Christmas With Carlie

* * *

LUKE NODDED CURTLY.

He still questioned whether this trip to California was the best idea for the girls, and being told the house wasn’t available hadn’t helped. A part of him knew it was unreasonable to be upset, but nothing was going well.

Flying at night was his preference since it saved time, but the jet’s copilot had been rear-ended while driving to the airport. Though she’d escaped injury, Luke had insisted she take a few days off. Not wanting to wait for a replacement, he’d taken the copilot’s seat himself rather than working during the flight as planned. He held a pilot’s license for emergencies, though this had mostly qualified as an inconvenience.

His sister was still in Austin; she was being treated for an ear infection and couldn’t fly until the doctor said it was okay. Luke had hired a backup copilot and sent the jet back to Texas so Nicole could come once she was well enough for travel.

The limousine service had been late meeting them at the airport and the drive to Glimmer Creek on the small curving roads had upset Annie’s stomach. She’d cried and gotten sick, only to push him away when he tried to help.

On top of everything else, the private tutor he’d hired had canceled just hours before their departure, so now he’d have to get someone local.

A polite throat-clearing sound drew his attention. “This way, Mr. Forrester,” said Carlie Benton.

She was holding Beth’s hand, and though her expression was pleasant, Luke suspected she wasn’t impressed with him. That was okay. He hadn’t gotten where he was without making a few enemies.

“Do either of you skate?” Carlie asked the girls as they walked down the front steps. “Ice skating, I mean.”

“Yes, but not like Aunt Nicole,” Beth told her. “She’s awfully good. She can spin and twirl and everything.”

“Aunt Nicole was s’posed to come with us in Papa’s jet, but her ear got sick,” Annie half whispered, making Luke’s eyes widen. Annie was shier than her sister and rarely spoke to strangers.

“That’s too bad. Is she coming later?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m glad. We have a skating rink starting tomorrow after the water freezes, so you’ll have a chance to skate if your papa doesn’t mind.” Carlie stopped and pointed across the street to the park. “It’s going to be right over there, past that little white bandstand. And you know what else we’re having this year? A sledding hill. That is, we’ll have one when the temperature is cold enough to make snow.”

“Yippee,” cried Beth.

Carlie grinned at both girls and continued walking. Down the street was an attractive building with a historic marker on the front lawn saying Glimmer Creek Concert Hall. It reminded Luke of the concert hall at the historic Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado.

Where he’d stayed with Erika on their honeymoon.

Hell, how long would everything remind him of what he’d lost?

Frustrated, Luke directed his thoughts elsewhere as they climbed the steps. On the pillared veranda, he read a freestanding sign next to the door. “Creative Turkey Bites?” he asked wryly. “So your ‘special’ luncheon is recycled Thanksgiving leftovers.”

“We don’t serve leftovers at Poppy Gold,” Carlie said, her blue eyes glittering coolly. “The meal showcases the ways leftover turkey could be made into something new and different. In addition, traditional Thanksgiving dishes are provided for people who still want them. But everything is freshly prepared.”

Inside, there was a buzz of conversation and Carlie was greeted by one guest after another. She introduced Beth and Annie by their first names only, for which Luke was grateful. While it was entirely possible nobody would recognize their names, he preferred to avoid awkward moments. Privacy was important, particularly for his daughters.

A barbershop quartet in red-and-white-striped jackets was entertaining in the front of the hall, their mellow tones resonating around the room. While pleasant, the decorations were still autumnal in theme and Luke worried the girls would be disappointed. He’d told them that spending the holidays in California would be like going to a Christmas wonderland. When would he learn not to promise something he couldn’t control?

“Good afternoon, Sarah,” Carlie said to a slender blonde woman wearing a chef’s apron. “This is Luke and his two daughters, Annie and Beth. They’re Poppy Gold’s guests today for lunch.”

Sarah beamed. “Welcome. Just get in line and tell the servers what you want to try.”

“Thanks.” Carlie crouched so she was level with Annie. “Would you like to wash your face before you eat?” she asked gently.

“Okay.” Annie put her fingers in Carlie’s outstretched hand.

“Is that all right?” Carlie queried, looking up at him. “I can take her through the food line when we get back. Just let me know if she has any allergies.”

