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“It’s called a fainting couch. They used to be popular back in the 1800s, which is when the concert hall was built. What do you know about Poppy Gold? That’s the name of this place.”
Annie shrugged. “Papa told Aunt Nicole that it’s a tourist town.”
Carlie knew she was biased, but Poppy Gold was a whole lot more than just a tourist town. “It’s a Victorian village, Annie, which means it was built long ago when Queen Victoria ruled England. People visit here and stay in our homes and hotels. We have lots of fun things to do and I think you came at the best time of all. Christmas is my favorite time of year.”
“I used to like it, too. But, um, I’m not sure anymore.”
“Maybe we can make it your favorite again. Will you give Poppy Gold a chance?”
Annie chewed her lip for a long minute. “I’ll try.”
Sadness went through Carlie. The child couldn’t be more than six, yet her eyes were much older.
Out in the main hall, Carlie took her through the food line, letting her carry her plate to the table where Beth and her father were sitting.
Luke murmured a “Thank you,” along with his daughter.
“You’re welcome to eat all you like,” Carlie said, winking at Beth and giving Annie a smile meant just for her.
Over at the serving table, she got back in line.
“Lots of turkey curry salad,” she told the server, someone on Sarah’s staff she didn’t know well.
“It’s my favorite, too.” The woman put three large scoops onto the plate and sprinkled them with roasted cashews. “What else can I get you?”
“One of the turkey-and-cranberry-cream-cheese sandwiches. And some green salad so I can pretend I’m eating healthy again.”
“You got it.”
Plate filled, Carlie joined her aunt Polly at a table along the wall.
Aunt Polly clucked at her. “I was trying to ignore that curry salad. Your hips can stand it—mine can’t.”
“Sorry.” Carlie ate a forkful. “Would it help if I said it was terrible?”
“Nope, because I’d know you were lying.”
It was a lie. The food that Sarah and her catering staff prepared was always fabulous.
Carlie periodically looked over at the Forrester family, noticing that Annie and Beth were talking to each other, but Luke didn’t seem to be talking to anyone. He was eating, though, and drinking large amounts of the specially blended Poppy Gold coffee.
Carlie’s tension grew as the meal progressed. Being six-year-olds, Annie and Beth were slow eaters, but they would finish eventually. If they weren’t in their suite soon, she’d have to go to plan B to keep them busy. Fortunately, her phone rang as she was swallowing a last bite of custard-rhubarb pie. It was Bill Blalock saying the Yosemite suite was ready for the Forresters.
“Thanks, Bill. Great timing—they just finished.”
“Their luggage is already in the cottage and Christine will personally escort them in a guest shuttle. She’s outside the concert hall as we speak.”
“Terrific. I’ll let them know.”
She got up and crossed the hall to where the Forresters were sitting. “Hi. I just got the call that your rooms are ready. A shuttle is waiting outside to take you there.”
Luke Forrester nodded. He wore a slightly mellower expression, possibly aided by food and coffee.
Time would tell what kind of guest he’d be. But at least he did have two adorable daughters.
CHAPTER TWO (#uf3e98621-2c67-52d1-9396-d3997def8eb7)
“YOU’RE IN THE Yosemite suite,” Christine Saunders explained as she stopped the electric shuttle in front of a Victorian. “The door opens off the garden on the south side. Breakfast will be delivered by our caterer, Sarah’s Sweet Treats, and Housekeeping will come each morning to clean. Is anytime after eight too early, or would you prefer later?”
Luke stared at the young woman who’d driven them from the concert hall. “Are you saying we don’t have the entire house?”
“Er, no, Mr. Forrester. The John Muir Cottage is divided into several different suites, but the Yosemite is the largest and has private access. Please be assured, the walls are well insulated, so it should be very quiet.”
His temper began to rise again. It had been on a short fuse for the past year, and when he was particularly tired, it was even worse.
“It was my understanding I’d rented the entire house.”
Confusion flitted across her face. “Did someone at Poppy Gold tell you that?”
“I didn’t speak to anyone here. My executive assistant made the arrangements. She said—”
Luke stopped abruptly and gritted his teeth. Actually, all Tilly had said was that they were staying at the John Muir Cottage. Which, despite being called a cottage, was actually a large, rambling Victorian. He’d simply assumed they’d have the entire house and all the amenities he was accustomed to having when he traveled.
Damn it, Tilly knew the locations where he took the girls always had a full staff, from housekeepers to nannies. She’d mentioned they’d have to eat out for lunch and dinner, but that was all.
