"Just let it go, Ryan." She pulled her purse tighter against her body.
"You're mistaken. I'm the best thing for Echo Bay. And I'm following my dream, not Chad's. Since when do you give a damn about me, anyway?"
Her face contorted with pain and disbelief. She shook her head. "I have exciting, sound plans for Echo Bay, plans that will give my grandparents the comfortable, secure retirement they deserve."
"I have plans for Echo Bay, too, Tara. You want to farm the resort out to some faceless corporate hotel management company, no doubt. I love that place. I want to live there and run it in person. Treat guests special. Be a vital member of the community. Keep Harry's legacy alive. Whose plans do you think he's going to like better?"
She shrugged. "I'm his granddaughter. He knows I have Echo Bay's best interests at heart.
"My faceless, and you may as well add soulless, hotel management company has the expertise and experience to put Echo Bay Resort on the map and make sure it stays in business for years and years to come. That's what my grandparents want. They've already agreed to meet with them." After firing that salvo, she turned to leave and walk away.
"I'm not giving up on my dreams," he said to her back, stunned that Harry would agree to meet with a hotel management company and not tell him.
She paused, and spoke without turning to face him. "Suit yourself."
He kept his tone as calm as he could. "Tell everyone I'll be at the lodge around six to give the board-waxing clinic I promised."
She walked out, softly closing the door behind her.
He turned and banged his fist on the desk. No damn way he was giving up on what he'd always wanted. She couldn't order him around like an obedient bird dog. He'd have to convince Harry that Tara was wrong.
5
Tara couldn't believe how stubborn and deluded Ryan was.
It was his and Chad's crazy, immutable plans for running Echo Bay that had driven her and Ryan apart and gotten them into this predicament. Those same dreams were also at least partly to blame for Chad's death. The night Chad died she and Ryan had been fighting over Ryan's plan to live at the lodge after their wedding. They'd been fighting for weeks before, ever since Ryan laid down the law. He wouldn't even listen to her side.
He and Chad had a semester of college left. Tara and Ryan had set a date for a June wedding after Ryan's graduation. Tara was only a junior. She still had her senior year to go.
Ryan had decided they'd spend the summer after the wedding together at the lodge. Then Tara would head back to school for her final year while he remained at the lodge to help Chad learn the business and build up sweat equity to eventually buy it from Harry. After Tara graduated, she'd come live at the lodge with Ryan.
Things came to a head that Christmas Eve when Tara accused Ryan of loving Echo Bay more than he loved her. She wanted him to move to the university with her and find a job there until she graduated. And then she wanted to go out into the world, live in Seattle, live somewhere she could pursue her marketing career. With his degree in food science, Ryan could work practically anywhere. She promised him that after a few years, they'd reevaluate. Maybe then they'd move to Echo Bay.
In the here and now, Tara believed it was in Ryan's best interests to find another plan for his life. If she had the opportunity to sit on Santa's lap this year, she'd ask Santa to make Ryan see sense and give up his obsession with Echo Bay Resort.
Tara caught a glimpse of her reflection in a storefront window. She looked horrible—upset, harried, and worried. She needed something to warm her up. Or maybe cool her down. She couldn't decide which.
What she really longed for was a nice, hot cup of cocoa, a shoulder to cry on, and someone she could innocently pump for local gossip without being too obvious. Her stomach growled, reminding her to make up her mind.
She doubted anywhere here could come up with a frothed cup of hot chocolate as good as the coffee shops in Seattle served. Topped with heavy whipped cream and crumbled peppermint candy. The old-fashioned automatic cocoa machine at the lodge was fun and had been great when she was a kid. But it just wasn't cutting it any more. There were only two ways to go now—very modern machines or K-Cups like she made in her machine at home, or totally upscale frothed affairs.
She really needed comfort now, of both chocolate and friends. And probably a sandwich. As of last summer, the Mountain View Café had had an old hot chocolate machine the same vintage as the lodge's. Their hot chocolate wouldn't be as rich and tasty as Tara craved, but it would be homey and familiar. And her friend Laurel worked there with her husband, whose father owned the place. Tara just hoped she'd be on shift.
