The Lodge on Holly Road

by Sheila Roberts

  He’d almost said, “Not even to be with me?” but then thought better of it. Holland had an acerbic sense of humor, which she might have been tempted to use, and in light of everything he was planning it wouldn’t have sat well with him. Instead, he said, “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  The snow fort was nearly finished and there was still no sign of Holland. The hours sure dragged when you were waiting for someone you loved. When she finally arrived, it would be time for lunch. And that would mess up his itinerary, since he’d booked the sleigh ride for earlier. But that was okay, he told himself. He could be flexible. It was all good.

  That was more than he’d been able to say a few months earlier. They’d broken up in August after what he’d considered to be a stupid fight. “You’re so lame sometimes,” she’d said.

  What was lame about wanting a night in, just the two of them? He’d wanted to spend some quality time together instead of going out to a noisy bar. Weren’t women supposed to be into that?

  She was into quality time, she’d insisted, but not cheap time. “You never want to do anything that costs money,” she’d accused him.

  “That’s not true,” he’d argued. Only the night before, he’d taken her to an expensive Seattle restaurant where they’d gotten small servings of food for big prices. Talk about a waste of money. And he’d spent plenty on her when they were first together. But now he wanted to save for bigger things, like memorable vacations, maybe even a house. If it was up to Holland, they’d blow every cent they had on clothes and dinners out and overpriced lattes.

  In addition to accusing him of being cheap, she’d then claimed that he didn’t want to have any fun. Well, he was having fun now.

  “This is gonna be the best fort ever,” Carlos said as he packed another handful of snow on top of their growing wall.

  “Yeah, it is,” John agreed. Someday he was coming back here with a kid of his own and building another snow fort. He and Holland had talked about kids once. She wanted them, down the road, of course. Well, yeah. Down the road. They had plenty of time.

  “Our snowman’s gonna be really big,” Lalla called from the other side of the yard.

  “Not bigger than our fort,” Carlos yelled, packing on more snow. “Right, John?”

  “Right,” John said.

  Lalla tried again. “Snowmans are better than forts,” she yelled back. “Right, Mommy?”

  “Are not,” Carlos retorted. “Right, John?”

  “Uh, right,” John said.

  Their mother cleverly kept out of the argument.

  After that, the snow fort team worked in silence, while Lalla and Missy kept up a conversation with their snowman. They’d been busy with construction for about ten minutes when Carlos quietly asked John, “Do you believe in Santa?”

  “Sure,” John said. “Everybody should believe in Santa. That’s part of what makes Christmas special.”

  Carlos fell silent again, digesting this. A few minutes later he spoke again. “I asked Santa for a dad once. I had a dad for a while but he didn’t stay.”

  Lalla’s father, John guessed. Oh, crap. He was in over his head here. “Well, uh, maybe Santa’s working on finding you a better one.”

  Carlos made a face.

  “Anyway, I’m not sure dads are his thing. He’s more into toys.”

  “I don’t want toys. I want a dad. Or a dog.”

  “Hey, toys are cool,” John said. That was probably what the kid’s mother had bought him.

  “They ain’t a dog.”

  Well, that was true. John had always gotten what he’d asked for from Santa. He’d also had a dog growing up and, even more important, a dad.

  He wished he could think of something wise to say to Carlos, but all he could come up with was, “Yeah, you’re right. They’re not.” Poor kid. John hoped Christmas morning wouldn’t be too much of a disappointment.

  * * *

  The Monroe kids were playing on the front lawn when Eric and Olivia and the dog arrived at the inn. What a wonderful surprise this was going to be for those children, Olivia thought gleefully. “Pull around back, dear, so Carlos won’t see,” she said, and they slid by unnoticed with their big surprise.

  “Can you handle getting him inside while I unload the other stuff?” Eric asked.

  “Of course.”

  “The leash is in the bag in the backseat, along with the toys and the dog dish,” Eric said.

  She nodded and leaned over, removing the leash from the bag. Then she walked around to the back and opened it. “Here we are, boy.”

