Read the book: «Under The Mistletoe»

Chapter One

New Hampshire, December 2005

Opportunity, her father had said. More like banishment, Hadley thought, as she swung into a curve on the narrow road that threaded through the White Mountains of New Hampshire. From vice president of one of the most high profile divisions at Stone to triage specialist for an antiquated hotel out in the sticks with the squirrels and chipmunks. Forget the flights to Zurich, Cape Town and BuenosAires. Now it was Montpelier, Vermont, which was still nearly an hour and a half from the hotel. No direct flights there, of course, which had meant cooling her heels in Boston while she’d waited for a connection on some crop duster.

After all, demoted V.P.s didn’t rate the corporate jet.

Her cell phone rang and she answered it absently. “Hello?”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” said a voice filled with perfume and gardenias and air kisses.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Can you stop by the house before you leave so we can talk about the holidays?”

Hadley resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Too late. I’m already here.”

“The wilds of Maine?”

“New Hampshire.”

“Ah. And how is New Hampshire?”

“Cold,” she answered. “Lots of trees and snow.”

“Sounds wonderfully rustic. Your father seems to think you’ll be gone for a while. At least through the holidays.”

Nice that he had such faith in her. “We’ll see how it goes. I should be able to take a day or two over Christmas, anyway.”

“Actually, that was why I called.” Irene hesitated. “You see, we’re going to Gstaad over the holidays. The twins are mad for the idea.”

Eight hours of flying each way, not counting time spent on the ground. “Sounds great,” Hadley said slowly, “but I don’t think I can take that much time off right now. Any chance of going after Christmas?”

“Well, the twins really want to be there for the holiday. A bunch of their friends are planning a big party and they don’t want to miss it.” Hadley could imagine the spark in her mother’s eyes on the other end of the phone. “And next year the girls will be in their debutante season, so we can’t possibly go then. This is really our only chance.”

Debutante season? “Sure, the debutante season,” Hadley said, biting back a sigh. “No problem.”

“Oh, and if you’re trying to think of something to get them, they’ve been absolutely crazed for those new Louis Vuitton bags, the ones with the cherries.”

Hadley looked at the pine covered mountains around her. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“Wonderful. Anyway, I should let you go—I know you’re busy. I’ll call you before we leave.”

“All right. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, dear.”

And the line went silent, leaving Hadley with another unsettling reminder that when it came to the Stone girls, there were her mother’s twins and her father’s daughter. They shared the same wheat-colored hair and gray eyes, the same delicate features that Hadley often thought put her at a disadvantage in business. They’d grown up in the same household.

And yet not. Robert had taken command of Hadley’s life early. Perhaps it was only human nature that when Irene Stone finally gave birth to the twins, she’d made them hers. It became more apparent each time Hadley saw them that her mother and the twins inhabited an entirely different world than the one she lived in. Theirs revolved around shopping and hairstyles and parties, all the things Hadley had never had time for. All the things her mother loved.

And every time she talked with her mother, that world seemed farther and farther away.

Enough! It wasn’t a crisis. They had plans for Christmas and she was a grown woman with a job to get done.

Checking her directions, she turned onto the highway that led to the hotel—if you could call the pockmarked asphalt that threaded through even denser forest a highway.

She could tell the first problem with the Hotel Mount Jefferson sight unseen—location. Skiers and hikers, the people most likely to go to the mountains for recreation, were not the kinds of people to pay a bundle for a glorified bed-and-breakfast. They were far more likely to camp out or, if they had the kind of money that the hotel hoped to attract, choose the stylish condos she’d passed a couple of miles back. How, then, was she supposed to meet her father’s astronomical expectations?

Hadley’s hands tightened on the wheel. Instead of running a division with seven locations, three business units and a head count of more than two thousand, she was now responsible for turning around a superannuated hotel with a few hundred employees, most of whom were probably missing teeth.

