“Day after tomorrow. They’re here for only two nights. She explained that they had their own Christmas events to attend. I think the one that Ms. de Silva referred to as Toots is currently involved in a show of historic homes in Charleston. The other, uh . . . upscale guest, Myra Rutledge”—Marlene glanced at her notepad—“owns a candy company.”
Marlene looked at her notepad again. “Another woman is arriving to assist this Toots character. Her name is Sophia, and she’s somewhat of a celebrity herself. Some sort of psychic who has apparently saved the lives of kidnap victims. Ms. de Silva insisted that while they are here, their presence is to be kept absolutely secret. She said something about being on a mission with a group of vigilantes, saying that she and her friends were the vigilantes. I do not know what that means, but I think that’s how she put it. I’m not sure this is the kind of guest you want, but she did say that her name was Anna Ryland de Silva.” Marlene paused.
“Vigilantes? I don’t think so. The last thing the inn needs during the holidays is a bunch of thugs frightening our guests. So, you’d best tell them we’re all booked up,” Holly said absently.
“I take it that you don’t recognize that name,” Marlene said, her voice rising a notch.
Holly shook her head, her short brown hair bouncing. She looked up from her desk. “No, I don’t. Should I?”
Marlene dropped down in the chair across from Holly’s desk. “Anna Ryland de Silva, it just so happens, is the Countess de Silva. Not only that, but she is widely reputed to be one of the wealthiest people in the world. I believe Forbes lists her as the wealthiest woman. In the world, Holly. This year. Not only does she own a casino in Las Vegas, but she is also the owner of the Washington Post.”
Holly tossed her pen to the side and raked a hand through her cropped hair. “How is it that you know all this?”
“My position as your personal secretary dictates that I remain aware of who’s who in the world of wealth and celebrity. I don’t want to be caught with my . . . pants down, if you will.” Marlene smiled.
Holly rolled her eyes and laughed out loud. “No, I can’t see you in that position, either. So, you’re saying we should let these women spend two nights here? Nothing more?”
“Yes, but Ms. de Silva asked for the presidential suite, and the governor has already booked that for himself and his wife, and the entire third floor for the rest of his guests. I am a bit at odds over what I should do.”
“Who’s to say that the second floor doesn’t have a”—Holly made air quotes with her fingers—“presidential suite? We do have rooms that are virtually the same, except for the Jacuzzi in the master bath. Why don’t you put Ms. de Silva and her friends in rooms twenty-one-oh-three and twenty-one-oh-four? And just in case she needs more room, keep twenty-one-oh-five available until they arrive. Those three rooms combined will sleep a minimum of eighteen people quite comfortably, unless something has changed since I last looked in on them. Each room is virtually a three-bedroom apartment. With all the extras, I think this should satisfy Her Highness.”
“The countess,” Marlene said, correcting her.
“Of course,” Holly said, her brows rising slightly.
“Then I will call her back immediately and tell her we would be honored to have her and her friends as our guests.”
“Good. Now, I have to get the paperwork on Mr. Montgomery to the personnel office so we can get him on this month’s payroll. I’m taking it there myself. Text me if you need me.”
“Of course I will,” Marlene added before scurrying out the door. Holly laughed, because Marlene really did scurry when she was in a rush.
Fortunate to have her, Holly thought how blessed she was as she took the elevator to the basement floor, which housed the personnel office. She wanted to tell Nancy, their accountant, to make sure Mr. Montgomery’s salary wasn’t held back the usual two weeks. She was sure he was in need of a paycheck immediately but was most likely too prideful to reveal that. He didn’t even have a belt, for crying out loud! She’d save him the embarrassment. He would receive his first paycheck at the end of the week. Funny, she thought. She didn’t recall his asking what the salary would be. Well, there again, he might be too prideful to ask. Pride wasn’t always a good thing, she decided as she tapped on Nancy’s door.
