Granny carpets indeed! Those rose-patterned carpets were classic, and they’d cost Olivia a small fortune when she first put them in. Plus, they complemented the many antiques Olivia had in the lobby and the guest rooms. Well, all right. So the girl had different tastes. Obviously, she wouldn’t know an antique if she tripped over one. But did she have to be so...vocal about them?
She’d hardly raved over the small apartment that Olivia had given her and Brandon when they arrived. She’d walked into the bedroom and frowned. “Where’s the closet?”
Olivia had pointed to the antique German pine armoire and said, “This is it. It’s a schrank.”
“A what?”
“For your clothes.”
“I’m supposed to fit all my clothes in there?”
Taking in Meadow’s skimpy skirt and midriff-bearing top, Olivia had doubted that her clothes would take up much room. “I’m sure Brandon can remodel for you,” Olivia had said stiffly.
“I hope so.” Meadow had drifted over to the window and looked out. “Wow, that’s some view.”
At least she’d appreciated something.
“It’s gonna be really cool living here,” she’d said and Olivia almost warmed to her until she added, “Once we fix this place up.”
“So what do you think of Meadow?” Brandon had asked after he’d brought her home to meet Mom.
By then they were already married. It had been too late to say what she really thought. Instead, she tried a gentler approach. “Wasn’t this a little fast? I always thought we’d have a wedding.” I always thought you’d pick someone we wanted you to marry.
That was when he’d blushed and confessed that they were pregnant. They’d wanted to get married anyway, so what the hell?
What the hell indeed.
“Dear, this isn’t like you,” James said, bringing Olivia out of her unpleasant reverie. “You’re normally so kindhearted and welcoming.”
“I’ve welcomed her,” Olivia insisted. She’d given Meadow a home here at the inn with the rest of the family. That was pretty welcoming.
But you haven’t exactly taken her in with open arms.
The thought gave her conscience a sharp poke and she squirmed on the sofa. Her cat, Muffin, who’d been happily encamped on her lap, meowed in protest.
“If only she was more like Brooke,” Olivia said as if that excused her attitude. “At least Eric got it right.” Brooke was refined and well educated and appreciative. She loved the lodge, granny carpets and all. Not only did she truly want to be helpful, she actually was. She and Olivia were on the same wavelength.
James couldn’t help smiling at the mention of his daughter. It had been Brooke who was responsible for James and Olivia meeting. “No one’s like Brooke,” he said proudly.
“She is one of a kind, just like her daddy.”
James, who had spent most of his life playing Santa Claus, was as close to the real deal as a man could come. With his snowy white hair and beard, husky build and caring smile, he embodied the very spirit of Christmas.
“Thank you, my dear,” he said and gave her poor, tired foot a pat. “But, getting back to the subject of Meadow, I’m sure she has many redeeming qualities. All you have to do is look for them.”
“With a magnifying glass.”
“Olivia,” he gently chided.
“You’re right. I’m just having such a hard time warming to the girl.”
“I know. But this is the woman Brandon has chosen.”
Olivia sighed. “Yes, and you’re right. I need to make more of an effort for his sake.”
And she would. Tomorrow was another day.
Another busy day. They’d be decorating the lodge for the holidays. Meadow had been excited over the prospect and assured Olivia she loved to decorate. Hopefully, she’d be better at that than she was at helping serve food. And maybe this time she wouldn’t ditch them halfway through the job.
The next morning Eric was knocking on the door of Olivia’s little apartment in the lodge. “We ready to do this?” he asked James.
“Yep. Let’s start hauling up the holidays.”
And there was plenty to haul up from the huge basement storeroom where Olivia kept the holiday decorations—ornaments to go on the eight-foot noble fir they’d purchased for one corner of the lobby, as well as ones for the tree in the dining room, snow globes and red ribbons for the fireplace mantel and, of course, the antique sleigh that would sit right in the center of the lobby. It was a favorite with their guests and people were constantly taking pictures of it. There were stuffed teddy bears and antique dolls to ride in the sleigh, mistletoe to hang in the hallways and silk poinsettias to be placed on the reception desk. Decorating the inn was an all-hands-on-deck day.
