A Winter Wonderland

by Fern Michaels

  Elizabeth had a strange sense of dislocation. Was she being trained as an assistant concierge in a posh hotel or was she being briefed for a mission to defend national security?

  “Now, Elizabeth,” Mr. Kronenberg continued, “on occasion one of our guests will require access to the hotel safe when neither I nor Mr. Dimitri will be available. In that case, you will need the combination.”

  Elizabeth swallowed hard. This was quite a bit more responsibility than she expected and she remembered Toni’s warning that if something went wrong, the staff would be blamed. “Right,” she said.

  “The combination is in this box,” he continued, producing a small gray metal cash box from a side drawer. “The key to this box is kept with the paper clips.”

  Elizabeth opened the shallow central drawer and found the compartment filled with paper clips and dug through them, producing a small, silver key.

  “Remember,” he said, “it is most unlikely that both Mr. Dimitri and I would be unavailable but it does occasionally happen and we don’t want our guests to be inconvenienced.”

  “I understand,” Elizabeth said.

  “You must tell no one about the combination,” he warned in a most serious tone.

  “Of course not.”

  “But I think you will enjoy this job,” he said, standing up. “You’ll find our guests are most delightful and you’ll see that it’s a pleasure to help them. Sometimes their requests are challenging, but there’s great satisfaction in coming up with the perfect solution.” A quick smile flickered across his lips, then he wished her good luck and left Elizabeth on her own.

  She had a busy morning, arranging horseback riding for one guest, making dinner reservations for several others, and changing an airplane flight for Mrs. Fahnstock, who had decided to stay a few more days. Around eleven she caught a breather, but when she glanced across the lobby at the reception desk and gave Toni a little wave, she only got an odd little smirk in response. She was about to go over and ask what the problem was when another guest approached her desk.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” said a tall, good-looking guy in his early thirties, removing his Ray-Bans to reveal bright blue eyes. He was dressed casually in a polo shirt and khaki shorts with Teva sandals on his bare feet.

  “Not a problem,” Elizabeth said, taking in his tousled, sun-bleached hair, broad shoulders, and lean torso and finding him terribly attractive. “I’m here to help.”

  Chapter 2

  “Who was the good-looking guy?” Toni asked, seating herself beside Elizabeth at the scuffed Formica-topped table in the employees’ break room. The two always had lunch together, usually eating bag lunches they brought from home.

  “I don’t know,” Elizabeth said, prying the lid off a plastic container of salad. “He wanted to know where he could get a flat bike tire fixed and I sent him to the sports center.”

  Toni’s eyebrows shot up. “You should have got his name so you could Google him.”

  Elizabeth speared a cherry tomato. “He just had a simple question and I was on the phone with Delta, trying to get them to drop the change fee for Mrs. Fahnstock.”

  “I would have dropped Delta and called back later. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, you know.”

  “How do you know that?” Elizabeth asked. “What have you got, X-ray vision or something?”

  “I make a point of checking,” Toni replied, licking the last of the yogurt off her spoon. “It saves a lot of trouble later.”

  “Rings can be removed, you know,” Elizabeth said. “They’re not permanently attached.”

  “I know,” Toni admitted in a rueful tone, taking a sip of Diet Coke. “Maybe men should be required to get tattoos on their ring fingers when they get married. So tell me, did Dimitri give you access to the supersecret database?”

  As all Cavendish employees knew, there were various levels of access to the company’s famous database. Desk clerks were among those with the lowest access, mainly to credit card account numbers and personal preferences; concierges inevitably accumulated more data as they maintained records of guest requests; and executives like Mr. Dimitri had the highest level of information, which according to rumor was more complete than data collected by the FBI and CIA. All employees, whatever their level, were required to sign strict confidentiality agreements and anyone caught sharing information was subject to immediate dismissal.

  Elizabeth remembered Mr. Kronenberg’s warning and shrugged. “So far I haven’t seen anything that would interest the National Enquirer, if that’s what you want to know.”

  Toni ran her finger around the top of the Coke can. “I was thinking that maybe you could tip me off about rich male guests, say whether they’re married or not.”

