by Sabrina York
“Sure.” I allowed myself to be drawn to the other chair. And I sat. Yes, everyone was waiting for her. Yes, it was in my best interest to get them all out of the house so we could prepare the evening’s festivities. But I knew, on a cellular level, that if she didn’t get whatever this was off her chest, nobody was going anywhere.
Still, as I settled beside her, alarm bells went off in my head. Lord love a duck. What had I done? Keep your distance from the clients! It was the cardinal rule. I folded my hands in my lap as a representation of that maxim. I hoped it helped. “So…what do you want to talk about?”
She began seizing, gasping and jerking in great spasms. I nearly called 911, but then I realized she was just crying. It was not a pretty cry. “It’s…J-J-Jamison.”
Ah. Young love.
“Something happened, I take it?” Didn’t something always?
“Something happened?” She threw up her arms and unleashed a keening howl. “Something happened? Yes. Something happened.” You would have thought I was her worst enemy, the way she talked to me.
“I’m sorry.”
That took her aback. Maybe she’d never heard those words before. She stared at me. Then she shook her head, looked away, and forgot I existed as anything other than as a please-stay-mute sounding board. “I love Jamison so much. I do. I mean, we started out together on Kidz Will Be Kidz— Remember that show?”
“I do.” Yeah. I had no idea what she was talking about, but, whatever.
“We’ve always been together. Since then. He’s always been there for me. But now…” She began to dissolve again.
“Now?”
“He-he-he kissed another girl.” She gazed at the non-fire in the fireplace. “Another girl. Can you believe that? I’ve never kissed another boy. How could he do this to me?” She turned to me. “Why would he kiss another girl? When you’re seeing someone, do you kiss other boys, um, men?” Considering I’d done a damn sight more with Cooper last night, I didn’t answer her question. “Some people do. But if you’ve agreed to be monogamous, you shouldn’t stray, don’t you think?”
“Monogamous?”
“Yeah. Like, faithful.”
“That’s like marriage.”
Or not. “It means you’ve made a commitment to each other. You don’t need the paper.”
“But why would he kiss Keiko? Do you think he doesn’t love me anymore?”
“Honey, I’m sure he loves you.” Yeah. Hospitality 101. Everything is AWESOME.
“Does he?” She put out a lip.
“Do you see the way he looks at you?”
“He looks at me?”
“Like a puppy and you’re the treat.”
Her eyes shone. “Really?”
I shrugged. “Just what I see.”
“What else do you see?”
“Well, usually when a boy kisses other girls, it’s because he’s exploring—”
“Exploring? With Keiko?” A squawk.
“Or he’s unsure about what he has.”
She perked up a little. “Or maybe he was just trying to make me jealous.”
Well, that worked too.
“So, it was with one of your friends?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Yeah. I’d look at that too. Friends don’t kiss their friend’s boyfriend.”
“Maybe I need new friends.”
“You need friends who love and support you—not because you’re Farley, but because you’re you.”
Her brow wrinkled. “But I am Farley.”
“Farley the person. Not the superstar. Having an entourage is not the same as having a tribe. A tribe takes care of you because they love you. An entourage follows you because you’re famous.” I saw when the realization of what I was trying to convey hit her. She nodded and nibbled her lip.
“But what do I do about Jamison?”
I shrugged. “Be up front with him. Tell him how you feel. Let him know you love him.” Egads. I was starting to channel my great-aunt Gladys. “Maybe pull him aside tonight and go somewhere quiet and talk to him. Just talk. Ask him what he really wants. And if it’s Keiko, there’s nothing you can really say or do to stop it. And, if he really loves her more, and would be happy with her…would you stop it? If you really love him, you want him to be happy.”
“And he should want me to be happy.” She crossed her arms and put out a lip, making me think of her as she was. Young and afraid.
“Yes. Yes, he should. And if you ever fall in love with a man who doesn’t want you to be happy…run.”
