Wedding at Mistletoe Chalet Read online

  “Really?”

  “And all the grandchildren. Even before we knew we’d be away, I told her not to let Sheryl and Carlos get a hotel. They’re going to stay here with their kids.”

  “That sounds fun.” A pang of disappointment struck at missing out, but also a twinge of relief.

  Then her mother spoke again, unintentionally pressing on old bruises with her teasing, “Finn is going to use your brother’s room.”

  Kristen made a production of rolling her eyes. “Mom. That was a long time ago.” She and Finn had dated for one summer after she finished high school, but their moms had never given up on trying to throw them back together. “Tell Molly I said hello and I wish a merry Christmas to everyone.”

  “I will. But I’m sure she would love for you to join them if you decided to come home after all.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” She suffered another pang, this one of nostalgia for all the times the Garretts had treated her like family. At one time, she had started to imagine she might become family, but that had been girlish romanticism on her part. “I’m okay here, Mom. Truly. You guys travel safe. Give Dad a hug for me.”

  She ended her call, finished unpacking and came down to the kitchen in time to hear a huge clatter. She gave Wendy a bemused look.

  “Reindeer on the roof? They sound like they’re coming through it.”

  Wendy smiled and continued setting out wooden charcuterie platters on the island. “Ted just got back with the skiers. They’re putting away their equipment.” She pointed at the door she had shown Kristen earlier, the one that led to what Kristen realized must be a walk-out basement.

  “Do they need help?”

  “Ted has it down to a science. We help by staying out of his way.”

  “They must be hungry after skiing all day.” Kristen looked with alarm at the jars of olives and gherkins, the sleeves of crackers and blocks of cheese that still had to be sliced and cubed before it was arranged on the platters. She quickly washed her hands.

  “They usually go to their rooms to shower and change. I leave snack baskets and wine in their room for après-ski. They relax and trickle into the dining room when they get hungry for something more substantial. Some guests stay in their cabin and cook for themselves in their kitchenettes.”

  “That must be hard to predict and cook for.” Kristen followed Wendy’s example and set a little ramekin of olives in the center of her board and built out from there.

  “They book ahead for the meals, but I cook a lot of stews and casseroles that I can stretch easily if I have to.” Wendy winked.

  Kristen had eaten a protein bar while she unpacked so her stomach wouldn’t be growling, but the aroma of bay leaves and allspice along with the freshly baked buns was homey and heavenly and made her hungry.

  “I’ve only ever skied at a regular ski hill with chairlifts. What’s it like to go up by snowcat?” Kristen asked, glancing up from scooping jam into a ramekin.

  “Most people expect it to be very dangerous and exciting, but the cat doesn’t go very fast. It’s a great way to access powder without the cost of helicopters, though. I haven’t, um, had a chance to get out myself this season, but you should go on your day off. We usually reserve a couple of seats for Sarah or other locals who can’t always book ahead.”

  “Don’t you have to be an expert? I’ve skied a bit, but I don’t even own my own skis or boots. I wasn’t thinking about that when I applied, only about seeing what the work was like.”

  “That’s funny. I assumed you must be an avid skier or you wouldn’t have been interested in this job. But that’s okay. Beginners can go up.”

  “Really?”

  Wendy nodded. “Ted and the other guides are really knowledgeable. They find the right terrain for every level. I would call myself a very average skier and I’ve always been comfortable with the slopes I’ve skied. Sarah’s very good. She boards and even if she’s with a group who are new to powder and trees, she always has fun. She helps with the guiding sometimes, especially if there are kids.”

  “Especially if there are kids where?” Sarah asked, coming in with a fork that she dropped into the sink of soapy water. She fetched a clean one from the drawer.

  “I was just saying you sometimes help with the guiding. You should go with Kristen on her day off,” Wendy suggested. “Show her around.”

  “Oh, I’d love that,” Sarah said with a bright smile.

  “What size are your shoes? You might be able to use my boots and skis,” Wendy offered.

  “I haven’t even started work yet,” Kristen protested as she copied the way Wendy arranged a row of crackers in an S. “I certainly haven’t earned a day off.”

  “But it’s part of our job to be able to tell people where the best skiing is,” Sarah said earnestly. “Dad says that’s also why we shouldn’t be shy about eating Wendy’s cooking.” She grinned at her stepmother as she stole a gherkin. “So we can recommend it honestly.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it that way,” Kristen said, looking to the windows that were growing dark enough she couldn’t tell if snow was still falling. “I’m used to looking things up online for guests, rather than making a personal recommendation. Usually they want the nearest place for coffee, not necessarily the best. It turns into a script.”

  “Oh.” Wendy wrinkled her nose. “That sounds tiresome.”

  “I say the same thing so many times, I can’t help it.” Kristen took on a cheerful, helpful tone as she demonstrated. “There’s an Indian restaurant on the corner. If you want to walk a block further, there’s an all-day breakfast diner. Do you want to take a cab? Because the steakhouse is…” She rolled her eyes. “Just about any job has aspects that get boring, I suppose.”

  “Not here. We always have something different going on, don’t we, Sugar Bear?” Wendy glanced at Sarah. “The conditions are always changing.”

  “A lot.” Sarah agreed. “Depending on the weather and the time of year. Some of the worst places in November are the best in spring. The slope where my class went today turns into icy bumps unless we get lots more snow through Christmas. And the people are always different. I like that part.” Sarah held up the clean fork. “I just have to put this out and the table is set. What else do you need me to do?”

