The Mills & Boon Christmas Wishes Collection. Maisey Yates
ad-hoc basis.
“Sure, just holler and we’ll come running.” My stomach growled at the thought of the tiny canapés, veritable taste explosions.
But there was still so much to do and I’d left Amory alone for most of the day, what with going to Mom’s and the admin I’d just finished off. Heading upstairs I wondered if Amory had made a start on making up the rooms. We wanted to show them off to the brides, especially the honeymoon suite. I followed the muffled grunts and groans to find Amory in one of the two-bedroom suites. On the door hung a green wreath made from holly, with little silver stars tucked in the loop. Being a Christmas aficionado, most of the decorations I’d hauled all the way from New York, but we’d also found some new ones in town. And just to be certain I had enough, I’d also had an online buy-a-thon one night to celebrate the fact it’d been weeks since I’d sobbed along to ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ by Bonnie Tyler, and that was really saying something… Perhaps this Christmas wasn’t going to be as lonely as I’d imagined.
With the fire crackling and snow drifting down outside, the suite was charming and radiated warmth. Cedarwood was going to be the perfect destination for those looking to step away from corporate hotels with soulless rooms.
Amory hefted corners of mattresses up and tucked in the linen.
“Let me help,” I said, pulling a soft white sheet up. “These feel so luxurious.” I’d have to make up my own bed with the new linens. Sleep would be an absolute given wrapped in these and I knew our guests would agree.
“One thousand thread count, only the very best for Cedarwood guests.” She winked. We’d bid on the linen online and got a great price buying in bulk. Our guests would have the very best money could buy when it came to linen, and fluffy bath towels. While the lodge itself was rustic, the accoutrements were luxurious and I hoped visitors would enjoy the effort we’d put in to make it so. “So, how was your mom?”
I sighed. “I just wish I could click my fingers and she’d be…”
“Be what?” Amory asked as we pushed fat feather-down pillows into cases.
“Happy.”
I thought about telling her all about my trip to the library, but I wasn’t ready to share it just yet, especially as there wasn’t much to tell. So instead I shrugged, changing the subject to one I knew she’d latch on to and would lighten the conversation. “I ran into Timothy in town.”
“The old flame?” Amory bounced on her toes as she turned to me. “I knew there was unfinished business there, you minx!”
I rolled my eyes. “You and your rom-com ideals for my love life!”
“Stop trying to buy time and spill the details. Did he ask you out?”
I pulled a pillow over my face.
“Oh, God, what did you say?” She flopped onto the bed next to me, and wrenched the pillow from my face.
“For some insane reason I get tongue-tied around him, I say the most incredibly stupid things! I practically sang to him. It’s like my mouth has a mind of its own. Urgh.”
“You sang to him?” her eyes went wide.
“Not exactly. I asked where his kids were – obviously they’re at school, but of course I didn’t think of that. And then I sort of sang that they were learning about ABCs, and when he was cocking his head, probably wondering if I’d just come from a long lunch of drinking mojitos, I sang, ‘or one, two, threes…’”
Laughter barreled out of her. “Oh, God, Clio! What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t!”
“And he still asked you out after that… little impromptu concert?”
“For a feast at Shakin’ Shack.”
She pulled the pillow onto her lap. “Shakin’ Shack… well, it’s not the most romantic of restaurants, but I suppose he could hide you in the corner booth in case you started singing again. Probably a smart move on his part.”
I elbowed her. “I didn’t say yes, or maybe I did, I can’t remember. I told him we should invite the gang, and he fobbed me off.”
She clucked her tongue. “Darling! Why would you invite the gang to a date? He’s clearly trying to get to know you. Don’t you feel anything for him? A rush of heat? A tiny leg quiver?”
I shook my head.
Exasperated she said, “Butterfly belly?”
I considered it. “Maybe. But I don’t know if that’s just the memory of him, or the way I feel in the present. It’s so confusing.” It struck me that, for someone who believed in love, who devoted a huge part of life to celebrating it, I was kind of lacking when it came to acting on it for myself. Being home made me more reluctant to make mistakes because a girl couldn’t hide in a town the size of Evergreen, and I didn’t want to be the subject of any more gossip.
I got off the bed and continued tucking the sheet in. Amory went to the other side of the bed and did the same. “Is it because of you-know-who that you’re unsure?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “I highly doubt it,” I said, my voice coming out more formal than intended. “Love is just so complicated. And when you live in a small town, you have to be a lot more careful in case things go awry.”
“What a load of bollocks,” she laughed. “But nice try, darling. In my humble opinion I think you should go out with Timothy. See if it sparks anything. Mr Ripped Abs isn’t here, is he?”
“Mr Ripped Abs!” I laughed and propped pillows up against the antique ornate bedhead before doing an Amory-style subject change. “Do you think our future guests will be warm enough?” I asked as we fluffed the feather-down quilt and finished dressing the bed with a sumptuous gray faux-fur rug and some glitzy cushions.
“Sure they will. There’s a fireplace in each suite. We can send Micah up to light them at dusk while they’re having dinner, and stoke them before they go to bed. They’ll be cozy and snug and will never want to leave.”
I smiled. With the orange glow of the fire the suites would be like a winter oasis, the mountains with their colorful leaves in the distance, cheering the blustery view, the warmth, the wood, and the touches of indulgence in the rooms, from the Swiss chocolates by the bed to a shelf full of novels for their perusal. A bottle of complimentary wine cooled in each bar fridge, and there would be a bowl of fresh fruit on the table for those wanting a snack. Garlands of glittery golden tinsel twinkled in the filmy light, and a sprig of mistletoe was tacked above the door.
Hands on hips, we surveyed the room. Everything was neat, straight and in place, including soaps bearing the Cedarwood Lodge logo, and tiny little bottles of shampoo and conditioner lined up like soldiers in the bathroom.
For a moment I stood there, dizzy with awe. Seeing the suites dressed up, and ready for guests, made it feel so real, in a way nothing else had so far. Soon a guest would sleep in this luxurious bed, or read a book in the tub, with Cedarwood apple-blossom bubble bath scenting the air. They’d pull on boots while captivated with the view outside… Their biggest problem would be deciding what to eat for breakfast.
My lifelong dream of owning Cedarwood had come to fruition, and the sensation was a heady one. I knew it wouldn’t be all snow and Christmas carols, that there’d be ups and downs, but that was life, right? And I basked in the fact I’d made it happen, that we’d made it happen. If we secured a wedding booking or two, I’d be able to breathe easier, but at least we were taking steps in the right direction. We had three families booked in for the summer season, a trio of neighbors who had swapped holidaying in Europe for outdoor pursuits at the lodge, and I was giddy with the thought of them swimming in the lake, and hiking up the mountains; indulging in an aperitif in the front salon as Georges made them dinner. But better still, we had a couple of singletons staying not long after New Year, who’d seen photos of Cedarwood Lodge on Instagram. It boded