Christmas At Cedarwood Lodge: Celebrations and Confetti at Cedarwood Lodge / Brides and Bouquets at Cedarwood Lodge / Midnight and Mistletoe at Cedarwood Lodge

Sweat broke out on my forehead despite the chilly autumn day. Red-faced and righting myself, I held out a hand and said breezily, “I’m Clio. And as you can see, I’ve been falling over myself to meet you.” Kill me. Thank God I hadn’t taken her out. I could already imagine the story getting Chinese-whispered around town: Did you hear Clio Winters tried to murder her first client, and it was little old Imelda no less!

Imelda chuckled and shook my hand. “Aren’t you as pretty as a picture? I hope you didn’t ruin those heels. Do you think they come in my size? My life flashed before my eyes but all I could think was, I need a pair of those dancing shoes for the party…” Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

Admonishing myself silently for being a klutz, I dared a quick peek at my trousers; they had somehow remained intact – however, from the pain radiating upwards, my knees hadn’t fared as well. “I’m sure they’d have your size and I think the leopard-print ones would suit you…”

She cocked her head as if contemplating. “I might just have to find some for the party. What do you say, Edgar?” She craned her neck and smiled benignly at her husband.

“They most certainly look like dancing shoes… Could be a new type of workboot, but what would I know?” He glanced at the hole in the deck and then my heels, and raised his eyes to the heavens. I tried to hide a smile and remain professional, but a giggle escaped. It couldn’t be helped – I liked them both instantly.

I stepped forward and shook Edgar’s hand. The speech I’d prepared had flown straight out of my head as I’d toppled into Imelda’s personal space, but I sensed my spiel would have been too formal, too stuffy for these people. Game face on, I cleared my throat and tried to regroup.

Right. Explain yourself, and don’t fall over! “As you can see, Cedarwood is getting a bit of a makeover. It’s a work site at the moment, but soon…”

“It’s just as gorgeous as ever,” Imelda said, her eyes shining. “Can we take a look through?”

“It’s a little noisy what with the…”

“Noise schmoise,” she said, waving me away. “We don’t mind that, do we Edgar?”

I gulped. What if something fell on them, or Edgar tripped and broke a leg? I’d planned on showing them the ballroom from the adjoining outdoor deck and showing my presentation. Not opening myself up for a health and safety lawsuit on the first day.

“We’re as tough as old boots, even if we look a little fragile. Don’t you worry about us,” Imelda said.

If we walked slowly, and carefully, surely it would be OK for a few minutes? Though I’d managed to fall over already…

“So sorry that we’re not fully equipped at the moment. Let me help you lift the chair,” I said, praying I didn’t get a finger caught in the wheel spokes and drop her, or something equally idiotic.

“Help with the chair would be mighty kind,” Edgar said, moving to one side while I took the other. We hefted the surprisingly light Imelda up.

With my back holding open the oak door, Edgar wheeled Imelda into the lobby, the scent of wet paint heavy in the air. Drop sheets were scattered across the floor to catch spills and the sounds of work echoed around the lodge.

“It might look like a big mess at the moment, but trust me, there’s a method to the madness. We have a strict schedule in place.” It was hard to envisage what the lodge would look like with groups of laborers in clusters, drilling, hammering, filing, and edging. Tools were scattered, buckets were littered here and there. Bags of rubbish sat awaiting removal. The couple followed my noisy tread, the wood underfoot making a weird kind of song depending on where we stepped. Squeak, ping, pop, ahh.

Imelda shook her head as if she was mesmerized. “I’m sure you’ve got a handle on it all.” We continued through the expanse of the lobby with its thick American oak pillars, and dusty chandeliers swaying in the breeze, their crystals clinking gently like a song, prisms of colored light dancing on the walls. The mantle of the stone fireplace was missing and it needed a little love, but a fire crackled in the grate, adding to the ambience.

Firelight flickered across the room. Even in its disorderly state the lodge radiated a type of warmth, a feeling of relaxation and expectation of what might be…

“As you can see, I’m trying to keep as much of it original as I can.” I wanted the lodge to keep its old-world charm. “The overall look will remain as it was all those years ago.”

“That’s music to my ears,” Imelda said, beaming. “We worried the lodge might’ve been purchased by a huge consortium and turned into some modern monolith. I’m so glad that’s not the case.”

