by Sabrina York
“You have a competitor here on the farm?” Owen asked.
“No. Every place on Forever Christmas is owned by the same people.”
“What do you mean by every place?”
She could tell that Owen was interested in how the farm worked.
“These pieces of glass art you’ve been admiring are Juliet’s. Juliet Weatherly has her stained-glass studio and shop further down the road, tucked away among the evergreens. She’s known by Swanson—”
“Juliet Swanson works here, for Forever Christmas Tree Farm?”
“She does, yes. She owns the farm.”
Owen looked taken aback as if this were news he should have known.
“I have a friend that has a stunning piece from Juliet. I’d love to meet her. I hear her waiting list is long.”
“I’m sure meeting her can be arranged. As for her list, it changes on a daily basis.”
“So, along with this stunning lodge, you have a café and Juliet Swanson’s studio.”
“We also have a flower shop that does a good deal of work for Glenville and a gift and collectable shop. There’s always something new there.”
“I’m impressed. I’ll have to take some time and get a good look around. Do all the places have this many Christmas trees? There must be six here.”
“Nine actually. And we put up our grandest one on Christmas Eve morning.” She pointed to the large bay window. “It sits there, in front of the window.”
Owen sat his empty cup down. “You’ve gone out of your way for me, thank you, Gina. I really should get out of your hair.”
6
Owen looked around his room as he readied himself for the day. The detail and quality were far and away superior to what he thought he would find. He’d expected a drab room with a single bed, a shabby side table, and a rundown bathroom.
Gina hadn’t mentioned the small kitchenette with a refrigerator, a wide array of coffee choices, a nice bottle of red wine, and crystal, not plastic glasses. A glass tray sat on the corner of the counter and held two crystal snifters, along with his favorite brandy. And what surprised him most was the handwritten note:
Welcome to the Mistletoe Lodge, Mr. Brown. We hope you’ll enjoy your time here and as a thank you for staying with us, here are a few treats to make you feel at home.
He stopped buttoning his shirt. How would they know what kind of wine or brandy he liked? Barb must have arranged for additional niceties, that was the most logical explanation. He finished buttoning his shirt, decided to forego his tie and instead pulled on a sweater, selected a scarf, grabbed his coat and briefcase, and left his room.
He checked his watch as he headed for the stairs. It was nearly nine in the morning. He hadn’t been this late getting up on a weekday since his party nights at college. He was greeted with smiles and well wishes by both employees and guests as he walked down the stairs.
“Good morning, Mr. Brown,” said a woman at the reception desk with a sweet smile. “My name is Della. I see you’re all checked in. Would you like to keep the company credit card on file?”
“It’s nice to meet you, Della. Yes please. I would appreciate it if you could email my assistant Barb the bill. Barb will take care of everything.”
“Certainly. If there is anything you need to make your stay comfortable, please let me know.” Della smiled at him once again.
“Thank you, Della,” Owen replied with a slight nod.
The main living room was large and cozy, and it flowed freely into the dining room. Gigantic bay windows lined the wall of the sitting area. Owen located a table on the far wall of the dining room, which was also lined with bay windows and a pair of French doors that opened onto a spacious slate patio. The large back yard appeared well groomed. Evergreen trees surrounded the yard on three sides and continued for as far as he was able to see.
The waitress greeted Owen by name and delivered a steaming mug of coffee, cream, and sugar to his table. Owen gave her his order and took a long sip on his coffee. He sat and soaked up his surroundings. Yes, the café was busy, but not in a hurried or harried kind of way. There were some families with children, even so they weren’t screaming or running around the café. This place seemed almost soothing. Cello and piano music played softly in the background. And before he knew it, his breakfast was placed in front of him, prepared exactly as he’d ordered, with the addition of a cinnamon bun.
“The chef thought you might like to try his fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon bun. He says it’s a family recipe,” the waitress said. “Please let me know if anything is not to your liking, Mr. Brown.” She refilled his coffee and melted away.
Owen opened his laptop to read the mornings news and enjoyed his breakfast.
“More coffee?” his waitress asked as she came by to clean off his table.
“Yes, please,” Owen replied. “And please tell the chef that breakfast was the best I’ve had in years. And the cinnamon roll was divine.”
“He’ll be pleased.”
He noticed that Gina was nowhere to be seen. He’d enjoyed talking with her last night and had hoped she would be here this morning. He glanced around. Maybe he’d missed seeing her. He would sit for a little longer and see if she showed up. His phone vibrated.
“Good morning, Barb. How is everything today?”
“My, don’t you sound chipper,” Barb said. “Is Mistletoe Lodge to your liking?”
“It’s much more than I hoped. The people are friendly, the food is excellent, and my room is very nice. Thank you for having them put the wine, water, and brandy in my room, I appreciate it.”
“I didn’t make arrangements for those things.”
“Then how would they know?”
“I have no idea. I spoke with the manager; I believe her name was Gina. We chatted for a bit; she was very friendly. At one point we were talking about food. Maybe I told her.”
