Valentines Say I Love You

by Denise L. Wyant

  A tear rolled down Hailey’s face. “I’m glad we could be here too, Grandma. You and Grandpa mean a lot to me.” Hailey reached up and wiped away her tears. Ellen slipped her hand into her skirt pocket. She pulled out a red, cloth handkerchief and handed it to Hailey.

  Hailey blew her nose as Ellen said, “Shall we go see how the decorating is going?”

  “Of course.” Hailey slipped the handkerchief into her pocket. She stood and linking her arm with her grandmother’s, walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. Her mind raced. There had to be a way to save the Elmheart Hotel.

  In the living room, Devon, Cassie and Eric sat on the floor at the coffee table. In front of them was a large stack of red, cut-out hearts and vintage valentines. Patrick perched on a tall ladder, hanging each cut-out vintage valentine by a thick piece of red ribbon. Kaitlin stood below him, directing and holding the ladder.

  “What a perfect idea!” Ellen exclaimed. She walked slowly up to one of the vintage valentines. “We’ve had these valentines in the closet for years. They were valentines Grandfather and I exchanged when we were in elementary school. I’m so glad we’ve been able to give them new life.”

  Patrick shifted and the ladder wobbled. Hailey gasped. Quickly, she stepped around Kaitlin and placed her hands on the ladder.

  “Thanks,” Patrick said, his warm blue eyes meeting hers. “I think I might have almost lost it.”

  “Do you have any more valentine cards?” Kaitlin held up an empty box. “We could scatter the valentine cards on the table. Everyone could take one home.”

  “What a wonderful idea!” Ellen dropped her arm around Kaitlin, and pulled her close. “I believe we have another box upstairs, if not two or three. Why don’t you come with me and we’ll see what we can find?”

  Eric stood up and stretched. He glanced at the clock. “I think we’ll head on home and get dressed for the evening.”

  Suddenly, Kaitlin broke free from under Ellen’s arm. She dashed over to Devon. “I have something for you,” she said shyly. Reaching into her pocket, Kaitlin pulled out one of the vintage valentines. “I saved this one just for you.”

  Devon’s ears turned pink as he took the card from Kaitlin. “Thanks,” he said gruffly.

  Kaitlin danced away from Devon and back to the stairs. “Come on, Grandma!” She called. “Let’s go find those Valentines.”

  Cassie, Eric, and Devon pulled on coats, mittens, and scarves, and saying their good-byes, headed out of the door.

  Kaitlin is a great kid.” Patrick climbed down from the ladder and stood beside Hailey. His shoulders brushed hers.

  “Yes,” Hailey replied, “she is a great kid.”

  “She’s our daughter.” Patrick said quietly.

  Hailey inhaled sharply. Her stomach churned. “How did you...”

  “I didn’t know at first. I’m not very good at guessing a kid’s age. I thought she was about eight-years old. But then, she mentioned her birthday. She’s ten.” Patrick turned and stared hard at Hailey.

  “Yes,” Hailey said, without removing her gaze from Patrick. “She is ten.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Patrick asked. “I would have been there. I would have taken care of you and her. I would have given up everything to be with you.” His voice cracked.

  “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Hailey said as the tears pooled in her eyes. “I didn’t want you to give up everything. I wanted you to have your dream. I wanted you to go to college. I wanted you to have your baseball career and make something of your life.”

  “I looked for you,” Patrick said. “When I got back from baseball camp, I tried to find you. But everyone told me you were gone. They said it was just a high school fling, and I should forget about you. I couldn’t forget you, Hailey. I couldn’t. But, then, after I blew out my knee, I didn’t think I had anything to offer. I was wrong.”

  Tears streamed down Hailey’s face. “We were both wrong. We were both so wrong.”

  Patrick stepped closer to Hailey. He dropped his arm around her and pulled her close to him. “It’s time to let this go,” he said softly. “We can’t undo what’s been done. We can only move forward from this day and try to do things differently. If you and Kaitlin are going to be in Kansas City, then I will move to Kansas City. I will be wherever you are. I will help you with whatever you need.”

  “We’re not going back to Kansas City,” Hailey said, slowly. “I lost my job and Kaitlin is having problems with some girls in her class. Grandma said the hotel is up for sale. I was thinking if Kaitlin and I moved here, I could try running the hotel. Grandma doesn’t want to put in a pool or the internet, but there are other things we could do.”

  Patrick picked up a valentine from the table. He held it in the air. “Vintage.”

  “Vintage?”

  “Old, charming, eclectic,” Patrick said. “I think we could sell the hotel rooms on those words. I could make up a menu. We could serve breakfast and afternoon snacks in the living room.”

  “Oh, Patrick!” Hailey said. “Do you really think it would work?”

  “I do,” Patrick said. “Kaitlin is pretty good with the decorations!”

  “Yes,” Hailey smiled. “She is.”

  Patrick leaned over and whispered against Hailey’s cheek, “When do we tell Kaitlin?”

  “Today,” Hailey said. “We tell Kaitlin today.”

