The Inn at Blue Hollow Falls Read online

  “Time will tell,” Noah said, wishing he had more of that particular commodity, and feeling grateful Stevie would be snowed in for a bit before the whole town jumped on her and started asking nosy questions. “Say hi to your smart and pretty wife for me. I’ve got to go roust up another breakfast, and I know you’ve got your hands full.” They said their good-byes, and Noah hung up, then decided he needed to go speak to the guests directly, calm them down, before starting over in the kitchen.

  He stepped across the gathering puddles that were running toward the drains built into the floor. Unfortunately, the wood floor in the dining room didn’t have the same features, so he grabbed two mops before heading through the swinging door. He wasn’t sure what scene he’d expected to find, but he’d definitely assumed whatever it was would involve a level of chaos. This was the first time the sprinklers had gone off in the dining room. What he found, however, was completely the opposite.

  His guests were helping Jenny and Melanie mop up, using their linen napkins and place mats on the tables while the girls used the rugs that normally covered the floor in front of the big coffeemakers and juice machine to mop up the floor. Everyone seemed unconcerned, for now anyway, about his or her own rather damp state. Fortunately, the sprinklers hadn’t been on long enough to do any real damage. “Hey, everyone.” He grinned a little sheepishly when folks paused to look his way. “Well, so, that happened.”

  A small wave of chuckles went through the room. Except for Stevie, of course, who he noticed just looked embarrassed and was the only one still furiously mopping away.

  “We like to keep things interesting here at the inn, start the day off with some coffee, then a little freestyle aerobic routine to get the heart pumping—sorry about our choice of music though—followed by a nice long steam in your private showers.”

  Just then Norma Beatty got a concerned look and turned to face him. Norma and her husband, Tom, were one of two older couples, the other being Strow and Nancy, who had been coming every Christmas holiday since he’d opened the place. They had been married for fifty-six years, had six kids between them, and Noah had lost count of how many grandkids and great-grandkids, but he knew they seemed to have a handful of new baby pictures every year. The Beattys held a huge family reunion every Thanksgiving for Tom’s family, and one just as big on the Fourth of July for her family, so for Christmas—which also happened to be their wedding anniversary—they took a long weekend alone together.

  Norma said they’d told their respective families that, if she and Tom hadn’t run off to the mountains to get married over Christmas all those years ago, none of the rest of them would be alive in the first place, so the least they could do was let them run off once a year to remember why they’d done it in the first place. Noah couldn’t agree more.

  At the moment, however, the now damp and somewhat bedraggled Norma looked distressed as she said, “Oh, my, Noah. Did the sprinklers go off in our rooms?”

  Noah quickly raised his hands before she and the rest of the guests could stampede en masse up the stairs. “No, there are several separate circuits. Just the kitchen and dining room were affected. I shut the alarm off before it triggered the others. I’m very sorry we rained on you, but I’m glad we’re all safe. Although I’m afraid we will have to send our heartfelt condolences to the bacon and sausages.”

  There was a collective and heartfelt groan at that announcement.

  “And I’d invite you to enjoy the cereal, muffins, bagels, and Danish I put out earlier, but I’m guessing they’re overly moist at the moment as well.” He watched as several in the group sent a look of disappointment toward the sideboard where he always had a light continental breakfast set up for those who wanted to eat before the hot meal was prepared, or just wanted a little appetizer first. “However, I promise your complimentary hot meal will be served. If you’d like to retire to your rooms to change, maybe enjoy a little hot shower to warm up, we’ll get this place cleaned up, and I’ll get a fire going. In the fireplace,” he added quickly with a grin, and was relieved when folks chuckled.

  He glanced out the window, noting Joe’s prediction was already coming to fruition. The snow was coming down so heavily now, and the wind was so strong, the storm was almost at whiteout conditions. “It looks like we’re going to be hanging out indoors together today, so lunch and dinner will be on me as well. Again, please accept my apologies.”