  Before she could even grab the dog’s collar he was out of the vehicle and bounding off in the snow. “Oh, no! Come back! Here, boy!”

  Boy had no intention of coming back. With a wail Olivia started running after the dog, slipping and sliding in the snow.

  Eric was past her in a shot.

  This, as far as the dog was concerned, was a highly entertaining game. He stood for a moment, watching Eric approach. Then, just when Eric was almost within range, he dodged and raced off. And now he was heading for the front yard.

  “Get him before he rounds the corner,” Olivia cried, waving the leash. She was doing well until she slipped and went down in the snow on her backside. Ugh.

  * * *

  Eric didn’t have time to help the fallen. He raced around the corner after the dog, sliding and barely keeping upright. Now the animal saw the kids. Oh, boy.

  “A dog!” shouted Carlos. “Here, boy!”

  The dog loped over to Carlos, jumping on him and knocking him backward into his snow fort, pushing him through the wall. He landed with an “Oof,” and Lalla let out a squeal of laughter.

  Here’s your present, kid. Surprise. Eric picked up his pace and dived for the dog, who once more managed to dodge him, and Eric wound up making contact with the snow fort instead. Damn, but a wall of snow was hard on the nose.

  “I’ve got him,” John Truman said, taking off after the beast, who’d now moved on to greet the little girl. She, too, went down, along with her snowman, and came up crying. Missy tried to catch the dog’s collar and fell face-first in the snow, tripping John, who had almost closed in. And meanwhile, the animal was off again like a shot.

  Now Eric and the dog were doing a lap around the lodge. Oh, yeah, this was fun. Nothing he liked better than doing laps behind a dog butt. “Come here, damn it,” he growled.

  “Aarf!” replied the dog, which, translated, probably meant “Bite me, sucker.”

  Okay, here came Mom from the other direction, ready to head the animal off. Great. The thing would knock her over and break her arm. “Mom, get out of the way!” Eric called.

  “No!” She crouched in front of the animal like a sumo wrestler in drag.

  Oh, crap.

  But then, to Eric’s astonishment, she threw herself on top of the animal, taking it down.

  The dog let out a yelp and struggled to get free, but his mom was now channeling John Wayne. Like a cowboy roping a steer, she held the dog down, got the leash on his collar and struggled to her feet, the runaway finally stopped.

  “Ha! Gotcha,” she said triumphantly.

  Acknowledging defeat, the dog sat on his haunches and looked up at her, panting, tongue lolling.

  “Not bad,” Eric said in between gasps for air.

  She smiled. “You just have to show them who’s master.” And with that she led the dog into the lodge.

  Everything was fine until they got into their living room and their four-footed guest saw Muffin the cat. Muffin hissed, leaped from the top of the couch, where she’d been reigning supreme until the canine invader had arrived, and bolted across the room. The dog raced after her, pulling the leash right out of Mom’s hand, and the animals began doing the four-legged version of the Indianapolis 50
0 around the living room, over chairs, on the couch, under the dining room table. Oh, yeah, and there went the lamp.

  “Stop!” Mom shouted. “Oh, Eric, do something.”

  Once in the kitchen the cat jumped from the floor to the counter, and then to the top of the fridge. The dog stalled out, front paws on the counter, and barked like crazy.

  Eric grabbed his leash and pulled him down, saying, “Okay, dude, party’s over.”

  His mother fell onto the rocking chair. “My goodness. I haven’t had that much exercise since...well, I don’t know when. Dr. Wolfe was right. We’re going to have to pay for obedience school for this animal.”

  “Meanwhile, we should find some dog tranquilizers,” Eric said.

  “Maybe you can call Dr. Wolfe and get some suggestions for how we can get him whipped into shape for tonight.”

  “Dog training in one afternoon?”

  “Have you got a better idea?”

  “Yeah. Get the kid a stuffed dog.”

  * * *

  “Where did that dog come from?” Carlos asked.

  Missy noted his bright eyes and eager expression. What she’d gotten him wasn’t going to cut it. And how did you explain to a kid that you couldn’t afford a dog even if the landlady would let you have one? Especially a dog that big. That dog probably ate more than both her kids put together, would probably eat its dog food and half of what was in the fridge and then eat the fridge for dessert.

