Christmas At Cedarwood Lodge

Micah wandered outside with one of the painters, pointing and gesticulating to the eaves above the lodge, which had been painted the wrong color. I waved him over, and he excused himself and jogged the short distance so I could make the introductions.

They shook hands the way men do, hard fast pumps. “We’ve got Isla arriving today,” I said. “And she’ll…”

Before I could finish, a motorbike came careening around the corner and into the driveway. Isla? On the phone she’d sounded chirpy and enthusiastic. I’d hired her instantly because of her knowledge about garden design and her clear vision for Cedarwood, which matched my own. Her resume was impressive for her age, mid-twenties, and I liked the fact she had a flair for topiary.

A cloud of dust rose up as Isla stepped off the bike and handled her helmet. Strawberry-blonde hair fell around her shoulders in waves, and her light-blue eyes shone with eagerness. Freckles spotted the bridge of her nose like constellations. Holding out a hand, she said, “You must be Clio.”

“Yes. Nice bike,” I said, grinning. “Great timing, Isla. This is Micah and Kai. We’re going to go for a tour. Join us?”

Isla gave me a wide smile, shook hands with Kai and Micah, and turned in an arc to survey the grounds. There was an energy radiating off her that was impossible to miss, as though she couldn’t wait to grab her secateurs and start pruning.

I went to ask Micah about the painters and their roof folly only to see him staring at Isla slack-jawed. Lifting a finger to his chin, I shut his mouth so it wasn’t as obvious to Isla as it was to me.

He gazed at Isla, goggle-eyed, lost in a daydream before eventually coming back to reality.

Isla swiveled back to us. “This is like something out of a Grimms’ fairy tale,” she exclaimed, motioning to the overgrown gardens. “I can’t wait to get started!”

Shading my eyes once more, I flashed her a smile. I had this sudden sense that the trio in front of me would shape Cedarwood into something great again. Between us, we’d give it the kiss of life, and resurrect it from its somnambulant state. Along the way, maybe a love affair would blossom… On this estate where vibrant mountains watched over us, where the lake glistened in the distance, maybe Cupid sat on a branch, hidden by a leafy canopy, his bow stretched taut, before shooting his arrow, straight into the heart of the next perfect couple.

I grinned at Micah, who was fidgeting with his folder, his cheeks ablaze. Isla was watching him with a frown, trying to gauge his inability to make eye contact with her.

“Well,” I said, clapping my hands for their attention. “Let’s give you guys the tour, and then we can get to work!”

Ringing Amory later that night with my daily update, I pulled a blanket over my knees and munched on buttery microwave popcorn. I’d have to shop properly and stop eating like a college student, but time had a habit of running away from me, and at night, with the draught leeching in, all I wanted to do was rug up, eat junk food and drink cocoa.

“Hello, sunshine!” Amory’s tinny voice echoed around my bedroom, making it feel homelier – as if she was here with me.

I pushed the popcorn to one side. “So, today’s news… Kai the builder arrived and also the landscaper Isla, so it feels like we’re making real progress!” I stopped to wipe crumbs from the bed. “But no matter how much work we put in, I just can’t shake the feeling that it won’t be enough… What if no one comes?”

“OK, look, the lodge will happen because you’re a gun at what you do. I have absolute faith people will flock in droves to Cedarwood. You know that! No one can win against you when you wow them with your vision and paint the pictures you do just with words – I mean, that’s a gift that can’t be taught. What you need is romance to distract you.”

I groaned. “Romance? That’s the last thing I want. And which bit of me moving to a town of five hundred and three people did you not remember? There’s no one suitable. Besides, I wouldn’t have time. I have this overwhelming fear that if I take my eyes off of the project it’ll tumble down like a house of cards. I don’t have a plan B any more, this is plan B. I can’t afford to get starry-eyed and lose focus. There’s the—”

She interjected. “And that’s exactly why you need the distraction of a man! That worry will eat you up, just like it did here. You were on the path to burnout, and without me there to fishhook you out at night, what will you do? Worry, that’s what. Life is all about light and shade, work and play. You just have to find the right balance. Think of snuggling up at night with some bronzed, buff guy who will take your mind off your woes.”