  He hadn’t dared to so much as glance at Stevie directly, though he’d noted as his gaze swept the group that she’d finally stopped compulsively cleaning. As he gave his little speech, he’d caught her ducking back into the kitchen. No doubt she’d have it spic and span, too, by the time he got back there. Given their little display at the foot of the stairs, and the glaringly obvious fact that they’d been alone in the kitchen when they’d almost burned the place down, well . . . yeah. It wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

  “Once we’ve enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, Jenny and Melanie will get out the cards, the puzzles, and the board games, and we’ll keep the fire stoked so the room stays cozy for those who want to use the tables to play. The front parlor on the other side of the foyer has a big flat screen, with several drawers full of movies if anyone wants to settle in there. The library up on the second floor is always open for anyone wanting some quiet time to read, knit, or whatnot. I’ll get the fire going up there as well. The girls will man the antique popcorn machine that we normally use for movie night, and soft drinks are on the house.”

  This was met with an enthusiastic round of applause, and he let out a little sigh of relief. Crisis—and hopefully a string of bad Yelp reviews—averted. He waited while his guests filed out of the room and headed up the stairs to their rooms, taking time to speak to each one of them individually and thank them for their understanding. They were good sports about it, and more than a few even went so far as to say he didn’t need to comp their lunch or dinner, but, of course, he would. It was good business and the right thing to do. He didn’t serve alcohol, though folks were permitted to bring their own, or he’d have comped that, too. It wasn’t as if anyone were going to drive anywhere any time soon, so if they wanted to drink whatever they’d brought, he’d supply the glassware. As it was, he’d keep the coffee hot and make sure the big electric hot chocolate pot stayed full, with plenty of marshmallows for dunking.

  Once the room was empty of guests, he went over to thank Jenny and Melanie, who were trying to rescue the Christmas decorations on the fireplace mantel and finish mopping up the hearth. “I know we’ve drilled for this and talked about it at length when you were hired, but you never really know how folks will react when things actually go south. You were a big part of averting total disaster and keeping everyone calm. I couldn’t be more proud or grateful.”

  “Nothing bad happened,” Melanie said, offering a smile and the optimistic shrug of a teenager who couldn’t truly comprehend all that could have gone wrong. “It’s all good.”

  “Yes, but it might not have been,” he cautioned. “And you both kept your heads on straight. I appreciate that.”

  “Actually,” Jenny said, sharing a look with Melanie, then turning back to Noah, “we were a little freaked out when the sprinklers came on. It was Stevie who kept us straight. She came right in and told us what we should do, gave the guests some guidance, and got us all doing something to help with the cleanup. We figured it was coming from you, so we did what she said to do, and it all worked out.”

  “Yeah,” Melanie agreed. “Once we all started doing something, nobody panicked. I guess because we were too busy helping to freak out. She kept us focused.”

  Jenny smiled then, a bit of a twinkle in her pretty blue eyes. “We like her.”

  Noah smiled, pleased but not surprised to hear it had been Stevie’s quick thinking that had helped to keep things from turning chaotic. Several of the guests had made comments like “great gals you got there” and “a real keeper, that one,” but he’d assumed they meant Jenny
and Melanie. “Glad to hear it,” he said, quite sincerely. “I do, too.”

  When Melanie nodded and agreed, Jenny leaned forward and added, sotto voce, “Like, really like her?”

  “So we saw,” Melanie said, then made a little “ooph” sound when Jenny elbowed her. “What?” she said to her friend. “We’re not blind. They were right there in the foyer.”

  Noah hadn’t thought that part of things through—hell, he hadn’t thought any of this through—but he knew he needed to address Melanie’s comment directly. “Yes, well, spontaneous displays of affection aren’t the norm for me here, I know that. You two haven’t seen me have a . . . uh—”

  “Social life?” Melanie offered gamely, maybe even a little hopefully. “Hey, we’re happy for you, boss. It’s about time, you know? Everyone says so.” That earned her another elbow from Jenny. “Hey!” she protested, though the two shared a look that said they’d be doing a lot of gossiping as soon as he left the room. She looked back at Noah. “I wasn’t here when you first opened; I was still in middle school back then, so we didn’t really ever get to know your last girlfriend, but my mom says you’re one of the Falls’ most eligible bachelors. We just wanted to say we’re cool with Stevie, that’s all.”