We continued to a small salon where I narrowly avoided kicking over a bucketful of cleaning equipment. The room was musty, with old brocade curtains clinging to their rusty rails. “Edgar, don’t you remember, we used to play charades in here,” Imelda said, reaching up to grasp her husband’s hand.

“You’ve stayed here before?” I asked, a shiver of excitement running through me. They’d stayed at Cedarwood in its heyday? No one I’d known had actually been inside the lodge, as it had been closed for so long.

Edgar turned Imelda’s chair to face me. “We got married here,” she said dreamily.

I gasped. “You did? That’s incredible!” No wonder they’d been so eager to see the place as it was – warts and all – and could imagine what it would look like in the future.

Her face broke into a smile and I could see the bright-eyed young girl she’d been. “Coming up to fifty years ago I was a blushing bride of twenty-five years old. Edgar was twenty-six. We found each other late in life, or what was deemed late back then. All our friends were already married and had a bunch of babies. We fell in love but there were only a few weeks before Edgar was shipped off to the war.”

“I can’t believe this!” My pulse thrummed, knowing their story ended in Happy Ever After, because here they stood. “What a story, and to have you return to the lodge…” I wanted to hug them, but held myself in check. “How long were you away, Edgar?” I asked, thinking of the young man – as he had been then – being thrust into such a dangerous wartime situation.

He gave Imelda a meaningful glance and said, “Two years, four months, and one day.” He blushed. “Or thereabouts. Thankfully, or not so thankfully depending how you see it, I was shot in the foot and sent home. Never ended up making it back to my platoon, though…”

A ray of sunlight landed on Imelda like a soft spotlight. “Yes, I was lucky and got to keep him safe at home with me.”

They recollected the war, and how they’d missed each other fiercely for the two and a bit years he was away. They talked about the letters they wrote and all the promises they vowed to keep as soon as he returned home.

“Did you keep those promises?” I asked.

“We did,” he said. “You just don’t have an inkling when you’re young how fast those years flick by. Though I’m sure there’ve been plenty of days Imelda has wanted to walk off into the sunset with someone else,” he laughed.

Imelda considered it. “Once or twice I wanted to put your head in the oven, I can’t lie.”

He nodded. “See? Luckily our oven is electric. And we made it through fifty years with lots of talking, lots of communicating as you young folks call it.” He chortled. “When we heard this place had itself a new owner, we knew it was a chance to throw one hell of a party. We like the idea of coming back to where we began.”

They exchanged a glance, a private message in their rheumy eyes. Whatever happened in my life, I vowed right then to wait for the perfect man. I wouldn’t compromise. I wanted the fairy tale that I saw before me. Even if I ran into my old gang of friends in Evergreen and was the only one still single, still utterly without The One at thirty-three. Now was not the time to dwell on it. It didn’t matter. Love couldn’t be rushed. Focus, Clio, this isn’t about you.

“I promise if you have the party at Cedarwood there’ll be lots of celebrations, and confetti. It will be an ode to your life together, the love you share. I’ll make it as special as it so deserves to be.”

Imelda gestured for me to lean close and gave me a tight hug. “What do you mean if…We came here to tell you to get the ball rolling. We aren’t spring chickens any more. The only problem I envisage is time. You see, we want to celebrate on our wedding day. Makes sense of course, but that’s only six weeks away… Do you think you can do it?” She gazed around the lodge, like she was imagining the place as it once was.

Could we get the ballroom and entrance done in six short weeks? There was the garden to consider, guest bathrooms, safety measures… But their faces – they looked so awed by the lodge, how could I say no? “Sure,” I said, voice brimming with confidence for the first time since I’d arrived. “We can do it.”

She gave me a grateful smile. “I’d better find those high heels then. Maybe I’ll get the leopard-print and the red. You just never know when a gal might need a pair of fancy shoes.”

“It pays to be organized.” I winked. “And I’m truly honored you’re going to have the party here.” My mind spun with ideas, questions, solutions, and we hadn’t even started yet.

“It’s like the circle of life. We started here, and it will end here…” Imelda was a romantic, and I sensed a like-minded soul.

I said, “Would you like to continue to the ballroom?”

