The Mills & Boon Ultimate Christmas Collection - Kate Hardy Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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knowing him well, and knowing he was a great guy. But did that make it enough?

      Inside the car, I turned up the radio as Michael Bublé crooned ‘It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas’. I sang along as I wound through the snowy streets and remembered my time with Timothy, and how much I’d adored him when I was a teenager – that first flush of love when you were young, and how you felt the whole world would end if you lost it. Puppy love, I reminded myself. A million years ago.

      Back at Mom’s I unpacked the shopping, my mind reeling with the events of the morning.

      “These herbs smell delicious,” Mom said, giving me a ghost of a smile. She gave my arm a reassuring pat. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something as simple as that, a brief touch, a measure of comfort, and I felt foolish as tears stung my eyes. I turned away so she wouldn’t see.

      Another day of no answers loomed, because there was no way I was saying anything that might halt this next step of our relationship. She was actually opening up to me, and it felt markedly different to when she just tolerated me.

      “Want to chop the carrots?” Even I couldn’t mess up vegetable soup, unless I burned it.

      “Sure,” she said. “I’ll do the onions too. I know you hate chopping them. The trick to it is running the peeled onion under the tap first.”

      “I hate peeling onions.” I managed a half-laugh, surprised she knew this about me. Afternoon light filtered through the curtains, and I settled in next to my mom, working in silence. But this silence was more companionable than ever before, and I indulged in the fantasy that we might one day be close.

       Chapter Twenty

      Questions buzzed around my mind on the drive home, but the answers were missing or murky and it was headache-inducing. Really, I didn’t have time to get tangled up in the mystery of Cedarwood – what with a group of brides arriving in two days’ time. For my own sanity, I needed to push the swirl of thoughts away and focus on what had to be done. With a rueful shake of my head, I tried one of Kai’s crazy breathing techniques, feeling calmer by the minute. Damn him and his mumbo jumbo.

      Back at the lodge, I went into autopilot, returning calls: the florist wanted to know if we had room in our fridges for the bouquets (yes); the liquor store had over-ordered and wanted to know if we’d take an extra crate of French champagne (always); and the linen company who provided our tablecloths and napkins wanted confirmation on color (white, the wedding centerpieces would be the stars of the show). That done, I ushered various delivery men through, showing them into the kitchen to drop off our new plate sets, or into the ballroom for boxes of special lighting, and waving them off again, but not before handing them a shiny, full-color pamphlet advertising Cedarwood in its best light. Any chance to promote!

      Once they’d gone I double-checked the ballroom, making sure it was spick and span – despite boxes of supplies in one corner – and ready for us to finish up decorating. We were going for a winter wonderland wedding theme, to display what the ballroom would look like if they chose to celebrate their nuptials over the festive season.

      From the ceiling to the top of the oak walls, Micah had draped white gossamer fabric embedded with Swarovski crystals, which twinkled even in the pale light of afternoon. Between the layers we’d hung glittery snowflakes and love hearts. In keeping with the color palette, everything was white, silver, and blingy, the stuff of every girl’s dreams, and magical at any time of day, but more so on a wedding day.

      Satisfied the ceiling had been finished, I reminded myself to check we had enough silverware and champagne flutes. It wouldn’t hurt to order more, just in case. I made a mental note to do just that.

      It was all coming together… when suddenly the clanging of pots and pans rattled in the kitchen, reminded me that Georges was here, sorting the catering and waiting for me to taste and approve the canapés. I called out: “I’ll be in soon to chat, Georges!”

      “I’m OK. I’m pottering about. The menu tastings will be ready in an hour or so, OK?” he bellowed back through the kitchen doorway, and I couldn’t help but smile.

      We were damn lucky to have Georges as our chef. It would have been near on impossible to employ someone of his caliber in these parts on an ad-hoc basis.

      “Sure, just holler and we’ll come running.” My stomach growled at the thought of the tiny canapés, veritable taste explosions.

      But there was still so much to do and I’d left Amory alone for most of the day, what with going to Mom’s and the admin I’d just finished off. Heading upstairs I wondered if Amory had made a start on making up the rooms. We wanted to show them off to the brides, especially the honeymoon suite. I followed the muffled grunts and groans to find Amory in one of the two-bedroom suites. On the door hung a green wreath made from holly, with little silver stars tucked in the loop. Being a Christmas aficionado, most of the decorations I’d hauled all the way from New York, but we’d also found some new ones in town. And just to be certain I had enough, I’d also had an online buy-a-thon one night to celebrate the fact it’d been weeks since I’d sobbed along to ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ by Bonnie Tyler, and that was really saying something… Perhaps this Christmas wasn’t going to be as lonely as I’d imagined.

      With the fire crackling and snow drifting down outside, the suite was charming and radiated warmth. Cedarwood was going to be the perfect destination for those looking to step away from corporate hotels with soulless rooms.

      Amory hefted corners of mattresses up and tucked in the linen.

      “Let me help,” I said, pulling a soft white sheet up. “These feel so luxurious.” I’d have to make up my own bed with the new linens. Sleep would be an absolute given wrapped in these and I knew our guests would agree.

      “One thousand thread count, only the very best for Cedarwood guests.” She winked. We’d bid on the linen online and got a great price buying in bulk. Our guests would have the very best money could buy when it came to linen, and fluffy bath towels. While the lodge itself was rustic, the accoutrements were luxurious and I hoped visitors would enjoy the effort we’d put in to make it so. “So, how was your mom?”

      I sighed. “I just wish I could click my fingers and she’d be…”

      “Be what?” Amory asked as we pushed fat feather-down pillows into cases.

      “Happy.”

      I thought about telling her all about my trip to the library, but I wasn’t ready to share it just yet, especially as there wasn’t much to tell. So instead I shrugged, changing the subject to one I knew she’d latch on to and would lighten the conversation. “I ran into Timothy in town.”

      “The old flame?” Amory bounced on her toes as she turned to me. “I knew there was unfinished business there, you minx!”

      I rolled my eyes. “You and your rom-com ideals for my love life!”

      “Stop trying to buy time and spill the details. Did he ask you out?”

      I pulled a pillow over my face.

      “Oh, God, what did you say?” She flopped onto the bed next to me, and wrenched the pillow from my face.

      “For some insane reason I get tongue-tied around him, I say the most incredibly stupid things! I practically sang to him. It’s like my mouth has a mind of its own. Urgh.”

      “You sang to him?” her eyes went wide.

      “Not exactly. I asked where his kids were – obviously they’re at school, but of course I didn’t think of that. And then I sort of sang that they were learning about ABCs, and when he was cocking his head, probably wondering if I’d just come from a long lunch of drinking mojitos, I sang, ‘or one, two, threes…’”

      Laughter barreled out of her. “Oh, God, Clio! What were you thinking?”

      “I

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