I choked on a popcorn kernel, thinking of Kai. “Bronzed, buff guy in Evergreen?” I managed. “You’re dreaming. Men here don’t take weekends in Cabo to work on their tan, I’m sure of it.”

“OK, maybe they don’t go to Cabo, but you can renegotiate with yourself about what exactly you want in a man. Surely there’s someone there who’ll do for now. What about old flames? A boy-next-door type? Someone who’ll happily sweep you off your feet.”

Old flames… There was Timothy. I’d only thought about him in passing since I’d returned.

“What?” Amory said, breaking my reverie. “I’m right, aren’t I? There’s some unfinished business with a guy there? Tell me I’m right!”

Was there? I really didn’t think so. And what was I even having this conversation for? Amory was trying to distract me from the real issues in my life by wooing me with the idea of romance. “No, no… there isn’t unfinished business. Nothing of the sort. I see what you’re doing, you know.”

“But…?” she said, ignoring the fact I’d caught her out.

There was no hiding from Amory once she clued on to something. She was FBI grade when it came to interrogating someone and sensed any weakness. “But nothing.”

“Don’t tell me… He was your first love. Right? That guy who broke it off with you when you left Evergreen?”

“So? It’s not like I’ve been pining for him or anything. Timothy was a million years ago. I bet he’s married and has five kids and a house with a picket fence and a dog called Buster. A nice handicap at golf, and a wife with a blonde bob and bright-blue eyes who bakes cookies. From scratch.” I could see him having that kind of perfect American life, with his perfectly white teeth and perfect children with their perfect manners. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Amory gave me one of her overly dramatic world-weary sighs. “Not that you’re into stereotyping or anything! Darling, I’m not asking you to marry him, I’m only saying that I think you need some balance. If I don’t lecture you, you’ll spend every waking hour crunching numbers and making those ridiculous pie charts before ending the night planning your dream wedding on Pinterest. And soon enough you’ll be a shriveled-up old maid in some windy, creaky lodge with a menagerie of animals who share your bed.”

I guffawed. “As if! I don’t even use Pinterest any more!”

“Liar. You forgot to make your dream-wedding board secret. I like the pearl wedding dress the best, the backless gown… stunning.”

I wanted to dissolve into the floorboards. How could I have forgotten to make it secret! I’d been planning my own wedding since I could talk, but what was wrong with that? I just really liked weddings. Was that a crime?

“Your romantic side is what makes you shine so brightly. Promise me you’ll find Timothy and go for coffee. And if he’s married, then don’t kiss him. Simple. But on the other hand, if he’s single… well, first love rekindled. God, I’d pay to see that.”

She was incorrigible. And if I didn’t nip this in the bud she’d get carried away, and start pinning her own suggestions to my dream-wedding board. “Amory, my life isn’t a romantic comedy. First love rekindled? That only happens in movies. Fiction!”

“And where do they get their inspiration from, huh? Real life, that’s where! Non-fiction!”

Amory was a bulldozer when it came to pushing me out of my comfort zone. But she really didn’t understand the complexities of finding love in a small town. Again, I realized she’d jabbed me into a corner with all this nonsense about love.

“I actually phoned you to talk about the new members of staff who arrived…”

“Don’t try and change the subject. Your mission is to have coffee with the Matt Damon lookalike, and report back.”

“Oh my God, Amory. Wait. How do you know what he looks like?” Timothy did bear an uncanny resemblance to the actor Matt Damon, and I knew he still looked just the same because I’d stalked his Facebook profile once. OK, maybe twice, but I’d had a few cocktails and didn’t everyone do that anyway? There wasn’t much to see because it was locked up tight, which left me with just his profile picture.

“I found your yearbook and saw all the scribbled love hearts around the photo of him. Seriously, you were the sweetest thing, weren’t you?”

I blushed, grateful she couldn’t see me. “Before you corrupted me.”

“Which was so much fun! I have to go into a dinner meeting, which fills me with joy, so call me and tell me everything, just as soon as you’ve done it, deal?”

I avoided the demand and said, “Don’t let them cold-shoulder you because of me.”

She let out an evil chuckle. “Don’t you worry, darling. They’ve tried that but, then I got the go-ahead from you-know-who’s squad, to organize her surprise birthday party – so I’m quite the flavor of the month. You know what these agency backstabbers are like. Fickle.”