“It’s fine. Neither of the girls have allergies.”

Yet Luke was perturbed as he watched his daughter leave with her. Damn it, he was Annie’s father, but she’d refused to let him help her, either in the limousine or after they’d arrived.

Sometimes he questioned whether Beth and Annie blamed him for their mother not being there. Sometimes he even wondered that himself. If he hadn’t been so open-minded about Erika staying in the service, she might still be alive.

Open-minded?

He snorted at the thought. Hardly. More than anything he’d wanted to keep Erika at home. Even the media had known he wasn’t open-minded. What was the headline that had become so popular...the Beauty and the Autocrat?

It hadn’t been fair to his wife. While beautiful, she’d also been a brilliant, decisive army officer. Luke didn’t see himself as autocratic, either—he just tried to make sure the people he cared about were safe and didn’t lack for anything. There was nothing wrong with that. Nonetheless, he’d wanted to be supportive of Erika’s career choice.

The irony was that his wife had raised the question of resigning her commission after the girls were born. He’d tried not to influence her, so now he would always wonder what might have happened if he’d followed his instincts and asked her to stay home.

* * *

“IS THAT BETTER?” Carlie asked Annie, drying her cheeks with a towel.

The youngster heaved a sigh. “I guess. But my eyes are scratchy.”

“You’ll probably forget about it when you eat.”

They were in the lounge area of the restroom and Annie patted the cushion she was sitting on. “This couch is funny.”

“It’s called a fainting couch. They used to be popular back in the 1800s, which is when the concert hall was built. What do you know about Poppy Gold? That’s the name of this place.”

Annie shrugged. “Papa told Aunt Nicole that it’s a tourist town.”

Carlie knew she was biased, but Poppy Gold was a whole lot more than just a tourist town. “It’s a Victorian village, Annie, which means it was built long ago when Queen Victoria ruled England. People visit here and stay in our homes and hotels. We have lots of fun things to do and I think you came at the best time of all. Christmas is my favorite time of year.”

“I used to like it, too. But, um, I’m not sure anymore.”

“Maybe we can make it your favorite again. Will you give Poppy Gold a chance?”

Annie chewed her lip for a long minute. “I’ll try.”

Sadness went through Carlie. The child couldn’t be more than six, yet her eyes were much older.

Out in the main hall, Carlie took her through the food line, letting her carry her plate to the table where Beth and her father were sitting.

Luke murmured a “Thank you,” along with his daughter.

“You’re welcome to eat all you like,” Carlie said, winking at Beth and giving Annie a smile meant just for her.

Over at the serving table, she got back in line.

“Lots of turkey curry salad,” she told the server, someone on Sarah’s staff she didn’t know well.

“It’s my favorite, too.” The woman put three large scoops onto the plate and sprinkled them with roasted cashews. “What else can I get you?”

“One of the turkey-and-cranberry-cream-cheese sandwiches. And some green salad so I can pretend I’m eating healthy again.”

“You got it.”

Plate filled, Carlie joined her aunt Polly at a table along the wall.

Aunt Polly clucked at her. “I was trying to ignore that curry salad. Your hips can stand it—mine can’t.”

“Sorry.” Carlie ate a forkful. “Would it help if I said it was terrible?”

“Nope, because I’d know you were lying.”

It was a lie. The food that Sarah and her catering staff prepared was always fabulous.

Carlie periodically looked over at the Forrester family, noticing that Annie and Beth were talking to each other, but Luke didn’t seem to be talking to anyone. He was eating, though, and drinking large amounts of the specially blended Poppy Gold coffee.

Carlie’s tension grew as the meal progressed. Being six-year-olds, Annie and Beth were slow eaters, but they would finish eventually. If they weren’t in their suite soon, she’d have to go to plan B to keep them busy. Fortunately, her phone rang as she was swallowing a last bite of custard-rhubarb pie. It was Bill Blalock saying the Yosemite suite was ready for the Forresters.

“Thanks, Bill. Great timing—they just finished.”

“Their luggage is already in the cottage and Christine will personally escort them in a guest shuttle. She’s outside the concert hall as we speak.”

“Terrific. I’ll let them know.”