  “And their credit limits?” Elizabeth teased.

  “Well, yeah, that would be good, too.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t exactly surprised at Toni’s request, but she was a little hurt that Toni would ask her to put her job in jeopardy. “No way. I’m not taking any chances. This temporary job could be a big break for me.” She paused. “I’ve already been scolded by Mr. Dimitri for failing to address a guest by name. Apparently the concierge gets an IM alert when a guest checks in, but if I miss it for some reason I’m supposed to politely ask them to introduce themselves. It’s a bit awkward—I’m not comfortable doing it.”

  Toni shrugged. “The guests love hearing their names. It makes them feel like they’re the lords of the manor and we’re their servants or something.”

  Elizabeth stood up. “Yeah, well, back in Tinker’s Cove, where I come from, people treat everybody the same. It doesn’t matter if they’re millionaires or garbage collectors.”

  “Maybe that’s fine for you,” Toni said, “but personally I’d much rather marry a millionaire than a garbage man.”

  “I guess I would, too,” Elizabeth admitted, laughing.

  Elizabeth was ordering a same-day flower delivery for a guest who had forgotten his mother’s birthday when the good-looking biker reappeared.

  “Hi,” he said, grinning and revealing a prominent set of very large, very white teeth.

  Elizabeth held up a finger, indicating she was on the phone, and he seated himself in one of the chairs provided for guests. She took the opportunity of looking him over while she completed negotiating the flower order, noting his tanned face and arms, his long, muscular legs, the chunky gold watch on his wrist. Toni was right—there was no wedding ring. Finally ending the call, she smiled and asked, “What can I do for you?”

  “I just wanted to thank you for helping me out earlier. They fixed the bike for me at the sports center, no questions asked.”

  Elizabeth, who had gone to college in Boston, thought she detected a hint of a Boston accent, which she liked. “Guests come first at Cavendish,” she said, repeating the company motto in a teasing voice.

  “I guess I better fess up,” he said. “I’m not actually a guest. I was just biking by when the tire went flat.” He bit his lip. “My name’s Chris Kennedy, by the way.”

  “Elizabeth Stone.”

  “I know,” he said, indicating her name tag.

  Elizabeth blushed. “Well, maybe you’ll be a guest in the future.”

  “I’d like that. But in the meantime, I was hoping you’d go out to dinner with me. How about tonight?”

  The request caught Elizabeth off guard. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I guess that would be okay.”

  “Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” he said sarcastically.

  Again, Elizabeth blushed. “It’s just . . .”

  “I know,” he said. “I had you at a disadvantage. So, shall I pick you up here?”

  Elizabeth thought of the ratty old shorts and T-shirt she’d worn to work that morning before changing into her uniform in the hotel locker room. It was hardly the outfit she wanted to wear on a first date. “No, I’d like to go home and change out of this uniform,” she said.

  He tilted his head. “I think it’s kind of cute.”


  Rolling her eyes, she wrote her address and phone number on a slip of paper. “What time?” she asked, giving it to him.

  “Seven?”

  “See you then.”

  Chris had no sooner left than Toni dashed across the lobby. “So what was that all about?” she asked.

  “He asked me out to dinner.”

  “That was fast,” Toni said. “Who is he?”

  “His name’s Chris Kennedy.”

  “Kennedy! He’s probably one of those Kennedys. They have a place here in Palm Beach, you know.”

  “He does have a Boston accent,” Elizabeth said.

  “And those teeth. Those are definitely Kennedy teeth.”

  Elizabeth was doubtful. “You think?”

  “Absolutely. And no wedding ring. That makes him husband material—with money. That’s the best kind.”

  “We’ll see,” Elizabeth said, not nearly as convinced as her friend. Chris Kennedy was good-looking and she certainly found him attractive, but she didn’t really know anything about him. She’d been raised to be cautious in matters of the heart and she wanted to know what kind of person he was before she got too involved.