Owen smiled. Gina seemed to be a very astute woman.
“Did you sleep okay?” Barb asked.
“Like a rock. I didn’t wake up until eight.”
“That’s not like you. You rarely sleep well when you’re out of town.” Barb cleared her throat. “I just wanted you to know, I’ve already heard from Rose this morning,” she continued.
“And?”
“She wanted to know when you’d be arriving. I fibbed a bit, because I didn’t want her trying to track you down. I told her you wouldn’t be in town until somewhere around noon.”
“Bless you,” he said.
“You’re welcome. Everything here is running smoothly. I’ll be sure to have my phone in case you need anything today. Have a good day, Owen.”
Owen gathered his things and headed out. A layer of sparkling snow lay over the ground like a fluffy white down comforter. He walked out to his rental car and pulled out of the parking area heading for the main road. It’d been nearly three years since he’d spent more than a half a day at his childhood home with his mom, but first he was going to take a drive around Glenville and see what had changed.
Gina had told him that Juliet’s husband, Colton Weatherly, had purchased the ski resort and was in the process of doing major upgrades. She said Colton had also purchased the acreage that ran on both sides down the easement of the road to the resort and had already built a few guest cabins. The project sounded interesting and he wanted to make the time to go meet the man with big dreams.
As Owen headed into town, he passed his childhood doctor’s office. Rose had told him the doc had finally left town, and a new doctor had purchased the neoclassical mansion where he now practiced. The parking lot was full. The place looked better than the last time he’d seen it. The new sign at the end of the driveway read: Dr. Mason Weatherly. That was no coincidence. This Weatherly and Juliet’s husband had to be related.
He continued driving through town. The place was busy, well kept, and all the stores were open and appeared to be doing business. Juliet was a hometown girl. He knew her family by name, but he and Juliet had
never crossed paths. He remembered someone telling him that she had left town for college in California and hadn’t returned after she finished. He wasn’t surprised. Anyone with any ambition had left the little nowhere town of Glenville to start a life. Seemed Juliet might be the exception to the rule by returning home. Was she also the reason the town was thriving?
The bell on the old town center memorial tower started to ring out the familiar sound of twelve strikes. He couldn’t put it off any longer. Owen turned at the next corner and headed for the house where he grew up.
Owen stood at the door. He’d grown up in this house, but it never felt like home. He reached out for the door handle and hesitated. He released it and rang the bell.
“Welcome, Owen! Glad to have you home,” the maid said as she opened the door.
“Thank you, Betty,” he said. She reached for him and hugged him. Betty’s hair had turned gray, although her eyes still twinkled with warmth. She’d been the one constant in Owen’s life. Betty loved his family and had freely expressed it. It was good to see her still at the house. She’d been with his family for the last twenty-two years.
“Your mother is in the library. Rose should be down soon.”
“How is mother?”
“She has her good days and her bad days. More bad since the loss of your father.”
“And Rose?”
“Rose is Rose,” Betty said, rolling her eyes. Owen chuckled and patted her on the shoulder.
“You’re a saint, Betty.”
He walked into the library. Nothing had changed. Four years after his father’s death, everything remained where he’d left it. His father’s favorite chair was still in the corner of the room, his side table still held his father’s ashtray and pipe. A book, curled from reading one-handed, still perched on the chair. Owen was certain his mother’s rapidly declining health was worsened by her need to remain in the past.
His mother sat in front of the huge bay windows and gazed out at her glass hothouse. Her favorite place, she used to spend hours there with her orchids. Owen walked over to her and laid his hand on her shoulder.
“Hello, Mother. How are you feeling?”
She looked up at him and blinked rapidly.
“Alfred, you said you’d be joining your friends at the club for lunch. I have nothing prepared.” She blinked again as she broke eye contact and her gazed darted around the room.
“Mother, it’s me, Owen.”
She studied him and he could swear he saw the very instant she realized her Alfred wasn’t here.
“Owen. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Mother, we talked about this last night and again this morning,” Rose interjected as she swept into the library. “See what I mean?” she asked him. “She’s been experiencing more of these episodes over the last few weeks.”
“I’m fine, Rose. Stop fretting over me,” their mother snapped.
They spent the next hour in the hothouse. Owen pushed his mother around in a wheelchair that was new since his last visit. He and Rose had spoken about it and agreed with her doctor’s recommendation; it was safer for her, as she had fallen a couple times.
Betty joined them in the hothouse. “Mrs. Brock, it’s time for you to come inside and rest,” she said. “You’ve been out here enjoying this wonderful day for a long time now. But if you don’t rest, you won’t want to come down for dinner.” Betty smiled sadly at Owen and wheeled their mother away.
“We need to talk,” Rose said.
“That’s why I came, Rose. To talk.”
“The doctor came by yesterday. He feels the time has come to put Mother in a home where she can be cared for.”
“Is that what he feels is best for her?”
“He does. Mother has left the house twice in the last few days,” Rose said. “She doesn’t get very far, but we’re all worried one of these times she will fall down the front steps or get mugged.”
