It was like a knife in her heart to think of how alone she was. Tonight and every night. She might as well start getting used to it. “I want time to think, Angel. I need quiet. Thank you, though. I appreciate that you asked.”
With a sad smile, Angel reached into a big pocket in her bright, Christmasy shirt and pulled out a small flat package. “Then here. I’ll give you your gift right now. Why don’t you sit by the fire in the parlor? It won’t be all the way burned down for a while yet. And open this, then do your thinking.”
“I didn’t get you anything.”
“You came home, even if just for a little while. Seeing you has been a wonderful gift.” Angel hugged her tight, and Mandy hung on for too long.
Then Angel left in a swirl of Christmas colors, taking every bit of noise and color with her.
Mandy did as Angel said. She built up the fire in the parlor and settled in to enjoy the scent of the fresh evergreen tree and listen to the crackle of the logs. She saw snow drifting past the window to her left, and knowing how chilly it was outside made the fire even more comforting.
It all wrapped around her. This familiar, welcoming room and all the memories it held.
Looking down, she studied the flat box just big enough to cover her hand. It was wrapped in foil paper in vivid reds and greens. A loopy bow as big as the box decorated the top. The gift was as cheerful as Angel.
Mandy’s hands closed around it. Angel had always given thoughtful gifts. Mandy expected something that would touch her heart, but she didn’t want to rush the opening. Because it was all she was getting for Christmas this year.
She took her time to let anticipation be part of the gift.
Then, taking care not to rip the paper, for no good reason except to make this moment last, she unwrapped a white box and carefully lifted the top off to find a gold necklace with a pendant in the shape of a star.
Her breath caught at the pretty thing. Angel wanted Mandy to stay. There was no doubt in her mind. But this seemed to say that if Mandy left, she’d take a piece of this place with her. Carry it in her heart all her life.
Mandy ran one finger around the five points, then carefully lifted the necklace from the box. The chain was long enough, she could drop it over her head and look down at it where it gleamed against her cobalt blue sweater, nestled between her breasts.
She rested her head against the cushions of the overstuffed floral sofa and looked around the beautiful room.
The perfect place to try to figure out how she’d let her father keep her away all these years. Yes, she’d made good money and done a good job in LA, but she’d been completely alone. She’d protected her heart to the point of not getting involved with anyone. She’d been asked out many times, but she’d never once considered saying yes. She hadn’t even made friends.
Instead she’d worked, because she was confident there. And because work didn’t risk her heart.
Lifting the star up so it shone in the firelight, she wondered why she had picked that lonely life over home.
And why was she asking that question now, when it was far too late?
Chapter Eight
Sunday, December 25
Christmas Day
“Help!”
The scream sent Mandy running from the kitchen, breakfast prep forgotten.
She skidded into the front entrance to see a distraught gray-haired woman stumbling backward from her room on the floor above.
“What happened?” Mandy sprinted upstairs.
“Hot! Hot water!” Mrs. Doane bumped into the railing and Mandy ran faster, terrified the woman might fall right over it.
“There’s hot water spewing all over.” Mrs. Doane clutched her bathrobe together in front of her as if she held a shield.
The radiator!
Mr. Doane ran out of the room in a plaid cotton robe and leather slippers. He flattened his back against the wall right outside the door like a cop getting ready to storm into a room. His white hair stood all askew on his head.
“I was trying to turn up the heat.” He peeked in the doorway while his wife kept well back.
“You weren’t burned, were you? These old radiators are very dependable as a rule, but they have hot water running through them.” Mandy stood on the far side of the door from him. “Do you need help? If you’ve been scalded . . .”
“No, it didn’t hit me, but we got out fast.”
Mandy stepped into the open doorway, nearly at his side. She took one look at the blasting steam and boiling water sputtering out of the broken radiator valve and turned to him. “Stay out of the room until we can fix this.”
She headed for the steps.