After a cheery “Come in” from Nancy, Holly entered and placed Mr. Montgomery’s file on her desk. “I know this isn’t the usual way of doing things, but I’ve just hired a new assistant. You know that Ava had to go and get pregnant with twins. Not sure I’ll forgive her for dropping out during the Christmas season, but as you know, I was in the market for a new assistant. Well, I hired one today. I might be jumping to conclusions, but I think he’s somewhat pressed for money. I want to make sure that Mr. Montgomery is paid this week. Don’t prorate the salary, either.”
Nancy looked away from her computer, where she’d continued to click away as Holly explained her current needs. “Hmm. Mr. Montgomery? This is not like you. What’s the real story?”
Holly paced the small office. “I’m not sure. I just got the impression he needed a paycheck. He seemed overly nice and, well, a bit flirty. He is incredibly good-looking, too.”
Shit! Had she really just said that? Yes, she had.
“Okay, you’ve hired a sexy new assistant who needs money.” Nancy gave a female version of a wolf whistle. “So, other than being good-looking, what are his qualifications?”
“Do you really think I would hire someone based solely on his looks?” Holly asked, ticked off that Nancy would even think such a thing.
Nancy stood up and crossed the room to where Holly stood. “Hey, kiddo, I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I know you better than that.”
Holly nodded. “I thought so. How many years has it been now?”
“Your father hired me three days after I graduated from NC State. I really don’t want to put a number to the years, but I knew you before you started elementary school. So, if you really want a number . . . ?”
Holly held out her hand, palm forward. “No, no. I know. We don’t need to know these things. None of us are getting any younger, and before you ask, no, I am not dating anyone.”
Nancy almost always made a habit of asking her if there was anyone special in her life. And each time, she told her no. Since Michael, she hadn’t wanted anyone special in her life. She had good friends, her father, her grandfather, and her employees at the inn. And until earlier this year, her mother, of course. They were her life, and she was quite content.
“I’m not thinking about your lack of dates, kiddo. I’m bombarded with tax stuff for the New Year. So, you want this new guy’s salary to start ASAP. I can do that. Anything else?” Nancy asked.
“Thanks. I can’t think of anything, but if I do, I’ll let you know,” Holly tossed over her shoulder as she made her way to the door.
“Good thinking,” Nancy called out.
Holly waved, then stepped back into the elevator and punched L for the lobby. There were a few issues she needed to clear up with the front-desk manager, plus she wanted to see exactly how many extra rooms they would have, if any, should there be a need.
The elevator doors swished open at the main lobby, or the grand hall, as they referred to this giant span of space. Holly never tired of seeing the room, and certainly it was extra special when all decked out in its best holiday finery.
The oak floors were polished to a golden shine, and the floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace, made from rocks found on the property more than a hundred years ago, still took her breath away every time she saw it. Throughout the years, there had been many changes, new furniture in the suites, updates from general wear and tear, and her mother had added the Tranquility spa when Holly started high school. It was the most luxurious spa in Asheville, or so she was told by her guests. Massages, facials, and a mineral-spring pool were just a few of the spa’s amenities. Throughout the years, her family had continued to maintain the inn’s rustic yet luxurious atmo
sphere. If reservations were an indication of success, then they were the cream of the crop.
Holly took another minute to soak up the newly decorated grand hall. Fragrant evergreens had been placed atop the main fireplace mantel, with red and gold ribbons draped strategically throughout the greenery. The evergreens would be discreetly replaced weekly to keep the appearance, as well as the fragrance, fresh.
The grand hall took up the entire ground floor. At every turn, guests were greeted by a variety of Christmas trees. Fraser firs, blue spruce, and white pines were decorated in an assortment of themes exclusive to the inn. In the grand hall, the main tree, a twenty-foot-tall blue spruce, dominated the entrance. Miniature handcrafted replicas of the exterior and interior of the inn hung from the giant tree, along with mini-replicas of each of their suites, of which there were twenty different designs. Thousands of tiny lights made the tree appear golden. A golden tree, she thought. To this very day, the beauty of the inn in all its finery managed to take her breath away. She never tired of the festivities during the holidays, but this year was sure to be the saddest on record, since her mother wouldn’t be here to oversee them.