She got up and crossed the hall to where the Forresters were sitting. “Hi. I just got the call that your rooms are ready. A shuttle is waiting outside to take you there.”

Luke Forrester nodded. He wore a slightly mellower expression, possibly aided by food and coffee.

Time would tell what kind of guest he’d be. But at least he did have two adorable daughters.

CHAPTER TWO

“YOU’RE IN THE Yosemite suite,” Christine Saunders explained as she stopped the electric shuttle in front of a Victorian. “The door opens off the garden on the south side. Breakfast will be delivered by our caterer, Sarah’s Sweet Treats, and Housekeeping will come each morning to clean. Is anytime after eight too early, or would you prefer later?”

Luke stared at the young woman who’d driven them from the concert hall. “Are you saying we don’t have the entire house?”

“Er, no, Mr. Forrester. The John Muir Cottage is divided into several different suites, but the Yosemite is the largest and has private access. Please be assured, the walls are well insulated, so it should be very quiet.”

His temper began to rise again. It had been on a short fuse for the past year, and when he was particularly tired, it was even worse.

“It was my understanding I’d rented the entire house.”

Confusion flitted across her face. “Did someone at Poppy Gold tell you that?”

“I didn’t speak to anyone here. My executive assistant made the arrangements. She said—”

Luke stopped abruptly and gritted his teeth. Actually, all Tilly had said was that they were staying at the John Muir Cottage. Which, despite being called a cottage, was actually a large, rambling Victorian. He’d simply assumed they’d have the entire house and all the amenities he was accustomed to having when he traveled.

Damn it, Tilly knew the locations where he took the girls always had a full staff, from housekeepers to nannies. She’d mentioned they’d have to eat out for lunch and dinner, but that was all.

“Mr. Forrester, I assure you the Yosemite suite is quite spacious,” Christine explained earnestly. “There are three bedrooms upstairs, and downstairs you have a smaller bedroom, a family room, front living room, powder room, kitchen and laundry. Each bedroom also has a private bath.”

The comment Luke had made to Tilly about modern plumbing flitted through his mind. It hadn’t occurred to him that some of the bedrooms might not have a private bath.

“Very well,” he said tensely. There was little else he could do. It was unlikely that other suitable accommodations were available in the small town and returning to Austin would just upset the girls even more. “After eight is fine for Housekeeping, but I’d prefer breakfast earlier.”

“Is the seven to eight time slot all right?”

“Yes.” Luke lifted his daughters out of the shuttle.

“Would you like me to show you around the suite?” Christine asked.

“Thanks, but we’ll be fine.”

“I hope you enjoy your stay. Please let us know if there’s anything you need.” She drove away before he could get his wallet out for a tip.

“Let’s go see our home for the next few weeks,” he said to Beth and Annie.

They looked at him doubtfully. Perhaps he should have brought their nanny, but he’d agreed with Tilly that if the trip was going to do any good, a complete break was best. He just hadn’t expected Nicole to get sick and the tutor to drop out at the eleventh hour.

He’d manage, though. His sister would be here in a few days, and however small the town of Glimmer Creek appeared to be, surely they had qualified tutors available.

The garden around the John Muir Cottage was trimmed and mulched for winter, but it was still attractive. A covered porch overlooked the garden and rolling hills beyond, and it was furnished with white wicker outdoor furniture.

The real disappointment started inside.

While the rooms had a pleasant Victorian flavor, there were no Christmas decorations in sight. Granted, it was just the day after Thanksgiving, but he’d expected more. A thorough check of the premises also revealed there wasn’t a single piece of office equipment, though he could have sworn that Tilly had mentioned a full business center.

Beth and Annie had slept on the plane, but they seemed half-asleep now—maybe the turkey lunch was making them groggy—so he hunted through the luggage for their favorite stuffed animals and they curled into bed for a nap. Down in the kitchen, he dialed Tilly’s cell number. A chirpy voice-mail recording greeted him. Knowing Tilly Robinson and her determined attempts to manage his life, she probably planned to duck his calls for a few days until he cooled down.