  “Well, I appreciate that,” Noah said, not knowing quite how to respond. Eligible bachelor? Like he was on some kind of game show or something? For all their sakes, he changed the subject. “I’m handing out your end of year bonuses next week and, with your efforts today, you can expect to be able to afford another round of iTunes downloads, or phone apps, or whatever it is you—”

  The rest was cut off when both girls rushed close and hugged him. “Thanks, boss,” Melanie squealed, while Jenny squeezed harder. “You’re the best, Mr. Tyler.”

  He could already hear them whispering away as he headed back to the kitchen. Yeah, you might have wanted to handle that a little better. Ah well, one crisis at a time. He’d deal with the potential PDA fallout later.

  Just as he’d expected, when he pushed through the door back into the kitchen, dynamo Stevie had the place wiped down, and all traces of the baking soda–covered charcoal bits were gone. In fact, the kitchen looked pretty much ready to go.

  “I put all the food that hadn’t been cooked yet, but was out on the worktable, on that counter over there,” she said, motioning to the sideboard. “I figured you’d have to toss it since it got wet, and covered with baking soda, but I wasn’t sure.”

  “Yep, that all has to go, I’m afraid. And thank you, you didn’t have to do all this. Thank you for also helping in the dining room. Melanie and Jenny said it was your calm in the face of a blaring fire alarm that held everyone together. I owe you for that.”

  “I was the cause of your inn’s almost burning to the ground two days before Christmas,” she responded, looking the teensiest bit the worse for wear. “I’d say it’s the least I could do.” Her once glossy, smoothed-back hair had started to pull out of the clip in the back, forming damp, frizzy ringlets on her forehead. She had baking soda streaked across both cheeks, her apron looked like she’d rolled around on the floor in it, and her jeans were soaked with water and more than a little grease.

  “Does this mean you’re quitting as my sous chef?” When she merely lifted her nicely shaped brows, he grinned and added, “Because after looking outside, I can pretty much guarantee that, unless he hires a tank and a few National Guardsmen, I’m not going to have chef help, probably through Christmas.”

  Stevie turned to look outside, apparently for the first time since the alarm had gone off. She walked closer to the back door. “Oh my goodness,” she breathed. “Look at that.” She lifted a hand to wipe condensation off the glass. “It looks like somebody put a wind tunnel inside a snow globe.” She turned back to look at him. “But you’ll have a white Christmas for sure, so there’s that.”

  “It’s an inclusive deal, you know. It gets to be your white Christmas, too.”

  She lifted a shoulder, not dismissively, but not all that concerned, either. He noticed she turned her attention back to the window, though she didn’t say anything further.

  He went about pulling ingredients from the fridge and pantry to start over where he could, and to be creative to fill in the gaps of the total-loss items, like the breakfast meat. He was supposed to get in several deliveries later that day to stock the larder for the big holiday-weekend menus and had only been a little worried about the inn’s getting plowed out in time when he’d woken up that morning. Now that would definitely not be happening, so he had to keep possible shortages in mind as well while menu-planning brunch and dinner. It was definitely going to be tricky, no matter how careful he was. “If you’re worried about the greenhouse and Sunny, I’m sure she and Sawyer are at Addie’s place and safe,” he said, noticing Stevie was still looking out at the snow. “You can call her if you want, let her know you’re here.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve tried to text her several times. I don’t have the signal strength to get it to go through, so I know a call won’t work.”

  “I meant you could use the inn phone.” At her surprised glance he said, “Yes, Virginia, I still have a landline. I know Addie Pearl does as well. I’ve got her number—”

  “I have it. Sunny gave it to me since she and Sawyer are staying there. I hope this storm doesn’t make things worse at their place.”

