The Inn at Blue Hollow Falls Page 3

  Stevie gave a little snort at that, but took a moment to read the ingredients. “Looks yummy. My Granny May had a stew that was to die for. She made me guess for years what her secret ingredient was, but I never could figure it out. She shared all of her recipes with me but that one, taught me to cook almost before I could walk, so I couldn’t figure out why she made such a big deal over that one. I was in high school, and we were stuck in our little apartment during a snowstorm. Our power had gone out, and she was using this little camp stove contraption we’d picked up at the Salvation Army that ran off propane—our power went out with little more than a stiff wind. Anyway, she was making her stew for dinner, and she finally gave in to my pleading for her to just come out and tell me already.”

  Stevie paused, and Noah lifted his eyebrows expectantly.

  “Anchovies,” Stevie said, then laughed when he made a face. “That was exactly my reaction. You can see why she didn’t want to tell me. She was afraid I’d never eat it again. But I’d had it for years and years by then, and I knew how amazing it was.” She glanced around the kitchen. “I’m guessing given that face you don’t have any on hand. I’d show you how it’s done.” “Sorry, can’t say that I do. There’s a little smoked salmon left, but I’m guessing that wouldn’t have the same effect.”

  Stevie wrinkled her nose along with him, and they both shook their heads and laughed together. She peeked into the pot and inhaled again, then let out a satisfied sigh. “I think yours is coming along fine. What did you just put in there? Were those the leeks?”

  He raised the hand holding the big silver spoon as if taking an oath. “Jamie made me do it.” Noah and Stevie shared a grin, then he said, “Big brothers, you know. Do what they say or else.”

  She shook her head as she rested a hip against the counter beside the stove and folded her arms. “I wouldn’t know. I’m an only,” she said easily. “Do you come from a big family? I mean, other than your secret famous-chef brother?” She watched him scrape a second cutting board full of chopped veggies into the pot and leaned over to take another appreciative whiff.

  That put her close enough for him to get an equally appreciative whiff of her scent, and he found himself pausing, trying to place it. She smelled like . . . honeysuckle. Whether it was her shampoo or some sort of lotion or whatever, he had no idea. All he knew was that, for her, it was . . . well, it was exactly right. Sweet, fresh, with a lingering little kick.

  He caught her questioning gaze when he didn’t move away, but what was he going to say? Gee, you smell terrific, too? You’ve been out of the game way too long, pal. It took him another moment to realize that the reason he was still standing there, staring down into those amazing green eyes of hers, was that for the first time in what felt like forever he wanted to be in the game.

  “Two sisters,” he said, hearing a bit of that rasp this time. Maybe she’d blame the rising steam. Oh, things are rising, all right. “One older, one younger.” He needed to turn around, get back to work. But she was searching his eyes as she listened to him, really listened to him, and he found himself unwilling to end this moment they were having quite yet. “Both married,” he went on. “Popping out plenty of nieces and nephews for me to spoil.”

  “Will they be disappointed that Uncle Noah isn’t coming for Christmas, or is that who will be filling up the inn between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day?” She looked delighted by the possibility, which surprised him, though he couldn’t have said why. He barely knew her. Didn’t know her.

  Okay, maybe he was projecting a little. Carolyn had been an only child, too, only with her, the idea of being surrounded by his very boisterous family, who also had as many pets as they did kids, had overwhelmed her to the point of panic. He remembered being amused by her concerns at first, thinking she’d warm up to his family as soon as she met them, and thinking how great it would be for her to have his big, warm, loving family surrounding her. Carolyn wasn’t the most demonstrative person, and having met her rather austere parents, he could understand why. Touchy-feely they were not. But she was loving, and kind, and had a big heart, and he had this great family, who were all close, liked one another as much as they loved one another, and couldn’t wait to welcome her to the fold. He’d thought she’d blossom with them, relax, let her hair down a little. Yeah. Best-laid plans.

