“Yeah. I’ve tried to block her, but she keeps using other people’s phones,” Olivia had said, through tears.
“That message was from a while ago.”
“I need you to stop talking to her. All things considered, it’s a fair request.”
“I won’t call her ‘Punkin’ again. And I won’t use ‘we’ when I mean ‘me.’ Honestly, Cupcake, I barely ever respond to her. I really don’t.” He’d felt himself getting frustrated and angry. Confused over how torn he felt. He was working hard to get through this. Even if she was right, getting pressured from his daughter wasn’t helping. So what if now and then he responded to Vivienne with a morsel of forgiveness or kindness? She had been his wife, his family, his world, for decades.
“That’s not good enough. Stop talking to her. Forever!”
“Cupcake,” he’d told his daughter, “I’ve never talked to her. I’ve only texted. And that’s the truth. Your mom is really suffering.”
He had refrained from telling Olivia that her mother loved her. When he said this, he meant for it to be soothing and he still believed it, but the time he’d sat in counseling with her, her therapist had warned Neil that saying such a thing was cruel and that he had no right to rewrite the narrative. That’s what the therapist had called it: ‘Rewriting the narrative.’ And Neil hadn’t known how to respond to that. He’d felt like he’d been telling the truth, but had he actually been lying? If a man couldn’t even tell the difference between fact and fiction, where did he go from there?
He unlocked his phone and braced himself for what the text from his daughter was going to say.
It was short and sweet:
Dad, I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.
He exhaled and something between a gasp and a chuckle escaped from his lips.
One short sentence. It was more than enough for him.
He stood up and stretched, deciding to go back downstairs to see what was happening. When he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror above the dresser, he experienced a moment of confusion, wondering who the handsome, smiling man looking back at him was, and how he’d gotten in his room.
And then, as he closed the door after himself, stepping out into the hallway, Neil Prescott had the strangest thought: I’d like to own an inn someday. An inn just like Mistletoe Manor.
Chapter 25
“This is really fun,” Klarinda heard the woman named Tiffinie saying. She and the bell-clanger—he looked almost like a different person today, wearing a look of peaceful, good-natured calm instead of beady-eyed fury—were seated at a table in the dining room playing parcheesi with another couple they’d just gotten to know. A fire was blazing in the fireplace and a beautifully decorated white pine with its Twelve Days of Christmas theme was shimmering, bathed in white light, nearby. It was going on dinnertime at Mistletoe Manor and everyone was having a second round of hot beverages, playing games in the parlor or dining room, and listening to Christmas songs.
The high school kids were due to arrive anytime, though Pierre was running a little late, busy working on the dinner menu of pesto lasagna, roasted chicken, and his famous French-style roasted vegetables. The whole inn smelled delicious.
“You’re living the dream here, aren’t you?” Neil asked Klarinda, setting aside the book he’d been reading as she walked by him after adding a couple more logs to the fire.
“You came back downstairs,” she said.
“It’s more fun down here. So, is operating this place the dream that it looks like it must be?”
“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t,” she laughed. “Although today has certainly taken itself in a nice direction. Everyone looks so happy.”
“Want to sit down?” he asked, pulling out the chair beside him.
“I’ve got some things I need to take care of…” she began, but he pulled the chair out even farther, raised an eyebrow, and patted the seat of it.
“Two minutes,” he said.
“Sure, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to sit down for just a couple of minutes.” She sat down and sighed. “It feels good to rest,” she admitted, closing her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them and looked up at him, as soon as their eyes met, she found herself needing to look away again. He was waaaaay too attractive to belong at Mistletoe Manor. He looked like he’d stepped off the cover of an edition of People’s Sexiest Man Alive.
“Neil,” he said, reintroducing himself.
“I remember,” she laughed. “And I’m Klarinda. So… What are you reading?” she asked, picking up his book.
“Oh, nothing,” he said, laughing nervously.
How could someone so intimidating seem so intimidated? Klarinda simply could not understand it. As puzzling as it was, it was drawing her to him. Making her less wrapped up in her own insecurities.
“An action-thriller,” she said. “Sounds fun. I’ve never actually read this guy’s books before, but I see them everywhere.”
“Oh, uh, yup. It’s pretty good,” he said, trying to take the book back from her.
“Let me see,” she said, smiling and brushing his hand away. She began skimming the page he’d been reading and her smile was replaced with a look of confusion and then understanding. She closed the book, keeping its place with her finger, and passed it back to him. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to get pushy.”
He shrugged. “I know. It’s alright.” He took his copy of Recovering After Tragedy: A 101-Step Plan Especially Designed for Men that he’d wrapped in a paper jacket from a Michael Crichton novel and let it close without remarking the page. He smiled weakly.
Klarinda took a deep breath and tried to come up with some bright, cheery question or comment to change the mood, but nothing was coming to mind. So, instead, she asked the man, “Is it helping?”
“This book, you mean?”
She nodded.
“A little,” he said. “I mean… I’m here. I managed to pull myself together enough to drive this far. So that’s something. I’m down here instead of up in my room. I shaved today.” He laughed dryly. “A hundred and one steps.”
