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“It was wonderful. I think we broke a record for everyone getting back home to Glimmer Creek for the holiday.”
“That’s because they wanted to see Tessa’s baby.”
Polly Murphy beamed. “I don’t think Tessa and Gabe got to hold their daughter the entire afternoon, even to change Meredith’s diapers.”
“Tessa was able to nurse Merri, that’s all.” Carlie glanced at the clock. “Oops, I’ve got to go. Busy day. See you later.”
Until sixteen months ago, Carlie had been working in the San Francisco Bay Area, only returning to her hometown for visits. Then she’d been hired as the Poppy Gold Inns’ activity director. Carlie loved it and in many ways working at the historic bed-and-breakfast facility was like attending a family reunion every day. Her cousin Tessa McKinley was the owner-manager along with her father, Liam Connor, and half the employees were related in one way or another.
If only her own father...
A hint of melancholy went through Carlie. Dad had been injured the previous summer while laying down asphalt on a road as a highway worker. An impatient driver had sped around some slow-moving cars and plowed into him, permanently damaging his leg. Mike Benton now worked as a traffic flagger at road construction sites, which he hated. But he also wouldn’t take a job at Poppy Gold, no matter how much the family cajoled him.
“I don’t want anybody’s pity,” he’d declared on more than one occasion. He didn’t understand that it wouldn’t be pity; it would be giving Poppy Gold the benefit of three decades of practical, hands-on civil engineering experience.
Carlie shook the thought away and greeted the members of her staff who’d already arrived.
“Did you hear...?” Joan Peters started to say, only to stop and blush.
“Hear what?” asked Carlie.
“Nothing,” Tracy Wade said hastily.
Tracy and Joan exchanged glances and hurriedly went back to making holiday name tags for the staff.
Carlie frowned.
She’d sensed an air of anticipation in Old City Hall after arriving, but had put it down to adrenaline. They had to hit the ground running to get ready for Christmas, so there was little time for day-after-Thanksgiving relaxation. For the next six weeks, Poppy Gold would be devoted to the Christmas and New Year celebrations. The Victorian village was ideally suited for strings of lights, electric candles in the windows, mistletoe, evergreen swags and everything else that was bright and cheerful.
“Is something going on that I should know about?” she asked.
“Uh, no. We mustn’t gossip.”
Especially here at work, Carlie added silently.
Gossip was a form of entertainment in the small town of Glimmer Creek, but it was discouraged at Poppy Gold, particularly when it came to their guests.
Carlie didn’t have time to think about anything new, regardless. The basic holiday schedule had been established long before she’d begun working as the activities director, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be busy implementing her own ideas. Traditionally, the autumn decorations came down the morning after Thanksgiving, with Christmas arriving with a vengeance the next day. Well, it would arrive with a fervent festive spirit.
Poppy Gold Inns had guests who booked years in advance for Christmas kickoff day, as the regulars called it. Visitors didn’t have to participate, but being able to join in as part of the “work crew” was why many of them came for the extended Thanksgiving weekend, saying it got them in the mood for the holiday. Some loved decorating trees, some preferred making wreaths, while others strung evergreen garlands on fences or lampposts or worked on the public areas of a specific Victorian. There were lots of things to do for all ages.
In her office, Carlie pulled up a list of the expected Friday check-ins on the computer, her eyebrows shooting upward when she saw that the largest suite at the John Muir Cottage had been reserved for the next month by the Forrester family. Actually, for the next month and a half.
Forrester?
The name seemed familiar, but she couldn’t think why.
Carlie dialed her cousin’s number. Tessa was Poppy Gold’s manager, and if anyone knew what was going on, she was the one. After all, the John Muir Cottage was special. Poppy Gold reserved it for active service members, as well as veterans and military families who were going through a difficult period.
“Hi,” she said when Tessa answered. “I wanted to check with you about the John Muir Cottage. The Yosemite suite has been reserved through January 7. What if you get an urgent referral for someone else?”
