Christmas With Carlie

Laundry soap, Nicole thought. She used an organic, unscented variety. It raised the question of whether there were any laundry facilities at Poppy Gold Inns, or would they need to use a community Laundromat?

She looked up the phone number and called California.

“Poppy Gold Inns. Can I help you?” a man’s friendly voice said.

“I hate to be a bother,” Nicole apologized, “but I’m flying out Monday to stay for a few weeks. I’m meeting my brother and his family, who have already arrived. I wanted to find out if you have any laundry facilities or what other plans I should make. Oh, and is there a dry cleaner in town?”

“There’s a dry cleaner that will pick up and deliver. We also have laundry facilities on-site and a limited number of suites have them, as well. May I ask your name?”

“Sorry—Nicole Forrester.”

“Er, right. Mr. Forrester mentioned your arrival had been delayed. The suite where you’re staying includes a full utility room with a frontload washer and dryer. There’s also a nicely equipped kitchen.”

It was probably her imagination, but something in the man’s tone made Nicole wonder if Luke had made a nuisance of himself. She was the first to admit her brother wasn’t always the most sensitive guy and he liked having things his way.

“I don’t cook, but that sounds wonderful,” she replied brightly. “And I’m sure there are restaurants in town.”

“Yes. A hot breakfast is also delivered each morning from a local caterer. The food is freshly prepared, with a different central dish every day.”

Nicole had stayed at bed-and-breakfast inns where breakfast was little more than Danish and coffee, so she’d wait and see what Poppy Gold actually provided. In the meantime, the tension in the polite conversation was uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to take any more of your time,” she said. “But thank you for the information.”

“Of course, Ms. Forrester. Have a safe trip. Happy holidays.”

“Happy holidays to you, too.” She gratefully hung up the phone.

Anyhow, her questions had been answered, so Nicole packed a supply of laundry soap. She turned around, looking for something else to do, and her gaze lit on the space in front of the window. She’d always put a Christmas tree there the day after Thanksgiving and now she thought the condo was lonely without it.

Even knowing she was being silly, she took her tree out from the storage area under the stairs and assembled it, stringing lights and hanging ornaments. At least she could enjoy the cheerful lights and tinsel until she left.

* * *

THE BEST VANTAGE point for the official “lighting” of Poppy Gold was at the city square park. Carlie had noted the information on the activities sheet for everyone, though most of the regulars already knew. The townspeople of Glimmer Creek knew, as well, and were all welcome to participate.

Of course, not everything was controlled by the master switches. The electric candles in the windows operated by sensors, so they’d turned on when the sun set. The same was true of the lights on the wreaths and assorted other decorations. But lights on the houses, trees and buses would go on when the switches were thrown.

Between the singing and eating and general bonhomie, the park resembled a block party. People were tired and it had been a long day, but the payoff was at 6:00 p.m. when Poppy Gold would go “live” for Christmas.

“Is it soon, Carlie?” asked Beth, hopping from one foot to the other in excitement. She looked bright and lively, probably because she and her sister had taken naps that afternoon. Luke had insisted over their protests, saying they needed rest to enjoy the evening events.

Carlie checked her cell phone. “Twenty-five more minutes.

“Did you know your new tutor taught me in first grade?” she asked Beth, hoping to distract her. While the girls were napping, Luke had interviewed Luisa Cabrera and hired her as their tutor.

“Honest?”

“Honest. Mrs. Cabrera was one of my favorite teachers.”

From what Carlie could see of Beth’s expression, she seemed content with the comment, while Annie was harder to read. But they were obviously accustomed to employees in their lives. Their artless chatter throughout the day had included numerous references to their nanny and assorted other household staff.

Erika Forrester hadn’t been mentioned, though that wasn’t necessarily strange since according to what Tessa had said, they were still having trouble dealing with their mother’s death. Carlie hadn’t lost a parent, but she’d come close when her dad was injured. She didn’t know how she would have handled losing him and she was much older than the twins.

“Um, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said, her stomach rumbling. She walked over to one of the treat kiosks.

“Hey, Sarah,” she said, seeing her cousin put out a fresh platter of cookies. “You look bushed.”

Sarah chuckled. “That’s the catering business. Sixteen-hour days and never enough sleep.”

“I’m glad it isn’t me—I’m devoted to sleep.” Carlie grabbed an empty cup and stuffed it full of apple wedges and cheese.

“Hey, you’re still here, too,” Sarah pointed out. “And I’m guessing you haven’t eaten all day.”

Carlie grinned. “I had a bagel this morning.” She crunched down a bite of apple, followed by a cheese cube. “Besides, my job is to help people have fun. What could be better than that? Today I was just too busy enjoying myself to eat.”