Evaluate, set a strategy and implement it, her father had directed her. Double the profit margin within six months, quadruple it within twelve.

If she had any sense, she’d tell him to go jump in a lake. After all, she had choices. She could update her résumé and shop it around. But who out there would hire her without worrying she was a mole for Stone Enterprises? And Robert Stone was a jealous god. When you left his world, he made sure the departure was permanent—home would be home to her no longer. Did she want that? Could she give that up?

Hadley sighed. She didn’t want to be in this car, on this road, heading for oblivion. But she didn’t really have a choice, not when she thought about it. No, her only real option was to do the job, give Robert what he wanted. So she kept driving to the Hotel Mount Jefferson, a place in all likelihood few people other than the misbegotten souls who worked there cared about, she was sure.

Misbegotten souls who were about to get a big surprise.

“You’re kidding.” Gabriel Trask stared at Mona Landry, his head of housekeeping. “No water in the entire laundry room?”

The stout woman glowered. “Burst pipe. Apparently laundry wasn’t a priority when they redid the plumbing last spring.”

“Burke?” Gabe turned to his head of facilities.

He spread his hands. “We only have so many months to work with. Guests come first. I was planning to run new pipe out to the facilities building this spring.”

“And what are the guests going to say when they don’t have any clean sheets or towels?” Mona asked tartly.

“Mona.” Gabe raised his hand. “We’ve got a problem to address. Let’s fix it. Burke, have you isolated the break?”

“I’ve dug a couple of sample holes. As near as I can tell, the pipe out to the laundry plant is split. Frost heaves.”

“As near as you can tell?”

“We’re still trying to dig down to it.”

Gabe frowned. “It shouldn’t be that hard.”

“Frozen ground. Winter staffing levels. Plus it’s ten degrees out there and dropping. We can only keep the guys outside for short stretches.”

Gabe nodded. If he cursed a blue streak in his head, it was nobody’s business but his own. “How long?”

“We’re working on it. No later than tomorrow afternoon. I’d like to repair the whole line while we’re at it. Otherwise, it’s just a matter of time until this happens again.”

Not what Gabe wanted to hear at the start of a heavily booked weekend. “Mona, how’s our linen supply look?”

“Enough for today and maybe half of the rooms tomorrow. After that…” She shrugged. “I keep telling you we need more.”

New linens, new plumbing, new pillars to replace the rotting ones on the west porch, new carpeting in the ballroom.

Old budget. When his coal-dark hair eventually turned gray, he’d know where to place the blame. Gabe suppressed a sigh. “All right, we go to the laundry in Montpelier. Mona, get the number from Susan. One of the grounds guys can truck it over.”

“Not if you want that trench dug,” Burke reminded him. Gabe closed his eyes a second. “Right. Okay, find a bell hop but get on it now. We need the laundry to turn the job around by the end of the day.” Pulling from the bell staff would leave them short up front during checkout, but they’d manage.

If necessary, he’d drive the damn truck himself.

Trees, unending trees. Hadley yawned. No wonder she was in a bad mood. Taking the morning flight out had sounded good when she’d bought the ticket. It had only been when the alarm sounded at five that she’d realized she’d been out of her mind to book it. When she got to the hotel she could give them their first test—how they dealt with grumpy early arrivals.

She swung the sporty little rental car into another curve, and the line of trees fell away, revealing the valley ahead.

And her jaw dropped.

The Hotel Mount Jefferson perched on the hillside like a white castle, a sprawling fantasy of turrets and porticos. The roof glowed red under the rays of the winter sun. Flags atop the towers snapped in the breeze. Hadley could practically see women in pale Victorian gowns and parasols promenading along the veranda that ran the length of the building. A snow-covered hillside rolled away from the hotel. It would be green in summer, she thought, green and magical.

