Hadn’t that jerk left this place because there wasn’t enough room for him?
Neil closed the drink menu and reached for his wallet again. There was no way he was sticking around now.
Only, distraction struck again: “Everyone, look who’s here!” his waitress exclaimed, addressing the room at large. She did a cheerleader jump and gestured toward the four red-cheeked old men who had just come in the room. “I’m going to get some hot apple cider for these gentlemen, and then they’re going to sing some carols for all of you, so please stick around.”
Well, it looked like it was too late to slip out now. He didn’t want to be rude. He picked up the dessert menu, deciding a piece of birthday cake wouldn’t kill him. He’d gotten so out of the habit of looking at dessert menus—Vivienne wouldn’t have slept with him for months if he’d eaten anything that could be classified as a sweet—that he hardly knew where to start.
Chef Pierre’s specialties:
Hot rum butter pudding cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream
or
Chocolate fudge cake with raspberry coulis and a scoop of vanilla ice cream
Additional choices from the new Windy Pines Bakeshop:
Mint chocolate cupcake
Pumpkin cream cheese bar
Sampler platter made up of small tastes of all the following: Pumpkin cream cheese bar, white chocolate covered pretzels, 2 salted caramel mini muffins, 2 mini macarons, one tiny cup of hand-dipped chocolate-covered peanuts, a micro malted milkshake trio (vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry), and two chocolate-dipped candied orange slices. Serves 3-4.
He’d just begun to lose himself in a fantasy about throwing caution to the wind and ordering the sampler platter and a flight of craft beers to go with it when Dave Sommerset sat down in the seat across from him.
“So,” said Dave. “We meet again. You fell for that letter too, I guess?”
“Excuse me?”
“Admit it: You’re here because some people you didn’t know from Adam sent you a letter about wanting to use your land for lobster trapping.”
Neil shrugged. “I’m not really up for having a conversation right now.”
“I’m skeptical, but I figured I’d hear them out,” said Dave, paying no attention to Neil’s request to be left alone. “I’m a businessman. It never hurts to have some more irons in the fire.”
“Hmmm,” said Neil.
“I make plenty of money, but that one over there,” he said, nodding toward his fiancée—she wiggled a few fingers and giggled, and began to stand. Dave made the stay-seated gesture with his hands. Her smile flipped to a frown and she sat back down. “That one’s a spender. The prettier they are, the more they cost.”
“Uh huh,” said Neil. He caught his waitress’s eye. “Check please,” he said.
“And she’s not smart enough to earn a dime of her own. Defenseless as a newborn foal, so I got that letter and thought, Hell, a little more money coming in might do us good. It can be her allowance, I figured.”
“Hmmm,” said Neil.
“They flew us out here,” Dave continued. “What’d you think of that flight, by the way?”
Neil shook his head. He wasn’t going to admit to this creep that he’d driven the whole way here. He’d welcomed the opportunity to drive off into the sunset. It had actually felt very freeing. For the first several hours, at least. By the time he was halfway through the thirty-some hour drive, though, he’d had some regrets.
“Or should I say flights? How many puddle jumpers does it take to get from point A to point B? But anyhow, they sent me that letter, it probably looked just like the one they sent you, so I figured, Why not just hear what they have to say?”
Neil nodded. Why hadn’t they offered to fly him out here? Then again, he hadn’t asked. He took another drink of his water. There was a lesson there, he supposed.
“You meeting them tomorrow?” asked Dave.
Neil shook his head.
“Next day?” asked Dave. He’d brought his beer with him over to Neil’s table and he took a gulp of it. “They’re up to something, don’t you think?” he said, wiping the little trail of beer foam from his upper lip.
Neil sniffed, curious. Interested in Dave for the first time.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked.
“It didn’t seem a little funny to you?” laughed Dave.
“What part of it?” asked Neil.
“The whole damn thing. Some woman from Idaho sends you a letter out of the blue, says she and her husband want to trap lobsters in your little piece of the ocean? Doesn’t that sound funny?”
