by Patti Larsen
“Fiona Fleming,” a hand caught my elbow and turned me with precise care, my mother’s face showing her disapproval. “That frown better not be something you’re planning to carry around all night or I’ll have to tickle it out of you.” She smiled then, kissed my cheek, while I gaped at my parents, my towering, broad-shouldered dad clearly uncomfortable in his tuxedo despite how great he looked, Mom much more confident in her two-piece chocolate suit/dress that could have looked ridiculous but worked so well for her.
“What are you two doing here?” That was rude. I hugged Mom then kissed Dad’s cheek while he grunted in my ear.
“Olivia,” he growled in his deep voice while Mom hooked her arm through his. People needed to stop doing that. It was like a barrel of monkeys epidemic in this place, all the couples connected at the elbow. Seriously.
“Mayor Walker insisted we come,” Mom gushed, her eyes my eyes, her hair my hair, though she wore her makeup and updo much more joyfully than I did. “Wasn’t that nice of her? Our room has a jetted tub.” She poked Dad in the ribs before winking at me. “I can’t wait to renovate the bathroom, now.”
Dad rolled his eyes and I laughed. Redoing the house had become an obsession with Mom since she stopped teaching and he retired from the sheriff’s department. There wouldn’t be a single piece of wood or even a rusty nail of the original rancher I grew up in once she was done.
“Sounds great, Lu,” Dad said with false cheer while giving me that deer in the headlights look he often did these days. Poor Dad. I bet he wished he was still hunting murderers and getting shot at on a regular basis.
“Ladies and gentleman,” Olivia’s voice startled me over the loudspeaker, cutting through the music still playing. “The dining room is now open. Please join us for dinner.”
I turned with Mom and Dad—and the rest of the guests filling the foyer—to watch the two large polished steel doors at the far end swing open. Mom clapped like a little girl going to her own birthday party while Dad looked a bit ill.
“Start with the outside forks,” I told him with a grin. “You’ll be fine.” He just sighed. “Save me a seat.” I waved to them when the mass of people moved toward the open doors with a chattering good humor that made me want to run upstairs after all. “I’ll be right there.”
I watched my parents go, taking a moment to admire them together. Married thirty-one years and still adorable. Okay, now I was depressing myself.
With a sigh of my own that I’m sure sounded a lot like Dad’s, I turned and crossed to the front desk to make my call.
***
Chapter Three
There was an actual line at the counter and I found myself lingering at the far end of the glass top desk, considering running up to my room to save myself the wait. Except I’d find it very hard not to bring my phone back down with me and then I’d be on social media all night instead of enjoying my very special Valentine’s Day dinner with my mother and father of all people.
Thank goodness Daisy’s arrival stopped me because I didn’t need Olivia glaring at me all night. My best friend—from high school and now all over again since my return to Reading—swept out of the elevator like an excited teenager, firmly grasping the hand of a tall, stunningly gorgeous man of northern European descent, his ice blonde hair as natural as Vivian’s was fake, glossy as her ivory patent leather clutch, eyes shocking blue when they met mine while he smiled in a way that gave me shivers all the way through to the depths of my lady parts.
“Fee!” Daisy hugged me with enthusiasm before straightening my dress and then her own. She chose a short, flared skirt affair for her own gown, a delicate blue lace sweater skimming her narrow shoulders. The sapphire pendant she wore looked new and nothing like the fake ruby necklace she’d picked out for herself. Nor did it appear to be costume, about as real as the giant diamond on her companion’s middle finger. “You look fantastic.” She giggled before turning to her date. “Emile, this is Fiona Fleming. Fee, Emile Welter Ries.”
“How could such a small town be home to so many stunning beauties?” Emile bent over my hand, kissed it with his wide lips, those amazing eyes actually twinkling. I’d seen strong jawlines and gorgeous bone structure in New York, but holy hell in a handbasket. Daisy knew how to pick them.