Sadly I did know, all too well, how the tide could turn in an instant at the agency. “You’re a superstar. I wish I was there to see it.”

“One celeb party is the same as the next, no matter how we dress it up. You’re not missing out.”

“I guess. Wait, before you go, how are things with Cruz?” While Amory made a show of behaving like some kind of man-eater, I knew she had deep feelings for the mysterious Cruz, who hailed from Ecuador and was all intense with deep, smoldering eyes.

“The same,” she sighed. “You know men in Manhattan. Can’t really commit to anything except their gym routines. And I’m crazy busy myself, so we’ll have to wait and see. We’re meeting for cocktails tonight, and then a show on Friday, so two dates in one week… a miracle in these parts.”

Amory would never fully admit how she felt about a guy; it was like some protective instinct in her. And she’d been equally blasé about most guys up until now. Cruz was different, and I hoped she’d open up to him. “He really likes you, Amory, you can tell, so I hope you don’t act indifferent with him.”

“Darling, I don’t act indifferent, I am indifferent. Because most of the guys I’ve dated have been total bores. There’s no point hiding the fact they sent me into a slumber. Cruz is the first guy I haven’t had to fake it with… and I’m not talking only sex,” she laughed. “But I won’t pin my hopes on him, not just yet. There’s a definite sizzle of attraction, but what if it fades?”

“That first overwhelming can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t stop thinking of you stage of love might fade away but it’ll be replaced with more enduring emotions like comfort and stability.” What the hell did I know? I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been on a date… still, it seemed like sound advice.

“Boring! I want the sparks.”

I laughed, knowing Amory wouldn’t settle for mundane, ever.

“Oh, God, please tell me that’s not Bonnie Tyler warbling in the background again?”

I froze.

“Darling, when you play ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ I know things are grim. Please, turn it off and listen to something more upbeat?”

“It’s… the radio!” I lied.

After ending the call, I leaned back and smiled. Amory always knew just what to say to perk me up, even if it was to rekindle a pretty dull flame from my past… Turning up ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ I thought about my best friend’s advice. Believing that true love was out there was easy; I just couldn’t quite believe it was going to be found in the tiny town of Evergreen.

Chapter Five

The evenings grew longer and winter crept closer, bringing moody gray skies and the promise of cooler months to come. Under such solemn light, I felt the space between me and Mom yawn wider. She still hadn’t appeared and I knew something was up. I dialed her number again and was rewarded with the robotic voice: the number you have dialed… I hung up. Enough was enough.

At the lodge, things were progressing hectically and only just behind schedule, and I supposed the world wouldn’t fall down around me if I took one night off from the endless paperwork and reconciling the figures. There was just so much to do, but I wasn’t concentrating properly with Mom’s absence on my mind.

The wind keened like a lost soul as I locked the front door of the lodge. Kai was wandering around the grounds so I set off and found him peering into the window of one of the chalets near the lake.

“I’m going out,” I said. “Are you OK to lock the front gate?” He always stayed behind, his work days longer than anyone else’s. As though he couldn’t fully relax until he’d checked every single job.

“Sure,” he said, trying to make out the chalet room configurations in the encroaching darkness.

I buttoned up my coat as the bracing winds took hold. Kai looked downright spellbound. Surely it wasn’t just the chalets prompting such a reaction? “What is it?” I asked. “You look like you’ve found Wonderland.”

“I have found Wonderland. I had no idea the chalets were so well appointed. I guess I expected them to be derelict. It won’t take much to get them ready for guests, just the usual safety checks, and a few modernizations.”

With twenty chalets on the property, it wasn’t viable for me right then, as much as I wanted them to be rejuvenated. There was new bedding to consider, mattresses, linen, and décor, as well as the TLC they needed. It would have to wait.

“I know,” I said with a sigh, wishing my funds could stretch that tiny bit further but knowing I couldn’t risk it yet. “There’s also the old stone chapel to do. It’s got the most glorious stained-glass windows that funnel in breathtaking kaleidoscopic colors. It would be perfect for weddings. But for now I have to focus on the lodge itself…”

“When word spreads you’ll be busy here, Clio. This place has a bygone-era feel to it. I’ve traveled a lot, and I haven’t seen anything like this.”