  When her doorbell rang precisely at seven, Elizabeth was ready, dressed in a pastel tunic, a pair of skinny white jeans, and her prized Jack Rogers sandals. She’d figured Chris was a casual sort of guy and didn’t want to be too dressed up. She’d used a light hand with her makeup, too, applying only mascara and a slick of lip gloss. When she hurried out of her apartment and down the stairs, meeting him at the door to the apartment block, she was glad she’d worn pants because he had arrived on a motorcycle.

  “I hope the bike’s okay,” he said. “I have a spare helmet.”

  “Fine with me,” Elizabeth said, eager for a bit of an adventure.

  “Great,” he said, giving her the helmet. “I’ll take good care of you.”

  “You better, ’cause my dad will come roaring into town from Maine and track you down and wring your neck if anything bad happens to me.” Setting the helmet on her head, she discovered the straps were too long.

  “I can fix that,” he said, bending down to adjust them. Feeling his warm hands at her neck and scenting his minty fresh breath, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. “There,” he said, straightening up. “Even your dad would approve.”

  “I’m not sure of that,” she said, climbing on the seat and wrapping her arms around his waist. He was every bit as lean as he looked, she discovered, feeling the firm muscles beneath his polo shirt.

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t blame him, but I’m really the kind of guy even an overprotective dad can’t object to,” he said as they rolled off down the driveway.

  It was a warm evening and dusk was lingering as they rode over the bridge and along Ocean Boulevard, where moored boats bobbed in the peaceful navy blue water. Some had strings of twinkling lights, a few even had Christmas trees fixed to their masts, and Elizabeth thought of the annual arrival of Santa by boat back home in Tinker’s Cove. She had a brief moment of homesickness but Chris took a curve a little bit fast and she tightened her grip around his waist and discovered she was definitely enjoying the present moment, and this ride with this exciting guy.

  He pulled up at a tiki bar by the beach, where tables with shaggy grass umbrellas were set up on the sand, and they ordered captain’s plates and cold beer. The night air was warm and silky when they seated themselves at one of the tables, waiting for their number to be called. Flaming tiki torches illuminated their faces and Elizabeth thought she was a very long way from home.

  “So your family is in Maine?” he asked, taking that first sip of beer.

  “Yup,” Elizabeth said, meeting his blue eyes. “I grew up in Tinker’s Cove, a little town on the coast. My mom’s a reporter for a local newspaper and my dad’s a restoration carpenter. I went to Chamberlain College in Boston, and this is my first real job, though I worked summers back home.” She licked a bit of foam off her lip. “What about you? You sound like you come from Boston.”

  “Guilty,” he said, grinning. “I was supposed to go to Harvard—that’s what the family wanted—but I love sailing and biking and I chose the University of Florida instead. I went on to law school and now I’m working with a, uh, conservation trust.”

  “That must be interesting,” Elizabeth said, impressed. “And it’s a meaningful job that makes a difference, that makes the world a better place.”

  He raised his shoulders. “I don’t know about that, but it does pay the rent. What about you? Do you like your job at the Cavendish?”

  “I guess it’s okay,” she replied, “but I don’t think I want to do it for the rest of my life. I sort of fell into it because I had a little experience. I worked summers at an inn back home.” The sun was long gone and they were enclosed in a flickering circle of light from the tiki torches. Elizabeth slipped off her sandals and curled her toes, feeling the cool sand beneath her feet. “Don’t you miss winter?” she asked. “I just can’t get used to the idea of Christmas without snow. Instead of balsam wreaths they’ve got pink and white poinsettias in the hotel—it seems so wrong. I don’t mind poinsettias but they ought to be red.”

  Chris shrugged. “I guess you get used to it. It’s Christmas everywhere, after all. When I was a kid I had this book: Christmas Around the World. Eskimos sitting around Christmas trees in their igloos and African kids opening presents in grass huts and Japanese kids hanging up stockings in their pagodas.”

  “I’m not sure that book was culturally correct,” Elizabeth said skeptically.

  “Now that you mention it,” he said, laughing, “I don’t think it was.” Hearing their number called, Chris got up and returned with a tray loaded with fried fish, French fries, and coleslaw.