“Mr. Forrester, I assure you the Yosemite suite is quite spacious,” Christine explained earnestly. “There are three bedrooms upstairs, and downstairs you have a smaller bedroom, a family room, front living room, powder room, kitchen and laundry. Each bedroom also has a private bath.”
The comment Luke had made to Tilly about modern plumbing flitted through his mind. It hadn’t occurred to him that some of the bedrooms might not have a private bath.
“Very well,” he said tensely. There was little else he could do. It was unlikely that other suitable accommodations were available in the small town and returning to Austin would just upset the girls even more. “After eight is fine for Housekeeping, but I’d prefer breakfast earlier.”
“Is the seven to eight time slot all right?”
“Yes.” Luke lifted his daughters out of the shuttle.
“Would you like me to show you around the suite?” Christine asked.
“Thanks, but we’ll be fine.”
“I hope you enjoy your stay. Please let us know if there’s anything you need.” She drove away before he could get his wallet out for a tip.
“Let’s go see our home for the next few weeks,” he said to Beth and Annie.
They looked at him doubtfully. Perhaps he should have brought their nanny, but he’d agreed with Tilly that if the trip was going to do any good, a complete break was best. He just hadn’t expected Nicole to get sick and the tutor to drop out at the eleventh hour.
He’d manage, though. His sister would be here in a few days, and however small the town of Glimmer Creek appeared to be, surely they had qualified tutors available.
The garden around the John Muir Cottage was trimmed and mulched for winter, but it was still attractive. A covered porch overlooked the garden and rolling hills beyond, and it was furnished with white wicker outdoor furniture.
The real disappointment started inside.
While the rooms had a pleasant Victorian flavor, there were no Christmas decorations in sight. Granted, it was just the day after Thanksgiving, but he’d expected more. A thorough check of the premises also revealed there wasn’t a single piece of office equipment, though he could have sworn that Tilly had mentioned a full business center.
Beth and Annie had slept on the plane, but they seemed half-asleep now—maybe the turkey lunch was making them groggy—so he hunted through the luggage for their favorite stuffed animals and they curled into bed for a nap. Down in the kitchen, he dialed Tilly’s cell number. A chirpy voice-mail recording greeted him. Knowing Tilly Robinson and her determined attempts to manage his life, she probably planned to duck his calls for a few days until he cooled down.
“Tilly, it’s me,” he said after the beep. “I refuse to believe you didn’t know this is a suite, not the whole house, or that there’s no personal staff. Right now, it’s just me and the girls. The tutor didn’t come and Nicole couldn’t fly with us because she has an ear infection. She won’t be here for another few days. Get back to me.”
Muttering beneath his breath, he called the front desk.
“Yes, Mr. Forrester?” Based on the British accent, it was most likely the employee who’d first greeted them.
“I’d like to speak with Carlie Benton.”
“Certainly, but is there anything I can do?”
“I prefer dealing with Ms. Benton.” Luke wasn’t certain why except that she appeared to be the kind of person who could get things done. Besides, Beth and Annie had responded to her...a lot more than they’d responded to him the past year.
“Yes, sir.” A moment later, the same voice came back on the line. “I’m sorry—Carlie is away from her desk. But I’ve called her mobile and she’ll stop at your suite in a few minutes.”
Luke had frowned the moment he heard “away from her desk,” only to realize that a face-to-face discussion would be best.
* * *
CARLIE COULDN’T BELIEVE she already needed to deal with Luke Forrester again.
Though she was the Poppy Gold activities director, her responsibilities included public relations. The job had its challenging moments, but it was a big improvement over doing PR for a company with frequent product safety recalls. It was one of the reasons she’d resigned...along with not wanting to see her ex-fiancé every day. Especially after he’d gotten engaged to the owner’s daughter.
July the previous year had not been a good month. First her wedding had been canceled at the last minute in the most embarrassing way, and ten days later her father was critically injured.
A friendly voice hailed her as she approached the John Muir Cottage. “Hi, Carlie.”
It was Esther Perkins, one of their repeat guests. Esther lived in San Jose and stayed at Poppy Gold several times a year, but Christmas kickoff day seemed to be her favorite.
“What’s up, Esther?”
“I just want to be sure that I can decorate at the Victorian Cat tomorrow. I like it best.”
“Of course you can.” Guests weren’t employees; they could volunteer for anything they wanted to do.
“Do you think Moby Dick will let me put a red bow around his neck?” Esther asked. “It would look darling against his fur.”