I stuttered a thank you while knowing I really needed to be offended or something to be looked at the way Emile looked at me except my heart was pitter-patting and my insides had found it necessary to turn to liquid fire under his gaze.
“Emile is visiting from Europe,” Daisy gushed.
“Luxembourg,” Emile said, smiling at her like a doting and patient boyfriend. Jealousy punched me briefly before I jerked myself under control.
“How exotic,” I muttered, then winced inwardly. “You’re visiting Reading…?”
He shrugged elegantly inside his tuxedo, shirt open, tie missing, though his pocket square was as blue as the sapphire around Daisy’s neck. “I’m considering investing in your town,” he said, flashing another smile. His voice had that cultured French lilt to it that told me he’d been born abroad but educated for a time here in the U.S., likely in the northeast. Harvard, possibly, or Yale. “And so far, I’m delighted and impressed with the potential for growth and opportunity.”
One of Olivia’s recruits. “We’re happy to have you,” Daisy gushed at him. “Isn’t he adorbs?”
Emile laughed, a real laugh and I couldn’t fault her the choice. Unlike Mason Patterson and his old money arrogance, this man—no boy in sight—had the kind of self-assured confidence and well balanced empathy that came from real wealth and centuries of tradition.
“We’d better find our seats.” Daisy paused, eyebrows raised. “Are you okay?” She glanced at the desk then back to me. “Do you need anything?”
So sweet of her but I shook my head, waved them off. “Going to check in with the sisters,” I said. “I’ll be right there.”
Daisy led Emile away, chattering on about Petunia’s to him while I watched them go and wiped the drool off my chin. Okay, so exaggerating, but still. Yumtasticness had wandered into Reading and just increased the gene pool in a most delightful way. Maybe that meant my chances of finding someone weren’t as dismal as I’d been thinking. Sure, I’d told myself every night the last eight months going to bed with only a farting, chubby pug for a partner I didn’t need anyone. But I knew better.
Need was a strong word. I was fine on my own. Want, on the other hand?
Want had just hit an all-time high.
I turned to the desk with a little sigh of frustration only to notice someone had butted in front of me and the line was as long as ever. Grumble. Fine, whatever. Nature called, another distraction, pushing me away from the counter and the pair of barely out of their teens whining about not having enough towels in their room toward the public washroom sign on the other end of the lobby from the dining room. At least I didn’t have to fight my way through a crowd this time, feeling rather obvious and self-conscious to be crossing that giant foyer by myself. Not like anyone was watching, so why did I care?
I must have taken on a bit of a confrontational strut because I reached the entry to the washroom’s hallway in record time and had to pull myself under control again before I broke into hysterical giggles over how utterly ridiculous I was being. And halted, breath caught, at the sound of raised men’s voices. Blame it on Dad’s genes or instincts or whatever you want, but I froze and eavesdropped like I was born to it.
“—mind your own business,” one said. I peeked around the corner, the doors leading to the men’s and women’s washrooms flanked by giant plants, two young men exiting the large, swinging door to the boy’s room before standing in the middle of the hall with anger bubbling between them. The one in the waiter uniform chopped the air between them like he was done talking. “What Ava and I do isn’t about you, Noah.”
“Bro,” the one he called Noah said, brothers or brothers in arms? No, when I caught a good look at their profiles their blood ties w
ere pretty obvious. So that address was literal. “You’re not listening to me. You need to talk to her again before you make more plans.”
“I already have.” The waiter brother looked sullen and frustrated. The other clearly wasn’t serving staff, but he worked here from the long sleeved shirt logoed with the lodge patch over his chest and the crisp black dress pants and shoes. “Stop butting your nose where it’ll get broken.”
“Mason Patterson will do more than break your nose,” Noah muttered.
Fury flared on his brother’s face, tall body taut under his dress shirt and bow tie, narrow hips twisting beneath his long, black apron. “Ava has nothing to do with that jerk,” he said.
