The Lodge on Holly Road

by Sheila Roberts

  “No, I don’t. I’m not sure when I’ll get done and I’m tired from having to come in early. And I told you, I had a sucky day. I’ll see you up there tomorrow. Okay?”

  Well, there was no reason to get snappy. Oh, except for PMS. And if that was what was going on he’d be better off letting her get a good night’s sleep.

  “Fine,” he said, a little snappish himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “See you tomorrow,” she said in a quasipatient tone of voice, as if she was dealing with someone who was a severe trial.

  He knew when to give up. If she wanted to take two cars and waste gas, fine. “Okay.” He wanted to urge her not to take all day getting up there, but then he remembered that possible PMS thing so he didn’t. Instead, he said, “See you when you get there.” He added, “I love you, babe,” but she’d hung up. Well, he was the more romantic of the two of them. Weird, but there you had it.

  He was also the thriftier of the two, probably because he didn’t make as much as she did. There was nothing wrong with being thrifty, and hey, if she was determined to bring her own car, then he’d go up tonight.

  He turned toward I-90, brought up Pandora and got the Christmas music going. Once he hit Icicle Falls he’d maybe enjoy a late dinner at Zelda’s restaurant, where he’d planned to take Holland, just to check it out. And wish she was there.

  She’ll be there tomorrow, he reminded himself. And then everything would go according to plan.

  He made good time until he neared Snoqualmie Pass. Then the sleeting rain that had started around Bellevue turned to snow and traffic slowed down. There was a veritable logjam of cars in the spot designated for putting on chains, and with the way the snow was coming down, he could see why chains were required. Maybe Holland wouldn’t want to deal with that. Damn. He knew he should have waited and come up with her.

  He quickly called her and got an impatient hello. “Hey, chains are required.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Uh, you okay with doing that?” This was their first time going to the mountains together. What if she couldn’t put on chains?

  “I do know how to put on chains, John,” she said.

  “Okay, fine. You home yet?”

  “Yeah, and I’m about to take a bath.”

  Oh, there was an image to make a man smile. “Get good and relaxed,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, bye.” And then she was gone.

  He pulled up behind a Honda that had seen better days, where a woman in a black parka and jeans and tennis shoes was struggling to get chains around one of her rear tires. Unlike Holland, who was leggy and svelte, this woman filled out her pants with a well-rounded bottom. She wore glasses and had curls of blue hair escaping from a red knit hat. Two little kids, a Latino boy and a cute little girl with big brown eyes and cornrows, were hanging out the back windows, trying to catch snowflakes in their mittened hands. Meanwhile, the woman was still struggling with the chain. It wasn’t hard to see why; she wasn’t wearing gloves. Her hands had to be frozen. She stopped to blow on them and glared at the chain.

  Here was a job for Super John. He got out of his car and came over. “Can I help you with that?”

  She looked up at him gratefully and rubbed her hands together. “That would be great. I just can’t seem to get these stupid chains on.”

  “It’s hard when your hands are cold.”

  “I forgot to pack my gloves. Here we are, going to the mountains, and I forget to pack gloves. Can you believe it?”

  “Looks like you were packing for more than yourself,” John said. The girl had joined the boy at his window and was now regarding John. She was cute as a button with her big brown eyes and that goofy tiara on her head. Her parka was a little frayed but clean. The boy’s coat looked too small for him but it, too, was clean and his mittens looked new.

  “My mom needs help,” said the boy. “I could’ve done it.”

  “I’m sure you could,” John agreed. He wondered what had happened to these kids’ dads. This woman sure wasn’t alone because she was a dog. She had a round face and blue eyes and Angelina Jolie lips. Cute, he thought. Not that he was interested, of course. It was just an observation.

  He introduced himself to the mom and learned her name was Missy Monroe. Cute name, too. “Where are you guys headed?”

  “To Icicle Falls,” she said. “We’re going to spend Christmas up there.”