“We can’t have you passing out from hunger or dehydration.” Sarah held out a cup of warm cider.

Carlie glanced toward the Forresters as she drank thirstily. It wasn’t unusual for certain guests to gobble up a lot of time. Tessa liked the personal touch at Poppy Gold and had given her a staff, so if some guests were more demanding, the others weren’t neglected. Of course, they’d never had a guest stay for six weeks, either.

But Luke had mentioned his sister would be arriving Monday, which meant Annie and Beth should be better occupied. It was just as well. The twins were sweet, but surely they needed family, not a stranger.

After gulping the rest of her apple slices and cheese, Carlie circulated through the crowd of people, chatting and offering reminders about the living nativity that was starting in another forty-five minutes. But she quickly held up her hand when the reporter-photographer from the Glimmer Creek Gazette raised his camera.

“Please, Perry, I don’t want to be in the newspaper. Surely you’d prefer a photo of Uncle Liam or Tessa.”

“I didn’t say anything about putting it in the Gazette.” He winked and took a quick shot. “You were always my dream girl. If I can’t have you, at least I can put your picture under my pillow.”

Carlie laughed. They’d gone to high school together and had even dated as juniors, but she’d never been his dream girl; Perry Fisher enjoyed playing the field too much. Still, he was a fun guy and a volunteer fireman with a reputation for going beyond the call.

“Keep talking, Perry. You’re good for my ego.”

“Does that mean you’ll finally go out with me? How many times have I asked since you came back to Glimmer Creek?”

“I’m just so busy,” she said, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. “You know, with everything...”

Perry’s face sobered. “I know. We miss Mike down at the fire department. How is he?”

“About the same.” Her dad had been forced to resign as a volunteer firefighter after his accident. “Why don’t you take pictures of the carolers in their costumes for your article?” she suggested, eager to change the subject. “I’d also love a plug for the living nativity. Remember, every Friday and Saturday night until Christmas, six thirty to nine.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

A few minutes later, she circled around to Annie and Beth and smiled at them. “We’re getting close.”

“I don’t think they believe you,” Luke murmured.

“When you’re six, minutes can seem like hours. By the way, I want to ask you something later.”

He instantly looked suspicious. “I don’t do interviews and the girls are off-limits at all times.”

Carlie blinked, confused. “What makes you think I’d want you to do an interview?”

* * *

LUKE WAS ANNOYED that he’d said the first thing to pop into his mind. “I’ve been watching that photographer, the one with the press badge, and saw you talking to him.”

Carlie’s lips tightened. “I asked him to do extra promotion for the living nativity. It’s a new event and I want it to be a success. An interview was my last thought. For your information, Poppy Gold frequently has high-profile guests. We have an agreement with the Gazette and local radio station to leave them alone. Perry is taking pictures and writing a story about kickoff day. That’s all.”

“Oh.”

“We’ve had much more interesting people stay at Poppy Gold, by the way. I don’t think you need to worry.”

From her flashing eyes, Luke suspected Carlie would have loved to tell him off, but was constrained by her position working for the bed-and-breakfast complex. Not that she’d done a bad job of knocking his ego down a peg with her polite comment about “much more interesting” people staying at Poppy Gold. Luke didn’t mind; honesty was a quality he valued as much as his privacy.

“We’re starting, everyone,” a voice called above the carol singing, which quieted instantly.

A count started in the crowd, reminiscent of Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

“Five, four, three, two...”

As the final number rang out, the rooflines, windows and doors of the Victorians were suddenly outlined with strings of lights. The trees lit up a moment later, along with bushes and the poles of lampposts that looked like they were converted gaslights.

Beth and Annie squealed with excitement and clapped their hands. Carlie Benton’s face reflected their blissful pleasure, and even Luke, who wasn’t big on showy displays, thought it was attractive.

Christmas had arrived with a splash at Poppy Gold.

CHAPTER FIVE

EARLY TUESDAY MORNING, Nicole got dressed and walked quietly down the stairs of the Yosemite suite. She hadn’t gotten much chance to explore the suite after arriving the previous afternoon and wanted to indulge her curiosity.

She’d taken an architectural history class in college and particularly loved homes from the Victorian period.

From the little Luke had said, she’d expected a pokey set of rooms carved out of the servants’ quarters of an old house. It was nothing of the kind. Everything was lovely. The rooms were spacious—not the size of Luke’s home in Austin, but very nice—with great architectural details. The overall feel was gracious comfort.

Nicole looked out the windows and took in the garden and hillsides beyond. It seemed fitting that the John Muir Cottage was on the edge of town since it was a huge, old Victorian farmhouse.