“Actually, you didn’t shave.”
He touched his face. “Hmm. So I didn’t.”
“It looks good.”
“Oh,” he said, his lips making a little O and his eyebrows raising as he nodded.
“Very good,” she added.
“Well then.” He smiled.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying something so presumptuous, but you seem like someone who has it all.”
He laughed, though it sounded a little jagged. “Once upon a time,” he said, “I did have it all. Or, at least, I believed I did.”
“I’m sorry that changed.”
“Me too. I’m not giving up, though. Hence, the book.”
“Maybe I’ll borrow it when you’re done?” she said, only half-joking.
“I’d let you, but it’s for men,” he teased.
Klarinda leaned in a little closer to Neil and whispered, “I don’t think it’s going to be able to tell it’s being read by a woman.”
“I beg to differ,” Neil whispered back.
“It’s going to feel that I’m a woman?”
“Very much so,” said Neil.
The unwelcome sound of the bell on the front counter made its way to the dining room.
“I’m going to burn that thing,” Klarinda said, standing up from the table and going to see who needed her.
Chapter 26
“Name’s Barney Philman,” said the man standing at the counter.
He looked like he’d been to hell and back. Despite the blustery weather, his thin brown and gray hair was sweaty. One side of it was slicked back to his head, the other was sticking out in every direction.
“Are you looking for a room for the night?” Klarinda asked. “If you are, I’m sorry to tell you that we’re already fully booked.”
“No, no. Uh, actually, I’m looking for one of your guests. A man by the name of Neil Prescott.”
“Oh?” she said. This Neil Prescott was certainly turning out to be an interesting character. It was quite uncommon for guests at the inn to get visitors.
“I would’ve called him,” he said, “but I seem to have lost my phone.”
“Oh no,” said Klarinda.
“I didn’t lose it so much as, uh, watch it get swept away and probably smashed,” said the man. “I put my window down to throw out a cup of coffee and my phone slid off the dashboard and out the window. Damnedest thing. It happened right as I reached Windy Pines. Before I had a chance to turn around to go back and look for it, a snowplow swept it off into the ditch.”
“How unlucky,” said Klarinda.
The man nodded. “It hasn’t been a good day so far. But at least I made it here.”
“Neil’s in the dining room, right down the hallway there. I’ll walk you back to him,” Klarinda said.
“Do you have a restroom I could use first? I’ve been on the road a long time.”
“Oh, of course. It’s just right there,” she said, pointing down the hallway. “And I’m sure you can see the doorway to the dining room there. We’ll open any time if you’re looking for a place to have dinner.”
“I’ll probably do that,” the man said.
“Great,” said Klarinda as he walked away. She checked her watch. It was her extra-long day since Myrtle was off. This meant she’d be working several more hours before Josephine arrived for her night shift. She yawned and took a seat on the barstool behind the front counter, flipping through the appointment book to see what the upcoming days and weeks looked like. The appointment that had been on the books for this evening had canceled, which was great considering every single guest from the night before was still here.
The front door of the inn opened then and Meribeth walked in. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were watering from the cold mountain air. “Sorry I’m running late, Klarinda,” she said, as she hurried back toward the dining room and kitchen. “Lucas will be here any second.”
“Glad to hear it,” Klarinda called after her, just as Derb Dunlavy walked in.
“Someone needed a tow to my garage?” he asked.
“Oh, right. I’ll go get him for you,” she said.
Neil was still at the same table in the dining room, back to reading his book. He looked up and smiled when he saw Klarinda approaching. “You came back to see me,” he said.
“Actually, it’s the mechanic. Derb Dunlavy. He’s here to tow your vehicle to his shop. But also, there’s another man here to see you as well. He’s in the restroom.”
“Oh, him.” Neil nodded, not looking very excited about his guest. “I’ll see what the mechanic thinks about my car and I’ll be right back to talk to the other guy.” Neil jumped up, grabbed his book and the sweater he’d draped over the back of the chair, and went out to meet Derb.
Klarinda realized by tomorrow all these guests, including Neil, would be on their way. Probably never to be seen again. As flirtatious and attractive as he was—despite his hit-or-miss taste in clothes—none of it meant anything. At this time tomorrow, his vehicle would probably be fixed and he’d be just another guest fading from her memory.
She saw then that the latest arrival—the man with the appointment to meet Neil—had come out of the restroom and wandered into the dining room. She would have gone after him to let him know that Neil was preoccupied, but the phone at the front desk was ringing, so she let him be for the moment and went up to answer it.
Chapter 27
Barney scanned the dining room. He’d done enough online snooping that he knew he would be able to recognize Neil Prescott once he saw him. He could picture the man’s movie star-like appearance and dark hair. He’d stalked Dave Sommerset online enough to recognize him as well. And wouldn’t you know it, Neil Prescott was nowhere to be found—it wasn’t as if someone could hide in the dining room of this inn—but there was Dave Sommerset, front and center.
Barney had no doubt it was him. What were the odds? This was a doozy of a situation. A real pickle. Most social situations were a little complicated for Barney, but this one was especially tricky.