  Once she got a job at a high-end salon they could move. And then they could get a dog. Meanwhile, though, they’d have to stay dogless.

  “I’m sure he belongs to someone,” she said, making her son frown. “Maybe a friend of Mrs. Wallace.”

  “That was a mean dog,” Lalla whimpered.

  “Aw, he’s just playful,” John told her.

  “I wish he was mine,” Carlos said wistfully.

  “Hey, we should get our fort fixed before the bad guys get in,” John said, picking up a handful of snow.

  It was enough to distract Carlos, and Missy smiled gratefully at their new friend. He sure was a nice guy. For a moment she found herself wishing he didn’t have a girlfriend coming up, that he wasn’t about to get engaged. That he could be cloned. Sigh.

  Finally the wall was done, and Carlos lobbed a snowball at his sister from behind it. When she rewarded his effort with a squeal of outrage, he laughed and threw another. That made her run screaming to her mom, and they hid behind their snowman.

  “We’ll get you,” Missy called, and threw a snowball in the general direction of Fort Manly Man.

  “Yeah, we’ll get you,” echoed Lalla, imbued with sudden bravery.

  Of course, the boys had the advantage, and Lalla soon got tired of hiding behind the snowman and whined to go inside.

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be a sissy,” Carlos yelled.

  “I’m cold,” Lalla said. “I’m going inside.”

  “Come on, Lalla. Don’t go,” her brother pleaded. He came out from around the wall of his fort. “I’ll let you hit me.”

  That gave Lalla renewed strength and soon the children were pursuing each other around the lawn, throwing snowballs.

  Missy was laughing at them when something hit her in the back. She turned to see John grinning.

  “Gotcha,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah?” She formed a snowball even as he danced away.

  Giggling, she ran after him. John came to a sudden halt and she took full advantage and threw her snowball at him. Of course she missed. But he didn’t turn around to taunt her. Instead, she realized he was looking at the attractive, size-two blonde with the fancy jacket and jeans walking around the front of a car that was a lot newer than hers.

  “Holland,” John said, all smiles. “About time you got here.”

  So this was the girlfriend. Of course she had to have a model’s face—full lips, a delicate nose, blue eyes, great cheekbones and, to top it all off, a high-end haircut and highlights. It was wrong not to like people you hadn’t even met, but Missy sure felt inclined to. The woman was probably nice, too, which would make it really wrong to dislike her.

  She looked over at Missy, who suddenly felt like the queen of cheap in her bargain Goodwill jacket and borrowed mittens. The woman didn’t smile. Instead, she lifted one perfect eyebrow in disdain. Okay, Missy hated her.

  She turned her back on Missy but her words carried. “I see you’ve been busy this morning.”

  “Just killing time,” John said, hurrying over and kissing her.

  Killing time. Thanks.

  Now he seemed to remember Missy and the kids. “Oh, hey, Holland, this is Missy Monroe, Carlos and Lalla.”

  “I’m named after a princess,” Lalla told the newcomer.

  “That’s nice,” said Holland, smiling at Lalla. Her smile chilled considerably when she looked at Missy again.

  “Come on, John,” Carlos urged. “Let’s play some more.”

  “Sorry, dude, my girlfriend’s here now. I’m gonna have to say goodbye. See you guys at dinner. Have fun today.”

  “Good meeting you,” Holland said politely if not warmly.

  “You, too,” Missy lied. “You guys have fun.”

  Not that John was paying attention. He was too busy now, getting Holland’s suitcase out of the trunk and walking her up the front walk. His words floated back to Missy. “Isn’t this place cool?”

  “What’s it like inside?” asked Holland, obviously not ready to be impressed.

  “Even better. Wait till you see our room, babe. It’s got a fireplace. I have a ton of stuff planned for today.”

  Missy stood listening and frowning until their voices were just a murmur. She knew the type of woman this Holland was. A Mrs. Steele. Not as old as Missy’s nightmare customer but no less bitchy. Poor John Truman.

