Snowflakes and Mistletoe at the Inglenook Inn (New York Ever After, Book 2)

by Helen J Rolfe

  ‘I think I’ll take this and sit in front of the fire.’ Myles moved from his stool and took his drink over to the curved window, looking out at the street. ‘The rain has stopped.’

  ‘I don’t mind the rain. It’s soothing.’

  ‘When you’re tucked up inside,’ he smiled, as he turned to face her before going back to looking out the window.

  ‘You’re right.’ Darcy decided not to add any more kindling to the fire. It was crackling away well enough already and added a beautiful orange glow to the sand-coloured walls. Myles looked content in this light, or maybe it was the two bourbons in quick succession that took his troubles away. She busied herself at the desk tidying away invoices and receipts. She turned the computer off and went out to the kitchen, where she put all the dirty crockery into the dishwasher and started the cycle, ensured the ovens were off and the back door locked, and then returned to the lounge. Myles was in the same place she’d left him.

  ‘Can I get you anything else?’ she asked.

  ‘I wonder if it’ll snow.’ He was completely distracted.

  She joined him at the window. ‘I hope so. New York in the snow is something else; you’ll think it’s magical.’

  ‘The fire is wonderful.’ He turned his attention to the flames flickering away.

  Darcy sat on the edge of the armchair opposite. ‘We’re lucky to have this at the Inn. If we wanted to put a fireplace in now we wouldn’t be allowed to, but it’s already there so we’re good as long as we use special firewood that is less smoky when it burns.’

  He was smiling at her as she spoke. ‘It’s a lovely touch.’ He looked around him, up at the high ceilings lurking above, the bookcases lining the walls. ‘This is a special place.’

  ‘Nicer than your bigger hotels, isn’t it?’ she probed.

  ‘Definitely. I haven’t been here long but it’s easy to forget I’m not coming back to an apartment. It’s much more personal.’ When she pushed her hands against her knees and went to stand, he stopped her, with the words, ‘Stay a while longer.’

  If it was any other guest – the young couple in number two, or one of the O’Sullivans – she wouldn’t think twice. But they didn’t make her insides flutter when they looked at her, make her conscious of everything she said, remind her of their assertion of authority that had cost her a job she loved.

  ‘So, you’re excited about the Christmas tree arriving.’ He said it before she’d even sat down and so as not to be rude she found herself staying put.

  ‘I am. We’re so late this year, a mix up with the ordering of the tree, but I can’t wait to get it ready. The boys upstairs will love it.’

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. ‘I’m sure they will.’

  ‘The family have asked for a tree to be delivered to their room too.’

  ‘You do that?’

  ‘Sure.’ She smiled. ‘We have boxes and boxes of decorations as we know guests don’t want to miss out.’

  ‘Ah yes, that’s right. I remember seeing it on the website.’ He let a small smile escape. ‘There was a little tick box if I wanted a tree to be arranged and set up.’

  ‘You didn’t tick it.’ He seemed surprised she knew. ‘It’s my job to know everything about my guests.’

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘Enough so they feel welcome,’ she clarified. ‘But not so much they feel like they’re on trial.’

  He laughed properly this time. ‘That’s good to know.’

  ‘You can change your mind. I’m sure we can source a tree from somewhere. It seems a shame to have that enormous apartment and leave it without a bit of festive cheer.’

  He smiled and said nothing until he asked, ‘Will you see your family this year?’

  ‘I’ll be working,’ she said.

  ‘Sounds familiar.’

  ‘Do you have siblings?’ She didn’t want him drawing any comparisons between them.

  ‘A brother, Winston.’

  ‘Does he work in a similar industry to you?’

  Myles shook his head. ‘No, he’s in the construction business. He’s made quite a success of it. He’s the son who can do no wrong, with the job, a family, and all living under the non-existent British sun.’

  He may have smiled but she detected a grain of truth in what he was saying. She wondered if resentment ran deep. ‘Do you get on?’

