Christmas With Carlie. Julianna Morris
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pictures hadn’t done him justice. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen—and the most grumpy-looking one, too. Two little girls stood nearby. Both seemed solemn and anxious and one had tearstains on her face. Plainly they weren’t experiencing any warm, after-Thanksgiving glow.
Carlie stepped forward. “Hello, I’m Carlie Benton. May I help you?”
“Yes. We’ve been up since two this morning and now I’ve been informed we can’t get into our accommodations for several hours,” Luke Forrester snapped, ignoring her extended hand.
“I see.”
So much for romantically tragic; he was more like the Grinch who’d stolen Christmas. Carlie cast a look at the clock. It was shortly before noon and check-in started at 4:00 p.m. unless prior arrangements had been made. Both the website and any employee Mr. Forrester talked to would have made that clear.
Carlie walked around to a registration monitor and confirmed they had a standard reservation, with no special requests.
“I’m sorry, but your rooms aren’t ready yet.” She smiled at the two girls, who had to be identical twins—they were as alike as two peas in a pod. “In the meantime, would you like to have a yummy lunch?”
The one whose cheeks were tearstained ducked her head while the other offered a tiny smile in return. “Yes, thank you. I’m Beth,” she said. “And this is my sister, Annie.”
She nudged Annie, who wiggled her fingers in a small wave.
“It’s great to meet you both. I’m Carlie.”
“Excuse me, you haven’t explained why you weren’t ready for us when we arrived,” Luke Forrester interjected impatiently.
Carlie fixed him with the steady gaze she’d cultivated dealing with newspaper reporters at her old public relations job. It was never easy for her to stay calm, though. She had a terrible temper.
“Mr. Forrester, I’m very sorry, but check-in time is 4:00 p.m. We had visitors at the John Muir Cottage last night. They left on schedule and our housekeeping staff is working to get everything ready for you. In the meantime, there’s a special luncheon being served down the street. You and your daughters are welcome to eat as our guests while you’re waiting.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw and she expected further demands, but he finally said, “Fine,” in a sharp tone.
Carlie glanced at Bill Blalock. He was excellent with people, so it was unusual for him not to be able to handle a difficult client. Of course, no matter how skilled he was, a few guests always insisted on speaking to someone with more authority. In most cases, she’d discovered they’d caused their own problem and didn’t want to take responsibility.
“Bill, please call me when Mr. Forrester’s accommodations are ready,” she asked, giving him a significant look that suggested putting a rush on the cleaning crew.
Poppy Gold Inns allowed guests into their rooms early when feasible, but first they had to be properly prepared and approved by a housekeeping supervisor. While Carlie didn’t believe that bad manners and arbitrary expectations should be rewarded, the Forrester family was obviously under a great deal of strain. Quickly getting them into their suite would be best all around.
“I’ll take care of it,” Bill promised. “Don’t be concerned about your luggage, Mr. Forrester. We’ll secure your bags here and deliver them later.”
* * *
LUKE NODDED CURTLY.
He still questioned whether this trip to California was the best idea for the girls, and being told the house wasn’t available hadn’t helped. A part of him knew it was unreasonable to be upset, but nothing was going well.
Flying at night was his preference since it saved time, but the jet’s copilot had been rear-ended while driving to the airport. Though she’d escaped injury, Luke had insisted she take a few days off. Not wanting to wait for a replacement, he’d taken the copilot’s seat himself rather than working during the flight as planned. He held a pilot’s license for emergencies, though this had mostly qualified as an inconvenience.
His sister was still in Austin; she was being treated for an ear infection and couldn’t fly until the doctor said it was okay. Luke had hired a backup copilot and sent the jet back to Texas so Nicole could come once she was well enough for travel.
The limousine service had been late meeting them at the airport and the drive to Glimmer Creek on the small curving roads had upset Annie’s stomach. She’d cried and gotten sick, only to push him away when he tried to help.
On top of everything else, the private tutor he’d hired had canceled just hours before their departure, so now he’d have to get someone local.
A polite throat-clearing sound drew his attention. “This way, Mr. Forrester,” said Carlie Benton.
She was holding Beth’s hand, and though her expression was pleasant, Luke suspected she wasn’t impressed with him. That was okay. He hadn’t gotten where he was without making a few enemies.
“Do either of you skate?” Carlie asked the girls as they walked down the front steps. “Ice skating, I mean.”
“Yes, but not like Aunt Nicole,” Beth told her. “She’s awfully good. She can spin and twirl and everything.”
“Aunt Nicole was s’posed to come with us in Papa’s jet, but her ear got sick,” Annie half whispered, making Luke’s eyes widen. Annie was shier than her sister and rarely spoke to strangers.
“That’s too bad. Is she coming later?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m glad. We have a skating rink starting tomorrow after the water freezes, so you’ll have a chance to skate if your papa doesn’t mind.” Carlie stopped and pointed across the street to the park. “It’s going to be right over there, past that little white bandstand. And you know what else we’re having this year? A sledding hill. That is, we’ll have one when the temperature is cold enough to make snow.”
“Yippee,” cried Beth.
Carlie grinned at both girls and continued walking. Down the street was an attractive building with a historic marker on the front lawn saying Glimmer Creek Concert Hall. It reminded Luke of the concert hall at the historic Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado.
Where he’d stayed with Erika on their honeymoon.
Hell, how long would everything remind him of what he’d lost?
Frustrated, Luke directed his thoughts elsewhere as they climbed the steps. On the pillared veranda, he read a freestanding sign next to the door. “Creative Turkey Bites?” he asked wryly. “So your ‘special’ luncheon is recycled Thanksgiving leftovers.”
“We don’t serve leftovers at Poppy Gold,” Carlie said, her blue eyes glittering coolly. “The meal showcases the ways leftover turkey could be made into something new and different. In addition, traditional Thanksgiving dishes are provided for people who still want them. But everything is freshly prepared.”
Inside, there was a buzz of conversation and Carlie was greeted by one guest after another. She introduced Beth and Annie by their first names only, for which Luke was grateful. While it was entirely possible nobody would recognize their names, he preferred to avoid awkward moments. Privacy was important, particularly for his daughters.
A barbershop quartet in red-and-white-striped jackets was entertaining in the front of the hall, their mellow tones resonating around the room. While pleasant, the decorations were still autumnal in theme and Luke worried the girls would be disappointed. He’d told them that spending the holidays in California would be like going to a Christmas wonderland. When would he learn not to promise something he couldn’t control?
“Good afternoon, Sarah,” Carlie said to a slender blonde woman wearing a chef’s apron. “This is Luke and his two daughters, Annie and Beth. They’re