  “No way. Really? Me, too,” he said.

  “All I want is to get there in one piece. I’ve never put on chains before,” she confessed.

  She had them laid out properly, with the connector facedown. Unfortunately, she was putting them on the wrong tires. “Well, you made a good start,” he said, “but I’ll bet this is a front-wheel-drive car, which means you need those on the front tires.”

  She took that in. “Oh. Oops.”

  “Easy to fix,” he said. “Let’s move the tires off the chains and try again.”

  She nodded and hopped behind the wheel. Moments later the chains were matched with the correct tires.

  “Gosh, I’m glad you came along,” she said as he hooked them up. “Even if I got them on, they would’ve been useless.”

  “No problem,” he said. Yeah, good thing he’d decided to come up today. Otherwise, this poor woman would’ve worked away at those chains until her hands turned as blue as her hair. “So, where are you staying in Icicle Falls?”

  “We’ve got reservations at this place called the Icicle Creek Lodge.”

  “No way,” John said again. “That’s where I’m staying.” That made her face light up like a Christmas tree. Uh-oh. Maybe she thought he was single. “Uh, with my girlfriend,” he added.

  Her face reddened. “Oh.” She looked over to his car, where there was plainly no girlfriend.

  Now he felt embarrassed. “She had to work late. She’s joining me tomorrow.”

  The woman nodded slowly, taking that in. “Oh.”

  “And are you, uh, meeting someone?”

  “No.” For a moment she seemed a little sad, but that was replaced by a forced brightness. “Just the kids and me. We’re going to have a perfect, old-fashioned Christmas.”

  He nodded approval. “Great.” He finished with the last chain and stepped away from his handiwork. “Okay, you’re good to go.”

  “Thanks,” she said, and smiled at him as if he was some sort of genius.

  He waved away her thanks. All in a day’s work for a holiday superhero. “If you have any problem, I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you there,” she said.

  “Yeah, see you.”

  “And thanks again for helping me with the chains.”

  “No worries.”

  She gave him a bashful smile and then hopped into her car. He could hear her instructing the kids to buckle up. The car started and the sounds of “The Little Drummer Boy” drifted out to him. The son leaned his head out the window and waved, and John waved back.

  “Come on, Carlos, we’re not moving until you’re buckled in and the window is up,” said his mom.

  Up went the window and the car chunk-chunked its way back onto the highway. John gave them one last wave and then got busy with his own chains. Someday that would be him, he thought as he pulled back onto the highway, taking his kids up to the mountains for Christmas. Maybe they’d even cut their own Christmas tree.

  They’d have to do that without Holland. She wasn’t much into hiking, even in nice weather.

  But she liked to shop and she liked good wine, and that was another reason he’d picked Icicle Falls. He’d done a search for holiday getaway spots in Washington and the town had come up at the top of his search list. It wasn’t hard to see why. In addition to its charming town center it had lots of thos
e cute shops chicks loved, along with local wineries and good restaurants. Oh, yeah. It was a Holland kind of place. And the Icicle Creek Lodge was the frosting on the red velvet cake. They were going to have a great time.

  Chapter Five

  Do You See What I See?

  There were oohs and aahs from the kids the moment they hit town. Driving past all those buildings with the fancy paintings on them and the cute little signs dangling above the doors, the potted Christmas trees strung with twinkle lights sitting on every corner, it was as if they’d gone to Germany for the holidays. One shop even had a life-size Nutcracker standing guard outside. Wow.

  Once they’d gone through the town itself, Missy’s directions sent her down Icicle Creek Drive, a wooded road surrounded by snowy woods. “See the llama farm?” she said, pointing. “That means we’re almost there.”

  Sure enough, there was Holly Road, the side road veering off the main drag. She turned onto it and followed a scenic, curved road. She could already see herself walking down it, taking the kids into town to see the sights.