“We’ll put them in the Gold Strike House or find something else. You know we always keep a certain percentage of space available for emergencies, though nothing the size of the Yosemite suite. It should be okay. Referrals for families are rare at Christmastime.”
“But a month and a half? That’s longer than normal.”
“It’s an unusual situation. I, um...” Tessa sounded distracted, probably because of the baby crying in the background. A moment later, she came back on the line. “Sorry, Merri needed some attention. Anyway, Mrs. Forrester was an army major who died in the Middle East. The father wants to get away from home with his twin daughters to help them through the holiday season. Apparently they’re still having a rough time dealing with their mother’s death.”
Forrester?
Carlie’s jaw dropped as she realized why the name was familiar. The year before it had been on magazine covers, scandal rags, newspapers...everywhere. There weren’t too many wealthy men whose wives had died wearing army fatigues and the media had covered the story for weeks. She’d felt terrible for them. Grief should be a private thing.
“Uh...oh, I see,” Carlie said. “Are they staying under the usual terms?”
Poppy Gold’s policy was to offer military families seven days of rest and relaxation at no charge, and a substantially reduced rate for longer visits, but Luke Forrester could probably buy Poppy Gold with his pocket change. She remembered the articles about him saying he had the Midas touch for everything from real estate to investing to manufacturing. Basically, he ran a huge conglomerate of different companies.
“It was a regular referral from General Pierson’s office, so it wouldn’t seem right to treat them differently from anyone else who’s stayed there.”
“Right. Thanks.”
Carlie hung up. Her staff had left on various tasks, giving her a quiet moment to think. Celebrities often visited Poppy Gold, so she couldn’t be sure the air of anticipation she’d noticed was because of Luke Forrester’s imminent arrival. It seemed possible, though. He was a different kind of celebrity and female employees were bound to see him as a romantically tragic figure, particularly the unmarried ones.
She shook her head and went to the storeroom to finish checking the contents of the shipment received on Wednesday. This year, she’d suggested they give a uniquely designed Poppy Gold Christmas ornament to the guests and volunteers for kickoff day. But the ornaments had arrived late and she and her staff were still checking for quality and putting them back into their gift boxes.
Two hours later, she got up and stretched. She wasn’t done, but she wanted to attend a noon luncheon at the concert hall catered by Sarah’s Sweet Treats. Sarah was one of her cousins and a fabulous cook and baker.
It was a fun event, featuring dishes made with “leftover” turkey. Of course, they weren’t actually leftovers because the catering staff had been baking turkey all night, but the guests wouldn’t care. They could enjoy “leftover” Thanksgiving dishes, but also curried turkey salad, turkey croquettes, turkey sandwiches...along with a huge number of other inventive offerings.
Creative Turkey Bites had started nine years ago when Tessa’s mother decided a few of their stay-over guests might miss leftovers. Because of that, Poppy Gold had begun serving a second turkey meal on the Friday after Thanksgiving. The tickets were expensive, but worth twice the price in Carlie’s opinion.
“Carlie, Bill Blalock just phoned,” Tim Mahoney called out from his cubicle. “Your presence is requested in Guest Reception.”
Because her office was located in Old City Hall, she was sometimes asked to help out with public relations issues. On the few occasions when her presence was “requested,” it meant they had a difficult guest. She headed to the reception area, only to stop and blink when she saw Luke Forrester standing near the curved mahogany reception counter.
His pictures hadn’t done him justice. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen—and the most grumpy-looking one, too. Two little girls stood nearby. Both seemed solemn and anxious and one had tearstains on her face. Plainly they weren’t experiencing any warm, after-Thanksgiving glow.
Carlie stepped forward. “Hello, I’m Carlie Benton. May I help you?”
“Yes. We’ve been up since two this morning and now I’ve been informed we can’t get into our accommodations for several hours,” Luke Forrester snapped, ignoring her extended hand.
“I see.”
