Christmas at Mistletoe Lodge: New Holiday Romances to Benefit St. Jude Hospital

by Sabrina York

  She chuckled without looking up at Mack. “I was talking to the dog. I don’t know you well enough to make that call.” For several seconds she wished she did—wanted to get to know him well enough to decide for herself. He lives in Minnesota. That translated to nada…zilch…zero benefit in pursuing any kind of relationship with the man. She couldn’t abide two things—long distance relationships and prolonged stretches of extreme cold. Wouldn’t you know the first man to catch her interest since she lost Craig was a walking poster child for the impossible.

  “Look what I found lying around on the ground!”

  Natalie looked up as Beth approached the group holding a cluster of dark green foliage. “What is that?”

  Drew stood and reached for his wife’s prize. “That is the culprit that gave this place one half of its name. You’ve seen our view of the sky—our own Southern Lights. This is a small portion of the mistletoe that grows in the oaks around here.” He took the cluster from Beth and held it over his wife’s head, then leaned in to give her a quick kiss. A spattering of applause had Beth covering her face. Drew winked at Mack. “See? I told you, everything has its place in this world—even a parasite like mistletoe.”

  By 11:00 p.m. the crowd had thinned out to a few stragglers. Natalie entered the lodge and immediately took the stairs to her room. She paused at her door when Mack called out from down the hall.

  “I have a little souvenir for you.” He approached, holding a small cluster of mistletoe with a bright red ribbon tied to the stem for hanging. “Ms. Beth said to make sure you got this.”

  “Cool.” She reached for it, but he pulled it away.

  “Not so fast. She insists they have a strict tradition about the transference of mistletoe around here.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She stood waiting, hands on her hips. “This should be good.”

  He nodded and held the beribboned cluster over his own head. “Tradition demands that whoever takes it off my hands has to give me a kiss or they’ll have bad luck for a week.”

  “Is that right?”

  “That’s the word.”

  “Well, I surely don’t need a week’s worth of bad luck.” Natalie stepped forward and faced him before standing on her tippy toes. “Close your eyes.” He did, and she kissed him on his left cheek, before reaching up to grab the mistletoe out of his hands. “Thanks!” She spun quickly on her heels and entered her room. “Goodnight, Mack. See you tomorrow.” Closing the door on his astonished face, she giggled at his mild grumbling from the hallway.

  “You don’t play fair, lady,” he called out from the hallway. “But have a good night anyway.”

  “You too,” she countered. Nat leaned against her door until she heard his door open and shut. Smiling, she studied the leafy green cluster before placing it on her nightstand. The smile remained through her hot shower, and long after she’d snuggled under the flannel sheets and thick comforter on her soft bed.

  4

  December 22nd

  Beth turned, coffee carafe in hand, and smiled when Mack entered the otherwise empty dining room. “Good morning, Mack. You’re a little early but I’ll have the buffet laid out in ten minutes.”

  He returned her smile. “That’s fine. I’ll need to finish a cup before I eat, anyway.”

  She walked to the table nearest the large window overlooking the side yard, carafe in hand. “First in gets the best table in the house. Did you sleep well?”

  “Thanks.” Mack met her at the table, stretched his arms over his head and tried to smother a yawn. “I slept fine.” Liar. Truth be told, he’d slept fitfully, with thoughts of Natalie running through his mind. He’d lain awake for an hour, pondered the emotional connection he felt to the woman. It didn’t matter if they were eyeballs deep in a discussion or silently occupying the same space. Being around Nat came easier to him than it had after months of dating either of his two former fiancées.

  He thought about the encounter with Nat last night at the door to her room—had he gone too far with his little mistletoe stunt? Would she even want to spend time with him? He stared out the window at the rope swing descending from a large branch of the massive oak. It sat completely still with the absence of any kind of breeze.

  Beth lifted a coffee mug from the table’s place setting and filled it. “Do you have anything special planned for today?”

  “What’s the news on that cold front?”