  “Yes, they will,” he said. “The kids are pretty young still, the oldest is in second grade, so my sisters like to do Christmas morning at their own places. My folks live close to them, so they do the whole grandparent thing and put on a big Christmas Day dinner for everyone. Then they all pile in their cars the next day and head down here.” He smiled. “My sisters will be pulling their hair out by then with the older kids having been home from school for a week and all of them hopped up on Christmas cookies and candy canes. Out here they can run around outside and exhaust themselves playing in the snow.”

  “Where do they live? Is it where you’re from?”

  “Ohio, just outside of Cincinnati, and yes, once upon a time. I came to Virginia for college, attended William and Mary, and came out this way to ski on the weekends, fell in love, and . . . the rest is history.”

  Her gaze flickered for the briefest of moments when he mentioned falling in love, and he opened his mouth to explain that he meant he’d fallen in love with the Blue Ridge Mountains, but she spoke first, and he decided it wasn’t important. Because it wasn’t.

  “You must have your hands full, running the inn, family here, kids running in and out, dealing with your other guests.”

  He shrugged. “Honestly, I think it’s my favorite time of the year. I love living here, wouldn’t trade it, and there are definite benefits to not living in the same town as your siblings and parents and everyone else you’ve known since birth. But I miss having them around, especially for the holidays. Coming here is their Christmas present to me. It always goes by so fast.”

  Stevie’s flashy smile did odd things to his pulse. “A Christmas present where you do a lot of work and they get to play,” she said with a laugh. “I think you have that backward.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, we all pitch in. When I restored this place, I built that huge mudroom off the back as a place for ski gear and an industrial-sized washer and dryer. So, packing the kids in and out of snow clothes is a breeze.” He chuckled. “I have a harder time making my sisters go home than I do getting them down here, trust me. And I close up for Thanksgiving and head home to see everyone, old friends, my old haunts.” He grinned. “Let Mom pamper me and do all the cooking while Dad and I binge on football. It all balances out.”

  Stevie’s glossy lips curved more deeply, and it warmed her sparkling eyes. “Sounds wonderful.”

  Her gaze met and held his, lingered there, and he had the strongest urge to dip his head, taste her lips, see if they were as sweet as she smelled. He might have even let his head move a fraction of an inch closer before he caught himself. He cleared his throat with a little laugh, but neither of them stepped away. “Like Christmas should be,” he said, turning so he could stir the stew pot again. “What about you? You said you shared an apartment with your grandmother. Do you normally spend holidays together?”

  She looked momentarily surprised by the question.

  “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if I assumed something I shouldn’t—”

  “No,” she said easily, waving away his concern. “I guess I’m just not used to folks paying close attention when I ramble on about things.” She caught his smile, shared it. “It’s nice. But as to my granny, yes, I did share her apartment. She raised me. And yes, we did spend our holidays together, even after I was grown, but she passed on just about three years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, quite sincerely. He couldn’t imagine losing his folks, and, though it had been her grandmother, if she was the one who’d raised Stevie, the feeling had to be about the same.

  “Thank you,” Stevie said. “It was a blessing by then, though. She’d been suffe
ring for quite a while. It—” Stevie looked away, blinked a few times, then laughed shortly as she dashed a quick finger under her eyes. “Sorry. I have no idea why that made me mist up. I miss her, every day. But I’ve been at peace with her passing. It was merciful.” She took a little breath, and looked back up into his eyes. “We still talk, she and I. Often. Most days, in fact,” she added with a little laugh. “No matter what, I know she’s watching over me. It’s good. Truly.” Her eyes were still shiny with emotion, but buffered by that engaging smile of hers that seemed to come as naturally to her as breathing. She was a beautiful woman by any standards, but it was that warm, easy, genuine smile of hers that made her downright breathtaking. “I guess it’s just hearing you talk about your family that makes me miss mine.”

