Snowflakes and Mistletoe at the Inglenook Inn

by Helen J Rolfe

  ‘I’ll be here,’ was the only answer she gave.

  ‘May I ask you a question?’ Perhaps small talk was the best way to get to know her. He’d never bothered so much with a woman before. They were either interested or they weren’t. But something about Darcy was different.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Why is this place called the Inglenook Inn? The fireplace is quite something, but it’s not a classic inglenook. I was just wondering how the name came about.’

  ‘The owner, Sofia, went through a hard time.’ She restacked some of the kindling she didn’t need just yet onto the shelf to the right of the fireplace. ‘She found comfort with friends out in a town called Inglenook Falls. The friendship group was very supportive when Sofia took on the venture of this inn. She’d originally planned to call it something else entirely but then changed the name to be the Inglenook Inn, to say thank you I suppose.’

  His gaze held hers and he wondered was she one of those people, those friends, who had been involved? He could imagine she probably was – it seemed the sort of thing she’d do. ‘In England an inglenook is huge; you can sit in it it’s so big.’ As soon as the words were out he knew he sounded like an idiot, like he was trying to show off somehow. But she didn’t take it the wrong way.

  ‘I remember. There was a pub on the street where I rented a flat and it had the most impressive inglenook fireplace.’ For a moment she let herself forget who he was. ‘I loved Sunday drinks sitting beside it through the winter months.’ But she was distracted when someone else came through the front entrance to the brownstone.

  The cold nipped at his ankles beneath his suit trousers, socks and polished shoes, and it was his cue to go upstairs to his apartment.

  He worked some more at the desk equipped with everything he needed, but as figures began to swim in front of his eyes and he’d drained the bottle of beer from the fridge, he had a moment where he wondered whether he’d try talking to her again. He went downstairs, but when he heard other guests chatting away in the lounge he went out for a wander instead.

  He had the feeling he’d missed his opportunity with Darcy Spencer, or perhaps there’d never really been one in the first place.

  Chapter Five

  Darcy

  Thirteen days until Christmas

  The open fire was a huge hit with the O’Sullivans, who had just returned to the Inn and come in from the cold. Last night Darcy had wondered whether Myles Cunningham was going to sit and enjoy it like they were doing now. Part of her had hoped he would; the other part of her was so uncomfortable around him that she was relieved when he disappeared up to the top floor.

  ‘It’s really coming down out there,’ Darcy sympathised as the parents tried to warm up. They’d taken off their coats but still looked bedraggled and in need of respite. The rain had started a few minutes ago and was already hammering against the window panes. ‘How was dinner?’

  ‘It was wonderful,’ the mum, Adele, replied, but Darcy could tell she was about five minutes away from collapsing with utter exhaustion. Manhattan was bigger than you realised and while the phrase ‘it’s only a few blocks away’ conjured up a pleasant, meandering walk, Darcy knew that to out-of-towners those few blocks could be torturous if you were already tired, if the weather was as bad as it was now, and if you had kids in tow. The children weren’t very old either and the way they were whining, Darcy suspected this guest had reached the end of her tether.

  ‘This fire is a godsend.’ Adele’s eyes lit up momentarily until she forced herself back into mummy mode. The kids looked like they’d had enough instruction for one day and were fractious. ‘Come on, kids, let’s go and get into some dry clothes, tuck you up for the night.’

  When both boys dialled the whining up a notch, Darcy whispered to Adele before crouching down so she was at the boys’ eye level. ‘How about you all get changed, then come down to the fire and I’ll make you each a cup of hot cocoa.’ The parents’ shoulders relaxed but not as much as when Darcy added, ‘If you’re good’ – she looked at each child in turn – ‘I’ll even make some s’mores.’

  ‘What are they?’ the youngest wanted to know.

  ‘They’re a big treat with chocolate and marshmallows.’

  It was all it took. Eyes wide, they were perfectly compliant when it came to their parents’ instructions and the mum mouthed a thank you to Darcy as they took the stairs.