  ‘Famously. Always have. As kids we were best mates and we’ve stayed that way.’ He was definite. So no resentment, but something was amiss in the family. She’d got used to reading people in her line of work. Some people opened up to her – some so much she knew things she’d rather not – but others were content to have someone there for a while to listen to their woes but never revealed too much about themselves.

  ‘You must miss him.’

  ‘Yes and no. I think I’m too busy to think about it much. He wanted me to come home for Christmas, but to be honest, I would rather give the family shindig a miss.’

  ‘You have a big family Christmas?’

  ‘Every year.’ It didn’t sound like a good thing. ‘If you saw it you’d think you’d walked into a magazine spread of the perfect family Christmas.’

  She didn’t probe any more. Hopefully this year at the Inn they’d make it one of his better Christmases.

  ‘Do you run this place full time?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘This is temporary. Sofia would usually be here, but she’s with her daughter in Switzerland.’

  ‘Would you like it to be a more permanent arrangement?’

  ‘I haven’t thought about it too much, but financially I don’t think Sofia could afford to employ anyone else.’ She shouldn’t be sharing this. ‘I’m sorry, forget I said anything.’

  He held up his hands. ‘It won’t go any further, don’t worry. But I’m a businessman, I get it. And one thing I do know is that sometimes when you least expect it, things can turn around completely.’

  She wouldn’t mind betting he also knew things could go the other way too, and fall apart. She hoped Sofia would take steps to stop that happening before it was too late, and had her fingers crossed the editor of the magazine doing the write-up in the New Year could go some way to propelling them into a different bracket.

  ‘So what’s Christmas like for you? Do you have siblings? Have a big family gathering?’ He interrupted her thoughts and, thankfully, made her relax so her forehead wasn’t all creased up in a frown.

  ‘I have a brother, Tate, who lives out in Connecticut near my parents, and I have a sister, Sarah, who moved to San Francisco with her husband last year.’

  ‘Do you all get along?’

  ‘We do. Sarah doesn’t always make it home for Christmas, so usually it’s Tate and I whenever we’re around – which isn’t always, given the nature of my work – and my parents host Christmas at their place.’ She leaned against the mantel, the warmth of the fire caressing her legs through her tights. She felt about ready to take off her shoes and put her feet up on the sofa, relax and let the busy day wash off of her. ‘It involves a lot of hugging when we arrive because we usually haven’t seen each other for ages. Mom and Dad are always in funny Santa aprons the second we get there and they’ll both be busy in the kitchen, perfecting the Christmas dinner. There’s always way too much food so we’ll have leftovers for days after.’

  ‘It sounds like a real family Christmas.’

  ‘It is.’ On the surface it was easy to think he’d had the same after he’d described his own experiences, but he’d said enough to tell her that wasn’t the case. Still, her heart warmed at the memory of sharing Christmas with her family, although she realised she was revealing far more than she usually did, and to a man she’d previously not felt much of a connection with.

  ‘What sort of food do you have?’ He asked the question as though he couldn’t wait to lose himself in someone else’s memories.

  ‘We usually have the ridiculously big turkey with all the trimmings. Dad insists on the oversized bird because he an
d Mom both like to make different things with it after Christmas. On Boxing Day we usually have a turkey salad for lunch because everyone is still so full from the day before. But then at dinner time everyone has forgotten about that so Dad makes my favourite.’

  ‘What’s that?’ He seemed genuinely interested.

  She bit her lip at the guilty treat. ‘He gets a round loaf of sourdough, slices off the top and hollows it out but keeps the insides of the bread, which he chops into pieces. He fills the empty centre of the sourdough with a mixture of cheeses, onion, garlic – and, of course, turkey – and then tops it with more cheese plus chives and puts it in the oven. It comes out all golden and we sit close around the table dunking in pieces of bread, scooping up the insides.’

  Myles let out a long breath. ‘You’re making me really hungry.’

