“You don’t sound very happy.”
Very perceptive. “If you want me to be honest—”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“I guess I don’t really want to share you.” There, it was out.
“What does it matter if you and I are just friends?”
“Arnie, I...” No, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t step in and take him away from Dot. “If Dot makes you happy, then I’m glad for you.”
“Dot does make me happy.”
So there it was. Dot would probably have a diamond ring by New Year’s. Muriel blinked back unbecoming tears of self-pity and nodded.
Arnie set his glass on the coffee table. “But you’re not smiling.”
One of those pesky tears made its escape, and she swiped at her eye. “It’s going to take me a while to get used to, is all.”
“Muriel, you’ve always made it perfectly clear that you never wanted to be anything more than friends,” he reminded her.
“I never really appreciated you, did I?” she said in a small voice. “I took you for granted all these years. But, Arnie, you’re a wonderful man, and Dot—”
“Is just a friend.”
“Just a friend?” Was she hearing right? “Really?” Arnie hadn’t abandoned his love for her?
“If she was more, if Dot and I had fallen in love, what would you have done?”
“I would have been supportive,” she said. “It wouldn’t have been easy. Actually, it hasn’t been easy, thinking...” She sighed. “I would always be your friend.”
“I don’t want to be friends anymore. I’m tired of only being your friend. And if you can’t give me anything more than friendship, now’s the time to let me know, because one thing I did learn on this cruise, Muriel, is that there are women out there who would like to be with me.”
“I want to be with you,” she insisted, and for the first time in all the years she’d known him, she grabbed Arnie Amundsen and kissed him.
And Arnie kissed her right back. Who knew Arnie could kiss like that?
“Do you know how many years I’ve waited for this moment?” he asked after he’d finished thoroughly kissing her.
Too many. More than any man in his right mind would have.
“Never mind,” he said before she could answer. “It was worth the wait.”
She snuggled up against him, happy for the first time in weeks. “I thought for sure I was losing you.”
“You thought wrong,” he said and kissed the top of her head.
“You certainly did a good job of convincing me.”
“Now, let me convince you how wrong you were,” he said and kissed her again. Yes, she could get used to this.
“So who was Dot falling in love with on the cruise if it wasn’t you?” she asked when they finally came up for air.
“I’ll leave that to her to tell. Suffice it to say it wasn’t me.”
“You could have fooled me. You two sure seemed pretty chummy.”
Arnie grinned. “Dot makes a good coconspirator.”
Muriel pulled back and frowned at him. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well, when it appeared you were getting a little...”
“Jealous,” she supplied.
“...jealous,” he said with a smile. “We hatched a plan. Dot thought perhaps you needed to realize—” there came the flush again “—what a good catch I am. She thought if it looked like you might lose me to another woman, it might, uh, bring you to your senses. Those were her words,” he hastily added.
Well, well. So Dot was being sneaky and keeping secrets, but they were all to help Muriel, in the end. She shook her head. “You both did a good job of convincing me you were falling in love.” All those terrible thoughts she’d had about her friend! She owed Dot chocolate for life.
“We did have a good time together, I won’t deny that. I only wish you’d been along to share it.”
“Me, too,” she said with a sigh.
“A new year is right around the corner,” he said. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
“Oh, Arnie, you are a dear.”
“You’ve said that for years. I don’t want to be a dear anymore. I want to be your dear.”
“You are, and I’m so happy I don’t have to share you,” she added. “Now I don’t have to poison Dot after all.”
He chuckled, pulled her close and kissed her again. This was going to be a very merry Christmas.
Chapter Sixteen
You never know who you may meet at a holiday gathering. Be open to new friendships.
—Muriel Sterling, A Guide to Happy Holidays
Almost everyone was checked into the Icicle Creek Lodge by four in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. Parents and children played outside on the huge front lawn, taking advantage of the remaining light to make snowmen and throw snowballs. Some guests had gone into town to shop. Others relaxed in the lobby, sipping hot apple cider and cocoa and listening while a pianist entertained them with Christmas songs. Everything looked festive and elegant and all was contentment and congeniality.
Until the final guests arrived. Olivia was passing out a platter of cookies to the guests when they made their appearance, the dubious fragrance of cheap perfume mingled with cigarette smoke preceding them.
She turned her head and saw a woman probably in her late forties dressed in high boots and an even higher leather skirt under a short jacket with faux-fur trim that was ready for retirement. Her hair was long and colored the same brassy blond as Meadow’s and she wore it up in a thick ponytail. She had multiple piercings in her ears and was holding on to a designer purse. Her gloves with no fingertips displayed maroon fingernails, a poor match for her bright red lipstick. Her eye makeup would have been perfect for the stage because Muriel was sure you could see it from a hundred feet away. She was looking around the place, taking everything in with an eager and assessing gaze.