In the past, several of the employees’ children had sung Christmas carols in the grand hall nightly, beginning one week before Christmas, and this had been organized by her mother. She had had hot chocolate–making contests, cookie cutter–design days, and most of all, she had made the guests and the employees feel as though the inn was truly a magical place. It really is magical, Holly thought as she made her way to the front desk.
Yes, the inn was lit up as bright as the North Star this time of year. The only thing lacking was her mother, but in her heart, Holly knew she was with them in spirit. She spied their front-desk manager, Mr. Haynes, with a guest, and as always, he was smiling from ear to ear. He’d been working for her family when her grandfather was still at the helm. He had to be close to seventy-five, but one would never know that, as he kept himself in very good shape. It was said he ran ten miles before work, he never touched a piece of red meat, and sugar was his worst enemy.
“Mr. Haynes,” Holly said as she entered the suite of offices behind the main registration area.
“Why, Miss Holly, you look just as pretty as ever. What can I do for you today?” he asked in his soft formal voice.
She wanted to giggle but stopped herself. Mr. Haynes was always so formal. When she’d asked him to call her just by her given name, he’d said it was disrespectful. So to Mr. Haynes, she was Miss Holly, not plain old Holly, as most of the staff referred to her.
“I’ve just learned we’re having a group of”—she almost said, “Vigilantes,” but caught herself—“women, a countess and a few of her friends, as special guests. I’ve asked that rooms twenty-one-oh-three and twenty-one-oh-four be kept available. Also twenty-one-oh-five, in case there are more than expected. They’re due to arrive the day after tomorrow.”
Always the consummate professional, Mr. Haynes nodded, then said, “I will make sure each suite receives the royal welcome package.”
Holly laughed. “We are really having a royal guest, so of course, please do what you must. I’m sure the countess and her friends will be quite pleased with the accommodations.” She wasn’t sure of this at all, but Mr. Haynes didn’t need to know of her uncertainty.
“Should we contact Omar and let him know we’re welcoming royalty?” Mr. Haynes asked in his most proper way.
“Absolutely,” Holly said.
Omar was the head chef over all the restaurants at the inn. Guests could choose to eat at the Blue Sky, their most elegant dining choice; Vittles, where one could choose from a variety of locally grown foods prepared Southern-style; or Rustic, where beer and burgers were devoured heartily. Lastly, there was Chubs, a hip dining experience that catered to the younger set. Omar’s expertise did not allow for mistakes in any of the restaurants, not even this most casual of eateries.
Holly did enjoy the occasional meal at Chubs, which had actually been named after her. When guests asked about the origin of the name, most were delighted when they learned it was the nickname given to Holly by her grandfather. Apparently, she’d had very chubby cheeks as a little girl, so Pops had given her the name Chubs, and it had stuck. She had asked the older staff to stop calling her that when she’d taken over as manager, and had insisted that they just call her by her given name.
However, Pops, who had just recently relocated to the Haven, an upscale assisted-living community, had insisted that this latest dining alternative at the inn be named after his one and only granddaughter. Holly didn’t mind, though she felt that, at thirty-one, she’d outgrown the name. Hence, she’d asked the employees to call her Holly. And, of course, at this particular time of year, Holly was the perfect name to which to add all sorts of Christmas tags. “Holly Jolly,” “Holly Berry,” and “Holly Night” were just a few of the tags added to her name. It was all in fun, she knew, but she still wanted to maintain somewhat of a professional image for the guests and employees who didn’t know her as “Chubs.”
“I will make sure he prepares a fresh local dish upon their arrival,” Mr. Haynes said. As always, he stood perfectly erect, his hands carefully looped behind his back, as if at parade rest, while he awaited further instructions.