The pictures hadn’t done it justice. She’d done her homework, of course. She knew the financials by heart, understood that it wasn’t just a little mountain lodge. But she hadn’t been at all prepared for a place that looked as though stepping through the doors would be to walk back in time. For a place that instantly made her think of ball gowns and afternoon teas, of hot toddies sipped by a roaring fire.

She hadn’t been prepared to be enchanted.

This isn’t about enchantment, she could practically hear Robert saying. It’s about business.

And with that the enchantment dropped away. How did they heat that many rooms, no doubt drafty after withstanding nearly a hundred winters? Radiators, probably. Radiators installed by Civil War veterans. How often did the radiators break down? Hadley sighed. However enchanting the hotel was on the outside, she had to meet her numbers or else she’d be in exile a whole lot longer than she’d like. And even enchantment got old.

She considered her strategy. Come in like an ordinary guest and spend the weekend looking for ways to economize, ways to increase occupancy. Shameless romance was one angle to play, she mused as she drove past the white, Victorian-style lampposts that marched up the access road to the hotel. Hopefully, they had an in-house consultant for that part, because that one she was going to have to delegate.

At the pillared portico of the hotel, Hadley paused for a moment. Up close, the Hotel Mount Jefferson was all her first glimpse had promised. The front facade of the building gleamed with broad windows. Marble steps led up to a green-carpeted porch where a small fleet of shiny brass luggage racks held the bags of departing guests. To one side sat an antique sleigh, painted gleaming red. Christmas was drawing near and whoever ran the place was laying it on just right, she admitted.

The valet opened her door. “Welcome to the Hotel Mount Jefferson. May I get your bags?”

“In the trunk.”

“Very good.” He passed her a green ticket in trade for her keys. “If you’ll just call this number when you get to your room, we’ll have your bags brought right up for you.”

Hadley walked up the steps and over to the sleigh. The cut glass lamps reflected the daylight, the brass fittings gleamed. Someone at the hotel paid attention to detail, she thought, tracing the graceful curve of the front panel. Someone knew the little things counted.

A smiling doorman in a caped greatcoat opened the wide white front door with its curling brass handles. “Welcome, miss,” he said, tipping his cap. Hadley stepped through the door and straight back to the turn of the previous century.

For a moment, she simply stopped and stared, carried back to a time when the world was a slower, more graceful place. Nineteen oh three, or so her research said. From where she stood, the lobby seemed to stretch the entire length of the east wing of the building, all space and light, airy and open. Ornate white pillars soared to the coffered ceiling twenty feet overhead, their inset panels gleaming with gold luster, capitals at the top curling elegantly. Overhead, bronze-and-crystal chandeliers threw a warm glow that competed with the sunlight spilling in the enormous picture windows.

And yes, there was a carved granite fireplace with a leaping blaze. All she needed was a fancy-dress ball and a hot toddy before bed to make the fantasy complete.

Shaking her head, Hadley approached the front desk.

“Welcome to the Hotel Mount Jefferson.” The young, au burn-haired and obviously pregnant clerk gave her a friendly smile. Angie from Albany, or so her badge said.

“Checking in, name of Stone,” Hadley said, sliding her credit card over the polished wood. “I know I’m early but I was hoping you might have something ready.”

Angie looked at her apologetically. “I can take your card and get you signed in, but we won’t have any rooms ready in your class until at least two-thirty. I’m sorry, but we just had a big group check out. We were full up last night.”

Impressed despite herself, Hadley raised a brow. “Full?”

“Oh yes. A big corporate meeting.”

Hundred percent occupancy, Hadley mused. Perhaps things weren’t quite hopeless. Maybe it was just a matter of making some cuts to control costs, and things would be fine.

“All right, you’re all set.” Angie handed her card back. “If you’ll just come by at two-thirty, we should be able to get you in. In the meantime, Cortland’s downstairs is open for lunch, and we have a complimentary afternoon tea at two. We also have changing rooms if you want to go ski. The shuttle runs to the slopes about every fifteen minutes.”