Edgar pushed the wheelchair slowly forward. “Sure, let’s see it.”

Imelda smiled, and fussed with a rug on her lap. “If I close my eyes I can still recall the excitement in that young girl’s heart, feel the butterflies floating in her belly at the thought of how that handsome young man was going to be her husband. I really didn’t believe you’d show up, Edgar. Isn’t that the silliest thing?”

Edgar went to reply but stopped as Imelda’s hand went to her throat, and her face paled. She let out a small groan, and scrunched her eyes closed.

I dropped to my knees and gazed into her face, but her eyes stayed tightly shut, screwed up in pain. “Imelda? Are you OK?” Panic seized me, but Edgar appeared resigned but calm.

Edgar rubbed her shoulder. “She’s OK. She’ll be right in a moment.” His voice was soft with acceptance at whatever it was causing her pain. He opened a bag hanging on the back of the wheelchair and rummaged around, taking out a pillbox and a bottle of water. “We fought a war, financial troubles, and everything in between, but we can’t fight time,” he said, sadly.

It was a full minute before Imelda returned to us, “Sorry,” she said, giving my hand a pat. “Another spell, I take it?”

Edgar stooped forward and handed her two pills and the bottle of water. She took them with trembling hands and drank, before saying, “The mind is willing, but the body just won’t listen sometimes. Don’t you worry, pet. It’s OK. Nothing is going to stop me from having a party at Cedarwood Lodge. Nothing.” She stuck her chin forward, resolute.

Once Imelda’s color returned to normal they peeked into the ballroom with cries of delight. “I’m so glad you’re not fussing with it,” she said. “It’s like something out of an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel.”

“Isn’t it?” I said, her description apt. “Have you thought about themes, colors? Cuisines? I can show you—”

She cut me off. “You’re the expert. All I ask is that the room is bright and cheerful; think colorful bunting, and streamers cascading down. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but I’d love for it to look just like we had it all those years ago.”

An hour later, after firming up more details, we said our goodbyes and I told them to visit any time so they could see the lodge being shaped back into the beauty of its halcyon days.

Hopefully it would return them to their wedding night and their hearts and souls would be young again, with their whole lives together ahead of them.

I couldn’t wait to call my best friend, Amory, and tell her every little thing. And to see if my name was still making the gossip page…

Chapter Three

“Clio, they sound amazing! So they’ve booked the party?” Amory shrieked as I sat down with a laugh at my desk, ignoring piles of invoices that needed to be paid and filed away.

“They did! And get this: they didn’t want to see color swatches and menus, or a song list. They said I was the expert and just to make it bright and colorful. Only kicker is I have to get everything finished and organized in six weeks.”

“You can do it, that’s what you’re good at. Deadlines.” She let out a laugh. “You lucky thing not having to consult with them every five minutes – why can’t they all be like that?”

Our clients in New York were pernickety to say the least. Bridezillas were plentiful, and the women weren’t opposed to throwing tantrums a five-year-old would be proud of, but I always rolled with it. It came with the territory to receive phone calls at two a.m. from a blushing bride-to-be, sobbing about centerpieces or tiaras. That’s what separated the good party planners from the bad. My job was to say yes, always.

I could fix anything, especially under pressure.

But then I had opened my big mouth.

Shaking myself out of reverie I said, “I’m sure the next clients won’t be so easy.” In the background phones buzzed and drawers banged. Office life. I felt a pang for it. We lapsed into silence as I debated whether to ask.

“Darling, about…” She hesitated and I steeled myself. Amory always knew what I was thinking without me having to say a word.

“Don’t tell me. They’re still talking about it? Still?” It had been months. Months since I’d packed up my desk and hidden in my shoebox-sized apartment until the sale of Cedarwood had settled. Surely they’d moved on to newer scandals by now? I’d been avoiding the online gossip sites for months in case I saw my own name trapped in a headline once more.

The previous headlines were still burned into my retinas: Party planner to the A-listers tells reality-star bride to run from celebrity groom!

Amory let out a nervous laugh. “Well…”

I groaned and cupped my face. “Tell me. I can handle it.”

She took an audible intake of breath before launching into the whole sorry story. “It seems it’s ramping up. She’s saying you had a thing for the groom, and that’s why you did what you did. Because you were after him and his… money.”