Poppy Gold tried to make something unique about each of the houses, and at the Victorian Cat mansion, each room was populated by an amiable feline. Moby Dick was a fluffy white cat with a talent for manipulating guests into giving him extra treats.
Carlie chuckled. “Moby is easygoing, but I wouldn’t try making him wear a bow. Not to worry, though—Tessa found red and green cat collars from a specialty store and they’ll be put on the VC cats tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful.”
With a wave, Esther hurried away and Carlie continued toward the John Muir Cottage, wishing all their guests were like Esther Perkins.
Bill had offered to give Luke Forrester her cell number to save her a trip, but Luke was the kind of guy who wouldn’t hesitate to phone at 2:00 a.m. to demand a cup of tea. The twenty-four-hour staff in Guest Reception could handle those kinds of calls and decide whom to contact in case of something more serious. She might do public relations work in addition to being the activities director, but she wasn’t a frontline manager, thank goodness.
Trying to appear friendly rather than frustrated, Carlie knocked at the Yosemite suite.
The door opened almost immediately.
“Hello, Mr. Forrester. I understand you asked for me.”
He cocked his head as if listening for something and then stepped onto the porch. “Yes, I have several concerns. For one, where are the decorations? I promised my daughters this would be a holiday extravaganza. Even though this is just the day after Thanksgiving, I expected to see a few signs of Christmas.”
Carlie could see his concern and knew it wouldn’t help to point out that the website listed the date when Poppy Gold was decorated. At any rate, it was Annie and Beth who mattered and Carlie didn’t want them to be disappointed.
“I understand, but tomorrow should reassure the girls. Our guests call it Christmas kickoff day,” she told him. “Members of the historical society will be in Victorian costumes and go around caroling in small groups. In addition, we’ll have snack kiosks throughout the facility serving coffee, hot spiced cider, cocoa and a selection of cookies and other treats. It’s purely voluntary, but guests are invited to help decorate trees, make wreaths, put up decorations and this ye—”
“You have guests do staff work?” Luke’s tone was neutral, with only the faintest emphasis on the words guests and staff, but Carlie spotted a hint of derision in his eyes. Her temper rose, but she managed to squash it down again.
“Not staff work, just fun. Kickoff day is extremely popular. Most of our guests come for Thanksgiving weekend just to participate,” she replied evenly.
The event was expensive for Poppy Gold since they needed an army of employees to keep an eye on things, do the heavy work, watch the treat kiosks and do the primary decorating. Getting everything done in one day would be impossible without the massive amounts of planning and prep work she and the other Poppy Gold employees did for weeks beforehand.
“I’m sure it’s entertaining if you enjoy that sort of thing.” Luke’s expression suggested only a moron would enjoy “that sort of thing.”
Her smile became even more strained. She loved Christmas...the colors, music, the warmth, the decorating and the way many people seemed to behave nicer in the holiday season. Though in Luke Forrester’s case, she’d hate to think this was his “nice.”
“As I mentioned, Mr. Forrester, participation is voluntary. If you aren’t interested in decorating, my staff has planned a number of activities, as well. As for your suite, it will be dec—”
“Not by nosy guests, I presume,” he said, cutting her off a second time. “I expect privacy. As a matter of fact, I expected to have the entire house, not just a section of it.”
Muscles tightening, Carlie reminded herself again that Luke Forrester had lost his wife and no matter how wealthy and demanding, he was dealing with something traumatic.
She drew a deep breath. “Employees decorate inside the suites. As for having the entire house, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” she apologized as cordially as possible. “But there are eleven bedrooms in the John Muir Cottage and dividing the space means it’s available to multiple individuals or families.”
“I see.”
“Before I forget, I wanted to tell you that since we’re supposed to have a hard freeze tonight, we’re starting the snowmakers on the sledding hill as soon as the temperature drops low enough. Probably around eight. Spiced cider and other goodies will be served. I thought Annie and Beth might enjoy it.”
“I don’t think so. We’ve had a long day.”
“Please, Papa, can we go?” asked a voice from the open door behind them.
Luke jerked around. “Beth, I thought you were asleep.”
“I woke up. Carlie, can you take us to see the snow if Papa is too tired?”
Carlie made an effort to keep her face straight. “That’s up to your papa.” She’d hoped to be sliding into a warm bath by then, but couldn’t resist the entreaty in Beth’s eyes.
“I wanna go with Carlie,” Annie declared, peeking around her sister.
Luke seemed thoroughly harassed. “Very well. That is, we’ll all go. Now go back to bed. You’ll need extra rest if you’re going to be out late.”