  “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Patrick lowered his lips to Hailey’s.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  Authors’ Note:

  The Elmheart Hotel was a hotel on Lake Ontario during the late 1800’s. The hotel was the last stop on a trolley line that ran from Rochester, New York to Manitou Beach. Fredrick Odenbach built the hotel in the early 1890’s. However, the Skinner family, who owned the land next to the hotel, claimed the hotel was on their land. They took Odenbach to court. The court ruled the land belonged to Odenbach.

  The Skinner family still thought the hotel belonged to them, and they took Odenbach to court again. This time, the ruling was in favor of the Skinner family. The mix-up in ownership happened over a surveyor mistake in 1802. The property line was declared at an oak tree. But, the tree was really an elm tree. After the court ruled in favor of Skinner, he gave the hotel the name The Elmheart Hotel.

  In 1903, the hotel was sold to Michael Olaughlin and George Weidman. A room fire in 1931 forced George to stop renting rooms to guests. However, during the depression, George built a dance hall next to the hotel. Big bands played in the dance hall and the hotel was kept open only as a bar on evenings and weekends. After George’s death in 1986, there was talk of building a restaurant and restoring the hotel. But, due to a lack of sewer systems, the plans never moved forward.

  In 1990, a boyfriend took me to see the hotel. The windows were boarded up, the paint peeling and the yard was filled with weeds. However, the old ballroom was still intact. I fell in love with the Elmheart Hotel and envisioned how it could be restored. The hotel burned in 1993 and my dream never materialized. Arson was listed as the cause of the fire. I hope this story restores the Elmheart Hotel and gives it a happily-ever-after.

  There are other Elmheart Hotel sweet, contemporary, romance stories in progress. In the meantime, I hope you’ll read Cassie and Eric’s story in Love’s Bid which is a part of my sweet, contemporary Sailor Series published by BooksToGoNow.

  About the Author

  Mindy Hardwick enjoys writing romance for all ages including: Weaving Magic, a young adult romance, and Stained Glass Summer, a first crush romance, Love’s Storm, Love’s Bid, and Love’s Christmas Gift are sweet, contemporary, romance stories published by BooksToGoNow. Mindy loves to hear from readers and you can find her at: www.mindyhardwick.com or subscribe to her blog at: www.mindyhardwick.wordpress.com. When Mindy is not writing, she enjoys art jou
rnaling, traveling and long walks on the Oregon Coast with her dog, Stormy. She is currently at work on the next story in the Elmheart Hotel series.

  Wild Horses

  Denise L. Wyant

  Wild Horses

  A Books to Go Now Publication

  Copyright © Denise L. Wyant 2013

  Books to Go Now

  For information on the cover illustration and design, contact bookstogonow@gmail.com

  First eBook Edition –January 2013

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

  If you are interested in purchasing more works of this nature, please stop by

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  Look for Other Stories by Denise L. Wyant

  Tumbling in Time

  Wild Horses

  Georgia grunted as Mr. Biggis, her oversize Maine Coon cat, jumped on her chest, waking her. “Really, cat?” she grumbled before absently stroking his thick fur. Christmas morning: the holiday she had been dreading since her mother passed away nearly eight months ago. Georgia cracked an eyelid, checking the clock on her nightstand. Only five-thirty.

  “Well, Mr. Biggis, what say you? Shall we get up and get moving?” The cat purred, all the while nuzzling her hand. Georgia decided that she would open the coffee shop today despite the holiday. She couldn’t bear sitting in the apartment alone. Maybe families travelling would need caffeine to get them through the day. Besides, there were always those folks who had to work despite the holiday— police officers and fire fighters. Maybe she would have some business after all.

  Georgia moved her twenty-pound cat to another spot on the bed. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate her actions. Mr. Biggis bounded off the bed, likely headed to the kitchen for his breakfast. Her movements were unhurried as she got ready for the day. She finally made it to the kitchen to give the cat his scoop of food. Checking the clock, she realized she should hurry if she wanted to be open by six-thirty. She gave Mr. Biggis a quick pat before grabbing her keys and heading downstairs.

  The chill of the morning air hit her as she left the stairwell and dashed around the corner to the shop’s door. After her mother died, Georgia sold the rustic adobe home they shared in the hills and moved into town. She used her inheritance to purchase the coffee shop and the apartment above it. Initially business was slow, but once people realized the shop was under new ownership—and that the coffee was outstanding—she soon accumulated a loyal following.

  After flipping on the lights, Georgia lit the gas fireplace. As much as she wasn’t in the mood for Christmas music, she decided any brave souls venturing out might appreciate a festive atmosphere.

  The first hour and a half saw Georgia enjoying her own peppermint latte while surfing the internet. She really needed to do inventory but couldn’t get motivated. Hell, it’s a holiday. No need. Deciding that the leather chairs in front of the fireplace looked a lot more comfortable than the stool she currently occupied, Georgia picked up her coffee mug and took a seat. She leafed through the current issue of Outdoor Photographer, scanning the new equipment reviews. Georgia sighed. She loved photography. In fact, the shop’s walls were decorated with her landscape prints. However, since her mother died, the camera had done nothing but collect dust. Her mom had been her biggest fan, always offering support and positive feedback. Now, she didn’t have anyone to fill that role.