It seemed as though she was listening, she was nodding and making I see kinds of noises, but then she took off on a completely different tangent. “And my parents.” She gusted. “Hah! They just laugh and say it’s puppy love. They say someone my age can’t possibly know it’s true love, but they don’t know.”
“I know.”
She looked up at me then, all young and fresh-faced and beautiful and in love. I remembered the feeling. I missed it.
“I fell in love with a boy when I was your age too, you know.”
“You did?”
I nodded. “Right here, in fact.” My smile wobbled.
“Did it work out for you?”
I had to tell her the truth. “No.”
“Why not?”
Why not? Good question. “I’m not sure. I was young. He was young. But now…” Now, we weren’t kids anymore.
“But now?” Farley prompted. How quickly her attention leap-frogged from her own melodrama to mine. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that last part out loud. “Well?”
I blew out a breath. Maybe I needed someone to talk to too. Someone who didn’t know me and really didn’t give a shit about me. “Okay. Well. It just so happens that the guy I met here, loved here—when I was your age—just walked back into my life. How do you like them apples?”
For some reason, she grinned.
I frowned at her.
“I think it’s amazing,” she said; her face welled with the glow of all that youthy stuff.
“How is it amazing?” Oh my God, it had been horrible seeing him again and… Well, maybe horrible wasn’t the word. Difficult? Yes. Challenging? Certainly. Exciting?
Probably that too, damn his hide.
“What’s amazing?” She made this thing I can only guess was known as the Farley Face. “Because you have another chance! It’s not too late! It’s never too late. That’s what I mean. Even when you’re super-old, there is still hope for love.”
“Wait. Did you just call me super-old?”
“Ah! It’s so romantic. Don’t you see? If Jamison and I can’t be together now…there’s always tomorrow. Oh, yes. Tomorrow.”
Frankly, I was surprised she didn’t burst into song just then, but she did leap from her chair, twirl around the hearth, and then dance from the room. She paused at the door, looked back at me, and cheerily called, “Thank you, Servant Lady,” before she disappeared.
I barely had time to stand before an ominous chuckle surrounded me. I whirled to find Coop standing there, in the shadows, leaning lazily on the other doorjamb. My heart did a swan dive into my stomach. Well, crap.
“That was a good story,” he said, reaching out a hand to help me up.
“Thank you.” I gave him a mock bow. “All part of the service.”
He ignored my blasé tone. “Was it true?”
“Was what true?” Hadn’t he learned by now that I never paid attention to things I said?
He stepped closer. Closer still. “Were you in love with me?”
My lungs froze. Shit. Had I said that? What had I been thinking? “I think you misheard.”
“No. I didn’t.” He tipped his head and surveyed me. “Were you in love with me? Because I was in love with you.”
“And Barbie. Don’t forget Barbie.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I wish I could. Vic, this isn’t about Barbie. It never was.” Was he even paying attention? This had always been about Barbie
.
I set my hands on my hips, trying to remain calm. Remote. Professional. It was kind of sawing on my last nerve. “You loved me…but you left?”
“You told me to leave. You said…you didn’t want me anymore.”
“I never said that.”
His expression tightened. He tapped his forehead. “It’s burned on my brain.”
“Well, if I said that, I probably didn’t mean it.”
“Probably?”
“I was a kid, for Christ sake. Angry. Hurt. Who knows what I said?”
“I know. I remember.”
“Well, I did want you to leave. I was heartbroken.”
He took me in his arms and held me gently. “I am so sorry, Vic. I wish I’d known.”
Damn it. I hated this. This sympathy hugging shit.
I pulled away. Tipped up my chin. “So now you know.”
“Now I know.” His grin broke. It transformed his face. “You were in love with me. Ah!” He stopped me before I could deny it. “I heard you tell Farley. And I heard her tell you how awesome it is that we have another chance. Don’t you see, Vic? It’s true.”
Was it? Was it really?
“But I’m super-old.” I did my best Wendy Whiner.