Balls. Afternoon tea. Hot toddies by the fire. “Thank you so much,” Hadley said. “It’s perfect.”

Afternoon tea was set up in the semicircular conservatory that arched off the lobby, a fantasy of white wicker and greenery. Hadley poured a cup of Earl Grey and picked up a pair of the pretty little tea sandwiches. Gorgonzola and pear on rye, watercress on white, no crusts. Balancing plates, she settled in a chair near one of the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was breathtaking, the snow-topped mountains across the valley practically sitting in her lap.

A burst of laughter had her glancing over at a couple settled side by side on a wicker love seat. And for a sudden, lost moment, she imagined herself as the pretty young blonde, sitting next to the handsome man who looked at her with love.

Hadley’s pleasure fizzled as her imagination suddenly failed her. She stared at the couple as though they were exotic creatures at the zoo. Were they really happy? How long would it last? “You have too much money,” her father reminded her often. “You have to be cautious.” Which was an easy thing to do with the men she ran into, who either feared her or pursued her for the thrill of getting near Robert Stone.

Anyway, what was she really missing? An icy détente like her parents’ marriage? Any of the countless paths to divorce that she’d seen her relatives and acquaintances follow? Acquaintances, because she hadn’t become friends with anyone since she’d left school, her classmates scattered to whatever ports of luxury or business they or their families fancied. There had never been time. It was hard to hook up for dinner when you were always on a plane somewhere or staying in the office late for a telecon with the Tokyo office.

It was easy to fall into the trap of wishing for love, here in a place outfitted like a movie set. For wasn’t that what love was—a movie fantasy? Among real people, infatuation waned and affection was always conditional; she’d learned that lesson long ago. It depended on what you could do for people. Far safer to remain on her own.

Even though she always had had a soft spot for the movies…

Setting aside her teacup, Hadley rose. It was just the demotion, that was all. A walk would get her out of this funk. A walk and a chance for some fresh air would make her stop taking stock of her life and coming up wanting.

Gabe pulled the truck into its parking place at the side of the hotel and turned off the engine, rolling his shoulders to relax them. He hadn’t really meant the part about driving the laundry himself, but who’d have figured that he didn’t have anyone in the place with a Class A truck license? He definitely wasn’t crazy about being away from the hotel for several hours in the middle of the day. Cell phone reception was so bad in the mountains that he could hardly connect most of the time.

If he had to be away, at least he had the staff for it. He’d never understood managers who preferred to surround themselves with ineffectual subordinates. He wanted people who knew how to think, who could act without direction when necessary. Management held challenges enough without setting up a brainless ant colony that fell apart when you weren’t around.

As a result, he’d been able to mostly enjoy what was a gorgeous day, with a sky so brilliantly blue it hurt the eyes, and a snow-covered landscape still new enough to be charming. It had felt kind of like playing hooky. The brightly clad figures whizzing down the slopes of the ski area opposite the hotel reminded him that working Saturday wasn’t normal for everybody. One of these days he needed to find time for the slopes.

For now, he climbed down out of the truck, slipping on his bomber jacket to ward off the outside chill. A quick stop at the manager’s house to put his suit on again and he’d be back in business. Gabe skirted the rear of the hotel, heading toward the path that led to the three-story farmhouse that predated the hotel. Free on-site housing in very plush digs, one of the bennies of the job. Of course, it worked for the ownership, given that he was around 24/7 in case of crisis.

Ownership, he thought, and felt the familiar tug of regret.

It wasn’t going to be the same without Whit Stone. Lost friends, new challenges. Still, the hotel was a constant. He turned to look at it in all its palatial whiteness.

It wasn’t the view of the hotel that made his footsteps slow then, but the figure on the little loading dock outside the employee entrance. A woman, standing with her arms wrapped around herself in the winter cold, strands of her pale hair shifting in the breeze. She wasn’t staff. He knew the face and name of every person who worked for him. It was a point of pride. This woman he’d never seen before.