So much for romantically tragic; he was more like the Grinch who’d stolen Christmas. Carlie cast a look at the clock. It was shortly before noon and check-in started at 4:00 p.m. unless prior arrangements had been made. Both the website and any employee Mr. Forrester talked to would have made that clear.
Carlie walked around to a registration monitor and confirmed they had a standard reservation, with no special requests.
“I’m sorry, but your rooms aren’t ready yet.” She smiled at the two girls, who had to be identical twins—they were as alike as two peas in a pod. “In the meantime, would you like to have a yummy lunch?”
The one whose cheeks were tearstained ducked her head while the other offered a tiny smile in return. “Yes, thank you. I’m Beth,” she said. “And this is my sister, Annie.”
She nudged Annie, who wiggled her fingers in a small wave.
“It’s great to meet you both. I’m Carlie.”
“Excuse me, you haven’t explained why you weren’t ready for us when we arrived,” Luke Forrester interjected impatiently.
Carlie fixed him with the steady gaze she’d cultivated dealing with newspaper reporters at her old public relations job. It was never easy for her to stay calm, though. She had a terrible temper.
“Mr. Forrester, I’m very sorry, but check-in time is 4:00 p.m. We had visitors at the John Muir Cottage last night. They left on schedule and our housekeeping staff is working to get everything ready for you. In the meantime, there’s a special luncheon being served down the street. You and your daughters are welcome to eat as our guests while you’re waiting.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw and she expected further demands, but he finally said, “Fine,” in a sharp tone.
Carlie glanced at Bill Blalock. He was excellent with people, so it was unusual for him not to be able to handle a difficult client. Of course, no matter how skilled he was, a few guests always insisted on speaking to someone with more authority. In most cases, she’d discovered they’d caused their own problem and didn’t want to take responsibility.
“Bill, please call me when Mr. Forrester’s accommodations are ready,” she asked, giving him a significant look that suggested putting a rush on the cleaning crew.
Poppy Gold Inns allowed guests into their rooms early when feasible, but first they had to be properly prepared and approved by a housekeeping supervisor. While Carlie didn’t believe that bad manners and arbitrary expectations should be rewarded, the Forrester family was obviously under a great deal of strain. Quickly getting them into their suite would be best all around.
“I’ll take care of it,” Bill promised. “Don’t be concerned about your luggage, Mr. Forrester. We’ll secure your bags here and deliver them later.”
* * *
LUKE NODDED CURTLY.
He still questioned whether this trip to California was the best idea for the girls, and being told the house wasn’t available hadn’t helped. A part of him knew it was unreasonable to be upset, but nothing was going well.
Flying at night was his preference since it saved time, but the jet’s copilot had been rear-ended while driving to the airport. Though she’d escaped injury, Luke had insisted she take a few days off. Not wanting to wait for a replacement, he’d taken the copilot’s seat himself rather than working during the flight as planned. He held a pilot’s license for emergencies, though this had mostly qualified as an inconvenience.
His sister was still in Austin; she was being treated for an ear infection and couldn’t fly until the doctor said it was okay. Luke had hired a backup copilot and sent the jet back to Texas so Nicole could come once she was well enough for travel.
The limousine service had been late meeting them at the airport and the drive to Glimmer Creek on the small curving roads had upset Annie’s stomach. She’d cried and gotten sick, only to push him away when he tried to help.
On top of everything else, the private tutor he’d hired had canceled just hours before their departure, so now he’d have to get someone local.
A polite throat-clearing sound drew his attention. “This way, Mr. Forrester,” said Carlie Benton.
She was holding Beth’s hand, and though her expression was pleasant, Luke suspected she wasn’t impressed with him. That was okay. He hadn’t gotten where he was without making a few enemies.
“Do either of you skate?” Carlie asked the girls as they walked down the front steps. “Ice skating, I mean.”
“Yes, but not like Aunt Nicole,” Beth told her. “She’s awfully good. She can spin and twirl and everything.”
“Aunt Nicole was s’posed to come with us in Papa’s jet, but her ear got sick,” Annie half whispered, making Luke’s eyes widen. Annie was shier than her sister and rarely spoke to strangers.