“Where’s your brother?” Olivia asked as he set down the box of toys for the sleigh.
“He’s coming. Meadow’s just now getting up. They closed down The Man Cave last night and she’s pooped.”
So, she’d recovered from her earlier illness. How convenient. “Maybe she’s too tired to help,” Olivia said hopefully. Playing pool all night could be exhausting.
No such luck. Fifteen minutes later Olivia and Brooke were sorting through the first bin of decorations when Meadow dragged herself into the lobby accompanied by Brandon. She was wearing tight ripped jeans, complemented with a sheer blouse hanging loose over a low-cut red camisole that perfectly matched the patch of hair she’d dyed red. The rest was a color of blond that made Olivia think of light bulbs. Olivia could see the butterfly tattoo Meadow had over her right breast fluttering over the top of the camisole. Her holiday look was completed with a ring through her nose and one through her eyebrow. She made a shocking contrast to Brooke, with her soft brown hair and tasteful clothes. Now almost eight months pregnant, Brooke was wearing a long gray sweater accented with a blue silk scarf over her black maternity leggings and gray ankle boots. Meadow even looked like a total mismatch with Brandon, who was in jeans and a casual button-down black plaid shirt.
“I feel like shit,” she confessed. “I think those fish tacos were off.” She shook her head. “Now I know what they mean when they say ‘toss your tacos.’”
The queen of refinement this girl was not. To think Brandon could have had sweet little Bailey Black if only he’d gotten with the program. Bailey had carried a torch for him for years. Too late now. She was happily married. And Brandon was...trapped. So were the rest of them.
You’re going to have to make the best of it, Olivia reminded herself. Her son loved his new wife. He’d obviously seen something in her. She probably would, too. If she looked harder.
James and Eric arrived in the lobby, bearing more decorations. “You’re just in time,” Eric told his brother. “You can help me haul in the sleigh.”
Brandon nodded and followed the men back out.
Olivia pasted a smile on her face. “Well, girls, let’s get started.”
“All right. This is going to be fun,” Meadow said eagerly and opened a bin.
Eager and excited to help—that was commendable. And surely this was bound to go better than Thanksgiving dinner.
Meadow pulled out a pink ribbon ball holding a sprig of silk mistletoe and made a face. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s mistletoe,” Olivia explained.
“Mistletoe.” Meadow said it as if it were a foreign language.
“You’ve heard of mistletoe, right?” Brooke prompted and Meadow shook her head.
Both Olivia and Brooke stared at her in amazement.
“So, what is it?”
“You hang it up and then when you catch someone under it, you kiss him,” Brooke explained.
Meadow shook her head. “Why do you need a plant for that? If you want to kiss a guy, just kiss him!”
Good Lor
d. The child was a complete philistine.
Brooke smiled. “It’s a fun little tradition people enjoy.”
“Whatever,” Meadow said, unimpressed.
She was impressed with the sleigh, though. “Wow, that’s epic.” The minute the men had set it down, she climbed into it and tossed Brandon her cell phone. “Take my picture, babe,” she commanded and struck a rapper-girl pose, complete with the weird finger thing and the pout.
An older couple was walking through the lobby, and the husband stopped to enjoy the moment. “Now, there’s my kind of Christmas present,” he joked.
His wife, not seeing the humor, grabbed his arm and got him moving again. “Tacky,” she hissed.
Meadow flipped her off and Olivia’s cheeks heated. This girl was like a puzzle piece that had wound up in the wrong box. However were they going to get her to fit in?
Dear Santa, please bring me an extra dose of patience. I’m going to need it.
* * *
Sienna was still smiling when she went into work on Friday, remembering her fun evening of feasting, laughter and dancing. While the day had gotten off to a bad start, happily, it had ended on a positive note. And now she got to go to a job she loved. She had so much fun at Mountain Escape Books that her time there never felt like work, even when things were at their busiest.