  Then she saw their home for the holidays. Carlos and Lalla stared in awe at the Icicle Creek Lodge as if it was the Taj Mahal. It was pretty impressive—a big stone-and-timber building that looked like something from another time with a sweeping front lawn carpeted with pristine snow. The roof was strung with icicle lights and a tree bejeweled with colored lights sat on the front porch, which ran along the front of the building. Oh, yes, just like in the picture.

  “Wow!” cried Carlos, racing toward the lodge.

  “Not so fast,” Missy said. “I need you to help me carry in our stuff.”

  “I can help,” offered John Truman, who had just gotten out of his vehicle. He’d caught up with them quickly after chaining up his own car and, true to his word, had been behind them all the way like some sort of guardian angel.

  He sure was a cute guardian angel, with hair the color of red some women would pay a fortune for and freckles strung across his nose. He wasn’t as good-looking as other men she’d fallen for but she was willing to bet he also wasn’t a sleaze bucket.

  There would be no falling for this guy, she reminded herself. He was already taken. “That’s okay,” she said, handing a grocery bag of snacks to Lalla, who, like her brother, couldn’t seem to stand still.

  “Mama,” Lalla gasped, “I just saw Santa Claus.”

  “There’s no such thing, stupid,” Carlos told her scornfully.

  “Is, too!” Lalla shot back.

  “Don’t call your sister stupid,” Missy scolded. She wanted to add that there was, too, such a thing as Santa, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it, considering that Santa had been rather a disappointment to her children, especially Carlos. “Where did you see Santa, princess?” she asked her daughter.

  Lalla pointed to the lodge. “I saw him go inside.”

  “Santa doesn’t stay in houses,” Carlos said impatiently. “He lives at the North Pole.”

  So much for not believing in Santa, Missy thought with a smile, and gave her son the backpack with his clothes.

  “Maybe he’s visiting friends,” John said. Missy had a trash bag with the kids’ presents in it and he insisted on carrying that, as well as the beat-up carry-on suitcase she’d picked up at a garage sale.

  “Maybe we’ll see him,” Lalla said, and hurried up the front walk.

  “Race you!” Carlos dashed ahead of her.

  “I think they’re stoked,” John observed.

  “They’re not the only ones,” Missy said. Oh, yes, this was going to be such a great Christmas. And she didn’t need a man to make it great. Still, as she made her way up the walk with her new friend beside her, she couldn’t help wishing he wasn’t already taken.

  * * *

  James wished he was in jeans and a shirt instead of this red Santa suit. If he were, he’d be more inclined to linger and talk to Olivia Wallace, the friendly owner of this B and B who was checking them in, supervised by a big orange cat sitting on top of the check-in desk. There was something pleasant about this woman, something that said, “Take a deep breath, relax, everything will be all right.”

  She was plump and round-faced. Her hair was as gray as his, a pretty silver-white, softly curled and very feminine-looking. Put her in a red skirt and a lacy blouse and some granny glasses, and she could pass for Mrs. Claus. She’d moved her wedding ring to her right hand, which told him she was widowed. It would be comforting to talk with someone who’d been where he was.

  Olivia smiled. “I swear, you’re the most realistic Santa I’ve ever seen.”

  Realistic or not, who went out in public dressed like Santa? He felt like an idiot. “I don’t normally parade around in this outfit,” he said.

  “I kidnapped him from work,” Brooke explained. She petted the cat and it purred and leaned into her hand for more. “He’s a professional Santa.”

  “Oh, that must be fun!” said Olivia.

  It had been. Once upon a time. James shrugged.

  “He’s been Santa for as long as I can remember,” Brooke continued, warming to the subject. “At family gatherings, for church events, orphanages, fund-raisers. He always goes to Children’s Hospital and visits the kids.”

  Okay, this was becoming embarrassing. And now voices outside announced that more guests were arriving.

  “I think I hear children,” he said. “Let’s get out of here before they see me and wonder what Santa’s doing wandering around the lodge two days before Christmas.”

  “They’d probably love to meet you,” Brooke said.