  “I can’t imagine not having my big, crazy, noisy family,” he said. “I can’t imagine being alone this time of year—” He broke off, shook his head. “Sorry, that was insensitive of me. I keep sticking my foot in. What I meant was—”

  “No, it’s okay. And I’m not alone, so don’t worry. My folks are still alive.” She grinned at his genuine look of surprise. “They’re . . . not like other parents. And that’s okay. They’re both studio musicians, very good ones, as it happens. My dad is also a songwriter, and he’s had a few things recorded by some well-known folks, although that has happened more in recent years. When I was growing up they were deep in the struggling musician phase of their careers. But for a long time now they’ve been very much in demand, and they live on the road, pretty much all the time. The lifestyle suits them; they love what they do, and they’ve stuck with each other through some very tough times. I love them dearly, and they’re kind, loving, good people.” She chuckled, and there was pure affection in her eyes as she spoke about them. “But it’s fair to say they are not particularly parental material. I came along very early on. My mom was just eighteen, and my dad was twenty. I think Granny May raised them at the same time she raised me. I was an unexpected complication for them, but I have never once doubted they love me. They just had no idea what to do with me while they chased after their dreams. Granny May came to the rescue, and . . .” Stevie lifted a shoulder. “We figured it out. We are an unconventional family, but we are a family all the same.”

  “Do you see them often?” he asked, intrigued by her story.

  “Not often, no. But that’s okay. Modern technology has given us plenty of ways to connect. I taught my mom how to Skype a few years ago, so I do get to actually see them now, even if we’re on different continents at the time. It’s funny, I see them more often now than I ever did when I was young, though I haven’t physically been with them in . . . oh, I guess it’s been three or four years now.”

  “Years?” he repeated, truly amazed. He couldn’t fathom letting one year go by without seeing his folks, his sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces, and nephews. Hell, he even made sure he connected with his childhood friends at least once or twice a year. “What about holidays?”

  “You mean Christmas? Well, when I was younger, Granny May did what she could. We didn’t have much, and she worked a lot, including all holidays. But we were okay with that. I respect her so much for all she did to take care of me, to see that I had what I needed. She got ill when I was still in college, so we’d moved her into a senior care facility before I even graduated. I visited her all the time, of course, and at Christmas we’d make sure everyone there got some attention if they didn’t have family. That’s how she was, always thinking about everybody else. I went back the year after she passed, but when I went last year, most of the folks I knew best had also passed, and so this year I . . .” She let that trail off. “Sunny needed help out here, and I was dying to come and see the greenhouse, dig in the dirt. It’s only been a few months, but I really miss working with her. A lot, actually. I know Granny May would have encouraged me to come.” Stevie laughed. “It’s not all that different from how I spend most holidays really, just a different location.”

  “Meaning you work on holidays? Doesn’t the Botanic Garden close on holidays?”

  “No, they’re open every day of the year. Even if they did, though, the plants don’t take a holiday. I work off-site in the production facility greenhouses, and, to be honest, some of my favorite times there have been holding down the fort, just me and all my lovelies,” she said, a special light in her eyes. “That way the folks who have kids to play Santa for, or those who travel to see their folks or just want a vacation away from the cold weather and short days can do that. We all get what we want.” She shrugged, then leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone, but honestly, Christmas is just another day to me. And I’m okay with that.”

  She lifted her head just as he turned his, and their noses almost brushed. Neither pulled away. “So, what you’re saying is,” he said, his voice low and quite stern, but with a teasing glint in his eyes, “you’re a closet Scrooge. I’ve heard about your kind before.”

  She looked up into his eyes, matching him twinkle for twinkle, but somehow managed to keep her voice every bit as serious when she said, “I think of myself more as the Ghost of Christmas Present. The one who wisps in and out, making sure things run smoothly so all the good little elves can go off and play.”

  “A ghost, huh?” He searched her face, then looked back into her now dancing green eyes. “You seem very . . . earthy, for an apparition. If you don’t mind my saying.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. “I try so hard to stay, you know, grounded.”

  He chuckled at that, and then there was that pause again, where they lingered, but said nothing. The kind of pause that begged a man to lean in and fill it with something other than words. But just then the stew pot boiled over with a loud hiss, making them both jump apart, as if they themselves had caused the combustion. Close enough, he thought as he quickly turned down the flame and blew across the top of the open pot, flipping on the overhead fan as the steam in the room was bolstered by more than a little smoke when the stew hit the flames.