  ‘I’m making myself hungry too,’ she laughed. ‘If you ever get the chance to make it, I can give you the recipe. I look forward to it every year. And Dad has promised that the day after Boxing Day he’ll bring it to me if I have to work.’

  ‘He sounds like a good man.’

  ‘He really is. He had some health problems a few years ago and we thought that was it.’ Her eyes swam as she recalled her dad being taken into the hospital after falling over. ‘They found a tumour on his brain but thankfully they removed every last piece of it. After that day he cut way back on work hours, learned to cook at evening classes and when he eventually retired he’d found his true vocation. In the kitchen.’

  ‘So he cooks now?’

  ‘When Mom lets him. She enjoys it too. Last year they went on a culinary tour of Italy. Next year they’re planning on Indonesia.’

  Darcy drew in a breath. She’d shared more with him than she had with most other men she met. Her fleeting relationships when she was travelling around the world hadn’t warranted many heavy conversations about family and holiday arrangements. She shifted the focus back to him. ‘Does your mom cook, or both your parents?’

  He swigged the last of his bourbon and set the glass on the coffee table. ‘I don’t think Dad could even make a couple of slices of toast without having to call for help.’

  ‘I don’t suppose cooking is everyone’s idea of fun.’

  ‘I enjoy it.’

  ‘You do?’ She failed to hide her surprise.

  ‘I rarely get the time, but one year my mum was sick and I took over the entire Christmas lunch – turkey and everything.’

  ‘Wow, I’m impressed.’

  ‘You should be. I even made my own stuffing.’

  She smiled. This man kept surprising her, and recently it was in a good way.

  ‘You looked like you knew what you were doing with those s’mores earlier on,’ Myles commented, but then pulled a face. ‘Is that the right word?’

  ‘You got it right. And they were a real favourite in our house, so I must confess I have prior experience. Every year when I was little we’d have them on Christmas Eve, Tate, Sarah, and me fighting for the best toasting position in front of the fire. I always ended up feeling quite sick.’ She wondered what his traditions were. ‘What about you and your brother? What did you do on Christmas Eve?’

  ‘Early to bed, early to rise for us boys.’

  ‘Oh come on, you must’ve done something.’

  ‘We always left a mince pie for Santa and a glass of bourbon.’ He pulled a face, realising he was drinking the same thing.

  She nodded, a little embarrassed that she kept forgetting he was a guest rather than a friend. Despite their history, he was easy to talk to. She tended to the fire as Myles finished his drink. It was almost eleven o’clock so she switched the damper to encourage the flames to lessen. It would stay warm for ages even when only the last embers remained. Sometimes Darcy wished she could sit here all night and watch it, doze off listening to the crackles.

  ‘It’s getting late, I’ve kept you,’ he said, as though he too had realised he was just another guest. ‘I’ll say goodnight.’ He looked tired in the same way he had earlier, like he was missing something or someone.

  ‘Goodnight, Myles.’

  After he left she turned on the small lamp at the desk. She’d give the fire an hour to settle until its last remains glowed in the hearth. She opened the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet and took out her knitting as it finally came to the end of her working day.

  She wasn’t fast yet, nothing like her nanna had been, with her knitting needles going clickety-clack, clickety-clack, and she was nowhere near the speed of her friend Cleo at the Little Knitting Box. But after talking through the pattern with Cleo and selecting a snuggly soft brown yarn from her store in Inglenook Falls, Darcy had made a start and already this sweater for Kyle was actually starting to look like more than a few rows of yarn that could turn out to be anything. She’d have to show Cleo when she came into the city with Dylan. She’d invited them both for Christmas Eve and she really hoped they could make it. It would mean a lot to Darcy to show her friends that she was doing a good job here at the Inglenook Inn.

  As she knitted, Darcy thought about their guest on the top floor. With every mention of Christmas she found it harder to gauge what Myles thought. He definitely had family issues, something Darcy was so glad she didn’t have. Gabriella had had her share when her parents divorced, Cleo too with a stepmother it took her a while to warm to, but Darcy and Isabella seemed to have solid backgrounds with only the merest hint of angst in their teen and early adult years. It was certainly something to be grateful for.