The store was especially busy this day. In addition to shoppers enjoying Black Friday bargains, Muriel Sterling was there, signing copies of her newest book, A Guide to Happy Holidays.
Sienna took advantage of her employee discount and bought one. “I hope I can write a book someday,” she confessed to Muriel. I want to be just like you when I grow up. Gush, gush.
“We all have a story to tell,” Muriel said.
“I don’t know what mine would be.”
“You have lots of time to figure it out,” Muriel assured her. “You’re still young.”
“I keep telling Muriel to write a book about Icicle Falls,” said Pat, who was stacking more books on the table where Muriel was seated. “Maybe you’ll be the one to do that, Sienna.”
“Yeah,” put in Dot Morrison, one of Muriel’s friends who’d come in to purchase a book and offer moral support. “Or...why don’t you write a juicy novel with lots of sex? And a murder. You can set it right here in Icicle Falls.”
“If you need characters for a book, there’s your girl,” Pat teased, making Dot frown.
Known for her crazy sweatshirts, Dot was definitely a character. Today’s offering said Apologies to Anyone I Haven’t Offended. Please Be Patient. I’ll Get to You Shortly.
“Murder in Icicle Falls?” Muriel gave a mock shudder.
Dot shrugged. “Yeah, I guess that wouldn’t work. Who would you murder?”
“Your neighbor Mr. Cratchett?” Pat suggested to Sienna.
“Well...” Sienna regretted having told Pat about her problem neighbor. Complaining to family was one thing. Complaining to other people was plain old bad-mouthing. Although if anyone deserved to be bad-mouthed, it was Cratchett.
Dot gave a snort. “That old grump. Don’t mind him. He’s lived here forever. Comes into my restaurant every once in a while. Never leaves my gals a tip. You could bump him off in a book. Put him in my place and have someone slip poison in his coffee. The way he gripes about it, you’d think it was poisoned.”
“There’s probably more to Mr. Cratchett than what you’re seeing,” Muriel said.
“As in, you can’t judge a book by its cover,” said Pat.
“Not even in a bookstore,” Muriel added with a smile.
Sienna had seen enough of Mr. Cratchett and she didn’t want to read any further.
“We shouldn’t be too hard on the poor man. Maybe he’s got a good reason to be so grouchy. He’s a widower, after all,” Muriel said in Cratchett’s defense.
This produced another snort from Dot. “I’ve been a widow for years. You don’t see me whining about it.” She shook her head. “Men. They’re the weaker sex.”
At that moment a member of the weaker sex came into the store, needing help finding the latest Suzanne Selfors book for his daughter, and that broke up the confab as Sienna went to help him and Pat moved to ring up a sale.
Business remained brisk for the next two hours, with townspeople popping in to get signed copies of Muriel’s book. Her daughters Samantha and Cecily both came by, bringing treats from their sister Bailey’s tearoom. And Vance Fish, one of the town’s older single men, stopped in to say hi to Muriel. He owned a bookstore in Seattle but he always came by Pat’s when she had a special event going on.
“We indie booksellers have to stick together,” he said.
While he was there, two women came in looking for the latest Vanessa Valentine book. Sienna had heard a rumor that Vance Fish himself was really Vanessa Valentine. She’d worked up her nerve to ask him once. He’d laughed and replied, “Do I look like a Vanessa Valentine to you?” So much for that rumor.
Muriel’s book signing ended, but before she left the store, she handed out invitations to her ladies’ Christmas tea the next Sunday afternoon.
“It’s a tradition,” Pat told Sienna. “She does this every year for her girlfriends and daughters, so make sure you line up your cousin to watch Leo, because you won’t want to miss seeing Muriel’s place all fixed up for the holidays.”
She wouldn’t want to miss seeing Muriel’s place, period.