A faint smile curved her mouth as she thought about the families that must have lived there, expanding the building to accommodate new generations of married children and grandchildren. She hadn’t resented their nomadic childhood the way Luke had, but having a real home with roots was immensely appealing.

Curiously she looked around the kitchen. It was nicer than the one in her condo, but since she didn’t cook, she hadn’t looked for a place with a showcase kitchen and appliances. The real-estate agent had objected, talking about resale value, but Nicole wasn’t worried about that. The condo met her needs and she didn’t expect to get married or sell anytime soon. Dating tended to be casual since she’d discovered that some men felt her connection to Luke Forrester was her biggest appeal.

With the ease of long practice, she pushed the thought from her head. She couldn’t regret being Luke’s sister, but it brought challenges.

A tap sounded on the front door and she remembered Luke mentioning that the catering service delivered breakfast between seven and eight in the morning. She peeked out to be sure it was them and opened the door.

“Hi,” said the woman carrying two insulated containers. “I’m from Sarah’s Sweet Treats Catering Service. I’m a couple minutes early, but I saw the light turn on in the kitchen. May I come in?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Nicole stepped back and the catering employee walked briskly inside. “I’m Nicole Forrester. You’ve probably met my brother and nieces.”

“Yes—cute kids. Did you get in yesterday?”

“Midafternoon.”

“Welcome to Poppy Gold. I’m Mariko Kirahara.” Mariko put the insulated containers on the counter. “Cold items are in the bag with the blue tag and hot in the other. Instructions are on the labels.”

“Don’t you need to take them with you?”

“Nope.” Mariko opened a cupboard door and removed identical bags. “These are from yesterday. The housekeeping staff puts them here for us. Have a great day.”

“You, too.”

Mariko left quickly, probably because she had other food to deliver. Poppy Gold was huge and must provide accommodations for hundreds of guests each day.

After Nicole had arrived the previous day, Luke and the girls had shown her around the Victorian village. The sledding hill and skating rink were huge attractions, along with the lighted historic vehicle parade that occurred each evening.

But Beth and Annie’s greatest excitement had been introducing her to Carlie Benton, the Poppy Gold activities director. Carlie seemed to have instantly inspired pure adoration from the twins.

Nicole sighed and investigated the coffeemaker. It was similar to the one she used at home, so she quickly filled the filter with coffee and poured water into the reservoir. Soon a rich fragrance filled the air.

Mmm. Making coffee was one of the few domestic skills she possessed. When she and Luke had talked late Saturday evening, he’d mentioned that Poppy Gold Inns had their own special blend. His description of “remarkably flavorful” had made her look forward to a taste. Her brother didn’t bestow praise lightly.

There were unopened containers of cream in the fridge and Nicole made her cup rich and sweet. But before she could take a sip, Luke appeared at the kitchen door.

“Did I wake you up?” she asked.

“It wasn’t you. I haven’t slept much since...well, for over a year.” He rubbed his face.

Nicole poured him a cup of coffee and sat in the picturesque breakfast nook, unsure how to respond. His reluctance to say Erika’s name was the reason everyone else danced around it, as well.

Understanding Luke seemed impossible. Maybe part of the problem was the age and experience gap. She was thirty; he was nine years older. By the time she’d started college he was already wealthy and successful. She hadn’t married, while he was a widower with two children. He was fearless; she was practically scared of her own shadow.

Still, even as a child, Luke had kept a piece of himself separate, watchful, as if holding off the world. Perhaps it was because she’d always had him to depend upon, while he’d only had himself. Nicole didn’t count their parents as reliable support; as Luke said often, Craig and Heather had a long way to go before they became responsible adults.

Luke sat down and stared into the steam rising from his cup.

“How late were you up?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I was working. Three or four, probably. Tilly didn’t want to send anything for me to look at, but I insisted.”

Nicole pressed her lips together. Tilly Robinson was probably the only person in the world who would challenge Luke. Sometimes she won, sometimes she didn’t. Nicole envied her, and at the same time was frustrated that somebody else could be closer to Luke than his own family.

“Surely your business interests could survive a few weeks without your spending so much time on them,” she suggested carefully.

“If I can’t sleep, I might as well work,” Luke murmured, still looking only half-awake. “Oh, the tutor started yesterday. She’s coming weekday mornings at eight thirty to work with the girls for a few hours and will stay if we’re out for some reason. Beth and Annie are playing in their room. I’ll call them down for breakfast.”

Wanting to be useful, Nicole set the table and then unpacked the two insulated bags. The food smelled delicious. Everything was out on the table when Beth and Annie appeared and sat quietly. In a sad way it reminded Nicole of her own childhood, when they’d stayed with other families and were expected to be invisible. Luke had rebelled, but she’d learned the lesson all too well.

“Would you like orange juice?” she asked.

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