He snickered. “If you’re super-old, I’m right there with you.” He leaned in to kiss me, but before our lips met in a blaze of glory, Mungo cleared his throat. Apparently he was right behind us. What was the deal with this library all of a sudden?
“They’re ready to go, boss,” he said.
Coop affected a Highlander’s scowl, but I could tell he was playing. “Och! Dammit all anyway. Just when I had the wee lass where I wanted her.” He released me with a flourish and headed out the room, booming, “Foiled again, dear Yorick. Foiled again.”
Such a doofus. There were no Highlanders in Hamlet.
But I loved him.
God help me.
I loved him.
Chapter Ten
The plan for the afternoon for the guests was that some would go shopping (mostly the females) and the others would go skiing.
The plan for the afternoon for the staff was to clear lunch, make up beds, clean all the suites, sanitize, clean up the occasional teen-aged guest vomit, sanitize again, set up for dinner, and then completely transform a fairly normal great room in a luxury chalet into a fairy paradise. Fortunately, I had all faith that Ken Nora was the man for the job. When he heard what we were doing, Farley’s friend Jaxon decided to stay back and help us because decorating was his jam.
On the one hand, it was a bummer to have one of the guests present, because we all had to stay on our best behavior—and where’s the fun in that? But on the other hand, Jaxon was a pretty funny guy. He had a sharp wit and an undeniable flair. And once we warmed up to each other—you know, got a feel for each other’s foibles and limits—we really had a blast.
With all of us chipping in, and with Ken’s clever idea to use the white Christmas decorations as a base for the Fairy Ball décor, it didn’t take long to layer colorful scarves here and there with tiny invisible fans making them ruffle like feathers. Bling sparkled throughout the room. With that, and some disco lights colliding through just a hint of fog, it was magical.
I’d never seen anything so pretty, although in the decorating of it, Jed got all tangled up in the lights. Ken had to help him untangle because I was laughing too hard. And then, when I was exhausted from that, I started having the kinds of thoughts I couldn’t share in a work environment.
In short, I was thinking of Coop in that situation, and how much I would enjoy it. You have to admit, the thought of a hot, muscular, sexy man all tangled up in Christmas lights, all helpless like a kitten is kind of tempting, isn’t it?
Yeah. Thinking like that sometimes gets me through the day.
After Ken no longer needed me, I went to see how Noel was doing with Christmas dinner. I nearly stumbled to my knees when the aroma in the kitchen hit me. My mouth began to drool.
“Good Lord, what are you making?”
Noel glanced at me. “Roast Beef. Yorkshire pudding. Ze menu. Oui?”
“I meant it smells very good.”
“Bon. Merci.” He bent down over his cell phone screen, snorted, and swiped vigorously.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. Normally Eden’s chefs were well versed in all possible requests—in the sense that they rarely, if ever, had to look recipes up on the internet.
Apparently, my simple question set him off. “Mon dieu, Victoria! ’Ow am I to do zis? A vegan Christmas for Tania? ’Ow am I to make Christmas vegan? Zere is no fatted goose, no roast beef, no Yorkshire pudding?”
“How about something with kale?” I like to consider myself helpful, but apparently he didn’t appreciate it. He merely sniffed and headed back to his desperate scrolling.
I stayed with him throughout dinner prep and it was astonishing how many times he nearly broke down. Darcy’s name was mentioned more than once.
I knew I couldn’t complete this dinner without him, so I rode him like a pony, whispering encouragement and things like “Oublie-la. Elle est une vipère pour ton âme” and “Vous êtes un génie. Vous êtes le maître des arts culinaires.” So yes. My schoolgirl French does come in handy, on occasion, when chefs need fluffing for their performance.
Dinner was, without a doubt, a complete success. Noel was so pleased with the praise he received when he brought dessert, he headed right back into the kitchen and started on a magnifique Christmas cake for tomorrow.
As for me and mine, we split in two when the guests left the table, half of us clearing and finalizing set up for the Fairy Ball and half of us going with the ladies to help them dress.