  The bell on the door tinkled, interrupting her thoughts. She stood and faced her customers with a hesitant half-smile, half-grimace. Her face lit with joy when she realized who called: Officers Vincent and Palmero of the Santa Fe PD.

  “Merry Christmas, Officer Vincent,” Georgia said warmly.

  “Come here, girl,” he pulled her into an affectionate embrace. The man was old enough to be her father and treated her like the daughter he never had. “It’s Harry, none of this formal Officer stuff.”

  She grinned against his neck. Georgia knew he was divorced; she often wished he could have met her mother. They would have made quite the couple.

  Stepping back, she asked, “Want your usual? I have some of that French Roast brewed you like so much.”

  “That would be great.” He stepped aside, making space for the other officer.

  “How about you, Manny? I can make that mocha raspberry latte you like.” She winked at him. He liked the frou-frou drinks and tried to keep it a secret from Harry.

  “Perfecto, my little Georgia peach.” He too pulled her into a hug. The man was huge – both height-wise and muscle-wise. She guessed that he kept himself that way, given he was gay. No one would think of messing with the mountain of a man. “Feliz Navidad, mi amor.”

  Georgia couldn’t help blushing. The man was a sexy tease. The first time he learned her name was Georgia, he started. She couldn’t help that her parents weren’t more creative and named her after the state where her dad was stationed while in the military. She had been a surprise pregnancy, but her parents loved her unconditionally. Her mom used to say she came at the perfect time. Georgia’s eyes filled with tears as she remembered her mom.

  Manny’s dark eyes met hers. “Hey, no tears on Christmas.”

  She brushed a hand under her eye, catching a stray tear. No, she wouldn’t cry. Her mother would be disappointed if she was upset. Georgia took a deep breath and changed the subject. “How about those drinks?”

  “Yeah, about that,” Harry started, a wicked smirk curving his lips, “what’s with that girlie drink, Officer Palmero?” Harry punched Manny in the shoulder as he walked by.

  Oh boy, here they go. Georgia walked behind the counter to prepare their coffees.

  “You’d just better watch, old man. I could kick your ass whether I’m drinking coffee that puts hair on your chest or something fruity.” Manny planted his feet shoulder-width apart and crossed his arms over his chest. Menace, although it was more playful than serious, radiated from his face.

  Harry turned and studied the pose just a moment. He laughed heartily, “You’re absolutely right. It’s my job as your mentor to make sure you can. Don’t want you getting hurt once I retire.”

  Manny let loose with a musical laugh, one that was at complete odds with the man. “Knock it off, Harry. You aren’t going anywhere.”

  “You guys have time to stay and enjoy your coffee?” Georgia slid their cups across the counter.

  “Sure do,” Harry answered while pulling out a stool at the bar. Manny sat next to him.

  The conversation was easy and stayed away from the topic of Georgia’s mother. The men were complete opposites and enjoyed teasing back and forth. Their radios chirped; apparently duty called even on Christmas morning. Manny answered for the pair in a string of codes that meant nothing to Georgia.

  She raised an eyebrow at Manny, waiting for an explanation. He shook his head, “Nothing major. Sounds like Van Morrison is harassing some tourists.”

  Okay, that was as clear as mud. “If you say so . . .”

  Harry chuckled, “Van Morrison is a nickname we gave to a homeless guy. More often than not he’s intoxicated and being stupid. Thank goodness he’s harmless.”

  “Ready, kid?” Harry asked.

  Manny shot Harry a sideways look. Georgia wasn’t
sure what it meant. Manny stood from his stool and asked, “Mind coming around here for another hug?”

  Georgia shrugged. The men were usually affectionate, but this was more than normal. Must be because it’s Christmas. She walked around the counter to where they stood.

  Manny reached into his jacket pocket and removed a plain white envelope. He handed it to her, grinning sheepishly. “Harry and I wanted to do a little something for you.”

  She accepted the envelope, tears suddenly threatening. “You guys didn’t have to.”

  Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “We know we didn’t, but we wanted to. Now, are you going to open it?”

  She looked at Manny who just nodded. She carefully tore the back of the envelope. Inside was a handmade Christmas card. Georgia looked up, her eyes meeting Manny’s.

  “I didn’t make it. That part was Chad’s doing.” Manny wasn’t shy about his relationship with his partner of five years; Georgia had met Chad on several occasions. She always chuckled. Chad was also an artist and his white blond hair and pale blue eyes were in stark contrast to Manny’s Latino features.

  “I wondered . . .” she said. Opening the card, she saw a gift card for the local photography shop. It was for a hundred dollars. “Guys, this is too much. I . . . I can’t accept it.”

  “Nonsense,” the men responded in unison, which left them both laughing.

  “Chad is cooking and baking up a storm while I’m working today. You’re welcome to have dinner with us.”

  “Yeah, you should join us,” Harry echoed. She knew the men were close. Manny and Chad looked out for Harry. “You know I can’t cook so I’m in charge of the drinks.” Harry grinned.