Unfortunately, Tara hated the café's perfect view of the mountain. It felt as if the Ghost of Christmas Past was haunting her, chasing her all over town. That stupid mountain rose large and majestic in the café's front picture windows. But there was nothing for it. The mountain couldn't scare her away from her comfort drink of choice.
As Tara approached the aptly named Mountain View Café she was struck by how shiny and upscale it looked on the outside. Since her last visit, the old brick building had been scrubbed and refinished so that the bricks looked new. The glass in the picture windows was modern triple-pane. The door not only had a fresh coat of paint, but was new, too. Last summer, Laurel had mentioned something about plans for giving the place a facelift. But Tara hadn't expected such a pleasant transformation. Don was a notorious cheapskate. Which is why Tara had expected nothing grander than a new coat of paint.
A fresh fir wreath decorated with bright red Christmas balls hung on the door and a bell jingled when she let herself in and looked around for Laurel or her father-in-law Don, who'd owned and run the place for as long as Tara had been alive.
Inside the café was another surprise. The Mountain View had been around since the forties. It had its heyday as a fifties soda fountain. Had fallen prey to the garish colors and wild patterns of the sixties and seventies and been dying a slow, sad decaying death since. At least, it had been the last time Tara had been in town.
Now it sparkled and hummed, the perfect picture of updated retro. The fixtures gleamed. The paint was fresh. Pots of poinsettias wrapped in green and red foil sat on every table. A jukebox wrapped with a holiday bow played Christmas carols. And a garland decorated with exquisite old-world-style, mouth-blown, glittered Christmas ornaments ran the length of each wall of the café. The aromas of Christmas filled the room.
Cinnamon and coffee. Nutmeg. Ham sizzling on a grill. Meatloaf and gravy.
Tara looked around and strained to see past the long counter in the front to the kitchen beyond. But she didn't see Don anywhere. And there was no sign of Laurel.
The café was sparsely populated with locals, none that she knew. She used to know practically everyone in town. But in recent years it had grown so much she couldn't keep up. She looked around once more for Laurel.
It was quiet, and quite possible Laurel, or whichever waitress was on duty, was taking a break. Being a resort town, its rushes came at odd times compared to the rest of the world. In the morning about half an hour before the Basin ski resort opened. At around five in the afternoon when day skiing ended. And again at around eleven at night when the slopes closed. In between was usually peaceful and when you found the locals out and about.
The Mountain View had always been a "seat yourself" kind of place. Tara figured that hadn't changed with the décor. She slid into a corner booth away from the window and crossed her fingers that Ryan wouldn't decide he needed a sandwich, too, as she admired the vast variety of the ornaments overhead. They must have cost a small fortune. Tara knew quality when she saw it, and by her estimation each ornament had to have a price tag of ten dollars and up. And the garlands were covered with them. At a quick guess there were thousands of dollars of ornaments hanging in the once dingy café.
Tara was so occupied with calculating the cost of the ornaments she didn't hear the waitress approach.
"Oh my gosh! Tara, is
that really you? I didn't see you come in. You should have let me know you were coming to town today! I didn't expect to see you for a few more days, at least until I could get out to the lodge. I know how you hate coming to town when there's a chance you'll run into you-know-who."
"Laurel! So good to see you." Tara popped out of her booth and tried to give Laurel a gentle teepee hug. "I would have, but this trip was supposed to just be a quick, spur-of-the-moment visit to the bank on lodge business. I wasn't sure I'd have time to stop by. Luckily, I finished my business quickly and thought I'd surprise you."
Laurel pulled Tara close against the large baby bump that came between them, complete with a tiny baby kick to Tara's abdomen.
"Hey! Take it easy, slugger. The newest member of the Walker clan doesn't like me. Either that or baby's protecting mama. I think you have a soccer player in there."
Laurel rubbed her belly as if to calm the baby inside her. "That was a kick of joy."
"Uh-huh. Sure." Tara shot her a skeptical look. "It recognized me from the womb, did it?"
"It recognizes the sound of Mommy's happy voice."