Noah didn’t respond, and that seemed to make things worse for his brother. And from what I knew of Mason, I didn’t blame waiter boy for being pissed. I barely met the kid and I couldn’t stand his ass.
“You’re being a blind idiot,” Noah snarled while his brother actually formed fists at his sides, the two leaning toward each other like blows were inevitable. I hesitated, ready to break up the fight before it happened, when a young woman came hurtling around the corner past me, brushing against me in her haste, to confront them both as if she hadn’t even seen me.
“You two,” she snapped, “will stop this right now or I’m kicking both of you where it hurts.” She wore a similar uniform to Noah and the pair looked like they stood in solidarity against the waiter brother. Maybe not on purpose, but he slumped, sullenness returned, face grim and still angry. He stalked off without another word while she called after him. “Ethan!”
Noah grabbed her arm, stopped her from pursuing him. “Just let him cool off. I’m going to throw on my tux. You should go get changed into that fancy dress of yours before we’re fired for being late to dinner.”
She tsked at him before hurrying past. Only then did Noah notice me, eyes widening, eyebrows raised, embarrassment warring with clear guilt.
“Sorry about that, ma’am,” he said, stepping back and gesturing at the bathroom door. “Enjoy your evening.” And then he turned and followed the young woman—the very Ava from the Perry’s conversation, I assumed—and disappeared.
I should have been the apologetic one, but if management caught the staff fighting in front of guests, well. I’d worked enough service jobs to know who’d get blamed for being the guilty party. I noted the out of order sign on the men’s door and wondered if the brothers had been looking for privacy and put it there to keep others out. Well, they hadn’t done a very good job, had they?
A quick refresh and I was back to business, though the last thing I was expecting when I hustled out the bathroom door was to almost impact with a hulking man in dark blue work clothes who glared at me on the way by, the out of order sign dangling from one big hand. A large tattoo across his neck that appeared to continue under his dark hair as if he’d been taken to shaving his head at one point gave me the creeps. For which I immediately kicked myself.
Judging by looks alone? I knew better. And yet, that glare of his wasn’t exactly friendly and I’d encountered enough animosity in the big city to know when to stay out of someone’s way.
Whatever and none of my business. Focused on one more try to reach my own staff instead of policing someone else’s before Olivia personally dragged me in to my seat like an errant child, I headed for the front desk and a phone.
***
Chapter Four
I exhaled in relief at the sight of the empty lobby. The desk, now cleared of other guests, stood waiting for me, though the single person behind it made me wonder what kind of reception I’d get. Surely the staff was overrun with all the crazy Reading residents by now? Sick to death of us? From what I’d heard, the bulk of the employees here had been hired out of town, something Olivia had to answer to the council for. But her plan to increase prosperity and lower the unemployment rate meant the lodge had little choice, so anyone complaining was doing so to hear the sound of their own voice.
Despite my worry about her attitude, the young woman on the other side smiled at me with that kind of expression all front desk people perfected so you never knew if they were actually interested or just doing their job.
“Can I help you?” She sounded cheerful and professional enough, dark brown eyes fixed on me, bottle blonde hair in a neat bun at the base of her neck. The light was harsh here, showed the faintest blemish scars hiding under her makeup but she smiled like she meant it when I leaned over the counter with a big eye roll.
“Might I use your phone?” I set my drink aside. “Just a quick call, local?”
She nodded immediately, passed over a handset while keying the pad to an open line before offering it to me to dial. I did quickly, not even thinking about the number anymore. One more bit of proof I’d fallen into the kind of life that would never, ever let me go.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said as I leaned into the handset that rang and rang with no answer. Had I dialed the right number after all?
“No problem,” I said, hanging up and trying again. “I run a B&B in town, so I’m in an acutely sympathetic line of work.”
She beamed at me then, relaxing a little. “How lovely. I’ve always wanted to run a bed and breakfast.”
I grinned back, though the ringing phone was making me nervous. “Same problems, smaller scale. And no one to pass them off to. Well, darn.” I hung up again, frowning at the phone. “No answer.”
