The gumdrop cookies were finished, and there’d been much sampling along the way—of gumdrops, cookie dough and, of course, the final product. Now Olivia supervised as Lalla arranged them on a pretty china plate.
“Your mommy’s going to be so proud of you,” Olivia said.
Lalla nodded. “I’m a good helper.”
“Yes, you are. And you’re going to become a very good baker, too.” The child beamed at her praise and it tugged at Olivia’s heartstrings. It would be hard to see this little family return to the city. Goodness, but she was ready to be a grandparent, ready to bring more people into her life. She thought of James Claussen and happiness filled her. This Christmas had been full of unexpected delights and James topped the list.
Lalla put the last cookie on the plate. “There. All done.”
“All right. Shall we go look for your mommy?”
“Yes!” Lalla whooped. Her princess gown was dusted with flour and she had cookie dough stuck to her chin. And with that delighted smile, she belonged on a magazine cover. Lalla Monroe was a beautiful child, both inside and out.
They left Olivia’s private quarters, Muffin the cat slipping out behind them, and emerged to discover Vera and Jane in the lobby, sipping tea in front of the fireplace. Lalla ran toward them with her plate. “We made cookies!”
The cookies almost arrived in one piece but Lalla managed to trip over her gown and she fell just before she reached the women, dropping the plate on the carpet and spilling cookies everywhere. She stared a moment in disbelief, then burst into tears.
“Now, now, there’s no need to cry,” Jane said, and knelt to help put the cookies back on the plate. “They’re hardly even broken.” She popped a piece of one in her mouth. “Delicious. Did you make these yourself?”
The tears were already drying and Lalla nodded solemnly. By now her mother had come down from the second-landing lobby with John Truman. “Mommy, the cookies are done,” she announced.
“And a very nice job she did on them, too,” Jane said.
Olivia decided she liked Jane. A lot.
“I assume your carpet is so clean we can eat off it,” Jane teased Olivia.
Heaven only knew how many feet had walked on the carpet that day and where they’d been. “Well, we try.”
“A few germs never hurt anyone, right, Vera?” Jane offered the plate to her friend. Vera hesitated. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t be such a wimp,” Jane muttered, and snagged another cookie for herself.
Vera took a cookie and gave it a tentative nibble. “Very good,” she said to Lalla.
“Thank you,” the child said politely.
Jane handed the plate to Missy, and she and John both took a cookie.
“Hey, these are good,” John said, and took another.
“Thank you so much,” Missy said to Olivia. “You’ve made my daughter’s Christmas.”
“I think it was the other way around,” Olivia said.
“Did you thank Grandma Olivia for baking cookies with you?”‘ Missy prompted.
Lalla not only thanked Olivia, she hugged her. “I love you, Grandma Olivia. I don’t ever want to leave you.”
* * *
Missy knew how her daughter felt. She didn’t want to leave, either. This lodge, this town, it was all enchanted. The idea of returning to her old life, dealing with the likes of Mrs. Steele and Larry the lech, was downright depressing. Well, what are you going to do about it? Good question.
“Now, I’d better go back to the kitchen and get to work,” Olivia said. She gave Lalla a pat on the head and turned to leave.
“Mrs. Wallace,” Missy began.
Olivia turned back with a questioning smile.
“I was just wondering...”
She didn’t get a chance to share her thoughts because Carlos had come in with Buddy. And Buddy, on seeing Muffin perched atop the reception desk, remembered they had a score to settle.
Carlos had the dog on his leash but Buddy bolted and Carlos lost his grip. Leash dragging behind him, the dog raced up to the desk, put his front paws on it and gave a hearty bark. The cat arched her back and hissed. That didn’t deter Buddy in the least. He barked some more and scrabbled to get closer. That was when Muffin decided to scram.
“Oh, dear!” Olivia cried as Muffin bolted and the dog took off in pursuit.
“I’ll get him!” John lunged for the dog as he ran after the cat.