“Tilly, it’s me,” he said after the beep. “I refuse to believe you didn’t know this is a suite, not the whole house, or that there’s no personal staff. Right now, it’s just me and the girls. The tutor didn’t come and Nicole couldn’t fly with us because she has an ear infection. She won’t be here for another few days. Get back to me.”

Muttering beneath his breath, he called the front desk.

“Yes, Mr. Forrester?” Based on the British accent, it was most likely the employee who’d first greeted them.

“I’d like to speak with Carlie Benton.”

“Certainly, but is there anything I can do?”

“I prefer dealing with Ms. Benton.” Luke wasn’t certain why except that she appeared to be the kind of person who could get things done. Besides, Beth and Annie had responded to her...a lot more than they’d responded to him the past year.

“Yes, sir.” A moment later, the same voice came back on the line. “I’m sorry—Carlie is away from her desk. But I’ve called her mobile and she’ll stop at your suite in a few minutes.”

Luke had frowned the moment he heard “away from her desk,” only to realize that a face-to-face discussion would be best.

* * *

CARLIE COULDN’T BELIEVE she already needed to deal with Luke Forrester again.

Though she was the Poppy Gold activities director, her responsibilities included public relations. The job had its challenging moments, but it was a big improvement over doing PR for a company with frequent product safety recalls. It was one of the reasons she’d resigned...along with not wanting to see her ex-fiancé every day. Especially after he’d gotten engaged to the owner’s daughter.

July the previous year had not been a good month. First her wedding had been canceled at the last minute in the most embarrassing way, and ten days later her father was critically injured.

A friendly voice hailed her as she approached the John Muir Cottage. “Hi, Carlie.”

It was Esther Perkins, one of their repeat guests. Esther lived in San Jose and stayed at Poppy Gold several times a year, but Christmas kickoff day seemed to be her favorite.

“What’s up, Esther?”

“I just want to be sure that I can decorate at the Victorian Cat tomorrow. I like it best.”

“Of course you can.” Guests weren’t employees; they could volunteer for anything they wanted to do.

“Do you think Moby Dick will let me put a red bow around his neck?” Esther asked. “It would look darling against his fur.”

Poppy Gold tried to make something unique about each of the houses, and at the Victorian Cat mansion, each room was populated by an amiable feline. Moby Dick was a fluffy white cat with a talent for manipulating guests into giving him extra treats.

Carlie chuckled. “Moby is easygoing, but I wouldn’t try making him wear a bow. Not to worry, though—Tessa found red and green cat collars from a specialty store and they’ll be put on the VC cats tomorrow.”

“That’s wonderful.”

With a wave, Esther hurried away and Carlie continued toward the John Muir Cottage, wishing all their guests were like Esther Perkins.

Bill had offered to give Luke Forrester her cell number to save her a trip, but Luke was the kind of guy who wouldn’t hesitate to phone at 2:00 a.m. to demand a cup of tea. The twenty-four-hour staff in Guest Reception could handle those kinds of calls and decide whom to contact in case of something more serious. She might do public relations work in addition to being the activities director, but she wasn’t a frontline manager, thank goodness.

Trying to appear friendly rather than frustrated, Carlie knocked at the Yosemite suite.

The door opened almost immediately.

“Hello, Mr. Forrester. I understand you asked for me.”

He cocked his head as if listening for something and then stepped onto the porch. “Yes, I have several concerns. For one, where are the decorations? I promised my daughters this would be a holiday extravaganza. Even though this is just the day after Thanksgiving, I expected to see a few signs of Christmas.”

Carlie could see his concern and knew it wouldn’t help to point out that the website listed the date when Poppy Gold was decorated. At any rate, it was Annie and Beth who mattered and Carlie didn’t want them to be disappointed.

“I understand, but tomorrow should reassure the girls. Our guests call it Christmas kickoff day,” she told him. “Members of the historical society will be in Victorian costumes and go around caroling in small groups. In addition, we’ll have snack kiosks throughout the facility serving coffee, hot spiced cider, cocoa and a selection of cookies and other treats. It’s purely voluntary, but guests are invited to help decorate trees, make wreaths, put up decorations and this ye—”

“You have guests do staff work?” Luke’s tone was neutral, with only the faintest emphasis on the words guests and staff, but Carlie spotted a hint of derision in his eyes. Her temper rose, but she managed to squash it down again.