I let out a squeal of protest. “She didn’t!”

“She did.”

“But that’s not true!” I wailed. Outside the sun sank low, coloring the sky saffron.

Her voice came back a hissed whisper. “I know it’s not true. But you’ve really underestimated her. She’s set on ruining your reputation to save hers.”

“But my reputation is already ruined! Why does she have to continue with it?” The whole sordid thing was so unfair, and I kicked myself for believing in the blushing bride-to-be when she’d poured her heart out to me minutes before she was supposed to walk down the aisle. I’d been appalled by her confession – how could she marry someone she didn’t love when her heart belonged to another? With the clock ticking, I’d advised her to run, get out of that church before she made a huge mistake, because I believed her tale of woe and didn’t want to see her waste her life with the wrong man! And it had turned out to be the stupidest thing I’d ever done.

Really, I should have known. It was Dealing with Brides 101. Never, ever advise them. Wedding-day jitters and cold feet can make a person say the craziest things. It was my job to reassure them, not tell them to run! And these were not your average Manhattanites. He was a millionaire movie star, for God’s sake.

“She’s vindictive.”

“I can understand why she’d try and save face. What she told me was pretty damning, but to turn it around like that…” I was bewildered by it. I had only met the groom twice and one of those times was on the aborted wedding day when I had to tell him she’d taken flight. Because of my advice… stupid, stupid, stupid.

Amory clucked her tongue. “It’s a simple case of you know too much. She’s got to make you the villain, so nothing rubs off on her. It wouldn’t take a genius to unearth her real story… but it’s juicier with you cast as the crazed, infatuated wedding planner.”

It was so damn ridiculous I could only sigh. Something like this would only happen in New York. “She’s so bloody cunning. I wish I’d shared my side of the story earlier. But it’s too late, no one would believe me now.”

“She’s called Flirty McFlirtison for a reason,” Amory said sadly.

I couldn’t help but giggle. Amory had disliked the reality-star bride Monica intensely and given her the nickname. It had been tricky to mask our true feelings around her because she’d been the client from hell, unless a man happened to walk by, and then she’d bat her lashes, leaving us shaking our heads.

I should have known never to trust her. The day after the wedding, Flirty started doing some major damage control and piling the blame on me. Once the news broke, no bride would go near me with a ten-foot pole.

“Jesus, Amory, I thought it would’ve all blown over now,” I said, slumping in my chair and gazing out at the beautiful explosion of color as the sun sank below the mountains.

“Here’s an interesting twist… it’s come out that he had her sign a watertight pre-nup the night before the wedding, so that’s why she did a runner. You were just the perfect scapegoat. She’s denying that, of course.”

I groaned. “Celebrities. I will never understand them.”

Still, even after all the A-list weddings I’d planned, I believed true love conquered all. Nothing would take away the pleasure I got out of organizing nuptials between two people who were truly smitten, even if they were on the never-heard-of-you list. Monica was driven by greed – she was just a reality-TV starlet whose show was cancelled after one season, but she still craved the limelight and would do anything she could to get tabloid attention. I’d been unlucky to get caught up in her schemes.

“Celebrities,” she agreed. “You don’t know how lucky you are, Clio. Granted, it wasn’t an ideal exit from the agency, but look where it’s taken you! I’m wildly envious. In time you’ll see it was the best decision you’ve ever made, and you’ll think of us scrabbling after every high-profile party with pity.”

This was Amory’s way, to line every cloud in silver. “I hope you’re right. Otherwise I’ve bought a lodge on a whim because of what happened. In Evergreen. A town with a population of five hundred and three people!”

“That’s the spirit!” she shouted, and I could just see her swinging in her office chair, tapping her pen, as if I was sitting across from her. “Now turn off Bonnie Tyler, please – I can almost hear your sobs from here. Leave Bonnie for the broken-hearted. And get back to work. You’re the boss now, darling, so square those shoulders and own it.”

She knew me so well, even what my choice of music meant.

Once I hung up, I turned the volume up and listened to Bonnie’s gravelly voice, not sobbing… not quite.

After all, what did I have to cry about? My reputation in New York was ruined. I’d invested every last dollar into a rundown lodge in a small town. There was nothing to worry about!