Tara shook her head and laughed. Laurel hadn't changed at all from the days the young incarnations of themselves waitressed together at the lodge back when Tara was sixteen and Laurel was a much more mature and experienced waitress at the ripe old age of eighteen.
Tara took Laurel in. "You look fabulous. Very glow-y."
"Isn't glow-y a euphemism for blimp? Because that's the way I feel." Laurel laughed and rubbed her belly again. "A belly like Santa, like a bowl full of jelly."
"No way. That tummy of yours is taut and all baby. No jelly about it. You may feel big, but you certainly don't look it. You look radiant. Turn around." Tara made a spinning motion with her finger.
Laurel hesitated.
"Seriously. Spin!" Tara watched her old friend do a self-conscious three-sixty.
"See? I am so not blowing smoke. From the back you are as svelte and lean as ever. No one would ever guess you're preggo. Serious. You are no blimp, girl."
Laurel shook her head again and they both laughed.
"Remind me—when's the little Walker due?" Tara had a hard time not staring at Laurel's baby bump with envy. There was a time when Tara had thought she and Ryan would live happily ever after and she'd sport her own baby bumps over the years. She'd thought she was long past that, but the twin-headed beast of biology and mothering instinct reared its heads at the most inconvenient and surprising times.
"Mid-January, and it can't come a minute too soon." Laurel looked Tara over and for just a second Tara felt pretentious dressed in her designer jeans and boots. "Now, you look fabulous. Really and truly terrific."
Tara shook her head. "Stop it. I look like Rudolph with his nose so bright. I've lost my tolerance to the cold. I could use a cup of the famous Mountain View hot cocoa and one of Don's notorious grilled ham and cheese sandwiches to warm me up. Maybe then I'll begin to look human again." She gazed pointedly around the café. "Where is he? I'd like to say hello."
"That could be a problem," Laurel said. "He's semi-retired now and snowbirding it in Arizona. He'll be back for the baby's birth, though. You'll have to put up with Donny's cooking."
"Donny's working here? He's cooking! Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to surprise you." Laurel beamed.
"But I thought—"
Laurel interrupted her. "I know. I know. You and everyone else. Even Donny thought he had other dreams. But he's Don's son, and when it came down to it, after Don's heart attack last August, he gave running the place a try and now he loves it."
Tara arched a brow as if she didn't believe it. She couldn't believe it. As long as she'd known him Donny talked of owning a ski shop. He short-ordered for his dad during high school and beyond under duress and because it was expected. But he was always looking for his angle to escape the family biz.
"Seriously. I'm not kidding." Laurel laughed again. "Wait until you taste his cooking. He's better than Don."
"Donny always could cook. But better than his dad? I'll believe that when I taste it. Is he in the kitchen now? I bet he looks cute in his apron."
Laurel laughed. Like normal teenage girls, they'd been obsessed with cute guys when they were young.
"He doesn't just look cute. He looks hot in that apron." Laurel winked. "I'll put your order in."
"Send him out to say hello when he gets a chance."
"Will do. I'll be right back with your hot chocolate and then we can chat."
Yes, a nice, long chat to catch up and find out how much damage Ryan had already done was exactly what Tara needed.
Ten minutes later, Tara was sipping decadent hot cocoa. Real hot cocoa made from scratch by boiling cocoa and water, adding hot whole milk and vanilla. Laurel had served it with a large, square, freshly made marshmallow on top drizzled with gourmet fudge sauce, not the stuff from a can like Don used to use.
Okay, so add "made from scratch" to the list of options for updating a menu. And the grilled ham sandwich?
No more cheap bread and American cheese like in the Don days. This one was made from thick slices of gourmet, fresh-baked pugliese bread sliced by hand—easy enough to tell by the slightly uneven slices—and some kind of herbed white cheddar. The fries were hand cut, too. The new Mountain View Café rivaled anything in Seattle.
Her cell phone buzzed. A text from Cheryl Jones, the rep from Northwest Resort Management Services Corporation, verifying that Monday the twentieth would work for their meeting.