  Well, he didn’t want to meet them. “Honey, I really want to change out of this outfit.”

  “Of course,” Olivia said, handing over the keycards for their adjoining rooms. “We serve breakfast from eight to ten. If you have any special dietary needs that weren’t addressed when you registered, please let us know. Christmas Eve we’ll be offering a special dinner at six and on Christmas Day we’ll serve dinner at five.”

  “Fabulous,” Brooke said.

  “The elevator’s right around the corner if you prefer to use it. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.” Olivia smiled at both of them again, but her smile seemed to linger on James.

  “I hope we’ll see you around,” he said, and then felt instantly guilty. That had been...too friendly. His wife had been gone only a year. He had no right to be smiling at a woman, taking in her generous curves. Her breasts.

  His thoughts traveled back to Faith’s mastectomy. A double. She’d mourned the loss of her breasts, but he’d just been glad to have her alive, still with him. Who cared about the breasts? Of course, she’d talked about reconstructive surgery and that had made him nervous. Even though it was a common procedure, what if something happened?

  Something had happened. She’d barely gotten her new breasts when the damned cancer came back, this time in her spine. He’d nursed her the best he could, tried to learn to cook. But his specialty had remained heating soup. Thank God they’d had friends who brought over hot dishes. Thank God for his daughter. He wished he was thanking God that his wife was still alive.

  Now the voices were getting nearer. Santa was in no mood to see anybody. He grabbed Brooke’s suitcase and marched for the elevator.

  She hurried after him, catching up with him just as the doors opened. As they stepped off the elevator and walked under the archway toward the hall where their rooms were, she said, “Oh, look. Mistletoe.”

  That made him even grumpier. But it wouldn’t do to be grumpy when he was with his daughter and she’d gone to so much trouble to make their Christmas good. “Well, then, I’d better kiss my angel,” he said, and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  She hugged him back. “We’re going to have fun.”

  “Yes, we are,” he lied.

  “Loo
k!” came a childish voice from the lobby. “There he is.”

  Crap. “Okay, let’s go,” he said, and picked up his pace.

  * * *

  “I saw him!” Lalla cried, pointing to the third landing. “He was right there and he was kissing a lady.”

  If he was on the third-story landing, he was gone now. The kids would love it if there was somebody here playing Santa Claus. Missy hadn’t taken them to the mall to see Santa yet and she’d love to get their pictures taken with him.

  Of course, they’d written letters to Santa. She’d helped Lalla write hers and it had read, “Dear Santa, I love you. Please bring me a grandma. My grandma is in heaven with the angels and can’t bake me cookies or read me stories. Merry Christmas. We will try to make you some cookies if Mommy can buy some cookie mix.” They hadn’t gotten around to the cookies, but Missy had assured Lalla that Santa would bring her something, anyway.

  Carlos hadn’t been quite so loving in his letter. He’d written it himself and it was short and to the point. “Dear Santa, if you kant bring me a dog furgit it. Merry Kristmas, Carlos.” Well, okay, so Santa wouldn’t come through. They’d still have fun.

  How could they not? She looked around the huge, beautifully decorated lobby. The carpet was dated but in pristine condition with a muted floral pattern. Sturdy ornate furniture gathered around a big fireplace on the back wall, impressive with its style and the carving on the mantelpiece. The fireplace was laid with wood, ready to be lit, and Missy could envision herself standing in front of it. A grouping of three large potted poinsettias sat on the coffee table and two wingback chairs flanked it. A baby grand piano occupied space in one corner and Missy knew from what she’d read on the website that later that evening someone would be seated at that piano, giving the guests a concert. But best of all was the antique sleigh sitting front and center in the lobby. It was decorated with red ribbon and greens and filled with presents and teddy bears. Some delicious aroma hung in the air, bringing the promise of cookies.

  “Well, aren’t you two the most beautiful children ever,” the woman at the reception desk greeted them. “What are your names?”