I crossed my fingers, hoping he was right. “I’ve bet my entire fortune that people will want holidays where they learn to tango, take up life drawing, sling on backpacks full of gourmet picnic food supplied by us and hike up into the foothills.”

It was as though I could visualize them: groups huddled by the fire playing cards, mahjongg, bridge, and charades.

“No shopping malls, no tearing around trying to see every single tourist attraction. I think you’re on to something here.”

“I hope guests see it that way. Without sounding like a disgruntled grandparent, I want to go back to a time where people made their own fun. Let’s pray I’m not the only one who thinks it’s a good idea.”

He ran a hand through his tangled, too-long hair. “I’d put money on it but I’m not a gambling type.”

Cedarwood had to offer something unique to draw people to such a small town, and I banked on old-school fun and frivolity. Dances, trekking, water sports on the lake, and games, canasta, bingo nights, pottery in the west wing, and still-life drawing in the east. Language lessons, cooking classes, and singing and theater for those who wanted to perform. Chalets with reinvigorated claw-foot baths and a wall of books for those who wanted peace and quiet. But I needed the numbers in order to hire the staff…

I wanted to recreate that time, that feeling, when holidays were about relaxation, or being awed by the natural beauty of the elements. Having a place where you could do as much or as little as you liked. The entire train of thought made me realize again just how much work I had to do on the marketing front. I took my phone from my pocket and snapped a picture of Kai standing by the front door of the chalet. Social media would eat him up. “Mind if I post this online?” I indicated to the photo.

“Sure, go ahead.”

With deft fingers I posted the pic with the description: Our project manager Kai at one of the #CedarwoodLodgeChalets before renovations.

“Why did the lodge close?” he asked, arms folded as he leaned against the balustrade.

I lifted a shoulder. “As far as I can tell, they struggled through wartime, and recessions, and I guess they never really recovered financially. The husband left first and then the wife, for reasons unknown, and not long after she closed the place down.”

“Why’d he leave her?”

I clucked my tongue. “That part is a little hazy. I was too young to understand.”

“It’s a shame when they had all of this.” I might have mistaken it, but I was sure I caught a glimpse of longing in his eyes. Like he had fallen under Cedarwood’s spell.

“The thing is, it’s not a broken heart. We can fix this,” I said, smiling up at him.

He faced me, and the full force of his gaze hit me. I envied the girl who’d lose her heart to Kai. Loving him would be like tumbling into an abyss – he had a depth, a magnetism, that was compelling.

“Cedarwood has a murky past, but it’s being reborn and I have this idea that it’ll be a place where people fall in love, and lives will be changed for the better.” Too whimsical? I had to remind myself I wasn’t in an office full of women who planned weddings for a living any more.

He took an age to reply, like he was absorbing my words, pondering his answer. “There is something special about this place. It’s not just you who feels it.” A blush crept up his skin.

While his words were innocent, my heart knocked a little harder. I fumbled with a response before sticking to the rudimentary. “So… don’t forget to lock the gate. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Kai stared at me so intently, I blinked and walked away, unsure of what exactly had happened, and why I felt a charge in the air.

Twenty minutes later I pulled into Mom’s driveway, my thoughts inexplicably fuzzy. I took a deep breath and focused my mind on Mom, reminding myself not to push too hard; not to say anything I’d regret. If I did, she’d shut down and I’d never get to the bottom of what was bothering her. My mom, despite having run an inn where she dealt with guests for most of her adult life, was insular. She didn’t socialize, her only real friend was my Aunt Bessie, my father’s sister. Aunt Bessie was so full of life that no one could avoid being swept into her world, so I’m sure my mom just gave in to it.

I killed the engine, and gazed up. The kitchen curtain shivered, alerting me to Mom’s presence.

Donning a friendly smile, I went to the door and knocked, waiting an age for her to open it, as if she was trying to decide whether to pretend to be out or not. How had we come to this?

Finally the door swung open and she feigned surprise. “Clio! I wasn’t expecting you.”

