live on insurance settlements.
“Okay, Mom. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Carlie got off and hurried up the Old City Hall’s front steps. Inside to the left was a broad, curving staircase that rose to an open, semicircular gallery in front of the ballroom. On the right, there was a pair of elaborate double doors set with an intricate pattern of sparkling beveled glass. They were a striking entryway into the guest reception area and original to the building, which made them even better. She waved at Bill and Christine through the clear oval center and headed through the rotunda.
Quickly she packed a spare computer from the storeroom into a box, along with a multifunction printer. Then she printed out the list of local tutors. Next to Luisa Cabrera’s name she wrote that Luisa had taught first grade for thirty-five years.
“Tim, would you take this to the Yosemite suite for me?” she asked, putting the list into an envelope.
“No problem.”
She sealed the envelope and then accessed her voice mail. There was only one message. It was from Luke Forrester and what he said practically knocked her to the floor.
“Ms. Benton, it’s Luke Forrester calling. I failed to thank you for our lunch today. It was a nice gesture. I’ve read through the informational packet you mentioned and see that Poppy Gold Inns’ standard check-in time is 4:00 p.m. So, um, it was good to get into our accommodations early. Have a good afternoon and we’ll see you tonight.”
Carlie blinked. All things considered, it was practically an apology.
* * *
THE TEMPERATURE DROPPED rapidly once the sun had gone down and Carlie shivered as she hurried across Poppy Gold to meet the Forresters at the sledding hill. Turning down the twins’ requests had been impossible, but she hadn’t expected to stay this late and had just worn a lightweight coat to work.
The sledding hill was in the more open section of Poppy Gold where a number of gold miners’ cabins and other relics of the 1849 Gold Rush were preserved.
As the story went, a few of the miners had dug their heels in when the “townsfolk” wanted to buy them out and build fine homes on the rolling land above the creek. They’d hung on, forcing the town to build north of them on a flatter section. Most had been abandoned by the time James Connor bought the historic district of Glimmer Creek, but they’d been restored now. A few were even available for people who wanted to try sleeping in a primitive gold miner’s shanty.
A number of guests had already gathered at the base of the hill, breath fogging as they sipped from paper cups. Cheerful greetings back and forth showed their spirits weren’t dampened by the chilly air. Stacks of hay bales lined the gentle slope, creating a wide channel down to the flatter area below. Spotlights illuminated the scene, along with Christmas lights on the bare branches of the surrounding trees.
Carlie checked to see if the Forresters had arrived before getting decaf coffee for herself, grateful to wrap her fingers around the warm cup. If Luke and the twins didn’t arrive soon, they might miss the first sprays of snow from the machines. Not that it was actually snow when it came out, but the water droplets froze almost instantly in the frigid air.
Hurry up, she urged mentally.
A couple of minutes later she spotted them coming up the lighted path.
“We’re just about to start,” she called.
The girls eagerly got cider and cookies and stood at the base of the slope with the other guests. They were just in time. Uncle Liam stood at the top with two large handbells. He raised his arms theatrically and shook them.
The snowmakers chugged into life, starting at the top of the hill and moving down, spewing white plumes across the grass. The onlookers cheered and someone began singing “Let It Snow.” The others joined in and it was soon followed by “Jingle Bells” and other festive songs.
There were sixteen snowmakers altogether and they could put out a huge amount of “snow” by morning. In the meantime, the holiday lights sparkled brilliantly against the plumes of white.
Despite her awareness of Luke Forrester’s brooding presence, Carlie smiled.
She really loved Christmas.
CARLIE GOT TO Poppy Gold early before six the next morning and went over her to-do list one more time. Her division wasn’t in charge of decorating—they coordinated guest activities—but she still felt responsible for anything that would add to or detract from a visitor’s experience.
She went upstairs to the ballroom where volunteers and employees had gathered. A cheerful babble of people talking greeted her, along with the scent of coffee and breakfast foods.
Uncle Liam and Tessa were talking to the supervisors assigned to the teams of decorators. Tessa’s husband was also there. He managed security operations for Poppy Gold and was speaking to his staff, who would keep a careful eye on the buildings as they were decorated. Gabe was a former navy SEAL, so he was fierce about security. Poppy Gold had always felt safe, but with Gabe McKinley on the job, it was probably more secure than Fort Knox.
Carlie collected a cup of coffee and a bagel and gathered her own team for a chat. They’d already been over the day’s plans, so she mostly wanted to be sure they didn’t have any questions. It was her second Christmas as the activities director, but she was still filled with nervous anticipation.
Everything had been staged for kickoff day the night before, including putting out the kiosks to be used for treats and setting up the locations where the wreaths and evergreen swags would be made. The equipment and supplies to create and decorate the skating rink had also been moved into position.
“Okay, everybody,” Tessa called twenty minutes later, clapping her hands. “It’s nearly seven o’clock and some of our guests get out early. Let’s go.”
Employees and volunteers began streaming through the various doors. Poppy Gold tried to have everyone in position by the time the first guests had finished breakfast, but they never succeeded. Excitement trumped the desire to sleep. Some didn’t even wait to eat breakfast, but that was all right—the treat kiosks would be stocked within the hour.
Work would also begin on filling the skating rink; it might have been better to set it up the previous evening and let the chilly weather help with the freezing process, but this way visitors could watch. As for the snowmakers on the sledding hill, they’d run all night and would keep going until the temperature rose too high.
Snow was probably coming out of their ears by now.
Carlie ate her last bite of bagel and hurried down the main staircase, humming. Yet her festive spirit faltered when she saw Luke Forrester and his daughters in the rotunda. She certainly hoped he was in a better mood this morning.
“Merry Christmas,” she called. “I hope you didn’t get too cold last night.”
“It was splendid,” Beth declared while Annie smiled shyly and ducked her head.
“This is better,” Luke said, glancing around with visible approval. The night registration staff had started decorating