  This is what Darcy loved: going that extra mile for guests to lift their experience from good to fabulous. The mum had leapt at her suggestion, willing to try anything when Darcy sought her approval before making her offer. They’d expected to come back to their accommodation and collapse into bed, and in a bigger establishment they may have gone into a restaurant or ordered room service, selecting cocoa from the menu. But what Darcy was learning more and more now she’d worked somewhere smaller were the little tweaks you could offer guests.

  Darcy went about preparing the ingredients she’d need. Rupert was finishing up and she assured him she’d take it from here. He went off home and she took out the Graham crackers, a block of chocolate, a packet of marshmallows and some wooden skewers, plates, cups and cocoa powder. She brought a pan of milk up to temperature and whisked through the cocoa powder, and when it was hot she switched off the heat and put a lid over the pan so it was ready when the family returned downstairs. She took everything through to the lounge on an oval platter just as the two boys came downstairs with their dad, Troy.

  ‘Now, which one of you is Saul and which one is Jarrod?’ Darcy asked as Troy settled himself into the sofa opposite the fire.

  The littlest blond boy announced he was Saul and at the same time the taller of the two said Jarrod.

  ‘Well please, call me Darcy.’ She held up two skewers. ‘Take one each.’ The boys’ eyes lit up as they stretched out their hands to lay claim to the thin pieces of wood. ‘S’mores are a favourite of mine, and very American.’

  They were full of energy, eager to get going with the proceedings.

  ‘I ate a lot in my childhood.’ She whispered so their dad didn’t overhear. ‘They’re terrible for your teeth.’

  Both boys sniggered conspiratorially.

  Darcy grinned. She was having fun making this a Christmas vacation they’d surely remember. ‘Now, see those marshmallows, you need to put one on the end of the skewer, then lay that down here.’ She pointed to the clean plates and stood supervising.

  ‘I appreciate this.’ Troy, his eyes open now his wife had come to join them, watched on as Darcy had the boys line up halves of Graham crackers and place a square of chocolate on top of one half each.

  ‘Mum, can we make these again when we go home?’ the boys asked Adele.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’

  ‘Pleeeeeease!’ they chorused.

  Darcy carried on instructing the boys on how to toast the marshmallows and when they understood the task she lifted the glass in front of the fire to expose the flames. ‘I made these every Christmas as a little girl. It was my dad’s favourite thing to do. My dad wasn’t allowed too many, Mom said he’d be bigger than Santa and he’d have no teeth if he did, but it never put me off.’ The boys’ giggles filled the room. The only year Darcy had ever missed the festive tradition of s’mores was when she’d had braces and they were at the top of the list of what not to eat, along with all the other treats teenagers loved. Sometimes she swore the dentist made half the stuff up to turn them all into health nuts until their teeth were straight. ‘Now, we all know how important it is to clean our teeth, don’t we?’ She looked at each boy in turn, pulling Jarrod back from the fire and explaining he needed to straighten his arm and rotate the stick so that the outside of the marshmallow could turn slowly golden.

  ‘We know,’ the boys said, probably worried that if they didn’t say it, they wouldn’t be allowed the delectable treats.

  ‘Like this?’ Saul rotated his skewer, the concentration written across his brow.

  ‘That’s exac
tly right. You know, I think that’s nearly done.’ She moved over to his brother. ‘Yours too. Now, carefully take them over to your plates.’ They did as told. ‘Now lay the marshmallow on top of the square of chocolate sitting on the Graham cracker. That’s it. Now, put the other half on top.’ She watched them as they intently did as asked. ‘Push it down gently but firm enough to hold the marshmallow in place, and at the same time pull the skewer.’

  ‘Can we eat them?’ Jarrod’s smile matched Saul’s.

  ‘Count to sixty to give them a chance to cool and for the chocolate to melt, and then you’re good to go,’ she beamed. And when she turned around, there, leaning against the doorframe to the lounge, was Myles Cunningham, who looked like he’d been watching them for quite a while.

