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

by Sabrina York

  “G’night, Mack. Sweet dreams.”

  Mack grunted, and trudged upstairs. He paused before Nat’s door, his hand raised, tempted to knock. No light seeped out from under the door—he figured she must be asleep already, no doubt wanting an early start in the morning.

  He turned away, entered his own room and shut the door behind him. He’d rise early, give himself one last chance to speak to her before she left. He showered quickly and went to bed, tossed and turned until the wee hours of the morning before falling into an exhausted sleep.

  December 25, 4:30 a.m.

  Natalie descended the stairs quietly, followed by Duke. She left her suitcase, one large bag, and her coat and purse at the door before heading into the kitchen. She found Beth pouring herself a big cup of coffee, a tray of cinnamon rolls beside her, ready for the oven. “How early does someone have to rise to make it into this kitchen before you?”

  Beth’s delighted laughter rang out. “I’ve been up for an hour already. Too excited to sleep, I guess—Merry Christmas, Natalie.”

  Nat approached the woman and gave her a big hug. “Merry Christmas, Ms. Beth, and I hope you have a wonderful New Year.”

  Beth returned the hug and stepped back, her left brow arched. “It will be. I feel change coming to Mistletoe Lodge, and to you also, dear.” She winked and raised the mug of coffee. “Are you ready for a cup?”

  Natalie sucked in her breath. “Can I get one to go?”

  Beth frowned. “Where are you headed this early?”

  “I’m going back to Biloxi. My friend needs me, and I have some things to think about. But I’ll be in touch with you, I promise.”

  Tight-lipped, Beth pulled a to-go coffee cup from a packet in the cabinet. She filled it and set it before Natalie. “There you go, Nat. I’m about to put these cinnamon rolls in the oven if you want to stick around for a couple.”

  Natalie stirred cream and sugar into her coffee and snapped the lid on. “It’s tempting, but no. I want to get on the road—there may be delays.”

  Beth handed her a cardboard goodie box full of cookies and candies. “These are for your trip. I’ll reimburse your friend’s credit card for the early departure.”

  “Of course I want the goodies, but the reimbursement isn’t necessary.”

  “It most certainly is. You helped us spend Christmas Eve with our family. We are so grateful to you.”

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  Beth clasped her hands nervously. “Does Mack know you’re leaving this morning?”

  “I told him last night I’d be leaving this morning.”

  “Not this early, though …”

  “No ma’am. Not this early.”

  Beth studied her for several moments before raising her hands in the air. “I guess you know what you’re doing, dear. Be careful on the road, you hear? Have a safe trip.”

  Natalie smiled, gave her one last hug before heading for the door, shadowed by the dog. “Do you want me to let Duke out?”

  Beth followed her to the door. “No. He’d probably follow you to Biloxi.”

  Nat knelt and hugged the animal’s neck. “I’ll see you again, Duke. I promise.” She grabbed her bags and headed out the door, struggled not to look back.

  After pulling out of the driveway, Nat paused on the side road to stare at the snow figures behind the lodge. She’d transformed the lone snow man into a couple by making a snow ‘wife’ for him the previous evening. Someone else had transformed the couple into a family by adding two smaller snow ‘children’, and what could only be construed as the family snow-dog, wearing a red bandana around its neck. Only Mack would have done something like that. She wiped a tear from her face.

  Determined to stay focused, she removed her foot from the brake and drove off, sending one last glance at the snow family in her rearview mirror.

  Mack opened his eyes to bright sunlight streaming through the curtains. He checked his watch, swung his legs out of the bed and stood. How had he slept until 7:30? He dressed quickly and approached the door, screeched to a halt when he saw a slip of folded paper with his name on it lying on the floor. He picked it up and opened it.

  Mack,

  Don’t be angry. I’m terrible at goodbyes, but so grateful we met.

  If those forces of nature you talked about find a way—well, you just

  never know what fate has in store for us. Merry Christmas!

