“Just focus on this opportunity for you, Kate. It’s a great one. Don’t worry about me.”
She raised the fork back up and popped the scrambled eggs into her mouth. “Oh, wow. These are really good.” Turning in her chair, she called out over her shoulder, “Marla, you’ve outdone yourself this time! The eggs are amazing!”
Deacon watched Kate while she consumed her breakfast, noting how every part of life—even down to mealtime—was an experience for her. There was no denying the similarities between Kate and Jenny. They were both exuberant, over-the-top in their emotions. But where Jenny’s drive and passion focused narrowly on herself and the goals she hoped to personally achieve, Kate was the most inclusive person Deacon had ever encountered. She was driven by the success of others, and her thoughts were, more often than not, outwardly focused.
Kate was the sort of person that challenged you to become a better one yourself. For that very reason, Deacon buttoned his lip throughout the rest of their breakfast and let her bask in the anticipation of this upcoming opportunity, because it truly was a good one. Yes, Jenny had once ruined things for Deacon, but if that’s what needed to happen to get to this moment, he’d gladly go through it all again.
Deacon would suffer heartbreak a hundred times over if it meant Kate had even one shot at the success she so deserved.
Kate
The chaste kiss Deacon lowered to her lips right before Kate rolled up her driver’s side window felt more like an ellipsis than a period. It wasn’t a goodbye; it was an until later. This new arrangement was the best of both worlds, really. When Courtney said Kate’s stint at the farm was over, she didn’t want to think what that might mean for her budding new relationship with Deacon. That she would be a mere fifteen-minute drive up the highway was—as Deacon might put it—serendipitous.
She didn’t know how Courtney was able to arrange such a prestigious lineup, but Kate didn’t question it. J.C. Patterson was the world’s best when it came to downhill skiing, and her fame—both locally and nationally—would do wonders for the show. Not that any of that had ever been all that important to Kate, but the added exposure this might bring was exciting, nevertheless.
The drive was quick and she glimpsed the impressive mountain chalet before her GPS instructed her to take the next exit. The alpine building peeked through the trees like a woodland castle in a fairytale setting. As her sedan hugged the curve of the road, the building crept closer into sight until the enormity of the chalet took up her entire windshield view. There stood one main structure—front and center—with attached wings, alike in appearance but smaller in scale. A wide rooftop reminiscent of Swiss architecture sloped out over the thick, wooden exterior and the overlay of snow that clung to the ridge of the chalet looked like it belonged there year round.
The sight was stunning in an almost overwhelming way. Kate followed the bend up to the building’s entrance, not at all surprised when a man in a valet uniform stepped up to her car after she rolled to a stop. This was just the sort of place that would afford its guests those certain luxuries. She gathered her bags from her trunk, handed over her keys, and followed the bellhop through the expansive doors that parted for her like she was a starlet taking a stroll on the red carpet.
“Right this way.” He bent an arm and guided her inside.
If a smell could be expensive, the aroma of the lobby was easily worth a year of her salary, maybe more. Kate inhaled deeply, pondering how she might be able to bottle up that scent and take it home with her. It was so opulent she nearly lost her breath.
“Miss Carmichael?” A young woman in a pencil skirt, black fitted blazer, and cat eye glasses sauntered up with her hand extended, readying for a shake. “I’m glad to see you’ve made it safely. I’m Tammy Porch, Ms. Patterson’s assistant. Your cameraman, Toby, is already here. Can I show you up? The bellman will see to it that your belongings are delivered to your room.”
“Oh, thank you,” Kate answered. Her eyes continued their slow perusal of the chalet lobby as she trailed Tammy to the elevator. A tree fit for Times Square was erected in the very center of the massive room with heavy glass ornaments and red beaded garland that coiled up its tapered branches in big, swaggy loops. Vintage wooden skis were positioned and balanced between the branches and poles stuck out in such a unique way that it had to be the work of a professional decorator. The creativity was off the charts.
“That tree is phenomenal,” Kate gaped.