  “That’s enough food for an army,” Elizabeth said, taking her plate.

  “Eat up,” he said. “You’ll need some insulation when you go back north for Christmas. You are going, aren’t you?”

  “No,” Elizabeth said, biting into a fry. “All December vacations are canceled for this big party Jonah Gruber is giving. He’s some rich Wall Street guy who’s booked the entire hotel for four days. Lots of VIPs are coming and everybody’s going to have to work extra hours.” She popped the rest of the fry into her mouth. “I was really looking forward to seeing my little nephew, Patrick.”

  “That’s too bad,” Chris said. “Christmas is all about family. We have this tradition—we all go skiing in New Hampshire. My dad, Joe, he’s a great skier, and my cousin, Robbie, he’s a fiend on the slopes.”

  Elizabeth noticed little stars in the sky; the water was a smooth black surface reflecting the lights on the moored boats. Joe and Robbie, she thought, those were names she’d heard in connection with the Kennedy family. Joe Kennedy ran a program that provided heating oil to low income people in Massachusetts and Robbie was a nickname for Robert, JFK’s brother who was also assassinated. Cousin Robbie might be his son or grandson. Should she come right out and ask him? Would that be pushy? Rude? Too personal for a first date?

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Chris said.

  “Oh, sorry.” Elizabeth decided that she certainly didn’t want to seem like a celebrity hound or, worse, a gold digger. “I was just looking at the stars. Isn’t the sky beautiful tonight?”

  “Sure is,” he answered, but he wasn’t looking at the sky. He was gazing at Elizabeth.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning Elizabeth was still basking in the afterglow of her date with Chris. She’d never been one of those girls like Toni who made up a checklist for the perfect mate, but if she had, Chris would have a check in every box. He was tall and good-looking. He had a good job as a lawyer working in the public interest. Family was important to him. And he’d been a terrific date, fun to be with and considerate. When they’d finally ended the evening, standing in front of her door, he’d given her a long, lingering kiss that made her wish for more. But he didn’t press her. He said he wanted to
see her again and then he was gone.

  Toni, of course, couldn’t wait to dissect the date. “So how was it?” she demanded, encountering Elizabeth in the locker room, where she was putting on her Cavendish blazer. “Did you go all the way?”

  Elizabeth was shocked. “Not on a first date! Besides, he was a perfect gentleman.”

  Toni narrowed her eyes. “Maybe he wasn’t that into you.”

  “He sure seemed interested. We had a great time and he said he wanted to see me again.”

  “They always say that,” Toni warned. “I bet you’ll never hear from him again.”

  That idea bothered Elizabeth more than she cared to let on. “Well, my mother always says never run after a man because they’re like streetcars—another one always comes along.”

  “Well, if that’s the way you feel, I guess it’s okay then. Too bad you didn’t have that spark, that chemistry.”

  “Yeah,” Elizabeth said, thinking their chemistry had been just fine. Every time she thought about Chris, which was pretty much all the time, she felt the stirrings of desire. And once seated at her concierge desk, she found her heart jumped every time the phone rang, in hope that he was calling. He didn’t call, however, and she was kept busy by the guests and their endless demands. Busy as she was, she couldn’t forget Toni’s prophecy that he wasn’t that into her, which squatted like some evil toad in the back of her mind.

  Then, when he finally did call, she didn’t have time to talk. She’d been conscripted to assist Layla Fine, the professional party planner Jonah Gruber had hired to organize the festive gala. Mr. Kronenberg had minced no words when he gave her the assignment. “You’ll find she has a rather forceful personality,” he said with a sigh. “Just do whatever she wants and we’ll add it to Mr. Gruber’s account.”

  Elizabeth nodded, thinking the bill for the four-day gala was going to be astronomical. Gruber probably wasn’t paying the rack rate, which began at over five hundred dollars for a room in season and went up to over five thousand for the top-floor suites; she was sure he’d negotiated a sizable discount. Even so, this was a big deal for the hotel and now, suddenly, she was responsible for making it all go smoothly.