  XXOO Natalie

  His phone rang, and he reached for it, frantically hoping it would be Natalie calling. Ridiculous notion, since she didn’t even have his number. The word MOM flashed across the screen. What should he tell her? I met this lady, Mom. She’s amazing and I’d love to get to know her better…even if it takes the rest of my life. He pushed the button, brought the phone to his ear. “Merry Christmas, Mom. Is everything okay? It’s two-thirty in the morning, there.”

  “Merry Christmas, son! I woke up and realized I wouldn’t see you today. It’s beautiful, here, and I am having a blast, but I do miss you.”

  “I miss you too. How’s cousin Margaret doing?”

  “She’s wonderful. I’m so glad she’s here with me. Did I tell you she fell, fully dressed, into the hotel pool yesterday?”

  Mack chuckled. “I assume she wasn’t hurt.”

  “No, but it sure made for an interesting afternoon. A hunky Hawaiian man named Kanoa helped her out.”

  “She needed help? Can’t she swim?”

  “I think she was laughing too hard to climb out—but wait—I haven’t told you the best part.”

  He stepped toward the window, raised his blind, craning his neck to check the driveway. No sign of Nat’s car. “It gets better?”

  “You’ll never guess Kanoa’s last name.”

  He turned away from the window, covered his eyes with his free hand. “Tell me.”

  “Momoa—his name is Kanoa Momoa.”

  “Ahh … Really?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  He waited until her giggles settled into quiet snorts.

  The line grew quiet suddenly. “Mack?”

  “I’m here.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I met…” He paused, swallowed the confession. “I’ve met some wonderful people here, Mom. People who know you, and…it snowed, can you believe it?”

  “Yes, Margaret and I went to school with Beth, and I heard all about the snow. Margaret’s on one of the social media sites and she showed me videos and pictures of the snowfall around there. My poor boy, you went down there to get away from it. Wasn’t that a piece of rotten luck?”

  He turned back toward the window, looked down on the snow family. “It wasn’t so bad.”

  The instant his mom disconnected, he collapsed on his chair, staring into space. He called the airline, tried to get an earlier flight out, with no luck. Flights at all major airports were backed up for days due to weather conditions and cancelled flights took priority. Mack headed downstairs, his heart heavy, aching with disappointment, and anxious for this day, this week—this entire year to end.

  The Brunson’s family members finally made it in, transforming the quiet lodge into a bustling hub of holiday activity. After meeting two of their children, three in-laws, and six grandchildren between the ages of four to nineteen, Mack decided the airline had done him a favor. The little ones were impressed with his and Nat’s snow family, and added several more members, accessorizing them accordingly.

  The day ended with him feeling grateful to the Brunson’s boisterous family for filling, at least partially, the void Natalie’s abrupt departure had left in him.

  December 26th

  After a fitful night of sleep, Mack entered the kitchen late that morning, walking in during a serious discussion between the Brunson’s and their two present children. He poured a cup of their strong coffee, grabbed a buttery croissant, and left the room immediately. He’d overheard enough of the conversation to know that someone had made an extremely generous offer on the lodge.r />
  Mack finished off his croissant alone in the dining room and sipped his coffee. He stared out at the oak trees in the yard, the melting ice and snow on its branches falling like rain to the ground below. The local weather reports predicted temperatures to warm up to high-forties by noon, with an abundance of sunshine. The south had experienced the rarity of a white Christmas, but its New Year’s would be typically mild.

  Drew appeared several minutes later with a carafe of coffee to freshen his cup and a plate filled with Mack’s usual breakfast choice, bacon and eggs over easy. He placed the plate in front of Mack. “Mind if I sit?”

  “Not at all, I’d like the company.”

  Drew settled himself and sent him a soul-searching look. “I guess you heard enough of the conversation to know we’ve got a buyer for the place.”

  Mack sipped his coffee and put down the mug. “Kinda difficult not to.”

  Drew chuckled. “Not like it’s a secret or anything. Beth and I wanted to reaffirm that none of the kids had changed their minds and decided to keep it in the family. Looks like the place will have a new owner by New Year’s Day.”