I held out a bag of groceries I’d stopped off to buy. “Thought we could rustle up some dinner, what do you say?” I held back the real words that threatened to pour from my lips: Why haven’t you come to see me?

She darted a quick peep behind her.

“Is someone here?” I ventured. Mom hadn’t dated after Dad died. Did she have someone special now, and that was what was distracting her? At least that would be progress.

“No, no. It’s fine. Come in.”

I held in a sigh. “I thought we could make lasagna and roast vegetables. Are you hungry?” Mom had lost weight, too much weight. She’d always been whisper-thin, but now she was almost invisible.

“My favorite,” she said, attempting a smile.

The cottage was immaculate, not a cushion out of place. Mom had always been tidy but this was next level. The small living room sat solemnly; the kitchen was pristine and smelled of cleaning agents, not a place where food was made.

“Help me peel the vegetables?” I stood at the sink and washed my hands.

She did as instructed, and worry hit me anew, watching her tiny frame move around the kitchen. I should have come over sooner. I debated whether to ask her outright what was wrong, but she fixed me with her Mona Lisa smile, so I let it go, hoping she’d eventually soften and confide in me. There’s a first time for everything… right, Clio?

“Where’s Aunt Bessie? I thought she would have called in at the lodge. I’ve called her a few times but got the machine.”

Mom washed potatoes and carrots and placed them on a tea towel. “You know Bessie – she’s desperate to see you but she’s on a cruise with her book club. When she phoned I told her all about your homecoming and how you turned up unannounced.” There was a light rebuke to her voice, and I realized that no matter how I approached my mom it would never be the right way. “She gets home soon and, whirlwind that she is, will no doubt come straight to you.”

As if visiting me first up was out of the ordinary. I was grateful for Aunt Bessie in my life. She’d always been there for me, and made up the shortfall my mother had left.

She owned a gourmet donut shop in town called Puft. My aunt took the basic donut and transformed it into a sweet-lover’s delight. Big, custard-filled donuts balanced precariously on a cloud of Chantilly cream on top of thick chocolatey shakes. Donuts were stacked like the leaning tower of Pisa, each with different fillings – from passion-fruit curd to chocolate hazelnut custard, hand-spun candy floss on top. Or for those wanting simpler fare there were mini pistachio and honey rings, or lemon-flavored churros with orange sauce. My Aunt Bessie always emailed me the menu to proofread and it was torture not being able to taste the words.

Once she was back from her cruise I planned to go in and roll out, having my fill of her delectable treats.

She was a cuddly, bubbly person and had been a refuge in my formative years. Aunt Bessie was the type of person people confided in, and she welcomed them into her open arms. Along with confidentiality, she also provided advice, hugs and donuts. So many donuts.

“You should come by the lodge with her, Mom. We had a slight issue with the plumbing, but thankfully it didn’t blow the budget.” She turned away, but I kept on, hoping it would sway her. “The electrics have been fixed. The wainscoting has been replaced but still needs painting. The floors need to be sanded and polished, but we had a problem with a patch of rotted wood in the—”

“Do you want me to chop and fry garlic?”

Was I speaking too softly? “Sure. Did you hear me, Mom, about the lodge?”

Her hands fell to her sides and she stared out the window as if debating what to say. She’d gone so pale, I worried I’d pushed her over some invisible precipice. “I heard.”

“Well?” I asked softly.

“Well, what?” When she turned to me her eyes were bright with tears. What could have provoked such a thing?

“What is it, Mom? Why are you so upset?” I moved to hug her but she stiffened at the sight of my outstretched arms.

She shrugged. “What do you want me to say? That I’m happy for you? OK, I’m happy for you. Is that enough?” Her voice was almost inaudible.

“Aren’t you glad I’m home?” I swallowed a lump in my throat. It hurt the way she froze me out. No wonder New York had been a haven for me; it was easier to ignore this strangeness when I was away.

“I’m glad you’re here.” She motioned to where I stood.

“Here? But not at Cedarwood?” I leaned casually against the counter, and tried to keep the conversation light despite the tense atmosphere.

She turned back to the chopping board. “Look, can we just make dinner and talk about other things?”

“Other than the lodge, you mean?” What was it about Cedarwood that upset her so? Outside, stars twinkled in the inky night, as if urging me on.