  ‘Is it time for hot cocoa?’ She addressed Adele and Troy, leaving Myles to his own devices as he moved towards the table near the bar to peruse the newspapers. She wondered if he’d be brave enough to sit in here with a family around. It didn’t seem his sort of thing. He seemed more of a fine-dining, peace-and-quiet type gentleman. Even at the party in London he hadn’t seemed to let go with his colleagues. Perhaps it wasn’t something he ever allowed himself to do.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ Troy answered. ‘Cocoa all round, I think. I’m not sure the kids will sleep after their sugar load, but what the heck – we’re on holiday.’ He earned himself a kiss from his wife, who looked twenty times more relaxed than she had when they’d returned to the Inn earlier.

  Darcy knew she couldn’t be rude so asked Myles, ‘Can I interest you in a cocoa, Mr Cunningham?’ Funny, she called him Myles in her head but tried to address him formally out loud even though he insisted she didn’t.

  ‘It’s Myles, and no thanks, but I would be interested in seeing what other drinks you have.’

  ‘Are you sure? Cocoa and s’mores are on the house, all part of the festive fun.’ Her smile almost had him, she could tell.

  ‘I don’t think my stomach could handle one of those things. They look lethal.’

  ‘I ate them all the time as a kid,’ she confessed, ‘but they’re definitely a sugar hit.’ She retrieved a menu from the front desk, handed it to him and excused herself. ‘I’ll give you a chance to make your choice and you can let me know when I’m back. Drinks are charged to the room or you can pay cash straight away if you’d prefer.’ She had a sneaky suspicion all of his expenses would be covered by his company.

  ‘Adding on the room is fine.’ His eyes still hadn’t moved from hers to the menu.

  Darcy escaped to the kitchen. Myles certainly wasn’t lacking in appeal. With those melting-chocolate eyes and dark hair cropped neatly, and the charisma carried on his refined British accent, he’d almost reeled her in. But her previous encounter with him couldn’t be forgotten.

  Darcy made four cups of hot cocoa, adding an extra splash of ice-cold milk to the boys’ mugs. If she knew anything about little kids it was that they liked to eat and drink anything tasty at full speed ahead – she’d once seen Gabriella’s son Kyle eating cake like the entire thing would disappear if he didn’t do it quickly enough – and she hated to think Saul and Jarrod would burn their mouths.

  ‘Here we go.’ She returned to the lounge to find Adele hugging her boys, one at each side, and Troy and Myles deep in conversation, sharing a laugh.

  Darcy handed the cocoa round, reminding the boys to blow across the top and cool the liquid down before they drank it. Adele suggested more s’mores another night as the men continued to talk between themselves and Darcy pulled the glass front down over the flames of the fire again for safety. She often did so unless it was later in the evening and only adults were around. The glass was so clean it didn’t lessen the effect when it was in place, and, now, the glow filtered through the room along with the low lighting from the tall lamp in the corner. She’d left the curtains open onto the street. It was nice for guests to look out and see the personality of the neighbourhood, part of the big city, and anyone who passed by could be inquisitive about this little inn that was becoming more and more special to Darcy.

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ Carrying plates, she addressed Myles, who had left Troy to it and picked up a leaflet about nearby attractions from the collection on the table set among the newspapers. She doubted this man had done much sightseeing at all in his time here. It was a pity – there was so much to discover. New York was far too special to waste your time cooped up in an office day and night.

  ‘I’ll have a bourbon, neat, no ice please.’

  ‘Of course.’ She took the plates through to the kitchen before returning to the bar in the lounge. It was a modest size, on the opposite corner to the front desk, so tucked away, but there were two stools at the front of the mahogany top on which drinks were served. She found a glass, lifted the tongs for ice before she remembered he’d requested none to be added, and poured a single measure into the vessel.

  ‘Thank you.’ He sipped the liquid and it seemed to instantly relax him.

  ‘Busy day today?’

  ‘A busy afternoon,’ he confirmed, ‘and not a good one.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Darcy used a cloth to wipe around the bottle where a drip had made its way down the outside and replaced it on the shelf behind. She tried to treat Myles as any other guest. It would make his stay here more comfortable for the both of them.