“I’m sure they will be delighted with whatever we have. We do have one of the South’s best chefs.” Holly smiled and gave Mr. Haynes a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. “I’ll keep you informed of their arrival, as well as that of the governor and his family.” Holly made air quotes when she said the word family.
Mr. Haynes smiled. “Yes, he does have quite a large . . . uh, crew. I have the presidential suite ready and, of course, the entire third floor, as requested.”
“If the governor has any last-minute arrangements, either Marlene or I will update you.”
The governor and his “crew” were notorious for making last-minute changes, and a few of his “family members” had become quite rowdy at last year’s gathering.
“As you wish, Miss Holly.”
She gave him a huge grin and went back to her office.
Chapter 5
“The countess’s Gulfstream just swooped down like a giant bird,” Marlene relayed to Holly. “Then the four of them piled out of that jet as if they were all royalty.”
Holly smiled. Marlene was always amazed by their guests’ modes of transport. The arrival of the countess had obviously made more of an impression on her than usual.
“I appreciate your driving the inn’s limo to pick them up. Sebastian and George had their hands full with the governor’s guests. They’re early, so we had to do a bit of rerouting. Plus, I know how much you love to drive that limo.”
Marlene grinned. “I do. I never cared that much for driving until your mother and I . . . well, that time Sebastian and George had one too many drinks while we were in Asheville, attending that meeting with the heads of the chamber of commerce. I had no choice but to drive. Your mother had left without her contacts and was as blind as a bat without them. No way was I going to allow her to take the wheel.”
Holly produced a halfhearted grin. “And thank goodness she didn’t. Mom was a terrible driver with her glasses on or contacts in.”
Marlene shook her head, dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, then threw her shoulders back as though she were standing at attention. “The ladies asked not to be disturbed this afternoon. They’re planning something, I know, but I didn’t have the courage to ask them about it. The countess, Annie—she insisted I call her that, though it felt terribly disrespectful—asked if we could send up sandwiches and coffee promptly at six o’clock.”
“And you’ve relayed this to Omar?” Holly asked as she thumbed through a pile of papers on her desk.
“Yes. He seemed very excited and said he would prepare the sandwiches himself.”
Holly looked up from her paperwork. “Really? Well, that’s a first. I thought sandwiches were beneath him.”
“Apparently, n
ot when they’re being served to a countess.”
A tap on her office door discouraged further conversation.
“Come in,” Holly said, once again directing her attention back to her paperwork.
Taking a deep breath, she knew, without bothering to look up, who had entered her office. Though he had been working at the inn for only two days, she already knew his scent. Of course, the cologne was a bit overpowering, in kind of a good way, though. Gawd! She didn’t dare ask what he wore, but would bet anything it was that Old Spice Pops and her father wore. And here she thought it an old man’s cologne. Not!
“Holly.”
She cleared her throat and met his clear blue gaze. Hearing that one word, her name, for crying out loud, and she could barely lift her voice above a whisper. She glanced around her desk for a bottle of water. Seeing none, she reached for that morning’s cup of cold coffee. She took a swig and began to cough as she peered into the cup and saw a ring of mold at the top of the brown liquid. Apparently, this particular cup had been on her desk way too long. Grabbing a wad of tissues from the box on the corner of her desk, she tried to discreetly spit out the brown muck.
She could feel two sets of eyes on her as she spat into the tissue. “Good grief, Marlene! How long has that cup of... never mind,” she rasped, and again, she had to clear her throat. “Gannon, what can I do for you?”
He smiled, and that damned dimple sent her squirming.
She spied Marlene out of the corner of her eye. “Marlene, I’d like a fresh bottle of spring water. And some mints. Now.” She glanced at her. “Please,” she added, knowing that if she didn’t, she would be in big trouble later.
“Of course, Ms. Simmons. Right away.” Marlene shot her a “We’ll talk about this later” look and hurried out of the office.
In her most professional voice, Holly said, “What can I do for you, Gannon?”
A Golden Tree Page 3
