Christmas At Cedarwood Lodge: Celebrations and Confetti at Cedarwood Lodge / Brides and Bouquets at Cedarwood Lodge / Midnight and Mistletoe at Cedarwood Lodge. Rebecca Raisin
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you hold so much stress in your body, it’s toxic. Just chill for five seconds.”
I willed my eyes not to roll, but he was so sure it would fix everything I didn’t have the heart to ignore him again. “Fine. One, two, threefourfive. There. I’m cured.” I grabbed his hand and dragged him across the road, surprised to feel a tingle racing up my arm from his touch. Kai had the sort of hands that were made for holding, I guess. Strong, warm hands.
Walter, Imelda’s son, was standing by the cash register, spooling a ream of escaped receipt paper.
“Well, hello, Clio. Would have recognized you anywhere after Mom’s description of you – Carrie Bradshaw hair indeed. Though don’t tell anyone I know who Carrie Bradshaw is – I’d never live it down.” Walter had a ruddy complexion and deep-set eyes, just like his father. He wore a checked shirt and suspenders, which somehow suited him, being holed up in a hardware store, which was ripe with the scent of old motor oil and dust.
I winked. “Your secret is safe with me. Is Imelda here?” Even though they claimed they’d retired years ago, Imelda was often found here according to Micah. He said she couldn’t quite let go of her working life. Edgar tinkered around with tools as well, and swept up the workshop, their days too long without something to keep their heads and hands busy.
“Mom’s out back in the office.” He jerked his thumb in that direction. “Says she had to tidy up some paperwork, even though my wife does it these days.” He shrugged. “What she means is, she’s double-checking the figures because she can’t grasp that anyone else could do it right. Who am I to argue?” There was no malice in his voice, just deep-seated admiration.
“They need to find a hobby, maybe?” I smiled and then dropped my voice. “While I’ve got you, can I ask a favor?”
He nodded.
“I want to do a slide show of photos that we can play before the speeches. Set to music, maybe songs they’ve loved over the years? A photo montage of their love through each decade.”
Walter grinned. “Now you’re talking! Mom and Dad would love that.”
“But let’s keep it between us?”
“Your secret is safe with me.” He repeated my earlier sentiment.
I smiled. “Can you get hold of some photos without them knowing?”
Walter thumbed his chin. “It wasn’t long ago that Dad had all his photos scanned and saved in the cloud – that was a fun day explaining what the cloud was. How about I copy the photos onto a USB and you can choose which suit?”
“That’d be perfect. And what about music? Any chance you can take a flick through their albums and let me know what stands out, what songs you remember hearing?”
At that he rolled his eyes dramatically. “I wouldn’t even have to look. Dad serenaded Mom with Percy Sledge’s When a Man Loves a Woman at their wedding, and then every year since, but Dad can’t sing a jot, and he’s so out of tune it’s actually painful to hear. Mom seems to like it, though.”
I let out a burble of laughter, imagining Edgar warbling to Imelda in spite of being tone deaf. “Gosh, they’re adorable. OK, so that can be the first song, and can you email me the titles of any others that mean something to them?”
“Sure.” His face broke into a huge grin, making the resemblance between him and Edgar more obvious. “They’re really excited about the party, Clio. And what you’re doing will thrill them, it really will. I can sneak over to their house this afternoon for a recon mission and send it all to you.”
Kai wandered over, his basket full of pipes and tubes and God knows what.
“I’ll leave you to it,” I said, grinning at the huge smile on his face. Men and hardware stores! Even the surfer yogi wasn’t immune. “I’m going to have a quick chat with Imelda and then I’ll meet you at Puft later?” Kai nodded as they fell into serious conversation about amps of drills and which battery had the longest life.
Imelda’s office was meticulously tidy, with stacks of yellowing paperwork in neat straight piles and a scented candle flickering on the table.
“Hello, pretty girl!” Her face crinkled into a smile. “What’s been happening at the lodge?”
I detailed the progress we’d made and where I was at in terms of the preparations. “What about a dance, Imelda? I know you’re wheelchair-bound, but you can still share a moment, right? Your favorite song, you two on the dance floor?”
Her face brightened. “Oh, that’s a great idea! With Edgar propping me up I can stand for a little while, at least… How about a love song, and me and Edgar standing in each other’s arms for as long as we can?”
“Yes! Let me find a special song.” I would dim the lights, and it would be so romantic. There wouldn’t be a dry eye in the house.
After discussing the party with Imelda, who exclaimed over every tidbit with glee, I headed to Puft and crossed my fingers my aunt was in. From the gaggle of customers still queuing, I doubted she’d had time to do anything except work since returning from her cruise, but I was eager to see her.
As I squinted through the glass the front door burst open, bells jangling noisily together. “Well, there you are! I’d recognize those curls at fifty paces!” Aunt Bessie’s husky voice boomed, startling me.
“Aunt Bessie, you look amazing!” With a full face of heavy makeup, and bleached-blonde teased-up hair, Aunt Bessie hadn’t changed one iota. There was no evidence of a single laugh line and I expected she’d had some cosmetic help. She wore a tight-fitting sweater that accentuated her big bust, and tight jeans that exposed her curves – she was simply larger than life.
“Well, shucks. It’s the eight glasses of water I drink a day, you know.” She winked comically. “I expected to see you in overalls but I should’ve known the big city would change my girl!” She let out a cackle that drew the attention of her customers. “Tell me what’s been going on over at Cedarwood. I’ve spent the better part of the morning trying to escape this place to visit you but these people had other ideas.” She gestured at the patrons filling almost every table.
Aunt Bessie motioned to a table, and told the young girl behind the counter to bring us coffee and a serving of cookies-and-cream donuts with an extra helping of chocolate sauce.
I raised a brow.
“You’ll work it off running around that lodge of yours. Now tell me everything.” Aunt Bessie was a breath of fresh air, and I felt like I could do anything, be anything, with her on my side. I waxed lyrical about the renovations, Edgar and Imelda’s party, and my plans to meet with the old gang. I managed to gloss over the reasons for leaving New York and thankfully she was too eager to hear about the lodge and didn’t notice.
She raised her eyebrows. “The old gang? Does that include Timothy?” His name came out sing-songy, and I could see where I got the same urge to tease Micah.
I studied my nails to buy time. “It does, as well you know. Stop fishing.”
She feigned surprise, putting a hand on her bust. “Me? Fishing? I was merely asking about one of your oldest friends.” The gleam in her eye suggested otherwise.
Expertly, I changed the subject and focused on Micah’s reluctance regarding romance and how obvious it was he and Isla were perfect for each other. “Sounds like we need to meddle,” she said.
“I think you’re right.” I clasped my fingers, plotting. “How about I invite Isla here for coffee and I also invite Micah, but then, dang, I can’t make it…”
Her heavily made-up eyes widened. “And I’m here to pass on the message: Look, kids, why don’t you sit together. Clio says everything is under control and you might as well take an hour to relax… How does that sound?”
Only my aunt