To further muddy the waters, there was the intimidation factor of a hot young woman thrown in. Not the one he’d just talked to—no, the innkeeper, she was a brunette in her thirties. Beautiful, but kind of wholesome-looking. That, he could tolerate. But a blonde in her twenties? And wearing a low-cut blouse? Lord, have mercy. What a day. No, sir, online snooping hadn’t prepared him for Dave’s girlfriend. The spicy little number seated beside him, laughing her head off, looked like something out of one of Barney’s vintage dirty magazines.
He stood back by the coffee machine and tray of mugs, wondering how to go about approaching Dave. Or should he wait for Neil? No, he might as well talk to Dave. But how to get it started? For one thing, he and his girlfriend looked like they were in the middle of a boardgame with another couple. That was weird. Not exactly anything he could have predicted. If only he had his phone so he could call Jean!
“Sir, would you like to be seated?” asked the young, red-haired waitress.
“Uhhh, sure.”
“Is that table by the fireplace okay with you?”
“Sure,” he said.
She led him right to the small table next to the table where Dave was seated. An upside-down water goblet rested on a cloth napkin, alongside heavyweight silverware.
“Fancy place,” he murmured.
“Thank you,” said the waitress. “Here’s a menu for you. I’ll be back in just a moment.”
The voices inside his head were jabbering away at full blast: Say something! Introduce yourself to him! This is dumb. You’re right next to him. Are you going to sit here and eat dinner? This is stupid. Man, it smells good in here… Mmmmm. Chicken.
As he warmed up, the voices got a little softer, a little easier: Hungry, so hungry. Can’t wait to have that chicken. I’m thirsty! Wow, am I tired! That fire feels good. Long drive. At least you made it. Hmmmmm. Are they playing parcheesi? I remember that game. It makes me think of Aunt Bertha’s house.
One of the pieces from the boardgame fell on the floor. Dave leaned over to pick it up and, for a split-second, his eyes met Barney’s eyes. This snapped Barney back to attention, as he remembered why he’d come all this way.
You need to speak up and say something, he told himself. Damn it, why isn’t Jean here? She’d know how to handle this. I need to get another phone. I can’t believe I left my gun in that bathroom! Where is it now? Right here. Right in the back of your pants. That’s good, that’s good. Calm down. Order some dinner. You’ll get everything figured out once you have some dinner.
He kept looking around for Neil, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Between the long, long, stressful drive and the cruddy meal of donuts and bad coffee he’d consumed, he was feeling exhausted enough to wonder if Dave wasn’t actually the person he had an appointment with?
“Water?” asked the waitress, standing before him with a pitcher of ice water.
“Yes. Thank you. And a sixteen-ounce glass of the Windy Pines Pilsner.”
“My boss will bring that out for you in just a second. Would you like to hear about our specials?”
“Just give me the special, whatever it is,” said Barney, nodding, picturing a huge roasted chicken.
“The chicken or the lasagna? Or the roasted vegetables?”
“Yes, the chicken. And the lasagna. Thanks,” said Barney, handing the menu back to her.
“Would you like bread and salad with that?” she asked.
Barney nodded, but then he said, “Hey? Wait a minute.”
“Yes?” she asked, turning back to him.
“I can’t drive home tonight. I’m fried. Look at me.” He held up his hands, making them tremble ever-so-slightly. He might have been exaggerating a little bit, but the feeling was real. “Can you double check if there’s a room for me here? I just can’t drive again today.”
“I’ll ask
Klarinda to take a look,” said the girl.
“Thanks. That’d be good. Like I said, I’m wicked fried. I can’t do it.”
“Okay, I’ll ask her.”
“Klarinda,” Meribeth said, finding her boss up at the front desk, “the guy seated at table three needs a tall glass of the Windy Pines Pilsner, and he wants to stay here tonight.”
“Thanks,” Klarinda said, and just then it dawned on her that there was a place for him to stay. He could have her old apartment for the night. Why not? It would make him happy and it would provide a little extra income for the inn. Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner? She didn’t need to renovate the inn to rent out the apartment now and then.
She hurried off to tell him the good news.
Chapter 28
Having a place to stay gave Barney a reason to leave the dining room, go back out to his truck, get his overnight bag, and spend some time getting settled in. It also gave him an opportunity to call his wife, since there was a phone in the little apartment.
Jean picked up on the first ring. “Hello?” she said suspiciously. “Who’s calling?”
“It’s me,” Barney said. “I’m at Mistletoe Manor. I’m calling from my room. Suite is more like it. I’ve got a whole apartment to myself.”
“I’ve been worried sick about you. You left eight hours ago!”
“Eight hours?”
“Going on nine. How was your drive? You didn’t just get there, did you?”
“Not long ago. It was…” Barney tried to check his watch, but then he remembered he hadn’t worn one for years, ever since carrying a cellphone had replaced his need for one. “Maybe forty-five minutes or an hour ago? It was a terrible drive. Just awful.”
“Have you seen Neil Prescott yet?”
“No, but guess who I did see?”
“I don’t have any idea,” said Jean.
In the Heart of Windy Pines Page 9