“Isn’t it?” Tammy punched the button to the elevator and when the doors spread wide apart, she indicated for Kate to step inside first. “The McCulloughs recently acquired an artificial tree company.” The doors slid closed, leaving the two women alone in the small, box-like space. Tammy waved a fob over a button on the wall and the elevator lurched into motion. “It’s quite genius, really. You go online, pick the variety and size tree you’d like and it shows up on your doorstep three days later, along with a box of decorations. There are all kinds of themes to choose from. One for every budget. This particular display—as you could probably guess—is called Mountain Ski Chalet.”
That information would have held Kate’s interest, maybe even piqued it, had she not already concocted a plan to suggest a partnership with Deacon’s farm. The hope of a symbiotic relationship forming was squashed before she even had a chance to meet the infamous J.C.
“I haven’t seen your show before.” Tammy stated it so matter-of-factly that it didn’t come across as an insult, so Kate didn’t take it that way.
“I haven’t met your boss before,” Kate countered with a shrug and a smile.
“Oh, you’ll love her. Everyone does.” She paused a second, almost weighing whether or not to add the next part. “Bryce, though. He’s not exactly…warm.”
“Well, his family does own a plethora of ski resorts. Maybe that has a little something to do with it.” Kate almost rolled her own eyes at her stupid joke. Luckily, the elevator doors yawned open before she could continue in her pathetic, nervous comedic routine.
Tammy stepped out. “Wait here a moment while I see if they’re ready for you.”
The best view Kate had encountered in ages greeted her, and it wasn’t the majestic, snowcapped mountain range standing in the distance on the other side of the penthouse’s wall-to-wall windows.
“Toby!” Kate sprinted into her dear friend’s arms.
Her cameraman scooped her into a giant hug that lifted her feet from the ground. “Reunited and it feels so good,” Toby sang into her hair in such a silly voice it had Kate erupting with laughter. A familiar face was exactly what she needed. While the chalet was spectacular, there was nothing cozy or even comfortable about it. But Toby was comfort. Always had been, always would be. “If Courtney ever makes me work with Carl Weathers again, I just might give her my two-week notice.”
“That bad?”
“You know he wears a toupee, right? Well, the man keeps it in a box, Kate. A box.”
Kate played the devil’s advocate. “Remember that one time I got extensions? Those weren’t cheap. I can sort of see why he’d do that.”
“But he named it. The toupee. He named the toupee Harry.”
“Okay.” Kate snorted. “That is a little weird.”
“Did you know he takes it on and off between filming?” Toby’s expression was incredulous. “And guess who gets to hold that box? Yep, yours truly. ‘Would you mind taking care of Harry while I go grab a bite to eat? Thanks, Tobs. You’re the best.’ ” Toby shuddered. “Never again. Never again.”
Kate had heard rumors of Carl and his oddities. She counted herself lucky that she hadn’t been partnered with him on assignments as of yet. “I promise I won’t make you hold my hair. Only that one time when I got that horrible bout of food poisoning after the oyster shucking piece we did. Man, that was awful. I still can’t really do seafood.”
“I’d gladly hold your hair any day, Kate. And I’ll put it out there while I’m at it: I’ll also accompany you to lavish ski resor
ts any time you need me to.” His eyes popped open wide. “Is this place unreal or what?”
“Unreal. That is definitely the right word for it.”
As their conversation closed, Tammy reappeared, beckoning the duo. “Everyone’s ready. Right this way.”
She led them down a long marble corridor to a study that shared the same mountainscape view as the grand entry. An attractive couple sat in twin tufted, plaid chairs, a crackling fire in a white rock hearth at their back and a bearskin rug—complete with head still intact—at their feet. The man wore a cream turtleneck sweater with a detailed argyle pattern spread across the collar that put all of Kate’s knitted creations to shame. An air of pretension clung to his every feature, all the way down to his leather loafers that likely cost more than Kate’s down payment on her home.