“It does sound a little fishy,” said Neil. Oh dear, he must have been getting his second wind for the day; the dad jokes were back. “If you think they’re up to something, why are you meeting them?”
Dave looked taken aback. “Because if they are, I’d like to know what it is. Wouldn’t you?”
“Okay! Shhhhhh! Quiet everyone. It’s time. Our evening’s entertainers are ready for their show,” the waitress said.
Dave picked up his beer. “Good talking to you,” he said to Neil, returning to his table as the four old men began quietly crooning Silent Night.
Chapter 15
Wednesday, November 20, 2019
Klarinda woke up bright and early the next morning—actually, it was four a.m. and far too early for it to be bright outside yet—she was relieved to discover that it was just another day. Her apartment in the carriage house was still standing, and—she pulled aside a curtain to check—Mistletoe Manor looked the same as she’d left it the night before as well.
She fixed herself a cup of coffee and spent a couple minutes checking her Facebook page and email to see what was new. What was funny, was that someone was on her mind. She had that comfortably, happily hungover feeling that comes with spending time with someone special. When their presence still seems to be a part of you, even a day later.
It was so strong, yet so confusing. Aside from the guests that came and went, and the townspeople who, honestly, all meant very little to her and she knew she meant even less to them, she had no one new in her life. So whose presence was she feeling.
And then she remembered that she’d been dreaming all night long. She set down her mug in confusion, because it was all coming back to her.
She’d been sledding with that hot, sad, older man who was staying at the inn. Only, in her dream, he’d been happy.
“Sledding,” she said aloud, shaking her head. “That’s right. We were sledding down that big hill on the other side of town. We were having a blast. It felt like we were kids.” She topped off her coffee with a little more since it was already getting cold in her chilly apartment. “He’d probably pull a muscle if he went sledding. He’s old. Probably fifteen or twenty years older than me. Way too old for sledding. And who am I kidding? I’d probably pull a muscle too. What a dumb dream.”
She took another sip of her coffee and went to the page where she placed refill orders for the mints that went on the pillow at turndown service, and then she remembered another part of the dream: It was about him again. They’d been at some kind of a concert. A fancy concert with someone playing a grand piano. His arm had been wrapped around her shoulder. She’d been wearing a fancy strapless gown and he’d been wearing a tuxedo.
“Bizarre,” she murmured. “Seriously, Klarinda, you’re way too lonely. You need to take one of those evening enrichment courses or something. Spanish lessons. Terrariums 101. Or maybe a QuickBooks refresher.”
Of course, Windy Pines didn’t have much in the way of enrichment courses to offer.
“So join a bowling league,” she told herself. She couldn’t stop thinking about the dream, though. The strapless gown had been dark green or black. She’d been wearing a beautiful emerald necklace. His hand had felt so warm on her shoulder. She’d felt glamourous and… and… and—she almost choked on her coffee, realizing the word she was looking for was loved.
“Wow. Where is th
is coming from?” she asked herself, searching Windy Pines bowling league openings online, to try to bring herself back around to attainable, realistic goals.
The strapless dress had hugged her ribcage. The last time she’d felt like that was at her junior prom. Who would have ever dreamed, back then, that it would be the last time she’d ever be so dressed up? Nowadays, the fanciest thing she owned was her non-pilly fleece pullover.
Would she even want to wear a strapless gown? She wasn’t sure. The point was moot; there was nowhere in Windy Pines to wear a strapless gown.
Yes, she allowed herself to admit, yes, she would want to wear a dress like that.
Oh, no. There’d been more to the dream. How was she only remembering this part now? They’d been kissing. Ugh! And, if she was going to be honest with herself, it had been pretty great. What in the world? Why?
She got up and put her coffee mug in the sink. If anything, this dream just proved how much she needed to meet people. Falling in love with some miserable-looking guest who emanated nothing but despair… How much lower could a person go?