  When Myles had asked her about the tree arriving in the morning, she’d seen a twinkle in his eye, one that suggested perhaps he was open to the season but felt that on his own it was barely worth the fuss.

  But fuss was what Darcy liked to do when it came to going the extra mile for her guests.

  She put down her knitting and booted up the computer again. She hoped she hadn’t misread his signals, because she had an idea. This man was stressed, working hard, and facing Christmas in an apartment all alone.

  It only took a few clicks and she was done.

  She settled back down by the fire and carried on knitting. She’d chosen to be mature, rise above her history with Myles Cunningham, and here was her chance to go above and beyond her requirements as a hotel manager. Because that was what it was all about – making the customer happy. Her guest was an Englishman in New York, but this year, he was going to have a wonderful Christmas. She’d make sure of it.

  Chapter Six

  Myles

  Twelve days until Christmas

  Myles was glad he’d stopped at the two neat bourbons last night, or his head wouldn’t be at all clear this morning. It was foggy anyway but he knew it had more to do with Darcy than it did the alcohol. Most women who crossed his path he either got involved with or he didn’t. They rarely hung around in his mind long enough to bother him.

  There was a time when Myles hadn’t been able to touch alcohol, but once he’d left home and his mum finally got her act together, he’d gradually been able to enjoy a drink or two. He never had too many though; he couldn’t stand the thought of ending up anything like his mum had in those darker days. Seeing her completely wasted was the stuff of nightmares, and not something he ever intended to replicate. Many a time, mates had tried to cajole him into late-night drinking sessions and he managed them by seeming to go along with what they wanted but ensuring he drank very slowly. By the time he stopped drinking, they’d always been too wasted to notice he wasn’t downing the drinks at the rate they were.

  His client meeting hadn’t gone well at all yesterday but Myles made up for it that morning. He impressed an existing client with a PowerPoint presentation that left them in no doubt of his expertise, he had a meeting with his manager that went well, and the seven deals he had on the go at the same time were all ticking over as expected. He looked at pricing tables for a loan for a client, he negotiated which banks would lead the transactions for another and the fees they intended to charge, and he read o
ver a credit agreement before taking an afternoon meeting with one of his firm’s top clients.

  ‘Myles, do you have a moment?’ His manager, Neil, poked his head around the door long after most people had left the office for the day.

  ‘Sure, boss. Come in.’ He entered the figure he’d calculated into a spreadsheet, clicked save and turned his chair back to face the front of his desk. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘How are you settling in?’

  ‘Really well.’

  ‘And the Inn is good?’

  ‘It’s excellent, thank you.’ His boss reminded him of his father both in looks and his no-nonsense approach. Both of them had the same air of authority that came naturally, the hair that was more grey than silver, and the expensive suits and accessories. He had on an Alpina Startimer Pilot watch with a brown leather strap and blue dial. Myles should know. His dad had been wearing the same watch since his mum gave it as a Christmas gift last year.

  ‘My wife put me onto it. I shall let her know she did good.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Myles smiled, wondering what this chat was about. He was excelling in his role so he was confident it wasn’t any kind of reproof.

  ‘So, the Christmas party.’ Ah, now they were getting somewhere. ‘I do expect a full attendance.’

  ‘Not a problem. I’ll be there.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to seeing The Plaza.’

  Neil grinned. ‘I’ve had it booked for quite some time – it’ll be a night to remember. It’ll be a chance for you to really get to know your co-workers, partners, clients.’

  Myles didn’t need much convincing. Since he’d arrived in Manhattan he’d done little else apart from work, eat, sleep and run, so a night out sounded just what he needed.

  ‘We have some important clients coming along this time.’ Neil elaborated and Myles took all the information in, soaking up what he needed to. Neil also talked about a potential new client, a firm that would be represented by its CEO and General Manager. He regurgitated facts about other clients and firms they already had on their books.