  A whack in the head with a snowball brought Missy out of her reverie. She yelped and turned to scowl at her son.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “How about not aiming for the head, okay?” she said grumpily. But she knew it wasn’t really the snowball that had gotten to her. And yep, she for sure hated Holland.

  Chapter Eleven

  Happy Holidays

  John walked Holland into the lobby, expecting to hear her rave over its old-world charm, the baby grand in the corner, the elaborately carved banister on the staircase, decorated with greens. The big sleigh filled with presents. Instead, she asked, “Who was that woman?”

  “What woman?”

  She frowned at him as if he were an idiot. “The one you were playing with in the snow.”

  “Oh, her.” John had already moved on mentally to being with Holland. He shifted gears. “She brought her kids up here for Christmas. Anyway, I thought we’d start with lunch at Schwangau.”

  “You just met her?”

  Switching gears again. “Yeah.”

  Holland raised an eyebrow.

  She couldn’t be jealous of some poor single mom and her kids, could she? “What?”

  “You seemed pretty friendly, is all.”

  “Hey, I made friends while I was here. What did you want me to do, sit in my room until you got around to coming up?” This wasn’t exactly the way to begin a romantic holiday, but she was ticking him off.

  “No,” she said stiffly.

  “I’m not interested in her if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Okay, fine. I just thought it was kind of weird. I mean, last night you were begging me to come up when I had to work late, and this morning you’re hanging out with some...woman.”

  This had all the makings of a stupid fight, and he didn’t want to fight. He wanted to have fun. “Come on, babe,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “This isn’t how I want to start our holiday.”<
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  Just then the two older women were coming down the stairs. “Oh, John,” said Vera, the plump one, “I see your sweetie has arrived.”

  “You know them, too?” Holland asked under her breath.

  “What can I say? I met everybody.”

  “You’re a lucky girl,” Jane said, and Vera patted Holland on the shoulder as they walked past.

  “Hear that?” John teased. “You’re a lucky girl.”

  She just shook her head. “Let’s see the room.”

  Thankfully, the room passed inspection. “Wow,” Holland said, looking around. “It’s really charming.” She stood by the window and looked out at the mountains. “Great view.”

  “I did good, huh?” he said, coming to stand behind her and slipping his arms around her waist.

  She turned to smile at him. “Yeah, you did.” Suddenly something rather like guilt crossed her face.

  Of course, now she felt bad that she hadn’t been willing to come up with him the night before. Good.

  But he was willing to forgive and forget. “It’s okay,” he said, and kissed the side of her face. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. We’re gonna have a great time.”

  “John.” She bit her lip.

  “What?” Where was the smile? “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. It was sweet of you to plan this.”

  “Hey, I know how to have fun,” he told her. “This is going to be a weekend to remember.”

  She smiled. “I saw some great shops when I drove through town. Let’s go check them out.”

  “We will,” he promised. “But first I have something lined up for us. Something you’ll love, and—”

  “John, you’re not going to take over and plan this whole weekend, are you?”

  He blinked in surprise. Wasn’t that a romantic thing to do? “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I want to go shopping.”

  “Oh. Well, okay. We can do that other thing later.” A sleigh ride would be just as romantic after lunch.

  So off they went to the little downtown, and she dragged him from shop to shop. They bought white-chocolate rose truffles at the Sweet Dreams Chocolates gift shop. They dismembered gingerbread boys purchased at Gingerbread Haus. She insisted on buying him a Cat in the Hat stovepipe hat at a shop called the Mad Hatter, informing him that he looked cute in it. He wore it for a while to humor her, even though he felt like a dork. She bought her mother a scented candle at a shop that overflowed with household decorations. And that was just the beginning. She bought a souvenir tree ornament at the Christmas shop, and at Bubbles she purchased something that looked like a pink snowball, which she explained was a “bath bomb.” Further explanation was required before he finally got it. Overpriced scented bath gunk. Okay. The packages began to multiply as she bought scarves, shoes and jewelry. Pretty soon John was loaded up like a pack mule.