  Stevie fanned the smoke away with a little cough, then laughed and said, “I think that’s the cue for me to wisp on out of here. Sunny is probably wondering where I got off to.”

  “I’ll keep some stew warming for you,” he said, surprised at how disappointed he was that she was leaving. Not because of the almost moment they’d just shared. More because of all the moments that had led up to it.

  He liked Stevie Franklin. A lot. She suited him. Quite well, it seemed.

  Over the past year, he’d made a few game attempts at diving into the dating pool, such as it was in Blue Hollow Falls, following a year of self-imposed singledom after Carolyn had ended things. It was well beyond time he moved on, as his parents had so often reminded him, and at age thirty-two, he knew they had a point. His extended stay in singledom had nothing to do with Carolyn now; he’d long since made peace with their breakup. It was more that reentry into the dating world had him confounded. He’d never dated as a single, adult male, no longer in an academic world filled with other students. To make matters more challenging, there weren’t that many single women in the immediate area, and the few times he had gone out, it had felt more like an extended job interview than a date.

  He’d jokingly told Sawyer, after the wine-tasting disaster that he and Sawyer’s friend Seth had set up, that what he wanted was to meet someone he’d already been dating for six months, so they could just skip the whole interview part and move right on to the part where they already liked each other and enjoyed spending time together. Sawyer had just laughed and said that was how he knew he’d met the right one with Sunny, when it felt like that from the first moment.

  Noah had been with Carolyn for eight years, which seemed an eternity now, and had known her even longer. They’d worked together at the ski resort, part-time, while they’d both been in college. They’d been dating other people when they’d first met. She worked at the ski shop in the resort, and he worked in the kitchen. Most of the reso
rt crew ate at the lodge when they were on break, so he’d gotten to know all of them pretty well. He hadn’t even really thought of Carolyn that way, not then. They’d both been dating ski instructors at the time and used to joke about it. In fact, he wasn’t sure how or exactly when it had shifted, but thinking back on it now, it seemed as if it had just been . . . convenient.

  They’d both broken up with their respective ski instructors around the same time; it had been winter break their senior year at school, and the weather had been unseasonably warm, so the resort hadn’t been all that busy. They’d had more time to hang out and talk. They got along; they knew each other well, liked a lot of the same things; they didn’t argue. He thought she was pretty; she seemed to think he wasn’t so bad, either. They were both nice, decent people, and it had just . . . made sense. They hadn’t even dated, not really. They’d hung out at work, talked a lot, skied together, and, since they went to two different schools, had spent an enormous amount of time on the phone in between weekend treks to see each other. They’d spent spring break together at the beach, then after graduation, it had just made sense to want to live closer to each other, and living together had been practical.

  They hadn’t gotten engaged right away because, well, it had seemed redundant, but then Carolyn had begun talking about having a family and that had led to discussions of weddings and future family additions. He’d found the old mill by then and had started renovating it. Carolyn was commuting a good distance, working for a museum in Richmond. She’d tried to find something closer and had been supportive of the inn business, though she made it clear early on she wasn’t going to be part of running the place, and he’d respected that. She’d always planned to stay at home to raise their future kids, so the commute wouldn’t be happening forever. He’d thought everything was finally coming together for them and had popped the question formally. Then the wedding craziness had begun.

  In the end, though, she’d been the one to call it off. They’d been a few months away from tying the knot when she’d decided—with a fair amount of help from her mother and father, who lived in Richmond—that she really wanted a life closer to the city, if not in the city itself, for herself and for her future children. He’d sunk everything he had into the inn, which had been open a few years by then, including his heart, and when it came right down to it, he didn’t want to live anywhere else. Noah loved his family, so he didn’t blame Mr. and Mrs. Stenson. He couldn’t even blame Carolyn. Neither he nor Carolyn had done anything wrong; no one had cheated; no fingers were being pointed. They’d simply grown up and wanted different things out of life. He hadn’t realized how truly unhappy she was with the lifestyle they’d started in the mountains, and for that he felt bad, but he respected her for being brave enough to go for what she wanted, before they’d tied things together legally.