The girl with her wore ripped jeans and a leather jacket decorated with metal studs. Her hair had been buzzed nearly to the top of her head, where a black thatch reigned supreme. The style showed off the stake sticking out of her nose and the holes in her earlobes. She was a pretty girl with luminous brown eyes and delicate features, but the features didn’t make as big of an impression as the expression on her face, which was as black as the polish on her fingernails. This had to be Meadow’s mother and sister. Oh, boy.
The woman banged on the service bell at the reception desk and then leaned against it, surveying the scene. “Looks like your sister did okay. This place probably rakes in the bucks,” Olivia heard her say as she approached.
“Good for her,” the girl said sourly.
“Good for all of us,” the woman said.
It wasn’t hard to see why Meadow hadn’t wanted her mother and sister to come up for Christmas. Olivia heartily seconded that sentiment. Maybe she could pretend they were all full.
The woman gave Olivia a condescending once-over, then said, “My daughter and I have a room booked here. My daughter owns the place.”
Since when? “Actually, I own the place,” Olivia said, forcing a smile. “And you are?”
“No kidding. Really? You’re Brandon’s mom?” The way the woman was looking at Olivia, she might as well have added, You’re nothing special.
“I’m Olivia Claussen,” Olivia said stiffly.
“Hi there. I’m Tawny Anderson, Meadow’s mom. And this is my other kid, Arielle.”
“Hello, Arielle,” Olivia said.
“Hi,” Arielle grunted.
Olivia searched for something nice to say. “That’s such a pretty name.”
“Thanks,” the girl muttered. The sour expression remained in place as she took in her surroundings.
“Meadow’s in
the dining room helping set up for dinner,” Olivia said to Tawny. “I’ll let her know you’re here. She can take you to your room.”
“Great. I haven’t seen that kid in months,” said Tawny. “This is gonna be fun.”
Fun.
Olivia put in a call to the kitchen phone and got Meadow herself. “Your mom and sister are here. Would you like to come take them to their room?”
“I’ll be right there,” Meadow said, sounding like a woman on death row about to get the needle. Olivia could see why.
“So, how long have you had this place?” Tawny asked, removing her gloves.
“Years,” Olivia said. “My husband and I built it.”
Tawny nodded, taking that in. “Bet it’s a real moneymaker.”
“We manage.” Next thing, Tawny would want to know how much they made a year.
“So, how much do you make off a place like this?” she asked and Olivia cringed.
“Enough to live on.” Thank God, here came Meadow. “Here’s your daughter.” Olivia handed over an envelope with their room cards. “She’ll see you to your room.”
Tawny turned on her stiletto-heeled boots and made a dash for Meadow. “Hey there, brat,” she said, hugging her.
“Mom, you’re squishing me,” Meadow protested and pulled away.
“Well, excuse me,” Tawny said. She took in Meadow’s dirndl. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“It’s a dirndl, Mom,” Meadow said, her mouth turning down.
Tawny looked disgusted. “A what?”
“It’s a German outfit. All the women up here wear them.”
“I guess the women up here never watched What Not to Wear,” Tawny said. “They should never have taken that show off the air.”
Meadow sneaked a look to where Olivia stood watching and her face turned crimson.
Olivia gave her what she hoped was an encouraging smile and Meadow led her relatives away.
Poor Meadow. This was what she’d had for a mother growing up? It was a wonder she’d turned out as well as she had.
Thank God the horrible woman and her surly daughter were there for only one night. By the following afternoon she’d be gone. They could put up with her for twenty-four hours.
But could the other guests put up with them? Tawny and Arielle didn’t make a favorable impression on the family sharing their table at dinner. The fortysomething couple with two well-dressed tween daughters looked as if they’d been forced to eat with lepers when the two women joined them at their table. Tawny had found a low-cut sequined top to go with her short skirt and stiletto boots. She’d touched up her make-up, slathering on the red lipstick and making sure her eyeliner could be seen from clear across the room. She looked like she was ready to stand on the corner in search of a john. Her daughter was still in her same outfit and still wearing her angry teen face.
Olivia wished she could have given them a table all to themselves. In a far, far corner of the dining room. Except there wasn’t an empty table to be had.
“My daughter is one of the owners here,” she heard Tawny inform her dining companions, altering her earlier story. She reached out and grabbed Olivia’s arm as she tried to slip past. “Where’s my kiddo?”
Olivia smiled tightly. “Brandon and Meadow are getting ready to serve.”
“Don’t they get to eat?” Tawny looked horrified. Her daughter, one of the owners, having to wait tables?
“We always make sure our guests enjoy their meals before we do,” Olivia said, smiling at the family.
“She’s not even gonna eat with us?”
“I know she’s looking forward to spending time with you after dinner,” Olivia lied, then escaped to the kitchen, where Brandon and Eric were busy setting up carafes of wine.
Meadow came in and saw them. “Oh, shit. You’re not going to give my mom wine, are you?”
“We serve wine at every table,” Olivia explained. “We’ll also put out sparkling cider.”
“Good,” Meadow said, relieved.