But John missed his grab for the leash and went down, crashing into the coffee table and sending cookies flying in every direction.
“My cookies,” wailed Lalla as he scrambled back up.
Meanwhile, Muffin made a flying leap and scaled the Christmas tree, making it wobble. And into it charged the dog, followed by John, who was determined to pull him away, followed by Carlos, who was determined to help. Accompanied by cries from Vera, Jane and Olivia, the tree did a holiday hula, its ornaments swinging wildly. Then it took a bow and, with a swish of branches and a crunch of ornaments, kept right on going down, narrowly missing Carlos and burying both John and the dog. Aloha.
Muffin, who had leaped from the tree, landed safely and ran off into the nether regions of the lodge while Buddy thrashed about, trying to free himself to give chase again. He had his head and half his chest out when a hand surfaced from under the boughs and grabbed his collar. “Oh, no, you don’t,” John said.
Missy was ready to cry. Or throw up. Or both. “I’m so sorry,” she said to Olivia. “I’ll cover the damages.” Those ornaments hadn’t looked as though they’d come from the dollar store. She’d probably have to make monthly payments.
“Don’t you worry about that. I’ve got tons more out in our storage shed,” Olivia said as they helped John extricate himself and the dog.
“That mutt definitely needs to go to obedience school,” Jane said as John climbed out from the branches, still clutching Buddy’s collar.
Missy gave her son the keycard. “Take Buddy up to the room. Now.”
When John handed Carlos the leash, the boy said, “Come on, Buddy,” and led the dog away. The excitement over, Buddy walked beside his young owner, as docile and well behaved as if he was no relation to the beast who’d just wreaked such havoc.
“All right,” Jane said, rubbing her hands together, “a tree-trimming party.” She turned to Olivia. “Did you say you had more ornaments?”
Olivia nodded. “I’ll go fetch them.”
“And a broom,” Vera added. “We’ll probably need to sweep.”
They’d probably need to sweep a lot. Missy groaned.
“Everything will be as good as new before you know it,” Olivia said. “John, maybe you can get the tree back up for us?”
“Sure thing,” he said, and set to work while Olivia went to get the ornaments.
Ten minutes later, they were all retrimming the tree, Carlos and Lalla helping.
“Look, Mommy, a bird,” Lalla said, holding up a delicate red blown-glass bird ornament with an elaborate feathered tail.
“Be careful with that,” Missy cautioned. The last thing they needed was to break anything else.
“These ornaments are lovely,” Vera said to Olivia.
“I’ve had them for years,” Olivia told her.
Family heirlooms. “The others, did you have them for years, too?” Missy asked weakly.
“Yes, but I was tired of them,” Olivia said. She patted Missy’s arm. “Don’t give this another thought.”
“There,” Jane said, hanging the last ornament. “It’s even prettier than before. Which is really saying something.”
“I love an all-red tree,” Vera said with a sigh. “I wish I’d put up a tree this year.”
“You just did,” Jane informed her.
Olivia turned to Missy. “I think you were
about to ask me something before we all got sidetracked. Do you remember what it was?”
Missy remembered, but after the chaos her family had caused she felt embarrassed to ask. Still, here was Olivia, looking at her expectantly, wearing a kind smile. “I was just wondering if there are any hair salons here in town.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, there’s Sleeping Lady Salon. And I know Sarah White, who owns the place. Let me call her tomorrow morning before you leave.”
Pinch me. I’ve got to be dreaming. “Would you?” Missy asked eagerly.
“Of course. I don’t know if she’s hiring, but if she is you’d fit in very well.”
“I’m good,” Missy said.
“Are you?” Now Jane was looking at her speculatively. “What could you do with my hair?”
“I don’t have my scissors,” Missy replied, not sure she was up for a public demonstration of her skills.
“I have scissors,” Olivia said. “I used to cut my husband’s hair all the time. And the boys’ when they were little.”