“That’s too bad. Is she coming later?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m glad. We have a skating rink starting tomorrow after the water freezes, so you’ll have a chance to skate if your papa doesn’t mind.” Carlie stopped and pointed across the street to the park. “It’s going to be right over there, past that little white bandstand. And you know what else we’re having this year? A sledding hill. That is, we’ll have one when the temperature is cold enough to make snow.”
“Yippee,” cried Beth.
Carlie grinned at both girls and continued walking. Down the street was an attractive building with a historic marker on the front lawn saying Glimmer Creek Concert Hall. It reminded Luke of the concert hall at the historic Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado.
Where he’d stayed with Erika on their honeymoon.
Hell, how long would everything remind him of what he’d lost?
Frustrated, Luke directed his thoughts elsewhere as they climbed the steps. On the pillared veranda, he read a freestanding sign next to the door. “Creative Turkey Bites?” he asked wryly. “So your ‘special’ luncheon is recycled Thanksgiving leftovers.”
“We don’t serve leftovers at Poppy Gold,” Carlie said, her blue eyes glittering coolly. “The meal showcases the ways leftover turkey could be made into something new and different. In addition, traditional Thanksgiving dishes are provided for people who still want them. But everything is freshly prepared.”
Inside, there was a buzz of conversation and Carlie was greeted by one guest after another. She introduced Beth and Annie by their first names only, for which Luke was grateful. While it was entirely possible nobody would recognize their names, he preferred to avoid awkward moments. Privacy was important, particularly for his daughters.
A barbershop quartet in red-and-white-striped jackets was entertaining in the front of the hall, their mellow tones resonating around the room. While pleasant, the decorations were still autumnal in theme and Luke worried the girls would be disappointed. He’d told them that spending the holidays in California would be like going to a Christmas wonderland. When would he learn not to promise something he couldn’t control?
“Good afternoon, Sarah,” Carlie said to a slender blonde woman wearing a chef’s apron. “This is Luke and his two daughters, Annie and Beth. They’re Poppy Gold’s guests today for lunch.”
Sarah beamed. “Welcome. Just get in line and tell the servers what you want to try.”
“Thanks.” Carlie crouched so she was level with Annie. “Would you like to wash your face before you eat?” she asked gently.
“Okay.” Annie put her fingers in Carlie’s outstretched hand.
“Is that all right?” Carlie queried, looking up at him. “I can take her through the food line when we get back. Just let me know if she has any allergies.”
“It’s fine. Neither of the girls have allergies.”
Yet Luke was perturbed as he watched his daughter leave with her. Damn it, he was Annie’s father, but she’d refused to let him help her, either in the limousine or after they’d arrived.
Sometimes he questioned whether Beth and Annie blamed him for their mother not being there. Sometimes he even wondered that himself. If he hadn’t been so open-minded about Erika staying in the service, she might still be alive.
Open-minded?
He snorted at the thought. Hardly. More than anything he’d wanted to keep Erika at home. Even the media had known he wasn’t open-minded. What was the headline that had become so popular...the Beauty and the Autocrat?
It hadn’t been fair to his wife. While beautiful, she’d also been a brilliant, decisive army officer. Luke didn’t see himself as autocratic, either—he just tried to make sure the people he cared about were safe and didn’t lack for anything. There was nothing wrong with that. Nonetheless, he’d wanted to be supportive of Erika’s career choice.
The irony was that his wife had raised the question of resigning her commission after the girls were born. He’d tried not to influence her, so now he would always wonder what might have happened if he’d followed his instincts and asked her to stay home.
* * *
“IS THAT BETTER?” Carlie asked Annie, drying her cheeks with a towel.
The youngster heaved a sigh. “I guess. But my eyes are scratchy.”
“You’ll probably forget about it when you eat.”
They were in the lounge area of the restroom and Annie patted the cushion she was sitting on. “This couch is funny.”