“Not staff work, just fun. Kickoff day is extremely popular. Most of our guests come for Thanksgiving weekend just to participate,” she replied evenly.

The event was expensive for Poppy Gold since they needed an army of employees to keep an eye on things, do the heavy work, watch the treat kiosks and do the primary decorating. Getting everything done in one day would be impossible without the massive amounts of planning and prep work she and the other Poppy Gold employees did for weeks beforehand.

“I’m sure it’s entertaining if you enjoy that sort of thing.” Luke’s expression suggested only a moron would enjoy “that sort of thing.”

Her smile became even more strained. She loved Christmas...the colors, music, the warmth, the decorating and the way many people seemed to behave nicer in the holiday season. Though in Luke Forrester’s case, she’d hate to think this was his “nice.”

“As I mentioned, Mr. Forrester, participation is voluntary. If you aren’t interested in decorating, my staff has planned a number of activities, as well. As for your suite, it will be dec—”

“Not by nosy guests, I presume,” he said, cutting her off a second time. “I expect privacy. As a matter of fact, I expected to have the entire house, not just a section of it.”

Muscles tightening, Carlie reminded herself again that Luke Forrester had lost his wife and no matter how wealthy and demanding, he was dealing with something traumatic.

She drew a deep breath. “Employees decorate inside the suites. As for having the entire house, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” she apologized as cordially as possible. “But there are eleven bedrooms in the John Muir Cottage and dividing the space means it’s available to multiple individuals or families.”

“I see.”

“Before I forget, I wanted to tell you that since we’re supposed to have a hard freeze tonight, we’re starting the snowmakers on the sledding hill as soon as the temperature drops low enough. Probably around eight. Spiced cider and other goodies will be served. I thought Annie and Beth might enjoy it.”

“I don’t think so. We’ve had a long day.”

“Please, Papa, can we go?” asked a voice from the open door behind them.

Luke jerked around. “Beth, I thought you were asleep.”

“I woke up. Carlie, can you take us to see the snow if Papa is too tired?”

Carlie made an effort to keep her face straight. “That’s up to your papa.” She’d hoped to be sliding into a warm bath by then, but couldn’t resist the entreaty in Beth’s eyes.

“I wanna go with Carlie,” Annie declared, peeking around her sister.

Luke seemed thoroughly harassed. “Very well. That is, we’ll all go. Now go back to bed. You’ll need extra rest if you’re going to be out late.”

The twins instantly hurried away and Carlie tried to look innocent as he turned to her. “Shall I come by around seven thirty this evening?”

“No, we’ll meet you there.”

“Fine. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. I need a tutor for the girls. The one I hired in Austin quit at the last minute.”

I wonder why, Carlie thought wryly.

“I also need a business center installed,” he continued. “Desk, a computer with dual monitors, a minimum of two additional phone lines, printer-fax machine and satellite communications. The downstairs bedroom can be used since it won’t be needed for a live-in tutor. I’ll be managing my business concerns remotely for the next six weeks, and contrary to what your website claims, there aren’t any business services in the suite.”

She stared. Had he honestly believed those kinds of facilities were installed in every building at Poppy Gold?

“There’s a courtesy business center available at Old City Hall,” Carlie told him firmly. “That’s what the website states. At this time of year we don’t book any business conferences, so except for a few guests checking their email, it’s empty most of the time.”

“I need one here in the suite.”

Carlie suspected her patience was going to be tested to the absolute limit by this guy.

“Mr. Forrester, the John Muir Cottage isn’t wired for that kind of technology. However, Poppy Gold has Wi-Fi and we can provide a multifunction printer for your visit, along with a computer since you apparently didn’t bring your own laptop. The existing phone line can be used to send and receive faxes.”

His features tightened. “I do have a laptop with me, but I keep it off-line when I’m outside my company’s firewall. I take it there isn’t a business supply store in Glimmer Creek where a new computer could be purchased.”

“No.”

“In that case, I’ll take the loaner until my assistant can arrange for the proper equipment to be sent.”

She nodded. “All right. As for a tutor, the school district has a list of people who do that sort of work. I’ll send a copy over and you can call them for interviews.”