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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needs a few nips and tucks and a lick of paint here and there.”
I smiled at Micah’s assurances that it wasn’t a big job, as I was eager to make the suite my own, and snuggle in bed with the mountains a stunning backdrop to my dreams. In the basement I’d found an antique bed with an elaborate bedhead, which I’d repainted champagne-white. Dragging it upstairs had been a feat, but one I managed with only a few scrapes and bruises. Once the room had a facelift with paint, some luxurious bedding, and new décor, it would feel more like me, more like home.
He opened the creaky bathroom door, exposing the old claw-foot tub and a marble vanity – the perfect room to relax in with a book and a rose-scented bubble bath after a long day.
“I can fix the broken tiles, and redo the grout.”
I nodded eagerly. While the lodge was ancient, the bathrooms were still functional, and would only need some modern accoutrements to get them up to code. Some proper exhaust fans, and new lighting, maybe heat lights for winter… my list kept on growing. “Great!”
I grabbed Micah’s arm, eager to show him the view from the landing at the top of the stairs and ask his advice on what to do with the space. The mountain range was visible from every window on the east side of the lodge and I wanted people to be able to soak it up in comfort. The reflection of the trees shimmered on the surface of the lake, and it was easy to lose an hour staring outside at such elemental beauty – it was spellbinding.
Our tour was interrupted by the rumble of engines roaring along the main road.
“Can you hear that?” I asked, dropping his arm and dashing closer to the window to get a glimpse of them arriving.
“That, my friend, is the sound of progress. Time to get your overalls on, Clio!” He gave my high heels a pointed look and was rewarded with an eye-roll. “Let’s meet them out front!”
We flew down the stairs and on to the porch to watch the procession arrive. Cars and trucks turned into the driveway in convoy. Some were loaded with supplies, others were bare except for hard-hatted drivers with determined expressions.
Anticipation sizzled through me. It was really happening! This beautiful, timeworn lodge was about to be transformed back into its glorious self.
My old life was behind me. Here – in the town where I grew up, in the abandoned lodge I’d played by as a child – people would fall in love, they’d marry, they’d have families, and then they’d return to Cedarwood and celebrate once more…
A few weeks later, ignoring a head throb from the ever-present noise, I gave myself a silent pep talk. You can do this! All you have to do is paint them a charming picture of what will be. I buttoned up my navy-blue blazer, straightened the seam of my crisp linen trousers and slipped on red heels, the ones Micah teased me relentlessly over.
With the buzz of a drill nearby, I picked up my paperwork and iPad, which had a 3D presentation loaded and ready to play. Eventually I’d have an office in a suite off the lobby, but right now it was still too frenetic with workers for me to concentrate, so in the interim I’d set up a temporary office in the front parlor, a room once used for pre-dinner aperitifs.
The couple’s car churned up the gravel and my heart rate increased. They’d called the night before and enquired about hiring the ballroom for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. It had taken all of my might to keep my voice level and act like I’d hired out the ballroom a hundred times already. But it boded well, having interest in Cedarwood at this early stage.
I peeked out of the newly replaced window and watched Edgar help his wife Imelda into a wheelchair. Damn it! There were no ramps in place. I made a mental note to check we had mobility aids on the list. Cedarwood had to be accessible to everyone.
With a broad smile in place, I hurried outside to greet them.
“Welcome to Cedarwood!” I said, too brightly, my nerves jangling to the surface. I was half-jogging toward them, mentally assessing the area for a plank of wood, or something to use as a ramp… when the heel of my stiletto got caught in a hole in the deck. With a calm smile that belied the drumming of my heart, I attempted to wrench my heel out, trying to appear casual, but it wouldn’t budge. Damn it! With one last heave, the heel came free but momentum sent me flying forward with a screech. Oh, God! I flew precariously into the air, taking great leaps to avoid a tray of paint and a scattering of drill bits. Please, I silently willed the universe, don’t let me upend the paint all over her! With a hop, skip, and a jump to avoid everything, I ended up on my knees by the woman’s lap, my pulse thrumming in my ears.
Note to self: make sure walkways are cleared at all times.
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