smile to her face.
She wandered down to the main lobby and got a hot chocolate but it didn�
��t help. She should just go to her room and...mope? Was that what she wanted to do? Not really, but her options had shrunk considerably.
She was still trying to decide what to do with her miserable self when Eric Wallace came in from outside, carrying a string of defunct Christmas lights. He was wearing a parka and knit cap, and his face was flushed from the cold. He had a pleasant face, a friendly face, like his mother.
“I thought you’d be with Santa,” he greeted her.
“I did, too,” she said. “But Santa’s busy at the moment. With your mother.”
His expression turned wary. “Oh.”
She could feel tears stinging her eyes. Oh, no. The dam was about to burst. Sure enough, here they came. “I just don’t want him to forget her,” she blurted, and then covered her pathetic, bad-daughter face with her hands and howled.
A few seconds later she felt a strong arm around her shoulders. “Hey, I get it,” he said. “I really do.”
“I know your mother’s not a bad person,” she sobbed. “It’s just so soon. And, oh, I’m such a bitch.”
“Come on,” he said, leading her down the hall. “I’ve got exactly what you need.”
“A leash?”
He chuckled. “You’ll see.”
Next thing she knew, they were in the family’s private quarters and he was pulling out a bottle of peppermint schnapps from an ornately carved buffet. “Old family recipe,” he said.
“My mother and father used to love that stuff,” she said. Now her mother wasn’t here and, oh, how she missed her. She’d tried her best to plan a wonderful Christmas for her father and brother and herself. Obviously they were coping just fine. The only person who wasn’t coping was her. Out came the tears again.
Eric walked over to where she stood and handed her a liqueur glass. “I think maybe we need to make a toast.”
“To what?” she whimpered.
“How about to your mom?”
She drew in a shaky breath and nodded. “To my mom.”
He smiled and saluted her with his glass, then tossed back his schnapps. Next he motioned to one of the wingback chairs on either side of an electric fireplace. “Tell me about your mom.”
And so she did, highlighting her mother’s gifts for sewing ballet costumes, making cookies, directing the Sunday school program. “Everyone loved her.”
“I can see why,” Eric said, and freshened their glasses.
“She loved to bake. Every Christmas we’d go on a regular baking binge, making rolled cookies, gumdrop cookies, spritz cookies. You name it, we made it. We took plates to all the neighbors. And we went to a nearby nursing home and shared them with the residents.”
“A lot of good memories,” Eric said. He stretched his legs out in front of him. “You ever wonder if she’s looking down on you, watching what you’re doing?”
Brooke shrugged. “I’d like to think she is but I suppose she’s got better things to do.”
He was quiet a moment, regarding her. “Do you think so? Really?”
She took a sip of her schnapps. “Yes, I do.”
“So maybe she doesn’t care if you try to find some happiness without her.”
“That seems so cold,” Brooke said with a frown.
“Or maybe she is watching, feeling bad that you can’t let go of her enough to live the life you were meant to live.”
Brooke stared into her glass and sighed. “She loved life so much. She was always so happy and she made everyone else happy, too.”
“Just like her daughter,” Eric said gently.
She shook her head. “It hasn’t been me making Daddy happy up here.”
“But it was you who brought him. Got him to play Santa, meet new people.”
“Like your mother,” she said reluctantly.
“Like my mother,” he agreed. “Most of us live a long time. There’s room in our lives for all kinds of people.”
Of course he was right. Deep down, she knew it. She frowned at her glass.
“Who knows what’ll happen between our parents, but right now they’re enjoying themselves, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Do you?”
She sighed. “No, I suppose not. And the way my father’s been this past year, I guess it’s not a bad idea for him to have someone new in his life.”
“How about you? Is there room in your life for someone new?”
She looked up to see Eric studying her. The spark in his eyes warmed her in places the schnapps would never reach. “Maybe there is,” she said.
He smiled. “Would you like to take a walk in the snow? It’s pretty out there right now with the Christmas lights on, and you still haven’t seen the creek.”
“You know, that sounds like a good idea,” she said.
Ten minutes later they were walking in a glittering wonderland of snow. “It really is beautiful,” she said. “You and your mom have created a wonderful place here.”