  ‘Let’s just say my meeting this afternoon could’ve gone better.’

  Darcy was used to strangers telling her their woes. For some reason, the hotel environment became a bit of a confession box for some guests, a sounding board for others. She leaned against the bar. With her other guests in the comfort of the sofa and armchairs at the other end of the room as they sipped their hot cocoa, she had time to listen. ‘What happened?’

  ‘My client wasn’t happy with the information I presented them with. It happens, but I was sure this one was in the bag.’

  She nodded, smiled. She wondered whether it was only that that was stressing him out. The tension in his neck was visible, the way he held his drink and stared into it whenever he looked away from her. But it wasn’t for her to pry.

  ‘My family are bothering me too.’ It looked like she didn’t need to ask many more questions. The information was spilling out now he’d begun. ‘Across the miles, can you believe?’ He swigged more of his bourbon.

  ‘How can they possibly be doing that?’

  ‘My parents do it well, believe me. Sometimes it’s subtle.’ Another gulp. ‘There’s always been a pressure.’

  ‘In your career?’ She had his attention and she added, ‘Lucky guess.’

  His drink was almost gone and Darcy poured him another at his nod of approval. He’d better slow down a bit or he’d have family, plus work, and a hangover to face in the morning.

  ‘It was a good guess. But it’s my personal life and their incessant need to obsess about it that gets me down. The only thing they nag me about with regards to my career is that I work so far away now. They want me back on English turf. What gets me is that my dad was a businessman until he retired, he travelled extensively – lord knows we didn’t see him much – so when he’s telling me America and England are worlds apart, it seems hypocritical.’

  ‘Maybe he just wants you close by,’ she suggested, even though she didn’t know enough about the situation to give him advice. ‘Parents get more like that as they get older. My family were all for me travelling around and seeing the world, there was no hurry to come back, but the way my parents have been since I returned, I can tell how happy they are.’

  ‘You’re lucky.’

  There was more to this than Darcy could work out right now. ‘Perhaps your parents miss you.’

  He looked up and when he’d held her gaze longer than was comfortable, Darcy was relieved the O’Sullivan family had started to make a move. She wanted to be nice to all her guests, but there was a fine line between politeness and intrusion and she didn’t want to cross it.

 
She waved away efforts from Troy and Adele to clear the cups and wipe up a small spill on the little round table the boys had knelt at for their cocoas. She said goodnight, took the crockery out to the kitchen and came back to wipe down the area. The floor would need a clean too: there were crumbs on the rug from the Graham crackers, debris from shoes had come off near the sofa. She grabbed a broom from the closet in the hall and swept up. She picked up most of the crumbs from the rug by hand – the more thorough hoovering could wait until the cleaner came in the morning. She was rostered on three times each week to come in and do the bulk of the housework – washing floors, dusting, cleaning the bathrooms in each apartment – and it was Darcy’s responsibility to stay on top of the rest.

  Keeping things shipshape was even more essential when such a major publication was going to give them valuable coverage. Sofia always held back when it came to putting the Inn in the limelight, but you couldn’t afford to be in the shadows in this game and already Darcy had upped the amount they added to their Twitter feed and Facebook page, and had started an Inglenook Instagram account for potential customers on there. She couldn’t wait to share more pictures of the Inn beneath a blanket of snow when the time came. Those pictures would capture the essence of the place and raise its profile to a new level.

  ‘Am I keeping you?’ Myles wanted to know after she’d returned the broom to the closet, swept up the pile of dirt with a dustpan and brush and deposited it in the bin down the hall.

  ‘I’m here as long as you need me.’ She felt her cheeks colour. What she meant was she would stay up until he no longer needed her to get him drinks. Strictly the bar wasn’t open after midnight, but she knew Sofia made an exception for some guests. She told Darcy it was one of the little things that boosted her reputation from a nice little inn to a damn fine establishment. They’d laughed over the description, but already Darcy knew there was a great deal of truth behind the words.