They’d brought a ton of luggage. Gotta wonder what kinds of costumes those numerous suitcases held. I didn’t have to wait long to find out.
Farley was first to make an appearance—after sending Eliza down to let someone with a camera know she was coming and be ready. She wore an amazing blue fairy costume with large iridescent blue wings. The color made her eyes pop. She was beautiful.
Instinctively, I began to clap, and the others followed suit. We played it this way as each member of the party came down the stairs and modeled their costumes. Not all fairies, as it seemed. Jaxon had done an elaborate facemask—in makeup. I could have sworn he was a real-life elf. Tressa and Keiko came as ice princesses (again, an assumption, because they looked the parts), Jamison dressed as a prince of some kind—judging from the red robe and crown—and Lola was a mushroom. Or a sugarplum. It was hard to tell.
Whit came disguised as a cowboy. One, apparently, who likes whiskey. A lot.
After everyone was settled in the great room, it was tops and tips—just keeping them happy, topping off drinks, and earning those tips. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.
I was really surprised when it actually worked out that way.
It rarely worked out that way.
But everyone had a wonderful time at the fairy ball—no one threw up, no one stepped on the dog, and Farley and Jamison had, apparently, made up after their fight. As the party petered out, they headed off together for a private chat. I really hoped they’d be able to work things out.
Once the room was empty, Ken Nora clapped his hands. “All right, everyone. Let’s get this back to Christmas, shall we?”
Ah, yes. Romance aside, there was a life to be lived. And we embraced that life with both hands, bringing down that fairy tale fantasy with a fervor that caused Ken to squawk, “Hey, guys. Take it easy with my stuff.”
Personally, I think it’s more fun taking things down than putting them up. Don’t you?
At any rate, the precious fairy tale decorations were down and wrapped in cotton wool in special boxes and then stored away for next time. Once that was done, there was only minor sprucing up to do, a quick check on the guests, and then I needed to touch base with Noel about tomorrow’s breakfast. The first two were easy. The third, not so much.
Noel was already a
sleep.
With a heavy sigh, I headed for bed myself. I was pleased to find it had been pre-warmed by a very sexy—and, dare I say, naked—brick of a man.
He was still awake. We pretended I was an escaping princess who’d accidentally wandered into the sheikh’s tent. It was kind of fun.
* * *
I had to get up super early Christmas morning, so I tried not to disturb Coop as I disentangled myself. He was all toasty and the room was cold. I wanted nothing more than to slip back under the covers, curl up against him, and just be together.
But I had tables to set and cinnamon rolls to warm.
I dressed and hurried to the guest house…to find the guests were already awake, Noel had prepared the brunch, and Olivia and Wren were already serving. They hadn’t waited for me.
OMG. They’d taken initiative. My babies! I think I felt my heart grow six sizes just then.
Naturally, I didn’t make a fuss when I came in. I just quietly asked Wren, “How’s it going?”
“Good,” she said.
And then, I had to add, because it was coming out no matter what, “Great job, you two.” In tandem, they blushed.
I rode that I’m-a-great-boss high all through brunch. So it was especially wonderful that—at the end of that elaborate meal—Olivia Ann Tully, Samantha “Wren” Parker, and Jed Wentwhistle (like wet whistle, but with an N), witnessed one of the most spectacular moments to occur in all of human history. At least, according to them.
They saw—with their own eyes—actor Jamison Smith go down on one knee and propose to Farley. The Farley.
I mean, really. A celebrity proposal.
I was especially proud when Olivia didn’t faint.
Farley gave a teary acceptance and the two shared promises and apologies they’d written out, making clear this was a staged presentation.
What a pity there were no cameras to catch it all.
Perhaps they hadn’t been thorough enough in their planning—
Oh. But no. There she was. Carmella. Catching it all on her camera phone from the corner.
When they finished reading their proposal…vows?, they kissed, and after that everyone flooded in for a hug.