“But our luggage!” the frightened woman cried in outrage. “And we have our grandchildren’s Christmas gifts in there!”
Mandy had to stop for a second to soothe Mrs. Doane and to make sure she didn’t risk entering the room. “The water is scalding hot. It hasn’t reached any of your things yet.” Mandy rested one hand on the woman’s wrist.
The elderly lady turned her hand and clasped Mandy’s finger. “You be careful, too.”
“I will.” Mandy had time to smile at the sweet lady, then gently separated herself. “The water shuts off in the cellar, so I don’t have to go near it. I’ll get it stopped in a few seconds. But I don’t want you or your husband hurt.”
Mr. Doane came to his wife’s side. “We’ll be careful.”
Mandy hurried down the stairs and rounded the doorway into the dining room and through the kitchen to the back hallway. Cart was running toward the basement. He must’ve come in, in time to hear the shouting.
“Which room?” He slammed open the cellar door.
She told him just as Angel appeared at her door. “Go help Cart downstairs. What do you need me to do?”
“A woman and her husband, the Doanes, are very upset. Can you check them and make sure they haven’t been burned?”
Angel nodded and rushed away toward the stairs.
Mandy reached the furnace room to see Cart on his knees, fighting with a red valve. He twisted until his knuckles turned white.
“I need a three-quarters-inch pipe wrench; they’re hanging on the wall at the base of the stairs.”
Mandy knew just what he meant. She dodged storage boxes, read the clearly marked wrenches, hanging in a row in size order, grabbed the three-quarters-inch one and rushed back.
Cart took it and fitted it to something behind the red valve. The muscles in his shoulders and arms bulged as he worked to close off one of the pipes carrying the boiling water that circulated through the mansion’s radiator system.
Nothing moved.
Cart threw his back into it.
Mandy clenched her jaw to keep from warning Cart about how old those pipes were and telling him not to put much pressure on them. He knew better than she did. She prayed he didn’t break a pipe. Mandy shuddered to think. Could the whole boiler break open and start blasting down here? Cart could be badly burned. Mandy might be, too.
No furnace was worth the brutal pain.
Then the pipe turned with a scrape that turned into a shriek.
Mandy braced her hands on the doorframe and wished, hoped, prayed, for that wrench to turn the spigot on the pipe without breaking it. She steeled herself to grab Cart and drag him away if the pipe burst.
Cart focused on the wrench.
Through gritted teeth, Cart said, “This little water valve should turn easy.” The stubborn valve shrieked in protest. “And no doubt it did back in 1982 when this boiler was brand-new.”
Mandy found her own teeth gritted and her muscles tensed as he pushed all his weight and strength on the wrench.
“Can you grab me some WD-40? It’s the blue and yellow can on the shelf below where the wrenches hang. It’s got a spray nozzle.” Cart didn’t even look at her, all his attention on his work.
Mandy ran through the forest of boxes again, saw the can right away, thanked God her dad had put in the new lighting and ran back w
ith it.
“Here it is.” She got it down to Cart’s eye level.
“Thanks.” He removed the wrench, grabbed the can and sprayed. The spray cut off instantly. “I forgot this splatters. Can you get the safety goggles? They should be right near where you got this can, and check for my work gloves. I’m having trouble with the grip.”
He went back to working with the wrench.
Another quick trip. In fact, she fetched things for him for a few hectic minutes, glad she was there to be his assistant so he didn’t have to quit working every time he needed something.
He needed a different wrench. He needed a screwdriver, Phillips head. Cart had something for her to get every time she returned.
With a long, shrill squeal of metal, the wrench finally turned. Mandy heard the water cut off.
Cart relaxed and pulled the wrench away, breathing hard, listening to make sure no water was getting through. He gave her a wild look. “That oughta do it.”
“I sure hope so. I’ll go check.” Mandy headed out.
Angel yelled from the top of the stairs, “The water is stopped!”