With as many times as Harry had postponed, Tara didn't blame her one bit for checking. Tara sent her a reply saying the meeting was still on just as Laurel returned and slipped into the booth across from her.
"So, what do you think?" Laurel said. "Am I right? Donny can out-cook his dad."
Tara made a face conceding defeat. "You have me. I didn't think it was possible. But this food is heavenly. Ambrosia for the winter wanderer's soul." Tara grinned. "Did you hear that, Donny?" she yelled toward the kitchen. "I just said your food is better than your dad's."
Donny popped his head out of the kitchen. "Better than the old man's? Of course it is. Hey, Tara! Welcome back, stranger. Laurel said you were out there, but I thought she was having one of her pregnancy-related hallucinations."
"Oh, shut up!" Laurel laughed. "Pregnant women don't hallucinate. Now get back in the kitchen where you belong so Tara and I can talk."
Donny laughed, too. He looked genuinely happy. "See you later, Tara. Come see us again when I'm not on shift." He ducked back out of sight.
"He does look cute in that apron," Tara teased.
"Yeah, he does. That's the way I like my men—aproned and in the kitchen."
They grinned at each other.
Tara pointed at her sandwich. "Tell me about this and the hot chocolate. Who are your suppliers?"
"Oh, you want me to brag, do you?"
"I do."
"All the ingredients are made right here in town. That's our theme, our brand. Everything local. Made from ingredients you can't get anywhere else. So when people come to the Basin to ski or board, they simply have to stop here to get their food fix.
"The bread's from Nelson's Bakery. The cheese from the Basin Cheese Factory that opened last spring."
"Really?" The town was growing and upscaling even faster than Tara had known or imagined. "The marshmallows?"
"From a little candy shop just down the street, Taylor's. Along with the fudge sauce. Isn't it yummy? Made from real butter and cream and deep, dark chocolate. It's almost impossible to resist. If I hadn't already gained my weekly allotment I'd be pigging out on it every day."
"Wow! I'm impressed." Tara wasn't using hyperbole. She really was. "You and Donny have taken the café to a new level. It's homey, yet upscale.
"Can I hire you as consultants if Gram and Grandpa ever want to revamp the lodge menu?" She was only half joking.
Laurel squirmed and pursed her mouth to the side as
if she was guilty of something. And stalling, definitely stalling. There was something she didn't want to say.
"What?" Tara laughed again.
Laurel took a deep breath. "It's not our expertise you need. We had help. From an old friend with a lot of experience in the food business."
Tara's pulse quickened, and not in a good way. A sense of dread came over her as she suspected whom the help was.
"Oh, Tara, I hate to do this to you. I was trying so hard not to bring up his name." She took another deep breath. "Our expert is Ryan."
The hot cup of cocoa felt suddenly cold in Tara's hand. Everything went cold. Ryan! She should have known. Suddenly she could see Ryan and his "homey touch" fingerprints everywhere.
Laurel gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Tara said. "Hey, I asked." For it, she could have added.
"I wish you two..." Laurel rushed on. "I wish you two could just let bygones be bygones and put the past behind you."
Tara let out a heavy sigh. No one seemed to understand how complicated the situation was, and Tara was in no mood to bring up her battle with Ryan over the lodge.
Laurel reached across and squeezed Tara's hand. "Hey, kid. You may not like it, but he's back in town now, for good. At least, that's the way he's talking." She gave Tara a sympathetic look.
"He's the town's prodigal son. Everyone loves him. He's as popular now as he was when he was Basin High's star athlete and the best skier and snowboarder in town."
This town loved its athletes, and none more than Ryan.
"You're going to have to learn to get along with Ryan," Laurel said. "'Tis the season."
"Peace to men of goodwill," Tara said.
"Something like that." Laurel gave Tara's hand another squeeze and released it. "Oh, come on. Ryan's not that bad. There was a time you used to think he was pretty hot when he strolled into the lodge in his letterman's jacket.
"Remember how I used to play lookout for you and let you know when he was coming? Donny still hasn't forgiven me for using him as a source to track Ryan's movements for you."
Christmas Duet: A Big City, Small Town Christmas Romance Bundle Page 20