Great. Old, dull scissors.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Missy said dubiously.
“Then we can give you references,” Vera said, jumping on the bandwagon.
“I could use a trim,” John said.
Next thing Missy knew, she had a crowd of people in her room, all waiting their turn at the improvised beauty chair in the bathroom. Carlos and Buddy were back and watching TV with Lalla and the room smelled of overheated little boy and wet dog. But no one seemed to mind. Olivia had passed around fresh cookies before going to work in the kitchen, and John had brought the last of the chocolates he’d purchased for the unappreciative Holland. It was a regular holiday party.
“I love it!” Jane declared when Missy had finished updating her hair—a simple cut, a short bob that took ten years off and played up her eyes, which were actually very pretty. “You’ve got a gift,” she told Missy. She smiled at her reflection. “I feel positively sexy.”
“Oh, brother,” Vera muttered.
But once Missy had finished with Vera, she, too, was preening in front of the mirror.
Both women insisted on having Missy take their pictures. “You can show them to the owner of the salon up here,” Jane said. “But first.” She turned to Vera. “Let’s go freshen our makeup and change into our finery for tonight. If I get a good picture, I might want to put it up on eHarmony,” she explained to Missy.
“Good idea,” Missy said.
“Really, eHarmony?” John said after they’d hurried off. “Who’d have thought it?”
“I think it’s sweet,” Missy said. “Everyone needs love, no matter what their age.”
He smiled at her. “You know, you’re right.”
“Sometimes I am,” she said. “Okay, dunk your head under the faucet and get your hair wet.”
“My mom would be impressed with you,” he said from under the faucet.
That made her smile. Except...she came with baggage, two kids by two different dads. Maybe his mom wouldn’t be so impressed. Plus she had a tat. “I don’t know. I’m probably not the perfect...” Girlfriend. She couldn’t even bring herself to say the word. Here was where she started waking up from her lovely Christmas dream. “I’ve made mistakes.”
“Everybody makes mistakes,” he said, reaching for a towel.
Easy for him to say. He was Mr. Good Guy.
“Not everybody winds up with kids.” She looked out to where Carlos and Lalla were sprawled on the bed watching TV, the dog wedged between them. “I wouldn’t trade them for anything, though.”
“They’re great kids.” John smiled. “And they’ve got a great mom.”
“I have a tat,” she blurted. “I bet your mom would hate that.”
“Are you kidding?” He rolled up his sleeve to reveal the tattoo of an eagle on his forearm. “Got it when I was playing basketball in high school. I didn’t make varsity.”
“So you got a tat? Because you didn’t make varsity?”
“Yeah. My dad took me.”
“Really? Wow!” John had no idea how lucky he was.
“Yeah. He helped me pick out the eagle. I still remember him telling me that just because I didn’t make varsity, it didn’t mean I wasn’t going places.” He gave a snort. “I think I’m still trying to get liftoff.”
“Me, too.”
John smiled at her. “Sometimes you just need somebody along to help you catch the wind.”
She smiled back. “You’re an amazing guy, John Truman.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“I do,” she said, and gestured for him to sit down.
“Hey, I’m thinking just a little off the ears,” he said, and reached up a hand to show her. In the process, he managed a boob graze. His whole face turned red. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”
What a difference from Larry the lech. “I know you didn’t,” she said. Santa, if you give me this great guy I’ll never ask for anything for Christmas ever again.
But John was probably wrong. His mother wouldn’t like her. His mother would know he could do better.
Wait a minute, she scolded herself. That was the old Missy. The new Missy is like the eagle on John’s arm. She’s going places.
* * *
Brooke had to admit that Olivia Wallace had outdone herself. Dinner was everything a Christmas dinner should be, with ham and garlic mashed potatoes, flaky biscuits, a tossed salad and figgy pudding for dessert. An excellent selection of Washington state wine for the adults. Followed by hot cider, tea and coffee. The drinks flowed, and so did conversation among the guests.