When I did something, like mess up my life, I did it right. And that included listening to music and crying like it was an Olympic sport. Who cared if everyone was saying I loved some random celebrity and had ruined his marriage? It would be yesterday’s news eventually, right? And being blacklisted by every New York event-planning agency? Pffft. Big deal. I’d make my own success. In a town with five-oh-three people. Easy.

Oh, God, what had I done?

Chapter Four

“Is that Kai?” Micah asked, as we watched the new arrival jump down as deftly as a dancer from the cab of his truck. Even in the shadows, Kai stood out – with his wavy, sun-bleached hair and surfer’s body. I hadn’t expected… that. Builders were weathered, ruddy men who wore expressions of weariness from overwork, didn’t they? Kai looked more like a pro surfer than someone who did manual labor. Golly, if Amory was here she’d be elbowing me forward by now.

“Yes, Kai, the project manager,” I stage-whispered. “He had to finish up his last contract but he’s here for good now… well, at least until the lodge is done.” I adopted a disinterested expression and hoped Micah hadn’t caught my moment of surprise when I clapped eyes on Kai.

Micah smiled, and waggled his brows, insinuating something untoward.

“And what does that eyebrow jiggle mean?” I asked, crossing my arms and staring him down. Even after all these years I could still interpret Micah’s body language, though it wasn’t hard when he was being so obvious about it.

“It means you hired some surfer god and…”

I poked him in the ribs to be quiet and hissed, “Oh, jeez, Micah, I didn’t know he was…” What was he? “…He was… a surfer,” I finished lamely, watching Kai, who was rummaging in his truck for something.

He did resemble the perfect leading man in a romantic comedy, a polar opposite to the heroine… wait, what was I even thinking? Did I picture myself as the leading lady? Ridiculous! My heart was a no-go zone for the foreseeable future. My one true love at this point had to be Cedarwood Lodge.

“We’ve only spoken on the phone. And, for the record, I wouldn’t date anyone who worked here out of principle.” There, that sounded believable.

Micah went to retort but was called over by one of the painters. “Saved by the bell,” he joked before jogging off.

“Morning,” I said to Kai, hoping I wasn’t blushing after Micah practically accused me of hiring someone for their looks! It was absurd. But those eyes… mesmerizing.

“Hey,” he responded with a bright smile. His blond hair was mussed, windblown.

I shaded my face as the fall sun climbed higher and warmth seeped into my bones. Kai’s arrival meant I could knuckle down and focus on building marketing campaigns and our social media pages, spreading the word about the lodge while he instructed the team.

“You look familiar,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I know we’ve had a hundred conversations on the phone, but…” He surveyed me, and I blushed under his scrutiny. Damn it to hell and back. Had he read about me in the paper or on one of those dodgy online gossip sites?

I gritted my teeth so tight I almost gave myself lockjaw. Managing to prise my mouth open a notch I said, as casually as I could, “Where did you say your last job was?”

Please, do not say New York or any of its boroughs!

He cocked his head, scrutinizing me as if we were long-lost cousins or something. “Georgia.”

I almost collapsed in relief. “Georgia. I hear it’s pretty this time of year.”

“It’s pretty,” he agreed. “But not as pretty as here.” He stretched and his shirt rode up, exposing toned, tanned skin. I tried so hard not to eye the ripple of his muscles, or imagine how they’d feel under my hand. I wasn’t used to seeing men sans suits, and it gave me a jolt. Surely, as a boss, I shouldn’t even be thinking in such a way? But I was merely admiring the newcomer for his sporting prowess. Over the phone I’d got to know him – he was one of those keen athletic types. Surfing and hiking and all the exercise he did sculpted him, and we all knew a healthy body led to a healthy mind. I made a promise to myself to run some laps of the lodge later. It wouldn’t hurt to get in shape, would it?

“So,” I said, businesslike, casting my gaze away from his exposed skin and back to his face. “I’ll show you where you can stash your things.”

“Perfect.” He bent to the cab and picked up a leather tool belt and satchel full of paperwork. The nuts and bolts of code and health and safety missives hurt my brain and I was glad I had someone professional to oversee it all. While Kai had been finishing up on another building site, he’d also been choreographing behind the scenes with the tradespeople at Cedarwood via phone and email and checking in with me at the end of each day. Having him here in the flesh would be even better.