They heard her feet hurry back up to the second floor.
Cart was just regaining his feet and tugging off the gloves when Mandy came back to him. He swiped the back of his wrist across his sweating brow. “Phew, that’s always exciting when that happens. I’m glad I was here.”
“I’m glad I was here, too. So I could help you.”
She must’ve sounded sincere, because he turned to look at her. “We made a good team.”
Nodding, she couldn’t look away from his blue eyes.
He reached for her, and just before his palm came to rest on her cheek he jerked back.
“What’s the matter?” She knew what. He’d come to his senses, and she’d better hurry up and come to hers.
He held his hand up flat in front of her face. His oily, dirty hand. Then he grinned. “You almost had a black print on your face. And maybe another one on that pretty white sweater. Then Angel would’ve wanted to know what was going on down here.”
Mandy wondered herself.
Leaning down, Cart kissed her, gently, sweetly, only touching her with his lips. He straightened away. “We did make a good team, didn’t we?”
His eyes went to the star necklace. Or at least she thought he was looking at the necklace.
“We really did.” Mandy couldn’t say more, for fear she’d say too much.
Cart finally turned back to the boiler. “Those radiator valves upstairs break once in a long while. So I’ve learned how to keep the system running. I’ve got parts on hand. If I don’t run into unexpected trouble, I can have the radiator repaired in a few minutes, and restore heat to the room right after that.”
“All the improvements to the inn, but you said he didn’t replace the boiler?”
“It was because he thought a furnace made more sense. But it would be structurally hard on the house. He’d have to tear into the walls and even drop some ceilings to accommodate the duct work. He loved the old-fashioned charm of the radiators and he could’ve just updated the boilers, but sometimes a new boiler doesn’t work well with old radiators and his are antiques, impossible to duplicate. The new pipes are too big or too little—I think they told him the new boiler would need specially made pipes to match the antique radiators. Then the water pressure is higher on the newer units, and the radiators can’t handle the pressure. He knew the boiler was past its prime.”
“Way past,” Mandy said dryly.
Nodding, Cart said, “He kept putting off the decision and just never got to it. I suspect I can fix this and you can put it off a little longer.”
“I’ll get the guest room cleaned up.”
“It’s about time for breakfast. I’ll wash up and tell Angel to come back down and help you. No sense cleaning their room until I’m out of it, so let me help them haul their things to their car, so I can check for water damage. Then I’ll make repairs. In the meantime, you can figure out a way to bribe those folks into not holding a grudge.”
“I hope their belongings aren’t soaked.” Mandy flinched to think of ruined Christmas presents. “I can give the couple a free night and maybe comp one more night at some future date in hopes they’ll be tempted to come back.” She heard those words and recognized them for what they were. You couldn’t comp a room if you were closing. Had she made a decision then? She wasn’t sure. She held her breath, expecting Cart to pounce on that statement.
“Sounds good. Now let’s go up before Angel cleans the room and makes and serves breakfast all by herself.”
Mandy grinned at him, sighed with relief that he hadn’t noticed her slip, then led the way upstairs.
She talked with the Doanes and was relieved they weren’t angry. They graciously brushed aside her apologies, accepted the free night with true gratitude and closed themselves in their room to dress for the day.
It being Christmas morning, many of the folks had left early for family gatherings. It didn’t take her long to be done with the few who came down for breakfast.
“I’ll wash the dishes, Angel; you get going.” Mandy knew Angel was eager to get to her daughter’s house. “Before you go”—Mandy lifted the necklace to eye level—“thank you so much for this. It means a lot to me to have something so perfect.”
“You mean so much to me, Mandy.” Angel held Mandy firmly by both shoulders. “I love you like a daughter. Whether you go or stay, I want you to keep in touch and come home once in a while. If the inn closes, I’ll move back to my house. But I want you to consider it your home, too. There’ll always be a room there for you. I’d like you to share holidays with me and mine. You can visit at Christmastime, Easter and Thanksgiving and just any old time you want. I’m going to do a better job of keeping in touch with you.”