“We’re going to make this a holiday tradition,” Mrs. Spike confided to Brooke as they stopped by her family’s table to chat. “We’ve had such a wonderful time. It’s been like a second honeymoon.”
“I think we’ll be back, too,” Brooke said. And long before the next Christmas.
In just two short days, the Wallaces had come to feel like family and this lodge like a second home. Eric had persuaded Olivia to take a break and join them in the dining room for a late-afternoon coffee, and Brandon and Dylan had returned from skiing and joined them, too. Of course, it hadn’t taken long for her father to find them. Olivia was like a magnet for him.
She’d noticed that Brandon didn’t seem so thrilled to see her father and his mother sitting side by side, looking at each other like besotted teenagers. But he’d get over it, just as she had. If not, she’d have a little talk with him.
That evening the Claussens were invited to the Wallaces’ private quarters for hot chocolate laced with peppermint schnapps and cookies. “I’m so glad you could all come,” Olivia greeted them. She smiled at each of them, her smile lingering for an extra moment on Brooke. Or so it seemed...
Brooke knew she needed to extend the olive branch, and simply saying, “Thank you for having us,” wasn’t going to be enough.
So as the men settled in the living room she followed Olivia to her little kitchen. “May I help with something?”
Surprise (more like shock, actually) and pleasure raced across Olivia’s face. “I was about to put out the cookies. If you wouldn’t mind setting them on the platter?”
“I’d be happy to,” Brooke said, coming as close to meaning it as a woman in transition possibly could.
Olivia pointed to the plastic containers and the Fitz and Floyd cookie plate on the counter. “While you do that, I’ll finish up with the hot chocolate.”
Brooke nodded and got to work. And wondered what she could find to talk about with this woman who’d dropped into her life.
She didn’t have to wonder for long. As she set out cookies, she couldn’t help asking, “Do these spritz cookies have crushed peppermint in them?”
“I thought i
t made for a festive twist on an old favorite,” Olivia said.
“It does.”
“If you like, I’ll give you the recipe,” Olivia offered.
“Thanks,” Brooke murmured. Olivia was being gracious to her and she didn’t really deserve it. But she’d take it.
As more cookies came out of their containers, conversation became more relaxed. Olivia told her that the ginger cookies were from a recipe she’d gotten from her mother. Ginger cookies were one of Brooke’s favorites. The chocolate drop cookies with the peppermint icing were another of Olivia’s creations, as were the cookies iced with nutmeg glaze.
Brooke sampled one and declared it her new favorite Christmas cookie. “My mother would have loved you.”
She’d meant that to remain unspoken, but maybe it was a good thing that it had come out. Olivia turned, teary-eyed, and smiled at Brooke. “I think I would’ve liked your mother, too,” she said. “Especially if she was anything like her daughter. I’m sure she was very proud of you.”
“I hope so,” Brooke said.
She wasn’t sure how proud her mother would have been of her behavior during the past forty-eight hours, but she knew her mother would be pleased with her right now.
The men devoured the cookies, then Olivia suggested a game of holiday charades. Watching her father act out Santa’s reindeer was highly entertaining for everyone, particularly as he acted out Dancer and Prancer. At one point he pranced right into the coffee table and managed to lose his balance and topple to the floor.
“Dead reindeer!” cried Dylan.
“Oh, that’s Christmassy,” Brooke said with a frown.
“Very Tim Burton,” Eric said.
“What were you?” Olivia asked.
“Prancer,” her father groaned from the floor.
Next up was Brandon, who deliberately fell down after feigning fright.
“Another dead reindeer?” Dylan guessed.
Brooke snapped her fingers. “‘Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer,’” she said, winning the game for her team.
“That,” Olivia said primly, “is a disgusting song,” and everyone laughed.
After charades, Dylan suggested an impromptu Ping-Pong tournament.
The Lodge on Holly Road Page 25
