Julianna Morris - Christmas With Carlie

Luke murmured a “Thank you,” along with his daughter.

“You’re welcome to eat all you like,” Carlie said, winking at Beth and giving Annie a smile meant just for her.

Over at the serving table, she got back in line.

“Lots of turkey curry salad,” she told the server, someone on Sarah’s staff she didn’t know well.

“It’s my favorite, too.” The woman put three large scoops onto the plate and sprinkled them with roasted cashews. “What else can I get you?”

“One of the turkey-and-cranberry-cream-cheese sandwiches. And some green salad so I can pretend I’m eating healthy again.”

“You got it.”

Plate filled, Carlie joined her aunt Polly at a table along the wall.

Aunt Polly clucked at her. “I was trying to ignore that curry salad. Your hips can stand it—mine can’t.”

“Sorry.” Carlie ate a forkful. “Would it help if I said it was terrible?”

“Nope, because I’d know you were lying.”

It was a lie. The food that Sarah and her catering staff prepared was always fabulous.

Carlie periodically looked over at the Forrester family, noticing that Annie and Beth were talking to each other, but Luke didn’t seem to be talking to anyone. He was eating, though, and drinking large amounts of the specially blended Poppy Gold coffee.

Carlie’s tension grew as the meal progressed. Being six-year-olds, Annie and Beth were slow eaters, but they would finish eventually. If they weren’t in their suite soon, she’d have to go to plan B to keep them busy. Fortunately, her phone rang as she was swallowing a last bite of custard-rhubarb pie. It was Bill Blalock saying the Yosemite suite was ready for the Forresters.

“Thanks, Bill. Great timing—they just finished.”

“Their luggage is already in the cottage and Christine will personally escort them in a guest shuttle. She’s outside the concert hall as we speak.”

“Terrific. I’ll let them know.”

She got up and crossed the hall to where the Forresters were sitting. “Hi. I just got the call that your rooms are ready. A shuttle is waiting outside to take you there.”

Luke Forrester nodded. He wore a slightly mellower expression, possibly aided by food and coffee.

Time would tell what kind of guest he’d be. But at least he did have two adorable daughters.

CHAPTER TWO

“YOU’RE IN THE Yosemite suite,” Christine Saunders explained as she stopped the electric shuttle in front of a Victorian. “The door opens off the garden on the south side. Breakfast will be delivered by our caterer, Sarah’s Sweet Treats, and Housekeeping will come each morning to clean. Is anytime after eight too early, or would you prefer later?”

Luke stared at the young woman who’d driven them from the concert hall. “Are you saying we don’t have the entire house?”

“Er, no, Mr. Forrester. The John Muir Cottage is divided into several different suites, but the Yosemite is the largest and has private access. Please be assured, the walls are well insulated, so it should be very quiet.”

His temper began to rise again. It had been on a short fuse for the past year, and when he was particularly tired, it was even worse.

“It was my understanding I’d rented the entire house.”

Confusion flitted across her face. “Did someone at Poppy Gold tell you that?”

“I didn’t speak to anyone here. My executive assistant made the arrangements. She said—”

Luke stopped abruptly and gritted his teeth. Actually, all Tilly had said was that they were staying at the John Muir Cottage. Which, despite being called a cottage, was actually a large, rambling Victorian. He’d simply assumed they’d have the entire house and all the amenities he was accustomed to having when he traveled.

Damn it, Tilly knew the locations where he took the girls always had a full staff, from housekeepers to nannies. She’d mentioned they’d have to eat out for lunch and dinner, but that was all.

“Mr. Forrester, I assure you the Yosemite suite is quite spacious,” Christine explained earnestly. “There are three bedrooms upstairs, and downstairs you have a smaller bedroom, a family room, front living room, powder room, kitchen and laundry. Each bedroom also has a private bath.”

The comment Luke had made to Tilly about modern plumbing flitted through his mind. It hadn’t occurred to him that some of the bedrooms might not have a private bath.

“Very well,” he said tensely. There was little else he could do. It was unlikely that other suitable accommodations were available in the small town and returning to Austin would just upset the girls even more. “After eight is fine for Housekeeping, but I’d prefer breakfast earlier.”

“Is the seven to eight time slot all right?”

“Yes.” Luke lifted his daughters out of the shuttle.

“Would you like me to show you around the suite?” Christine asked.

“Thanks, but we’ll be fine.”

“I hope you enjoy your stay. Please let us know if there’s anything you need.” She drove away before he could get his wallet out for a tip.

“Let’s go see our home for the next few weeks,” he said to Beth and Annie.

They looked at him doubtfully. Perhaps he should have brought their nanny, but he’d agreed with Tilly that if the trip was going to do any good, a complete break was best. He just hadn’t expected Nicole to get sick and the tutor to drop out at the eleventh hour.

He’d manage, though. His sister would be here in a few days, and however small the town of Glimmer Creek appeared to be, surely they had qualified tutors available.

The garden around the John Muir Cottage was trimmed and mulched for winter, but it was still attractive. A covered porch overlooked the garden and rolling hills beyond, and it was furnished with white wicker outdoor furniture.

The real disappointment started inside.

While the rooms had a pleasant Victorian flavor, there were no Christmas decorations in sight. Granted, it was just the day after Thanksgiving, but he’d expected more. A thorough check of the premises also revealed there wasn’t a single piece of office equipment, though he could have sworn that Tilly had mentioned a full business center.

Beth and Annie had slept on the plane, but they seemed half-asleep now—maybe the turkey lunch was making them groggy—so he hunted through the luggage for their favorite stuffed animals and they curled into bed for a nap. Down in the kitchen, he dialed Tilly’s cell number. A chirpy voice-mail recording greeted him. Knowing Tilly Robinson and her determined attempts to manage his life, she probably planned to duck his calls for a few days until he cooled down.

“Tilly, it’s me,” he said after the beep. “I refuse to believe you didn’t know this is a suite, not the whole house, or that there’s no personal staff. Right now, it’s just me and the girls. The tutor didn’t come and Nicole couldn’t fly with us because she has an ear infection. She won’t be here for another few days. Get back to me.”

Muttering beneath his breath, he called the front desk.

“Yes, Mr. Forrester?” Based on the British accent, it was most likely the employee who’d first greeted them.

“I’d like to speak with Carlie Benton.”

“Certainly, but is there anything I can do?”

“I prefer dealing with Ms. Benton.” Luke wasn’t certain why except that she appeared to be the kind of person who could get things done. Besides, Beth and Annie had responded to her...a lot more than they’d responded to him the past year.

“Yes, sir.” A moment later, the same voice came back on the line. “I’m sorry—Carlie is away from her desk. But I’ve called her mobile and she’ll stop at your suite in a few minutes.”