  “It won’t make it here until later this evening. You’ve got the entire day to sight see while the weather permits. Drew and I were wondering if you’d ever seen the Gulf.”

  He lifted the mug to his nose and breathed in the rich aroma. “I haven’t. Is it far from here?”

  “An hour and some change, and you’ll get to see some Louisiana marshland along the way, maybe even an alligator or two sunning themselves. It’s something to think about, right?”

  “Minnesota has plenty of marshland but I’ve never seen an alligator in its natural habitat.” He sipped the hot coffee, closing his eyes as it slid down his throat. “Man, this is good stuff. Can I get it up in Wisconsin?”

  Beth shook her head. “Not this particular blend. It’s my secret.” The door opened and a group of four men entered the dining room. “I’ll be with you gentlemen in a minute. Go ahead and seat yourselves.”

  One man pulled out a chair at the table nearest the door and sat. “We’ll all take our usual orders, Beth.”

  “Sure thing, Kip.” Beth leaned over and winked at Mack. “My coffee’s been bringing in the regulars for ten years. These fellas are all local, could just as easily drink their own coffee from their own kitchens, yet they come here for breakfast and at least three mugs each. Part of what keeps this place in the black all year long.”

  He took another sip, knowing he’d never find anything this good off the grocery store shelves back home. “Could I talk you out of your secret?”

  “Nope. I decided way back when I created the blend that I’d only reveal it to the next owner of this place—it’s only fair.” She leaned in close. “I know Drew’s ready to sell, but I’ve been putting him off until the right person comes along.” She left him with a wink, approached the second table and filled the men’s four coffee mugs before disappearing into the kitchen.

  Mack nursed his coffee, contemplating her words until a feminine voice broke into his thoughts.

  “Care for some company?”

  Startled, he looked into Natalie’s smiling face. “Absolutely!” He stood to pull out the chair next to his, rather than across from him. To his delight, she took it without hesitation.

  Beth appeared like magic, again bearing the carafe and her usual bright smile. “Good morning, Natalie. Will you both be eating from the buffet, or would you like to try something from our breakfast menu this morning? I’m whipping up a batch of my French toast recipe for my regulars over there, if either of you would like to try it.”

  Natalie’s eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together. “Could I have powdered sugar sprinkled on mine?”

  Beth grinned and placed a hand on Natalie’s arm. “I’ll hook you up, honey.” She faced Mack. “How about it, Mack? Want to add French toast to your Louisiana experiences?”

  Mack swallowed his coffee and set down his mug. “I grew up eating my mom’s recipe but I’ll try yours for comparisons’ sake.” He watched Beth disappear into the kitchen again, faced Natalie when she spoke.

  “The Minnesota version of French toast may differ a little from the southern version. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

  He grinned at her, decided to divulge a little info about his heritage. “I haven’t mentioned this yet, but my mom is actually from this area of Louisiana. She was a Landry before she married my dad. I read the other day that Landry is the second most common Cajun name in Louisiana.”

  Her eyes wide with surprise, she sat back in her chair. “I never would have guessed you had roots here. So, if Landry is the second most common, what’s the first?”

  �
�It’s pronounced A-bear, but spelled H-E-B-E-R-T.”

  Natalie poured a little creamer in her coffee and added a spoonful of sugar. “I’m familiar with the name and I don’t doubt that. My best friend married an Hebert from the Lafayette area. We do lunch or a movie at least once a month and she’s always saying how the families pack the rental hall for their reunions.” She stirred her coffee. “So, is that why you decided to come down to Louisiana for the holidays—to get in touch with your Cajun roots? And how about your mom—did she come too?”

  “I came alone. My mom won an all-inclusive trip for two to Hawaii through a local radio station. She and her first cousin, Margaret, grew up more like sisters than cousins. That’s who she took with her to Hawaii. They met up in California and flew together from there.”

  Natalie grinned at him. “Did she ask you first to go with her?”