“Mugged? In Glenville?” Owen smirked at Rose.
“It could happen,” she answered in an exasperated tone.
“When was the last mugging in Glenville?”
Rose’s neck and face flushed red. “It’s also possible she could get lost; her memory is failing.”
“If that’s our next move, I’ll go to her attorney tomorrow and work out the details,” Owen said. “My guardianship of Mother should make the transition run smoothly. If Mother needs to go to a retirement home, I want to add a decent severance package for Betty in addition to her retirement.” It was apparent to him that Rose had no concern for their childhood nanny. They wandered out to the main living room. “I suppose you’ll be returning to Charleston.”
“I’m not sure I’m going back,” Rose said. “I’ve met someone here. He caught me entirely by surprise.” Owen wasn’t going to comment. Rose’s track record with men was spotty at best. At least she had managed to come away with a good settlement when she divorced her most recent husband.
“What about your house and your social responsibilities you kept telling me about? And I told you time and again to go back to Charleston. Are you saying that now you don’t want to? Betty had everything under control and I’d already planned to bring in a nurse.” Owen stopped and thought about what he just said. “In fact, I’m going to contact Mother’s doctor tomorrow and suggest that very thing.”
“No, Owen,” Rose abruptly cut him off. “It’s not safe for her here.”
“And a nursing home is better?” He would be speaking to everyone involved in the next couple days no matter what Rose said. “Father wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“Father isn’t here!”
“Precisely. And he left Mother’s care in my hands,” Owen reminded Rose. Lately he had to do this quite often. “I need to look at Mother’s current situation from all angles. If I conclude that it’s in Mother’s best interest to put her in a nursing home, then per father’s instruction, we’ll be putting the house on the market.”
“I’m staying here, Owen.”
“Yes, you already informed me.”
“In this house. I’m living here,” Rose put her hands on her hips.
“That’s not what is specified in the will.” Owen began to think there was more to all this than Rose was saying.
“My plans have changed. I have found someone and I’m staying in Glenville and living here.” Rose crossed her arms and glared at him.
“Fine. It doesn’t matter to me who buys this house.”
“I’m not buying my family home!”
“You most certainly are. That’s what Dad wants. He wants us to split the proceeds.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
“What are you saying? You have a huge home in Charleston. You get spousal support from two of your ex-husbands. We can work out a fair rent until you sell your house. Then you can pay me your half.”
“I don’t want to sell my house. I may want to go back to Charleston occasionally.” Rose pouted.
“Then rent a condo.”
“We can talk about that later.” She always did this when she didn’t want him finding out what she was really up to. “We need to talk about something important. Something Mother keeps fretting about.”
“What’s more important than where she lives out the rest of her life?”
“There’s a place that’s been in the local news lately. It’s an old mansion that used to be a tavern.” Rose poured them both a drink, handed one to Owen and sat in a chair across from him. “The owner died and has no heirs. His will states that the real owner of the place is the person he is leaving the property to.”
Owen sipped his drink and watched his sister. “Why would this concern mother? Is she fretting over it during her spells?”
“No. She’s been quite lucid when we’ve discussed it.”
“Just because she’s discussing it doesn’t mean it’s important.”
“Don’t play word games with me, Owen Brock.” Rose scoffed. “Just because you’re a big shot
attorney, doesn’t mean you’re smarter than me.”
“Knock it off, Rose. I’m just trying to figure this out. First you tell me she’s been upset and fretting. Now you say you’ve discussed it rationally.” He lifted his hand to stop her from starting a rant. “Give me the details. Where’s the place?”
“It’s right outside of town. I can give you the address.” Rose picked up a slip of paper from the table beside her and wrote down the address. “Mother claims that the property in question is really owned by us.”
Owen furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “That makes absolutely no sense. If there was another property here in town still owned by the Brocks, Father would have seen to it the title was free and clear.” He rubbed his hand over his forehead and through his hair. “And why would mother not mention it until now?”
“I think she forgot about it until she saw it on the news.”
Owen sighed quietly at Rose’s wheedling tone. He hated it when she tried to play the helpless damsel. It didn’t work when they were children and it sure as heck wasn’t going to work now. Darn it, he felt a headache coming on.
“Excuse me,” said Betty as she walked into the living room. “Your mother is sound asleep, and I think it’s best to let her be. She’s had a full day. What would the two of you like for dinner?”
“I don’t have much of an appetite,” Rose snapped, earning her a harsh look from Owen.
“I have to check in with my office and get a few things done,” Owen said. “I think I’ll be heading out now.”
He said his goodbyes and headed for his vehicle. Knowing his sister, there was way more going on here than she was letting on; he was going to get to the bottom of it.
7
Owen walked into the Mistletoe Lodge and was disappointed Gina wasn’t there to greet him. He headed up to his room, dropped off all his things, and headed back down to grab a quick bite.
“Good evening, Owen.”
Her greeting came out sweet as homespun honey. He looked over to see Gina putting up a picture.
