CHAPTER ONE

      CARLIE BENTON BREEZED through the back entrance of Old City Hall. No longer a civic building, it housed the reservation hub and guest reception area for Poppy Gold Inns and Conference Center, along with various offices and other useful spaces.

      “Good morning,” called a familiar voice.

      Carlie grinned at her aunt. “Good morning, Aunt Polly. Wasn’t Thanksgiving terrific?”

      “It was wonderful. I think we broke a record for everyone getting back home to Glimmer Creek for the holiday.”

      “That’s because they wanted to see Tessa’s baby.”

      Polly Murphy beamed. “I don’t think Tessa and Gabe got to hold their daughter the entire afternoon, even to change Meredith’s diapers.”

      “Tessa was able to nurse Merri, that’s all.” Carlie glanced at the clock. “Oops, I’ve got to go. Busy day. See you later.”

      Until sixteen months ago, Carlie had been working in the San Francisco Bay Area, only returning to her hometown for visits. Then she’d been hired as the Poppy Gold Inns’ activity director. Carlie loved it and in many ways working at the historic bed-and-breakfast facility was like attending a family reunion every day. Her cousin Tessa McKinley was the owner-manager along with her father, Liam Connor, and half the employees were related in one way or another.

      If only her own father...

      A hint of melancholy went through Carlie. Dad had been injured the previous summer while laying down asphalt on a road as a highway worker. An impatient driver had sped around some slow-moving cars and plowed into him, permanently damaging his leg. Mike Benton now worked as a traffic flagger at road construction sites, which he hated. But he also wouldn’t take a job at Poppy Gold, no matter how much the family cajoled him.

      “I don’t want anybody’s pity,” he’d declared on more than one occasion. He didn’t understand that it wouldn’t be pity; it would be giving Poppy Gold the benefit of three decades of practical, hands-on civil engineering experience.

      Carlie shook the thought away and greeted the members of her staff who’d already arrived.

      “Did you hear...?” Joan Peters started to say, only to stop and blush.

      “Hear what?” asked Carlie.

      “Nothing,” Tracy Wade said hastily.

      Tracy and Joan exchanged glances and hurriedly went back to making holiday name tags for the staff.

      Carlie frowned.

      She’d sensed an air of anticipation in Old City Hall after arriving, but had put it down to adrenaline. They had to hit the ground running to get ready for Christmas, so there was little time for day-after-Thanksgiving relaxation. For the next six weeks, Poppy Gold would be devoted to the Christmas and New Year celebrations. The Victorian village was ideally suited for strings of lights, electric candles in the windows, mistletoe, evergreen swags and everything else that was bright and cheerful.

      “Is something going on that I should know about?” she asked.

      “Uh, no. We mustn’t gossip.”

      Especially here at work, Carlie added silently.

      Gossip was a form of entertainment in the small town of Glimmer Creek, but it was discouraged at Poppy Gold, particularly when it came to their guests.

      Carlie didn’t have time to think about anything new, regardless. The basic holiday schedule had been established long before she’d begun working as the activities director, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be busy implementing her own ideas. Traditionally, the autumn decorations came down the morning after Thanksgiving, with Christmas arriving with a vengeance the next day. Well, it would arrive with a fervent festive spirit.

      Poppy Gold Inns had guests who booked years in advance for Christmas kickoff day, as the regulars called it. Visitors didn’t have to participate, but being able to join in as part of the “work crew” was why many of them came for the extended Thanksgiving weekend, saying it got them in the mood for the holiday. Some loved decorating trees, some preferred making wreaths, while others strung evergreen garlands on fences or lampposts or worked on the public areas of a specific Victorian. There were lots of things to do for all ages.

      In her office, Carlie pulled up a list of the expected Friday check-ins on the computer, her eyebrows shooting upward when she saw that the largest suite at the John Muir Cottage had been reserved for the next month by the Forrester family. Actually, for the next month and a half.

      Forrester?

      The name seemed familiar, but she couldn’t think why.

      Carlie dialed her cousin’s number. Tessa was Poppy Gold’s manager, and if anyone knew what was going on, she was the one. After all, the John Muir Cottage was special. Poppy Gold reserved it for active service members, as well as veterans and military families who were going through a difficult period.

      “Hi,” she said when Tessa answered. “I wanted to check with you about the John Muir Cottage. The Yosemite suite has been reserved through January 7. What if you get an urgent referral for someone else?”

      “We’ll put them in the Gold Strike House or find something else. You know we always keep a certain percentage of space available for emergencies, though nothing the size of the Yosemite suite. It should be okay. Referrals for families are rare at Christmastime.”

      “But a month and a half? That’s longer than normal.”

      “It’s an unusual situation. I, um...” Tessa sounded distracted, probably because of the baby crying in the background. A moment later, she came back on the line. “Sorry, Merri needed some attention. Anyway, Mrs. Forrester was an army major who died in the Middle East. The father wants to get away from home with his twin daughters to help them through the holiday season. Apparently they’re still having a rough time dealing with their mother’s death.”

      Forrester?

      Carlie’s jaw dropped as she realized why the name was familiar. The year before it had been on magazine covers, scandal rags, newspapers...everywhere. There weren’t too many wealthy men whose wives had died wearing army fatigues and the media had covered the story for weeks. She’d felt terrible for them. Grief should be a private thing.

      “Uh...oh, I see,” Carlie said. “Are they staying under the usual terms?”

      Poppy Gold’s policy was to offer military families seven days of rest and relaxation at no charge, and a substantially reduced rate for longer visits, but Luke Forrester could probably buy Poppy Gold with his pocket change. She remembered the articles about him saying he had the Midas touch for everything from real estate to investing to manufacturing. Basically, he ran a huge conglomerate of different companies.

      “It was a regular referral from General Pierson’s office, so it wouldn’t seem right to treat them differently from anyone else who’s stayed there.”

      “Right. Thanks.”

      Carlie hung up. Her staff had left on various tasks, giving her a quiet moment to think. Celebrities often visited Poppy Gold, so she couldn’t be sure the air of anticipation she’d noticed was because of Luke Forrester’s imminent arrival. It seemed possible, though. He was a different kind of celebrity and female employees were bound to see him as a romantically tragic figure, particularly the unmarried ones.

      She shook her head and went to the storeroom to finish checking the contents of the shipment received on Wednesday. This year, she’d suggested they give a uniquely designed Poppy Gold Christmas ornament to the guests and volunteers for kickoff day. But the ornaments had arrived late and she and her staff were still checking for quality and putting them back into their gift boxes.

      Two