  He nodded. “And as much as I love my mom, I had no desire to spend two solid weeks with her. Cousin Margaret was her next choice. When mom told Margaret that I wanted to come south to get out of the snow for a while, she suggested I look up this place.” He looked up as Beth approached with two platters of French toast. “I think you and my mom’s cousin Margaret went to school together didn’t you, Ms. Beth?”

  Beth placed one platter on the table and paused. “There were a couple of Margaret’s in my class…which one?”

  Mack tore his attention away from the platter of delectable delights before him to meet her curious gaze. “Margaret is a Miller now, but was a Suire. My mom was Marie Landry.”

  Her eyes widened in a moment of clarity. “Marie Landry’s boy!” She slapped her free hand over her chest. “I can’t believe it! Why didn’t you say something before?”

  He shrugged. “Would it have made a difference? I can’t imagine you treating me any better than you already have.”

  She placed a hand on his wrist and smiled. “That’s sweet of you to say.” She pointed to the second table full of men. “Let me get this to those guys and I’ll be back.”

  Natalie forked two slices of French toast onto her plate, leaned over and closed her eyes to breathe it in. “Mm, smell that vanilla and cinnamon…looks just like my grandma’s.” She cut a tiny piece and popped it into her mouth, groaning in appreciation. “Delicious!” She waited until she’d finished a bigger bite before commenting. “It’s a small world, huh?”

  “It’s not like it’s a coincidence, since Margaret is the one who suggested this place.” He looked up as Beth approached their table again.

  “Now that I know you’re Marie’s boy, I’m wondering why I didn’t see it before. You favor her.” Beth’s eyes softened as she smiled. “It makes perfect sense now—it’s why you fit in here so well.”

  “Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “That’s how I meant it.” She pointed at his plate. “That should taste just like your mom’s. Your grandmother taught us how to make it. The three of us were inseparable all during junior high and high school.”

  He sliced off a piece and speared it with his fork to pop it into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed before speaking again. “It’s exactly like my mom’s. And it’s got the perfect amount of crisp to it. Do you use a black iron frying pan?”

  She nodded. “Your grandmother insisted it was the only way to make proper French toast.” She sat back and perused the two of them. “You know, Natalie—Mack here was telling me earlier that he’s never seen the Gulf of Mexico. Maybe the two of you could take a ride down to the beach. Hurricane Rita turned that entire coastal area of Cameron Parish into a blank canvas back in 2005—so many homes and business destroyed. It’s made a huge comeback.”

  Natalie used a napkin to wipe her mouth. “Rita did as much damage here as Katrina did in Biloxi. I grew up on the Gulf coast, and I’ve vacationed on beaches all along the Mississippi and Alabama coastline, as well as the Florida panhandle. I’ve never seen any of Louisiana’s beaches.” She opened her phone’s GPS. “We’re a little over an hour from the coast, so if we leave soon we can be back in time to watch some football.”

  The two of them dug into their meal, making plans for the rest of their day.

  Beth brought them more coffee and dropped off a brochure describing the Creole Nature Trail. “Whichever route you decide to take, make sure you travel via the Gibbstown Bridge over the Intracoastal Waterway at least once. I’ve always loved the view from there.”

  They thanked her and studied the brochure, heads bent in concentration, until Drew rapped his knuckles on the table to get their attention.

  “Beth tells me you’re headed down to the beach today. Y’all be careful and make sure you get back in plenty of time. They say that storm front’s going to be a real doozy.”

  Mack sat up straight in his chair. “Any suggestions on which route to take?”

  “I’d avoid the west end—too congested. Take 14 down to the Gibbstown Bridge and head south to Rutherford Beach. Enjoy the drive while you can. Five years from now, that end will be as congested as the other, thanks to the eastward expansion of Lake Charles. Besides, the beach looks the same on either end. It’s not like you’re going in for a dip. Unless …” His right brow arched comically. “Are either of you one of those crazy ice swimmers?”

  Nat grabbed the brochure and rose from the table. “Not me.”

  “Me neither,” Mack added before facing Natalie. “I guess we’ve decided on our route then. I’m ready when you are.”