“You should see it in the summer. What do you do on your summer vacations?”
“Different things,” she replied. “Hiking, swimming, traveling.”
“That’s a lot to fit into a two-or three-week vacation,” he said. “Or do you get more?”
“I have all summer off.”
“All summer, huh? You must be a teacher.”
“How’d you guess?” she joked.
“I’m psychic. I’ll prove it by telling you something else about yourself. You like kids.”
“Oh, that was psychic.” She stole a glance at him. “Do you like kids?”
“Yeah, I do.” He stretched out his hand to take hers. “And you know what? We have schools up here.”
“Do tell.”
“And loads of stuff to do, not just in the summer but all year-round.”
“I think I may have to come back and check it out.”
“Got a chocolate festival in February,” he said, and smiled down at her.
“I love chocolate.”
“I know a cool lodge where you and your dad and brother can stay. I bet they’ll give you a deal on rooms.” With a little tug, he pulled her close, boosting her heart rate. “It’s pretty nice up here at New Year’s, too. We have complimentary champagne.”
“Mmm, that sounds tempting. What else does this place have?”
“Special attention for our guests,” he said softly as he slipped his arms around her.
“I like special attention,” she murmured, so he gave it to her.
It was a perfect kiss, full of hope and promise. And there, in Eric Wallace’s embrace, Brooke realized the ache in her heart was more bearable.
Maybe what her father was being offered, what she was being offered, wasn’t so much a chance to move on, away from her mother’s memory, but to expand their hearts and lives and to honor that memory. Maybe they weren’t being disloyal. Maybe they were being human.
* * *
It felt so good to talk, about the long months of caring for his wife, watching her waste away, about the loneliness he’d felt even when he was around people who cared, about how he’d lost his Christmas spirit. And it felt good to listen, too, to hear how Olivia had battled the same loneliness, how she’d struggled to run her business alone, how she’d survived.
“It wasn’t easy,” she said, “but by God’s grace we came out of it. And I believe it made me stronger. I certainly learned I was capable of more than I thought I was. Of course, I’d give anything to have George back, but I like to think he’d be relieved and proud to see that I carried on.”
What would Faith think if she could see him? Would she look at that red suit sitting in the wastebasket and be disappointed in him?
Olivia must have seen him frowning at it. She got up, pulled it out and smoothed it against her. “We all go through time
s when we want to give up, and sometimes we do things we regret later. I’m betting that whoever threw this out might miss it next Christmas.”
He walked to where she stood and let her put it in his arms. “You’ve got a point,” he said, and laid the suit out on the bed. “I guess maybe I’ll save it. In case whoever threw it out finds he has a need for it.”
She smiled at him. “I think that’s an excellent idea. And you know, here’s another one. Do you like hot chocolate?”
If ever there was a sign, this was it. “Sure do,” James said.
“I have some. I could make us hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps.”
James wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Sounds good to me. Lead on.”
And so she did.
“Well,” she said, nodding at the bottle and the two glasses sitting on the buffet in the family’s private quarters. “It looks like someone else had the same idea. My son, I assume.”
“’Tis the season,” said James.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed with a smile. “And I must say, I’d like to see him find someone and settle down. I’m ready for grandchildren.”
“Me, too,” James said. “Although it looks like you’ve inherited a granddaughter this year.”
“And what a sweet one she is. I do believe Missy and her children are going to end up being a big part of my life.”
“Mine, too, I hope,” James said, envisioning the three of them sitting at his kitchen table eating pizza. It was going to be a good new year.
Olivia got busy in her kitchen making hot chocolate. Nothing from a packet—this was gourmet-style with half-and-half, Dutch chocolate and powdered sugar. Once she’d added the schnapps and topped it all with whipped cream and shaved chocolate, it was a treat worthy of the Food Network.
“Oh, man,” James said. “This is great.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“My wife and I always used to enjoy hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps in it,” he said.
“Oh.” Olivia’s smile shrank. “I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t be. This was exactly what I needed. In fact, it’s almost like I’ve gotten a Christmas present from Faith.” Permission to start a new chapter.
The Lodge on Holly Road Page 21