But Olivia noticed when she was setting out rolls on the nearby table that Meadow’s mother had no desire for the sparkling cider Meadow was about to pour for her. “What are you trying to pull, Meadow? Give me the booze,” she said, and snatched the wine carafe out of Meadow’s hand.
The look her daughters exchanged predicted trouble.
Oh, dear, Olivia thought. This was not going to go well.
Sure enough, it didn’t.
Brandon stopped by the table to introduce himself and Tawny looked him up and down and said, “Forget the food. I’ll take you.”
Olivia was disgusted, but he managed a laugh. “Sorry, your daughter got to me first.”
“Well, she did okay.”
“She’s a piece of work,” Olivia observed as she and her son returned to the kitchen to bring out more food.
“You can’t pick your parents,” he said with a shrug.
There were many wine refills at the table where Tawny was sitting. With each one her laughter got merrier and louder and the family stuck with her got quieter, the kids blinking at the spectacle and the parents glaring.
“Cut her off,” Olivia said to Brandon.
He did, apologizing to Tawny for running out of wine and switching her to sparkling cider.
The ruse worked...until she pulled out a flask and spiked her cider.
Dinner was served family-style, with platters of turkey at each table along with bowls of dressing and mashed potatoes with gravy. In addition to that, Olivia had provided cranberry sauce, roasted vegetables and pickles and olives. It was a beautiful feast, served with the ambiance of individual centerpieces of greens, lit candles and fine crystal and china. And usually congenial company.
Tawny was, in her own way, congenial, freely sharing her opinion on everything. “This isn’t dressing from a box,” she informed her fellow diners at her table. “I can tell. It’s too soppy,” she added in disgust as she helped herself to seconds. She went to set the bowl back down and set it on the edge of the table, from which it immediately toppled.
Olivia, who had been hovering inconspicuously, quickly moved to pick it up.
“Jeez, Mom,” muttered Arielle. “Watch what you’re doing.”
“Well, excuse me,” Tawny said and grabbed her wineglass. “I didn’t know it was a crime to be clumsy.”
“It should be a crime to be drunk,” muttered the woman seated at their table.
“I heard that,” Tawny snarled.
The woman called Olivia over. “Isn’t there somewhere else we can sit?” she asked in a lowered voice as Tawny continued her drunken rant.
If only. “I’m so sorry,” Olivia said. “Come speak to me at the front desk tomorrow. I’d love to give you a gift card for a stay at another date.”
The woman glared at Tawny. “That woman is ruining our whole meal.”
When a guest got too out of hand, James usually escorted said guest from the dining room. Unfortunately, this was a little trickier since this guest was a family member. Sort of.
There was only one thing to do. Olivia stepped over to Tawny. “Tawny, I have a wonderful idea. How would you like to join me someplace special for the rest of the meal?”
Tawny looked intrigued. “Yeah? Where?”
“Let’s have this meal just us girls, in my apartment. That way we could get to know each other a bit, being mothers of the newlyweds and all.”
The offer of exclusivity appealed. Tawny gave the family frowning at her a superior sneer. “Good idea. I don’t need to sit around with a bunch of assholes who think they’re better than me.” She stood and leaned precariously over the table, fixing the woman with a soused glare. “I’ve met women like you before, bitches who think they’re so much better than the rest of us.”
> “I’m done,” Arielle announced. She threw down her napkin and stormed from the room.
Tawny waved her off with a flick of her hand. “She just wants to call her boyfriend. Let her go.”
Olivia certainly had no intention of forcing the angry teen to stay. She picked up Tawny’s plate with one hand and slipped her other under Tawny’s arm to steady her. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Fine with me,” Tawny said and grabbed her glass.
“Thank God,” the woman murmured, and Tawny flipped her off. “What’s wrong with people, anyway?” she demanded of Olivia as they wove their way out of the dining room.
“That’s a great question,” Olivia said. This woman was a mystery, that was for sure. What had made her the way she was? Perhaps her own mother hadn’t parented her very well. One thing Olivia knew for sure—when she was a little girl, the woman hadn’t said, “I want to grow up to be an embarrassment to my children.”
Back at the apartment, Olivia settled Tawny on her couch and started some coffee going.
Muffin hopped up on the couch to check out the newcomer. “Oh, you’ve got a cat. I love cats.”
Okay, someone who liked cats couldn’t be all bad.
“What’s your cat’s name?”
“Muffin.”
“Aww, come here, Muffin.” She hauled the cat on her lap, but Muffin decided she didn’t want to stay and jumped down. Tawny shook her head. “Cats are such snobs. We had one when the girls were little. He was a snob, too, but they loved him, anyway. The damn thing ran away after just a couple of months. We never did find him.”
What to say to all that? Nothing, Olivia decided.
“So, you guys live right here in the hotel, huh?” Tawny said, taking in her surroundings.
“We do,” Olivia said. “It makes it easier to run the inn living on-site.”
Tawny picked up her half-eaten roll. “I love these brown-and-serve rolls.”
Olivia made all her rolls from scratch. She told herself not to be insulted.
Christmas in Icicle Falls Page 23
