Three hours later, Raven’s Nest rang with the sounds made by the team of designers Carrianne had rounded up, who were decking every hall and jingling every bell.
The tree he and the Wheeler boys had cut down and dragged back had indeed fit perfectly in his great room. The evergreen scent radiated even back to his office and he had to admit the big tree brought a nice, homey touch to the house he was certain the Hertzogs would appreciate.
Though right now as he talked once again via videoconference with Carrianne, he was tempted to call up Frederick Hertzog and cancel the family’s entire visit.
“We have a contract,” he said. “Sawyer agreed to provide two days’ worth of meals while the Hertzogs are here. We have spent the last two weeks nailing down every single detail of the menu with him, down to the frigging after-dinner cheese assortment. Tell the man it’s his responsibility to find someone to cover for him if he can’t fulfill the terms of our agreement or we’ll sue him for breach of contract.”
Carrianne’s normally serene features were decidedly flustered. “I told him that. You can be certain I was quite clear on our expectations. When vendors agree to do business with McRaven Enterprises, they need to be prepared to honor their commitments. Chef Sawyer assures me that he’s tried everyone he knows. But this late in the season, anyone he can recommend in the Jackson Hole area is either taking the holiday off or is already completely booked.”
“What are we supposed to do?” He refused to give in to the panic, though he was quite sure that whooshing he heard in his head was the sound of the entire deal heading down the toilet. “They’re going to be here by lunchtime and I’m quite sure Frederick Hertzog and his family are expecting a little more than canned soup and tuna sandwiches, which is about all I can prepare.”
Carrianne ran a hand through her hair, messing up a few strands, which was definitely a sign that she was upset. “I can check with your personal chef here in the Bay Area and see if he might be available to fly out under these special circumstances or if he can recommend anyone. You will, of course, have to make it worth their while.”
“You can be damn sure I’ll charge Michael Sawyer for the difference.”
“You can hardly fault the man for needing an emergency appendectomy.”
“Maybe not. But he should have a contingency plan in case of illness. It’s just sound business sense to be prepared for every eventuality.”
He thought he had covered all his bases for this visit. But perhaps they should have had a backup chef on standby.
“You know that even if I can find someone here in San Francisco, it’s going to take some time to work out all the logistical details for them to travel to Pine Gulch, right? You might be on your own for lunch.”
He grimaced, envisioning one nightmare scenario after another. “Just do what you can to get someone here as soon as possible, no matter the cost…”
His voice trailed off as he looked out his office window to the colored Christmas lights flickering in the twilight down the hill.
“Hold it. Wait a minute.” He moved the curtain and looked down at Jenna Wheeler’s house that seemed like a bright beacon against the wintry night. “Don’t call anyone yet, Carrianne. I might be able to fix this mess after all.”
“How?”
“Jenna Wheeler.”
Carrianne frowned and looked down at something he couldn’t see on the screen. “I don’t think she’s in my Contacts file.”
“She wouldn’t be. Jenna is my neighbor—the woman who sold me the ranch, remember?”
Carrianne made a sound of shock. “The one with the pestilent children? What does she have to do with any of this?”
Had he really said that about her children? After a few hours in their company, he regretted the harsh words. They weren’t pestilent. Energetic and mischievous, maybe, but they were only boys. “Jenna Wheeler might just be able to salvage this situation, if she’s willing, anyway. I’ll let you know as soon as I talk to her. Just keep your fingers crossed.”
Carrianne held up both hands, which were now as tangled as pretzels. “Consider it done,” she said promptly.
But as he ended the call and headed for the door, Carson knew it would take more than crossed fingers to convince Jenna Wheeler to help him.
It might just take a Christmas miracle.
Chapter Six
“Can we open another one? Please, Mom? Just one more?”
She shook her head at Hayden, who was gazing at her with pleading eyes. “You know the rule. We only open one book each night until Christmas.”
“But we have extras in the basket!” Drew protested. “Christmas Eve is in four more nights and we have six books left in the basket.”
She should have known Drew would be the one to notice and point out that fact to his brothers. He would never let a detail like that slip past him.
“I know, honey. But I wrapped extras so we could read two or three books on Christmas Eve. Just in case certain people have a hard time falling asleep.”
“Like Kip!” Hayden and Drew both said in unison and she laughed along with them. Her youngest boy was notorious for finding any excuse to stay up late, whether it was Christmas Eve or not.
“I’m not naming any names. But that’s the reason for the extra books.”
She had started a tradition when Hayden and Drew were barely old enough to sit still long enough for a story, of creating a storybook Advent basket. Each year she wrapped up all their old Christmas picture books in holiday paper and threw in a few new ones to surprise the boys. Every night from December first until Christmas Eve they were allowed to unwrap one book to read for their nightly story.
The tradition helped them countdown to Christmas and also provided Jenna an excuse to reread all their favorite stories. Even Hayden, who was now ten, still seemed to enjoy curling up on the couch by the fire while they read. It was a quiet, peaceful time in the midst of their usual chaotic day and Jenna savored every second.