“Apparently,” she told herself, as she gathered her practical, worn-out clothing for the day, then turned on her shower and waited for it to heat up, “you no longer have the self-confidence to be attracted to people who are actually attractive. Because that guy may have been attractive at some point in his life, but he certainly isn’t any longer. Misery is not attractive.”
This settled it. She was going to sell the inn and move back to Chicago. Back in her former life, working for an advertising agency, she’d lived in snappy little suits and high heels, had always sported a chic haircut, and could have had her pick of guys. If only she’d been attracted to guys wearing suits who had too much gel in their hair. Instead, she’d moved out here to Idaho, hoping some hot mountain man would sweep her off her feet. Now, almost five years later and in her late thirties, she felt as lost and alone as she’d ever been. And another lost soul, especially one who was the polar opposite of her dream man, was not going to solve that.
Chapter 16
“Good morning, Klarinda,” said Todd Healy.
Now Todd Healy. This was a man she could wrap her head around. How many times had she dreamed of him saying, “Good morning, Klarinda”?
She sighed, trying to behave normally. “Hi Todd. How’s it going?” She’d forgotten he had spent the night at the inn, keeping Josephine company.
He was covered in snow. “I just plowed the driveaway for you all. Josie said it would be fine for me to borrow your truck since you let her borrow it to do that.”
“Thanks for doing that,” Klarinda said. Aww, how sweet, he calls her Josie, she thought to herself. It was like a small knife twisting in her heart.
“Good morning,” Josephine said to Klarinda, coming in the front door with an armload of firewood. “I think we’ve got everything ready for another day here. You ought to hire Todd! He makes everything go so much faster.”
Klarinda laughed dryly. “Todd, want another job?” she joked.
He shook his head and laughed. “Naahh. I’m good.”
“How did our guest of honor behave last night?” Klarinda quietly asked Josephine.
“We lucked out. The reindeer sweater oldie quartet snowshoed up here, and you know how impossible it is for anyone to be in a bad mood when they’re doing their little show.”
“Ohhh,” Klarinda said, her face falling. “I’m so sad I missed it. I almost wish you’d called me.”
“I can’t believe I’ve lived in this town my whole life and last night was the first time I ever caught their show,” said Todd.
“They usually stop up here about half a dozen times each winter. I guess you could say, I’ve got connections,” joked Klarinda, thinking that if Todd had gotten with her years ago, he could be one of the reindeer sweater singers by now.
“Amazing they’re still getting around so well,” said Josephine. “They look pretty old.” She yawned. “Anyway, aside from that, it was an uneventful evening. And, like I was saying, even our obnoxious guest behaved himself. If you call hanging around the front counter for thirty minutes trying to flirt with me behaving himself.”
“No one can resist you,” Todd said to Josephine, winking at her. It took all of Klarinda’s willpower to not react. “And it’s a good thing he’s calmed down,” Todd said to Klarinda, “because you’ve probably heard that they’ve extended the blizzard warning. None of these guests are going to be getting out of here any time soon.”
Chapter 17
“What a wild dream,” Neil Prescott said to himself. Not that he was complaining. It had been a great dream. He and the beautiful innkeeper had been riding in a horse-drawn sleigh, over fields of snow. It had been just like the famous old Christmas carol, but even better. So vivid and real. They’d been wrapped in a blanket, gliding over a snowy path on a moonlit night, deep into a dark, snowy forest… He rubbed his eyes.
Never before had he wished to have been born in a different time, but this magical dream had felt as if it were taking place a hundred years ago or more, and he longed to be a part of that time back before cars and smartphones and everything that burdened a person nowadays. What he wouldn’t give to have one day like that, with her.
He peered out the window and saw that it had snowed several more inches as he’d been sleeping. The world outside was a winter wonderland to rival the dreamworld he’d just come out of.
“All I want,” Neil realized, touching the cold glass of the window pane and drawing one wavering line down it, “is to have a simple life.”
He turned away from the window and picked up his phone. He had an appointment to cancel.