Oddly, the woman was less intimidating. No doubt the outfit adorning her slim figure was every bit as expensive as her husband’s, but she had a friendly twinkle in her eyes that sparked even brighter when she stood from her seat to meet her guests halfway.
“I’m so happy to finally meet you,” J.C. said, words Kate had readied on her own tongue to deliver. “I’m glad everything worked out for you to be here.” She enveloped Kate in a hug, and once she released her, did the same with Toby. “Have a seat, please. Can we get you anything to drink? Coffee? Wine?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you.”
“I believe we’re all out of wine, dear,” the man spoke up. His hands were folded in his lap and he looked like he had no plans to entertain his company. Definitely not serve them beverages.
“I grabbed some from the store the other day. Three bottles.”
His neutral expression turned firm. “We have people to do that for us, Jennifer. You don’t have to go into town. Certainly not to buy your own alcohol.”
J.C. rolled her eyes and turned back to Kate. “Let’s just say Bryce and I grew up a little differently. I’m still not quite used to letting people do things I’m fully capable of doing on my own.”
“So it’s Jennifer,” Kate asked, circling back to Bryce’s statement. She’d been curious what the J.C. stood for.
“Yes, Jennifer Christine, but those closest to me used to call me Jenny. I switched to J.C. right before the Olympics. I had just gone through a rough patch—made some really big personal changes—and I figured a name change might be fitting, too. Clean slate sort of thing and all.”
“I get that,” Kate said.
“Anyway, like I said, we’re so glad you’re here. I think we’re going to have a lot of fun with this.” Kate fluffed up a fur trimmed pillow on the couch near their chairs and patted her hand on the cushion. “Please, have a seat.”
Toby and Kate plopped down in unison, the leather hissing as their weight settled on the plush sofa.
“How does this whole thing work?” J.C. took her place at her husband’s side.
“On the Job? Well, it’s honestly just as it sounds. I’ll follow you around for a predetermined amount of time and you’ll show me the ins and outs of what it’s like to be a competitive downhill skier. Toby will film it all and at the end, we’ll go back into the studio to edit before it’s ready for production,” Kate explained. “I have to be upfront with you, though. I don’t have a lot of recent skiing experience. It’s been a few years since I’ve been on the slopes.”
When J.C. and Bryce exchanged private glances, Kate felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach, like maybe she misspoke without even realizing it.
Bryce cleared his throat for no other reason than to break the stilted silence that ensued. “I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding.”
“Oh?” Panic seized Kate’s throat which made it suddenly difficult to swallow. “There has?”
“It isn’t Jennifer’s job we’d like you to shadow, it’s mine. Rather, ours, I suppose.”
Kate could roll with that. She recently had ample practice in doing that very thing. “I see. That shouldn’t be a problem at all. I’ve job shadowed just about everything out there. I can be flexible.”
“Good, good.” Bryce nodded and appraised her with a steady, concentrated gaze. “As you likely already know, my family is in the ski resort business. Acquiring land. Purchasing existing lodges and turning them around with the use of our powerful brand and our tried and true marketing strategies. We’re right in the middle of this particular mountainside venture and aren’t even set to open until next calendar year, yet we’ve presold every chalet and have a waiting list for future builds. So I currently have my eyes on another possible land acquisition. One that’s just a few miles down the road.” His steel-gray eyes slivered and his fingers steepled in front of his mouth when he said, “You might have heard of it, actually. Right now it’s just a bunch of trees, but give us a year and it’ll be the hottest resort to hit the Sierras. That’s a McCullough guarantee.”
Deacon
Deacon hadn’t seen Kate in four days. He realized that wasn’t very long, but considering they’d only spent one week together, by comparison, it felt like an eternity. She had texted that first night. Nothing long, just a few lines saying she missed him and that she would call in the morning.
That call never happened and when lunchtime rolled around and his phone buzzed with a text that read: Sorry. Got caught up with a few things. Will touch base tonight, it was as though he could feel his heart dropping into the depths of his stomach, like an anchor thrown overboard wrenching it downward.