“We’ve had our story, now off to bed. We’ll open another book tomorrow.”
The boys groaned and protested but she persevered and was herding them up the stairs toward their bedrooms when the doorbell suddenly echoed through the house.
“I’ll get it!” Kip exclaimed, racing to beat his brothers in the mad dash to the front door.
Who could be knocking on their door this late? It was nearly nine p.m. Maybe one of their Cold Creek Canyon neighbors was out delivering cookie plates or something, she thought as she headed back down the stairs, hoping the doorbell didn’t wake Jolie.
“Hi,” she heard a deep voice say and her heart accelerated, though she knew that was wholly ridiculous.
“Hi!” Kip exclaimed. “Hey, Mom, look who it is! It’s Mr. McRaven! Did you come to see our Christmas tree again?”
“No,” he answered. “But now that I’ve had a good look at it again, I can verify that you were right, it is a nice one.”
All three of her boys looked excited at Carson’s visit, even Hayden, she saw with some surprise, though he was trying hard to hide it.
She had no idea why he might be there and he apparently had no inclination to immediately explain.
“Come in,” Jenna said after an awkward moment. “It’s bitter out tonight.”
He took off his Stetson as he walked into the house and she fought the ridiculous urge to straighten his wavy hair that had been flattened a bit by the hat.
“It’s started to snow again,” he said. “There’s already another inch or so out there. I guess we don’t have to worry about a white Christmas, do we?”
She shook her head, but he still didn’t move to enlighten her on his reason for stopping by. Her mind raced with possibilities but she discarded all of them.
“Is something wrong?” she finally asked.
His mouth tightened a little and she saw discomfort in his eyes. “You could say that. I need to ask a favor. A pretty big one.”
“Do you need us to help you decorate you
r tree after all?” Drew asked eagerly.
Carson blinked at the boys in their pajamas. “Uh, no. I had people come do that today. But thanks for the offer.”
He seemed so ill at ease, shifting his weight, curling his fingers around the brim of the hat he held, not meeting her gaze for longer than a few seconds at a time. Somehow Jenna sensed this conversation would be easier without the prying presence of three nosy little boys.
“Guys, to bed.”
“Oh, Mom,” Kip groaned. “We have company. Can’t we stay up and talk to Mr. McRaven?”
“Not tonight,” she said, her voice firm. “It’s late and you’ve got chores and church in the morning. Come on, up you go.”
They all three gave heavy, put-upon sighs but Jenna didn’t waver. Apparently they saw she meant business. Though they didn’t look thrilled about it, they trudged up the stairs at a turtle’s pace.
“Drew, lights out means lights out. No flashlights under the covers so you can read a little more tonight, okay?”
His sigh was even heavier than his brothers’ but he nodded and headed into the room he shared with Kip.
When she heard both doors close, she turned back to Carson. “Sorry. They’re a little wired this time of year.”
“Most kids are, aren’t they?”
She nodded, then decided her curiosity couldn’t wait another minute. “Sit down. You said you had a favor to ask.”
He let out a breath and eased onto the sofa. “Not an easy thing for me, I’ll admit.”
She smiled, disarmed that he would confess such a thing. She knew exactly how hard it was to ask people for things. Since Joe died, she had tried to remain as self-reliant as possible but it wasn’t always easy to do everything on her own.
“I’m in the midst of some…delicate negotiations to purchase a European company,” Carson finally said. “I’ve invited the owner to stay at Raven’s Nest for a few days while he’s in the States for a ski vacation over the holidays with his family. He’s flying up from Salt Lake City in the morning with his family. His wife, his son and daughter-in-law and his two grandchildren.”
And this affected her and her family how? Jenna waited, still feeling completely in the dark. “Let me guess. You’d like me to keep the boys away from Raven’s Nest while your guests are here.”
His eyes widened and she was gratified that he looked completely startled at the suggestion. “No. Nothing like that.”
After another pause, he made a face and plunged forward. “The truth is, I hired a personal chef out of Jackson Hole to take care of the food while my guests are here. Michael Sawyer, with About Thyme Gourmet.”
“He’s a good choice. Probably the best you can find in the area.” She knew the man casually from a few classes she had taken. While personally she found him to be an arrogant jerk, he was a fabulously creative chef.
“Only too bad for me, last night he was hit with acute appendicitis and he’s in the hospital for at least two days.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Poor man. What an awful way to spend Christmas.” She had firsthand experience how tough it was to be surrounded by hospital walls and beeping monitors and impersonal doctors during the holidays.
Carson blinked. “Right. It is unfortunate for him. But the fact remains that I still have guests arriving in a little over twelve hours and nothing whatsoever to serve them.”
Suddenly everything made sense. She rose to her feet in a jerky motion. “No. No way. Absolutely not.”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “How do you even know what I was going to ask?”
“What else? You want me to cook for your guests. And my answer is an unequivocal no.”
“Why not?”