  “I doubt it will help get anything done faster,” Noah said.

  “True. I would like to check in with her. Thanks. We got the first shipment of new orchid grafts, and they will be okay for a few days if the power holds. She’s got backup generators, but no one will be there to get them running. So, I’m a little worried, and knowing Sunny, she’s probably heartsick. Losing the whole shebang would be a serious financial setback with the grant funding. Not insurmountable, but still . . .” Stevie looked back outside, her expression pensive.

  The prospect of being snowed in at his little mountain inn for the holidays was clearly not garnering the same potential romantic visions for her as it had for him. Of course, with the inn at three-quarter capacity and barely a skeleton crew to run the whole shebang—and that was including Stevie if she was willing to keep pitching in—it was doubtful there would be time or energy for romance.

  “They won’t risk plowing until the snow stops,” he told her. “And if the wind doesn’t die down, they’ll have to go out more than a few times to stay ahead of the drifting.”

  “Drifting,” she said, still staring out into the blizzard, “right.”

  “Sorry, I’m not trying to—”

  “Snow on my orchid parade?” she said, turning to look at him again, pasting on a game smile. “I know.” She turned her back to the window with a resolute squaring of her shoulders. “Phone?”

  “Why don’t you use the one in the office,” he said, thinking that would give her more privacy than using the kitchen line. He nodded to the door tucked in the back corner. “Just pretend it looks like my secretary is the OCD type who files everything neatly in labeled drawers.”

  “You have a secretary?”

  “Part-time secretary, desk clerk, bellboy, and chief bottle washer, all in one.” He looked up from the stack of dry goods he was setting on the worktable. “He works cheap,” he said, pointing at himself, “so what can I expect, really?”

  She laughed at that, and he thought it said something that in the short time they’d known each other he’d seen her at her worst far more often than he’d seen her at her best, yet he still thought she was the most beautiful person he’d ever met. Inside and out.

  “Wait, did the water damage—?”

  “Drop ceiling, no sprinklers in there,” he assured her.

  “Oh, that’s a relief. Well, if I’m going to be snowed in, you’ll have a completely unqualified secretarial assistant to help, so you’ve got that going for you.” She grinned and blew at the hair now hanging down in her face. “Such as it is.”

  “Be careful what you offer,” he warned as
she headed for the office door. “I can’t afford combat pay.”

  “Come on, how bad could it—” She broke off as she opened the door. “Oh.” She leaned back to look at him around the big Sub-Zero fridge. “I think maybe a bomb went off in there when you weren’t looking. You might want to beef up office security.”

  “I’ll put it on the list,” he said dryly.

  “Yes, but will you be able to find the list? That’s the question.” He was still chuckling when she grabbed a damp hand towel off a nearby counter. “I’m going in. If you see the white flag, send rescue.”

  “Copy that, Miss Moneypenny.”

  She laughed, and moments later he heard the murmurs of what he assumed was her phone conversation with Sunny. He made a mental note to go in there if she wasn’t out in a reasonable amount of time and make sure she wasn’t trying to make order of chaos. Although, on second thought, it might be best if they stayed out of arm’s reach of each other, and if she tidied up his office, it would guarantee he’d get through brunch and quite possibly dinner before ever seeing her again. A burst of her laughter spilled from the open office doorway, and he thought he heard her say something that sounded like “sacrificial bacon,” then more laughter. She was a good sport, Stevie Franklin.

  Smiling, he found himself humming a combination of “White Christmas” and the James Bond theme under his breath as he got out a fresh set of bowls, cutting boards, and other utensils, then started dicing potatoes for home fries. Stevie might not care much about the Christmas holiday, at least as it applied to herself—she’d called herself the Ghost of Christmas Present, after all. So, maybe his thank-you gift to her for the help she was giving him would be to find a way to bring the joy of the season to her in a way that would make it personal, meaningful. He let out a rueful laugh then and shook his head. Because goodness knows you’ve already made it memorable.