  5

  Natalie and Mack took the route their hosts suggested and headed south on Highway 14. They passed several new subdivisions along the way, each one boasting large beautiful homes.

  Mack whistled through his teeth at the structures. “I doubt if the price tag for a single one of those is under a million bucks.”

  “So how does this area differ from where you live?”

  “Topography wise, you mean? Add six feet of snow covering everything in sight and it’d look pretty much the same. TRF’s terrain is every bit as flat as this.” He went into further explanation at Nat’s raised brow. “I live in a small city named Thief River Falls—Thief River or TRF for short.”

  “What an odd name. Do you know its origin?”

  “The short version is that before white man ever set foot there, a Sioux warrior murdered a member of the Chippewa tribe. The warrior hid out at the river for years, evaded capture even though surrounded by his enemy. He survived by stealing and pillaging. At some point, the Chippewa associated the river’s name with the Sioux thief’s presence and the English translation turned into Thief River.”

  “So, there’s a river somewhere in your city, right?”

  “Two, actually; the Thief River joins with the Red Lake River. There are thousands of lakes in Minnesota—”

  “The land of ten thousand lakes—”

  “That’s right. No mountains or beaches in northwest Minnesota, but we do have lots of river front property.”

  Natalie cocked her head to one side. “You’re in this same time zone as we are, right? Only we’re separated by, what is it, four states?”

  “Three from Louisiana—those being Iowa, Missouri, and Arkansas. Did I mention we’re only eighty miles from the Canadian border?”

  “I’ve never been to Canada, but it’s on my bucket list.” Nat adjusted the volume on the car’s radio. “I used to think I’d love living in the mountains. Then we spent Christmas at a lodge up in the mountains and every time I tried to drive anywhere, I got lost. Those mountain roads terrified me at night.” She waved her hands. “No thank you. I’ll stay down south.”

  “Have you ever been on a cruise?”

  Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “Only once, on our honeymoon, but poor Craig stayed sea-sick the first three days. We should have booked a bigger boat.”

  Mack told her about his trips to the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore—how he’d locked himself out of a South Dakota hotel room in his underwear. “I met up with an old woman on the way to the front desk
.” He groaned at the memory. “I can still see the look on her face—undressing me with her eyes.” He shivered. “She had to be closing in on eighty.”

  Natalie dissolved into laughter at his description. “Boxers or briefs?” she managed to snort.

  “Does it matter? I was completely covered …” He stopped mid-sentence when their car crested a large bridge. “This must be that Gibbstown Bridge the Brunson’s talked about. Look at all that marshland. She was right about the view.”

  Natalie agreed, her tone somewhat stiff. Matt glanced over, noticed her fingers curled tightly on the steering wheel. He waited until she’d reached the bottom of the bridge before commenting on her white-knuckled clench. “A buddy of mine back home has a phobia and can’t drive over bridges. You okay?”

  Natalie flexed her fingers. “My phobia is being surrounded by water in a vehicle. I’m not the strongest swimmer and dreamed once I was in a car that drove off the side of a roadway into a large body of water.” She gave her head a quick shake. “That dream was so vivid and terrifying. I’ve never been able to shake it. I figure it was God giving me a warning.” Her mouth twisted in a half smile. “Maybe it was indigestion, but ever since then it’s always at the back of my mind when I’m driving near water.”

  “I’d offer to take the wheel, but since it’s a rental…”

  She waved off his offer. “No, I’m fine. I refuse to let it control me, so I push myself to drive in situations like this.”

  He nodded, admiring her nerve. In all honesty, he admired a lot about the lady. He faced the roadway again, focused on something up ahead of them. “Is that what I think it is?”

  She chuckled and checked her rearview mirror before pulling over onto the grassy shoulder area between a canal and the roadway. Several yards ahead of them, an alligator sunned itself half on and half off of the roadway. “Is this your first alligator?”

  “In its natural habitat,” he admitted. “Look at that thing! He doesn’t seem threatened by us, does he?”