Mandy smiled. “I’m finally welcomed home; that’s nice.” She hugged her old friend.
“You clear up from breakfast,” Angel said. “I’ll go see to the Doanes’ bedroom.”
“No, Cart needs some time in there to repair the radiator. By then I’ll be done here and I can tend to the room. Get going now; you need to change and pack up all those gifts in your car.”
Angel smiled. “I guess I’ll go then. Merry Christmas.” She hugged Mandy again.
“Merry Christmas, Angel.” Mandy loved the feel of those warm arms.
Angel smiled, then turned and hurried away.
Mandy tidied up the kitchen, then headed up to the Doanes’ room to clean it. Cart had finished his repairs and was gone.
She’d wanted to wish him a Merry Christmas. But she’d missed her chance.
Chapter Nine
An hour with a shop vacuum wasn’t Mandy’s idea of an oh holy night and a quiet stable in Bethlehem.
So far Christmas Day had been nothing but trouble.
Cart had managed one kiss. Angel gave a hug.
But considering Mandy had buried her father just before Thanksgiving, then gone back to LA to an empty apartment, honestly, Christmas was a big improvement.
She vacuumed up all the water she could get. Then she went over the damp spot on the carpet with a stack of old towels and wiped the furniture that’d gotten wet—thank heavens it hadn’t reached the bed. Finally, she set a fan to blow through the room. The heat was humming along and the biggest relief was that no damage was done to their guests’ belongings.
The room would be dried out and ready for them by tonight.
There was no teatime on Christmas. Everyone in the inn had family plans and wouldn’t be back until late.
It made Mandy’s throat ache to know she’d spend this day alone.
She swung open the kitchen door and stumbled to a halt.
“What’s going on?”
Mannheim Steamroller’s “Deck the Halls” played quietly in the background.
Cart saw her and came to a sudden stop. “I thought you were catching a plane.”
He must’ve come and gone from the back
door or he’d’ve seen her car.
“I phoned the office to tell them I’d be here for the holidays.” She wanted to spend the day without worrying about catching a plane and making it into the office on Monday morning. There would only be a skeleton staff. It was a work holiday. She rarely took those available days, but this year she would.
“Well, okay, good.” He sounded cheerful, but there was no humor in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re giving the inn a little more time.”
It made her think of that odd comment he’d made about her not being the first woman to leave town. Or to pick city life over him. Had he said that or was she remembering it differently because it suited her?
She really ought to talk to the man. But her decision about the inn should be for herself and have nothing to do with him. She had to remind herself of that.
Mandy glanced at the big oven with multiple narrow racks. “What’s baking?”
“Angel made enough coffee cake for tomorrow’s breakfast. She left me here to make sure it didn’t burn.”
The whole kitchen smelled wonderful from the spices and warm, fresh cake.
“We could have done this tomorrow morning. I wonder why she started it now when she was so short of time? I wish she’d have let me bake this. All this cooking, it’s like some kind of muscle memory. I can handle things in here with almost no thought. It leaves me to enjoy the wonderful aroma.”
“You’re remembering what’s so special about this place, aren’t you, Mandy?” Cart asked.
“I’m remembering a lot of things.” And she’d spent last night remembering more. There was a long silence; then Mandy asked quietly, “Was I really wrong all these years? Was Dad testing me? Did he want me to demand a place here at the Star Inn and, because I didn’t, I hurt him?”
Now it was Cart’s turn to be quiet. At last he said, “I don’t know what your dad said to you, Mandy. I don’t know how he expressed himself. But somehow he made you believe he didn’t want you here, or rather that he couldn’t afford to support you with the inn. I’m not going to say you were wrong, because I can tell he hurt you. Maybe it’s best to believe he thought giving you a chance to spread your wings was right; that’s the best way we can look at this.”
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