Chapter 18
“I just got a text from Dave Sommerset,” Barney Philman told his wife.
“Let me guess: He’s not coming because of the blizzard.”
“He’ll be here, but not today as planned. He’s hoping for tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow we’ve got to meet with that other guy. Neil Prescott. And didn’t you think he was a better fit for this?” asked Jean.
“I’ll try to have Dave get here either early in the morning or in the evening, and leave the mid-day open for the Prescott guy so he doesn’t have to reschedule. Oh, wait. Would you look at that? Speak of the devil! Neil Prescott’s calling right now. I’d better take this.”
“Yes, take it!” Jean yelled.
“Hello? ...Hi, Neil. …Yeah, yeah, it’s really coming down here too. …We can reschedule. Sure, that’s no trouble at all. …Oh. …Oh. …What do you mean you don’t want to reschedule?”
Hearing that, Jean kicked him in the shin and whispered, “He’s not getting out of this. Make it happen!”
“You came all the way out here to Idaho,” Barney said to Neil, rubbing his leg. “You might as well at least meet with us. …I don’t understand. …Tell you what, Neil, where are you staying? …Because I’ll come to you. …I can put chains on my tires. I drive on these roads all the time. I’m used to it. …Just tell me where you’re staying. …That’s right, I’ll come to you. …Mistletoe Manor? In Windy Pines? I could probably be there by late afternoon today. If you’re going to be stuck there anyway, let me come and see you. …Sure I’m sure. …It’s no trouble at all. I’ll see you later today. Okay, goodbye.”
Barney hung up the phone.
“You’re going out in this? Have you lost your mind?” asked his wife.
“You just said I needed to make it happen!”
“I meant that he needed to come here!”
“He said he was going to cancel our meeting. He changed his mind and isn’t interested anymore. Going to see him is the only option,” said Barney.
“But why has he changed his mind?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“Someone must have gotten in his ear,” said Jean.
“That’s why I’ve got to go to Windy Pines.”
“You’re not good in person.”
“Thanks a lot,” s
aid Barney.
“Don’t be so sensitive. You’ve admitted before that you get a little… awkward. A little flustered under pressure. It’s true, Barney.”
“I can handle this.”
“I don’t know,” she said. She looked like she thought she’d better go along with him. Of course, that would mean taking the van since it had a lift for her electrical mobility scooter. And the van didn’t exactly handle well in the snow.
“You’re staying put right here,” he told her. “Don’t even think about coming along. I can handle this,” he insisted. “I’m going to Windy Pines on my own.”
“I’ve never even heard of it,” said Jean, collapsing back onto the pinecone-patterned sofa. She leaned forward, picked up her tobacco pipe, and began packing it with a big pinch of Captain Black. Barney hadn’t ruled out trying to make the drive in the van; he’d expected her to argue a bit. The truth was, Jean was the one who had the way with words. Barney wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to talk that Prescott fellow into anything. But it looked as if she was planning to stay put here and he was on his own.
“I’d better get the truck ready,” he said. “Windy Pines is far from here. It’d be a couple hours each way on a good day.”
“I don’t like this,” she said, eyeing the level of the tobacco in the pipe, grunting, and adding a little more to it.
“You’ll like it once we get our traps in place on some unwitting, rich clown’s property,” said Barney. He leaned down and gave his wife a kiss on her dry, flaky cheek. “You’ll like it a lot. And this piece of property is the best choice out there. It’s a hundred times more secluded than Dave Sommerset’s place and has four or five times the shoreline.”
“Why didn’t we ask him first then? The fewer people we contact, the better,” said Jean.
“Because the land was owned in a trust, tied up with one of those names on the Founding Families list, until they auctioned it off out of the blue and Prescott bought it,” said Barney. Sometimes he still had it. Now and then, the cloud lifted and the answers were there, shining like treasure in the sun. “Yep. The timing was perfect.”
In the Heart of Windy Pines Page 6