The rest of the day sped by and before Sienna knew it, it was quitting time. She picked up her car from Swede’s Garage, where they’d put on those snow tires she’d been postponing purchasing. Then she fetched Leo from Rita’s house, which was his home away from home when Sienna was at the bookstore. It was a good arrangement. Rita worked nights at Zelda’s, so she was home during the day and was happy to have Leo around, as he kept little Linda entertained. Plus, the price was right: free—always a good thing for a single mom who had stretched her budget to buy her house. Child support from the creep only went so far.
“How was your day?” Sienna asked, hugging her son.
“I helped Tía Rita make cookies,” he told her.
“You did?”
He nodded eagerly.
“He’s very good at stirring,” Rita confirmed.
“That’s nice to hear. You’re a good helper,” Sienna said and mussed his thick, dark hair. “Come on, handsome, let’s go home and make some hamburgers.”
“Hamburgers, yes!” Leo cheered and raced for the door.
“Why don’t you let Tito watch him tonight and you come to Zelda’s for a while?” Rita suggested. “There’s a new band playing in the bar.”
“I’m too tired,” Sienna said. “We had a busy day at the bookstore.”
“Tired,” Rita echoed in disgust. “You’re too young to be tired. You’re only thirty-five.”
“Well, tonight I feel like I’m eighty-five. And my feet hurt.”
Rita frowned. “You gotta get out, chica. You need a life. You need a man.”
“I have a life with Leo, a perfectly good life.”
Rita rolled her eyes. “All men aren’t like your ex, you know. Look at Tito.”
“Clone him and then we’ll talk,” Sienna said and followed Leo out to the car. The weather was still cold and the roads slushy from the earlier snowstorm. More snow was predicted for late that night and she was ready to go home and get tucked in before everything got icy.
It was an exciting Friday night, hamburgers followed by Leo’s favorite movie, Cars. They’d watched that movie so many times she could say every line of dialogue right along with Lightning McQueen and Strip Weathers. Yes, this was what her life boiled down to—work and Pixar movies.
And hamburgers and time with her sweet son, who still thought it was cool to snuggle on the couch with Mom and watch an animated
movie. So there wasn’t a man in her life. She could live with that.
A good thing, since she was probably going to have to. Lonely after her divorce, Sienna had looked for a good man, but in the end she hadn’t found anyone worth keeping. There’d been Manny, who’d proved to be more of a child than Leo, wanting nothing more out of life than to go dancing and work on his car. He’d yelled at her son when Leo was assisting him in changing the oil and accidentally dropped the oil pan, calling him estúpido. That had been the end of Manny. Gregory had liked Leo just fine...as long as he didn’t have to hang out with him. Gregory hadn’t lasted long, either. Those had been the best of the bunch. Sadly, there weren’t a lot of men out there who wanted to take on a woman with a kid, especially a woman with a kid who had some challenges.
And Leo did have challenges. While most kids his age were reading small chapter books, he was struggling with simple words like cat and bat. He still didn’t know all his colors. Everything was either red, blue or yellow. And math completely overwhelmed him. Trying to master new information often drove him to tears and tantrums. So when the men Sienna dated got a look at life with Leo—when they realized every day wasn’t going to be smooth sailing—they bolted.
But what had she expected? Her own husband hadn’t been able to cope. “I can’t deal with this anymore,” he’d said only six months after Leo had finally been tested and diagnosed with a learning disability. She’d tried to convince Carlos that, together, they could deal with anything, but her pep talk hadn’t done any good. “I’m sorry, Sienna. I want a divorce.”
Sienna hadn’t known which had been worse, his initial harshness and impatience with Leo or the ensuing coldness to the little boy, who only wanted his love.
Well, new town, new start. She and Leo would manage fine on their own, and even though she missed her parents and brothers, she knew she’d done the right thing coming here. She was happy with her new job and her new friends. And, most important, Leo was happy with his new teacher. Really, the only fly on the frosting was her neighbor.
After Leo went to bed, she settled in with Muriel Sterling’s new book. There’s something about the holidays, Muriel wrote.
Christmas in Icicle Falls Page 2
