and lotions from the lodge’s spa for Nico’s sisters, then added an extra one for his mother. The brothers-in-law were a mystery until Lyndsie, her gift coordinator, suggested gift certificates to the new microbrewery.
It was all just too easy.
“We’re set?” Nico poked his head into her office. “You can still get away?”
“I can,” she pronounced, grabbing her crutch. “I have so many people who want to help that everything was set up by ten. The florist came early because of the storm. Noelle will check into her suite at three o’clock. She’ll get dressed in the room and then she and Ted will stay there tonight. I need to be back here by five or five thirty. It’s a small wedding, but everything needs to be perfect. How’s the food coming along?”
“We’re all set. My team knows what they’re doing.” He held out her coat. “Even the interns are getting smarter. They’re overseeing the buffet in the dining room. How hard can it be to make sure everything is hot and plentiful and neatly displayed?”
“Christmas Eve,” she mused. “It feels like it.”
“That’s because they’re playing traditional carols in the lobby.”
“Patsy stole my iPod last night.”
“I heard it’s in a safe place until Monday.”
“That’s what the note said.” There would be no more bluesy holiday music in the lobby this season.
“Bundle up,” Nico said, handing her the blue scarf. “It’s snowing.”
She didn’t ask if he thought they’d have trouble getting back to the lodge later. He had a vehicle equipped for traveling in snow, plus the village of Lake Placid knew how to keep roads clear.
“I hope you’re hungry. And feeling domestic. My family will probably put you to work stirring or mincing.” His eyebrows rose at the shopping bags she handed him, but he didn’t comment.
“I can stir,” she assured him. “I can mince,” she fibbed. She hoped she could avoid cutting her fingers or dropping something on the floor. “Don’t they make you do that, being the fancy chef and all?”
“You forget I come from a long line of chefs, fancy and otherwise.”
Nico drove along the lake, passing his house and then continuing along the road for another half a mile. “When I was growing up we lived in town, near the restaurant, but my folks bought this place about fifteen years ago. They decided they wanted to be closer to the water.”
“This place” turned out to be a low-slung modern ranch-style house at the end of a long driveway. Nestled into the hillside, it had breathtaking views of the water and a massive deck.
“They downsized,” Nico explained. “Mom wanted a newer home on one floor, so they bought this and completely redid it.” He parked close to the door, in front of a detached three-car garage. “Stay put and I’ll help you in.”
The snow was coming down heavier now and it coated the circular driveway. Someone had shoveled a path to the house and cleared the three stone steps that fronted a large entry door. Nico helped her from the car. Leaning on him seemed natural now.
She had grown used to touching him, to leaning on him. They’d become friends, she realized. Friends who kissed.
The door opened before they reached the steps, revealing a short, handsome man with a head of curly gray hair. Dressed in a down vest, khaki pants and thick snow boots, he beamed at them and hurried down the steps to help.
Nico’s father, obviously.
“Hello, hello, Merry Christmas. You must be Nico’s friend. How is that ankle doing? Oh, watch out now. It’s slick. One of the boys shoveled a while ago, but the snow is coming down hard, isn’t it?”
“It is,” she agreed. She liked the man immediately and some of her nervousness dissipated. She gripped her crutch and prayed she wouldn’t fall over and embarrass herself in front of him.
“Dad, I’d like you to meet Grace,” Nico said once they were inside and stomping the snow off their feet on the rubber mat inside the door. “Grace Clarke, from Mirror Lake Lodge.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve heard all about you, Gracie. The wedding planner! I think I’ve seen you at the lodge, though we’ve never officially met. I’m so glad you came. Here, let me help you.”
Nico touched Grace’s shoulder. “I’ll go back for the bags. You’ve guessed that this happy man is my father.”
“It’s nice to meet—”
He enveloped her in a big hug. “We’re glad you’re here at last. Now, let’s get that coat off and let you sit down. Oh, you have one of Cathy’s scarves! You should always wear blue.”
Cathy’s scarf? Did he mean Nico’s sister had made it? She didn’t have a chance to ask.
“I’ll be right back,” Nico said, fleeing the foyer as his mother rounded the corner.
Mrs. Vitelli was tall and lean, much like her son, and at least eight inches taller than her husband. She wore black pencil-thin slacks and a gold turtleneck sweater. Her hair was a rich dark brown highlighted with auburn streaks. It was cut in a classic bob that framed a beautiful face with high cheekbones and lovely gray eyes. Grace guessed she was in her early sixties. She looked nervous, but her smile was genuine.
“You must be Grace. I’m Terry, Nico’s mother,” she said, holding out her hand. Noticing that Grace was trying to get her coat off while negotiating the crutch, she stopped. “What can I do?”
“We’ve got it, honey,” her husband assured her. “Nico went out to unload the car.”
“My boot,” Grace stammered. “I don’t want to track snow—”
“Never mind that,” Terry Vitelli said. “Come straight through and sit down. It’s only snow.”
Grace bit her tongue before she could say, “Yes, ma’am.”
The foyer opened up into a large room that faced the lake. Floor-to-ceiling windows and sliding glass doors revealed the snowstorm whirling beyond them, while inside, a large chestnut sofa faced a gas fireplace whose flickering flames warmed the room. A huge Christmas tree sat in one corner, presents spilling out from underneath into the room. No one else was there.
“We’re early,” Grace said, letting Nico’s mother lead her to a leather recliner placed strategically across from a large television. “I hope that’s okay. I have a wedding tonight—”
“Everyone’s in the kitchen,” Mr. Vitelli announced. “Terry won’t let them out until we meet you.”
Nico’s mother flushed. “I didn’t want you to be overwhelmed when you first walked in. We’re a big family. Besides, they’re baking cookies and I don’t want them to burn.”
Mr. Vitelli winked. “We’re a noisy bunch. Couldn’t have Nico’s girl running back to the car, you know.”
“I’m