Could he really be this unbelievably arrogant, so outrageously self-deluded by the sense of his own importance? “It’s four days before Christmas Eve, Carson. Did you forget that little detail? You honestly expect me to just drop everything at the last minute—my family, my own holiday plans—just so I can be at your beck and call?”
The heat of her response seemed to take him aback. He blinked at her with complete astonishment. “I’ll make it worth your while. Whatever your usual fee would be for two days of work, I’ll double it. No, triple it.”
She was a professional, she reminded herself. Despite the weird currents between them and her ridiculous attraction to him, he was a potential client offering her a lucrative position. One that might have long-ranging benefits if he was happy with her work and continued to use her for Raven’s Nest events.
But before she was a caterer, she was a mother and that had to come first. “I can’t leave my children this close to Christmas. I just can’t, Carson. We’ve made plans. I told them the stockmen’s party was my last event of the season and I can’t break my promise.”
“It’s just for a few days.”
“Which can seem like a lifetime to children. I promised myself I wouldn’t let anything ruin their holiday. Not this year.”
“Why not? What’s so important about this year?”
“You wouldn’t ask that question if you had children of your own.”
A weird expression flitted across his features but it was gone so quickly she thought she must have imagined it.
“Every year is important when you have children. This is the only time in their lives they’ll be ten, eight, six and eighteen months. Next year will be an entirely different dynamic. Time marches on. If I learned anything from Joe’s death it’s the importance of magnifying every moment I have with my children.”
“A lovely philosophy in the abstract. But we’re only talking about two days.”
“I owe them. Don’t you see? We haven’t had the best holidays for the past years. Two years ago, their father was dying and we were dealing with the funeral arrangements and everything. Then last year, Jolie, my little girl, was in the hospital with pneumonia. The boys had to spend Christmas with their aunt and uncle while I was at the hospital with her for most of the holidays. I promised them—and myself—this year would be different.”
“It’s only for a couple of days,” he repeated. “You’ll still have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and the whole rest of the holidays.”
She had a feeling she could argue with him until her ears turned blue but he wouldn’t understand. “No. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to find someone else.”
He rose to stand in front of her and she was caught by the plea in his blue eyes. “There is no one else, Jenna. Not at this late date, not this close to Christmas. Look, I’m desperate. This visit with Frederick Hertzog and his family is important to me.”
“And my children are important to me, Mr. McRaven. Far more important than any business deal.”
He gazed at her, with her holiday-red sweater and her plain gold hoop earrings and her honey-blond hair piled up on top of her head in a haphazard way that should have looked a mess but somehow managed to look tousled and pretty.
How could she appear so soft and fragile yet be so maddeningly stubborn at the same time?
He considered his options. None of them were very palatable. The idea of serving macaroni and cheese from a box for every meal filled him with cold dread. He supposed he could order in every meal but the restaurant options in Pine Gulch weren’t exactly gourmet, either. The coffee shop served decent, honest food but nothing memorable.
There were good restaurants in Jackson Hole or Idaho Falls but both of them were at least forty-five minutes away in opposite directions. A little too far for a quick to-go pickup.
No, Jenna Wheeler was his best alternative. Now if only he could make her realize how limited his choices were.
He narrowed his gaze and tried a little hardball. “You know, I could always decide to lock the gate to the bridge across the creek. It belongs to me now and there was nothing in our sale agreement that obligated me to provide access to you or your family.”
She stared at him, sudden fury kindling in her gaze, and he realized the soft little kitten had sharp claws. “Y
ou would really go to such lengths to get your way?”
He sighed, not sure whether he despised himself more for making the suggestion in the first place or because he didn’t have the stomach to follow through on it. “Probably not,” he admitted. “But I am in dire straits here, Jenna. What about just helping me out with brunch and dinner tomorrow? That would at least give my people time to fly someone else in from the Bay Area for the second day.”
She raked a hand through her hair. “I promised the boys we would go sledding after church tomorrow.”
“You could still do that, in between meals.”
“You have no idea how long it takes to prepare a halfway decent meal of the scope you’re talking about, do you?”
“Not really. I’m not much of a cook, I’m afraid. You make it seem effortless, though.”
“Effortless. Right.” She shook her head but he could sense she was wavering.
“Please, Jenna.” He pushed a little harder. “If you do this for me, I promise, I’ll never again bring up the idea of you selling the rest of your land to me. I’ll never get mad at your boys for wandering where they’re not supposed to be. I’ll be the perfect neighbor.”
“Ha.”
Her cynical exclamation was in such contrast to her soft prettiness that he had to laugh.
“I swear it.”
She sighed heavily. “How many guests did you say you were expecting?”
“Six total. Frederick and Antonia Hertzog, their son, Dierk, and his wife, Elle, and their children Amalia and Gregor. They have no food allergies, though Gregor doesn’t like anything with onions and Elle insists on low saturated fats.”
“What sort of menus have you discussed?”
“I can provide you with everything Sawyer had talked to my assistant about before his unfortunate medical complications. But you don’t have to feel obligated to follow his plan. I can be flexible.”
This time her laugh was filled with unabashed doubt. “Can you? I believe I would like to see proof of that.”
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