Something wasn’t right, but he didn’t know Kate well enough to discern just what that might be. This was the hard truth he couldn’t evict from his thoughts.
Maybe in his absence she’d come to her senses. Their lives were different. He thought back to the first day when she had set foot on the farm, all high heels and a confidence he assumed was misplaced. How wrong he had been. Kate had unfurled during her time at Yuletide. He saw her transform from someone who had a job to do, into a person who belonged there, like she had officially joined their team.
The thought of Kate on another team—on Jenny’s, no less—made him wince. But that’s what had happened. The fact that she couldn’t break away long enough for a brief quick call only reiterated the fact that Kate had thrown herself completely into this new assignment. Deacon had a hard time being frustrated with that. When it all boiled down, that’s exactly what Kate needed to do. What she should do.
The farm once again became Deacon’s primary focus. Without the steady online publicity Kate’s show provided, numbers dwindled by the day. Their fifteen minutes of fame were up. He wasn’t surprised. He knew the influx of visitors was largely due to Kate’s influence. From that moment, he made it a practice to fully appreciate every packed car that rolled into their lot and every tree that left strapped to its rooftop. He valued his customers more than ever before, and each day closer to Christmas he grew in gratitude. For the farm. For his family. For his time with Kate, however brief.
When two weeks hit and their communication ceased altogether, Deacon did everything he could to keep from feeling the pain that had once been so familiar it was like a life sentence. He let her go. He had to. And he wasn’t going to wallow. He would find joy, even in the middle of this because joy wasn’t tied to circumstance. He knew that. Joy was all around and when you couldn’t see or feel it, sometimes you had to manufacture it.
One night, after shutting down the farm with the help of Cody and his mother, Deacon saddled up Bella and rode down the mountain, the stars above the only guiding light as he and his horse wove in and out of stalks of evergreen. The low hoot of an owl marked out time like a second hand on an old clock. A brisk wind swirled through the trees. Deacon flipped up the collar on his jacket and shuddered against the weather. He didn’t know what he was looking for—or even that he was looking for something in particular—until his eyes fastened on it.
Kate’s tree. The one she had all but destroyed during their pruning session.
Deacon’s heart squeezed.
> “Whoa there, girl,” he murmured to Bella as he pulled up on her reins, easing her into a gradual stop. Slinging his leg over, he lowered from the horse, then gathered the rope he kept tied to the saddle horn and bound up the tree. Like a pack mule, Bella didn’t falter when Deacon hoisted the prickly object onto her back. He returned to his saddle and guided her up the summit, hope now a beacon like the North star that had guided him there.
It was difficult to decorate a tree that had six-inch branches, but Deacon made it work. If anything, he told himself it displayed the ornaments all the better. They couldn’t get lost in dense needles or overshadowed by other decorations that shared the same branch. One ornament fit on one branch and that was it. By eight o’clock, Deacon had decked every available portion of the tree with keepsake ornaments from a box he had stored in his hall closet so long the layer of dust was as thick as the lid. He sat in his recliner with a mug of hot chocolate (a recipe he stole from one of Kate’s viewers), his heart harkening back to the memories each ornament embodied.
He wondered why he’d gone so long without his own tree. Maybe it was a cobbler’s child with no shoes sort of thing. Still, he pledged never to go another Christmas without one.
When he’d emptied his mug, he raised from his chair, pondering if he should heat up another cup or ultimately call it a night.
“What do you think, Rascal?” The dog perked up, roused from his nearby nap. “Should we head to bed?”
Rascal barked.
“Is that a yes?” Deacon prodded. He needed some clarification. “Or a no.”
The Labrador howled again.
“How about this: two barks for yes, one bark for no.”
Rascal suddenly bounded past, narrowly knocking Deacon to the ground in an all out race down the hall. “Settle down, boy.”
Christmas at Yuletide Farm: A Small-Town Christmas Romance Novel Page 18