  “That soon?”

  “Yep—the offer was too generous to pass up.” Drew sat back in his chair, rested his clasped hands on his belly. “I sense you’re ready for a change, Mack. Am I reading you right?”

  Mack let his fork drop to the plate, swiped one hand over his face. He struggled several seconds before coming up with the right answer. “I feel—I think—” He exhaled on an exhausted sigh. “The thought of going back to Minnesota permanently makes me crazy.”

  Drew grinned, gave his head a slow nod. “You’re a southerner at heart, you know. It must be that fine Cajun blood flowing through your veins. The buyer needs help. Would you be interested in taking care of the day to day running of the lodge so the new owner can tend to the guests?”

  “You mean a maintenance man?”

  Drew cocked his head, his eyes squinted in thought. “I’m sensing more like an assistant. Heck, before it’s all over with you could even be a co-owner or partner in this place if you’re willing.”

  Mack scratched his chin. Natalie’s departure had thrown him off and he hadn’t shaved since Christmas Eve morning. A line from her farewell note played over in his mind—If those forces of nature you talked about find a way—well, you just never know what fate has in store for us.

  Biloxi was just shy of three hundred miles from the lodge. He knew this for a fact—had somehow resisted renting a car and following her over there like a lovesick teenager. Three hundred miles was a darn sight better than fifteen hundred. Maybe this was fate giving him the slightest of edges. Hope expanded in his chest until a single thought formed, deflating it like a sharp object to a child’s balloon.

  Mom needs me around. I’m all she has.

  Drew seemed to sense his dilemma, reached out to place a hand on his arm. “No pressure, Mack. Just think about your options.” He got up from the table, rubbed the shoulder he’d been complaining about for the last two days. “Talk to your mom. You never know.”

  Mack finished his breakfast alone, went out on the front porch to call his mom, his stomach churning like a disturbed nest of bumblebees. She answered after several rings, her tone a mixture of sleepiness and concern.

  “What’s wrong, son?”

  He looked at his watch, consumed with regret. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I completely forgot it’s just 4:00 a.m. there. I’ll call back later.”

  “You wouldn’t have called unless it was important. What’s up?”

  “Are you happy living in Minnesota, Mom?” Her silence had him wondering if they’d been disconnected. “Mom?”

  “I’m still here.”

  “Tell me the truth. Are you?”

  “Truthfully? I’ve been over Minnesota winters for years, son.”

  “You’ve never complained.”

  “You are my only child! I’m happy being wherever you are. I want grandchildren someday, and I want real hugs, not virtual ones from skype or facetime or whatever. It doesn’t matter to me if it’s in Alaska or Borneo. Now what’s going on?”

  “If I’m offered an opportunity to work and relocate here in Louisiana, what would you say to that?”

  Her light-hearted laughter rang out over the phone. “I’d say get those wheels moving. I can name six couples who are ready and willing to buy my place. Isn’t the lease on your condo almost up?”

  “It is,” he admitted. “I’m a little surprised at your compliance to a move like this.”

  “I’m a southern girl at heart, Mack. Spending time with Margaret, hearing everything that’s been happening with my family and friends back in Louisiana …” She paused. “I want to go home.”

  He dropped his head back on the porch rocker, eyes closed, and dizzy with a sudden rush of euphoria.

  “Son?”

  He swallowed several times, waited until he could speak without his voice cracking. “Mom . . .”

  “Yes, Mack?”

  “When you make it back to Minnesota, start packing up. You’re coming home.”

  10

  December 31st - New Year’s Eve

  Mack watched the two-man team setting up the fireworks display across the pond, more than ready for the evening’s festivities to begin. Delighted with his decision to ‘assist’ the new owner, Drew had given him a phone number. He’d called, left a voice message saying he’d be willing to take care of the day to day maintenance of the lodge—for a competitive salary, of course. He had plenty of savings, and this would do until he found something more to his tastes, if that ever happened. He’d resigned his position with the construction company he worked for and cancelled his flight to Minnesota. He planned to fly back a week or two after New Year’s, depending on how well he and his new employer meshed. Mack felt more at home with every day spent at Mistletoe Lodge.