“You’re calling home?” She didn’t move to take the phone away.
“Petunia’s,” I said, nodding. “The very same B&B. The ladies looking after it are older. I worry.”
She seemed genuinely concerned. “Did you want me to keep trying?” She glanced at the front doors to the lodge, hesitated. “I’m not sure what time you arrived?”
“Lunch time,” I said. Daisy’s idea. Make a day of it, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. Before she dolled me up and abandoned me for dashingly delicious.
“Well, the weather has taken a turn,” she said, sounding worried herself. “A storm’s come up, unexpectedly.” She looked at the doors again, clearly nervous. “They’re saying the plows are being pulled off the road.”
I grunted in surprise. So the weather girl had been right after all? Who knew that could happen? “Good thing we have rooms,” I said. Not that a bit of snow bothered me, but I genuinely wanted to go home and make sure the ladies were okay. Now that I wasn’t moping around with my head up my butt, I took a moment to look out the glass entry into the darkness and realized the girl was right. Snow swirled in giant twisters around the bright lights, though I knew from experience it often looked worse than it was.
Still.
I turned back to find the front desk girl with a remote control switching the large monitor screen on the wall behind her to the weather channel. There was attractive young brunette, Morgan Fischer, with a perky smile and a pink sweater pointed at a green screen projection behind her while a giant blob of white smothered our area of the Green Mountains.
“—severe winter storm advisory,” she was saying like she was announcing a sunny day, “has been issued for Curtis County with the center of the storm focused on the Reading area.”
Of course it was.
“—this low pressure system just came out of nowhere.” She tossed her hands and laughed like this was funny. “Though, I did predict snow, so don’t send me emails that I didn’t warn you!” She giggled though it came across as a little bitter. I wouldn’t have wanted her job. “Now dig in, Curtis County. You’re in for a bit of a going over by good old Jack Frost. Back to you, Bob and Amy.”
Just freaking lovely.
Front desk girl switched the image back to the looped footage of young people swooping through fresh powder, the ad for the lodge making even me want to ski and I hated it, before returning her attention to me. “I’m so sorry,” she said, looking flustered and worried, staring down at her screen. “There’s an excellent chance we’ll lose our power and I have a lot of work
to do just in case. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I said, saluting her with my drink. As I realized I needed to switch back to alcohol. Because there was a very good chance, like it or not, I was stuck here for real now. Any illusions I had about escaping in the wee hours and going home before Olivia could stop me were shattered by the betrayal of Mother Nature.
She tried a sympathetic smile as she glanced up at me before going back to work. I really should have just left her alone. Worry that Mary and Betty were right now in need and I was at a stupid ass Reading rah-rah party when I should have been at Petunia’s drove me to try the phone one more time.
Finally, on the fifth ring, right when I was ready to hang up and risk heading for town—Olivia or no Olivia—the phone clicked and a five-pack-a-day voice said, “Petunia’s.”
“Mary.” I almost laughed in relief. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine, Fiona,” she said. “We keep losing power, flickering on and off the last hour. And the phones are acting up.” Even as she spoke, the line crackled.
“I’m going to come home.” Our dear mayor could just deal with it.
But Mary’s heaved sigh cut me off. “Not sure what it’s like up the mountain, but I can’t even see the street outside,” she said. “We’re hunkering down for the night. Guests are happy, everyone’s okay. We have the generator if the power dies completely.” I could almost see her rounded shoulders rise and fall in a fatalistic shrug. “You stay put and safe, Fiona. We’ll see you when this blows over.” And then she hung up on me. Or the line died. But the former was much more likely the case.
Why did being trapped here feel like about the worst fate ever? Because I now had to walk into the full dining room by myself, date free, and sit with my parents on Valentine’s Day like the loser I was.
I replaced the handset carefully so I didn’t smash it down and tossed back the last of my virgin mimosa. At risk of embarrassment and public puking, it was definitely time for something stronger.