  He’d been in communication with the new buyers, one CMB, Inc., several times since then—first, through a series of text messages, then emails with proper professional letterheads. After being offered a satisfactory employment package, he’d signed on with the corporation, agreeing to give them a minimum of six months.

  Anxious to finally meet the face of CMB, Inc., Mack approached Drew as the older man kept watch over the driveway. “Are you that ready to be rid of this place, Drew?”

  Drew faced him, jabbing a thumb over his right shoulder. “Beth and I are anxious to begin the maiden voyage in our new motor home tomorrow morning.”

  Mack looked beyond Drew at the forty-foot RV parked on one side of the lodge. “Aren’t you worried you’ll get on each other’s nerves in those tight quarters?”

  Drew’s gaze landed on his wife, who stood on the patio entertaining a group of guests. “Close quarters aren’t a hardship with the right partner. You’ll see what I’m talking about one day.”

  Mack’s chest tightened—ached with loss as images of Nat materialized in his mind. He began and ended each day with prayers that this change would somehow bring them closer, both physically and emotionally.

  “Besides,” Drew interjected. “We’ve got plenty of room in that thing. I would’ve been satisfied with something half that size. I only need two things to be happy. One is a bathroom with a stand-up shower and a sit-down throne. The second is a soft bed that’s big enough so I can sleep next to my wife.” He winked at Mack. “But my queen deserves to live like royalty, so we bought a castle on wheels.”

  “It’s a nice one, for sure. Any plans for if or when you two get tired of the nomadic lifestyle?”

  “I doubt that’ll happen for a while. I’ve got crates full of carvings and plan to do more to pass my time. Figured I could sell them at markets along the way to wherever we want to go. My daughter-in-law designed these for me.” He pulled a brochure with a business card attached to it from his pocket.

  Mack examined the materials full of images and info. “It’s professional and effective. Your carvings will be easy to sell. Can I
keep this one?”

  Drew nodded. “If that gets old, we’ll sell the RV—find a retirement home for seniors in Texas, closer to our grandkids.”

  Mack slipped the brochure into his pocket. “Sounds like a plan, buddy. Meanwhile, when can we expect the arrival of this corporate head of CMB?”

  “Anytime now.” Drew craned his neck to look behind Mack. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s the new owner, right there.”

  Mack tracked Drew’s gaze to a maroon late model Ford Explorer, watched as Duke shot off the porch like an excited pup and ran to the vehicle.

  Drew’s laughter rang out. “Yep, that’s her, all right! Look at old Duke, sucking up—he already knows which side of his bread is buttered.”

  Mack stared at the darkened profile in the vehicle. Her? CMB, Inc. was a woman? Not that there was anything wrong with that, he just hadn’t expected one way or another.

  Drew pushed him toward the Explorer. “Well, go on. You’re the one who’ll be working with her—may as well get the introductions out of the way now.”

  Mack headed towards the parking lot, glancing back as the crazy old coot broke out into another round of chuckling. He shook his head and kept walking towards the vehicle. He rounded the front, saw a woman bending over Duke and ruffling the dog’s furry neck. Obviously a dog lover, she cooed softly to the animal, speaking in low, soothing tones. The hood of her lightweight jacket had fallen forward, obscuring her head and face from him.

  “Hello, I’m Mack Henry, and I believe we’ll be working closely together here at Southern Lights Mistletoe Lodge.”

  She stood, pushed the hood back from her auburn hair and faced him. “Hello again, Mack. I’m Natalie Bradford, the owner and operator of CMB, Incorporated.”

  Mack froze, too stunned to take another step. “Nat . . .”

  She laughed, clearly thrilled at his shock. “I can’t believe Beth and Drew pulled it off. I asked them to keep it to themselves until I made it back down here.”