  “Bonzo is fed?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s it for now. Thanks.” Instead of offering her hand for a high five, since she was still working with the food, Wendy offered an elbow.

  Sarah met it with her own elbow and disappeared to set the fork, then came back to the breakfast nook. She slid into the booth seat that wrapped the table and opened what looked like a school binder, picking up her pen with her other hand.

  “How do you have homework?” Wendy threw a puzzled glance at her.

  “And why aren’t you waiting until the day before school starts?” Kristen teased. “The way I did when I was your age?” She looked up from wrapping strips of prosciutto around cubes of cheese and skewering a grape on the way to pinning the dried ham in place with a bamboo shoot.

  Sarah’s expression suggested she’d been caught red-handed in some way. Her freckled face began to glow red. “It’s, um, a special project…”

  “For Christmas?” Kristen guessed, forestalling the girl’s truly awful attempt to lie.

  “Yes,” Sarah said, voice tilting upward. She darted a worried glance at Wendy who was smirking at Kristen across the platters they were almost finished filling.

  “That’s okay,” Wendy said mildly, keeping her back angled to Sarah. “We all keep secrets at this time of year.”

  Kristen bit her lip, thinking about the room that would be finished in the new year and what she suspected was Wendy’s bigger yet very tiny secret.

  “That’s one of my favorite parts of Christmas,” Kristen said. “I love keeping all the surprises under wraps. Not that I’ve had any really good secrets for years. I bought gifts for my niece and nephew, but she’s two and he’s only four m
onths. It’ll be a few years before there will be a payoff for keeping secrets from them. Let me know if you want some help with whatever you’re planning,” she offered to Sarah.

  “Really?” Sarah brightened and sat up straighter.

  “Of course. I kind of have to. That way I can say later, in all honesty, that Mistletoe Chalet is the perfect place to enjoy Christmas.”

  “Ha. Right!” Sarah nodded and her mouth tilted into a conspirator’s smile.

  Chapter Two

  Kristen met Ted briefly while helping with the dinner service. She came back from the dining room with a pan of dirty dishes and found Wendy offering a bear of a man a cracker topped with cheese.

  Ted was about ten years older than Wendy and quite a bit taller with broad shoulders and a neatly trimmed red-gold beard. He held a couple of stacked boxes and made a noise of appreciation as he took the snack in one bite and chewed.

  “Oh! Kristen. This is Ted. My husband.” Wendy was a little flushed.

  Ted grinned ruefully as he swallowed and ran his tongue behind his closed lips. “You caught us flirting.”

  Wendy rolled her eyes and nudged Ted with her elbow. “I’m just trying to fuel the workhorse,” she said, but she wore such a pretty radiance, Kristen was sure flirting was exactly what she had interrupted.

  “Nice to meet you.” Kristen moved to put down the bus pan, but Ted had his hands full and still wore gloves so they didn’t shake.

  “Good to meet you. Thanks for coming on short notice.” Most of Ted’s hair was hidden by a hunter’s cap with earflaps, but it seemed to be a darker auburn than his beard. He wore a brown jacket she presumed was down and warm-looking work socks.

  “No problem,” she replied, nodding at the boxes. “Can I help with those?”

  “I’m going to leave them in the office, then I have to take the cat back to the shed. I want to trim the tree while I’m out there. I’ll bring it in tomorrow morning, before we head out for the day. Can you manage dinner without me?” he asked Wendy. “I’ll check in with all the cabins before I come in.”

  “We have everything under control. Kristen is a godsend.”

  Kristen thought that was a huge overstatement, but appreciated the sentiment.

  “I’ll see you both in a little while, then.” Ted went through to the great room and she heard him exchange a few words with some of the guests.

  “If things have quieted in the dining room, you should eat,” Wendy said. “We usually grab dinner as time allows. Breakfast is our family meal because Ted and I are up early to prepare for the guests and Sarah is usually up for school.”

  “I don’t want to intrude. What time—”

  “No, I mean you should join us. I said we’d treat you like family,” Wendy added with a smile. “It’s a good time to discuss the day’s schedule and anything else that might come up. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not. How early is ‘early’?” Kristen washed her hands after stacking the dishwasher.

  “Five thirty,” Wendy admitted with a wince. “I start breakfast and get the guest lunches ready. Breakfast service starts at six thirty and they leave by seven thirty.”

  “Early mornings don’t bother me, but I need coffee,” she warned.

  “I quit drinking it,” Wendy bemoaned, then faltered as she realized that might raise questions and quickly mumbled, “Because my dentist said I should.”

  Kristen wanted to snicker into her sleeve. Instead she grabbed a clean soup bowl and asked, “Do you want me to get you some stew while I’m in there?”

  “I ate while you were talking with the Entwhistles.”

  They shared a knowing look. The retired couple had arrived right before Kristen and were the reason Wendy had been delayed upstairs. They were nice, but really enjoyed a good chat. Wendy had probably had time to make a whole new stew and a batch of bread while Kristen had been tied up with them.

  “Has Sarah eaten, do you know?” Wendy asked.

  “She’s in the loft with the kids from one of the cabins.”

  Wendy nodded. “Sometimes she gets caught up in a board game and forgets to eat until I’ve closed the kitchen. I’ll go find her.”

  “I can get her, if you’d like.”

  “No, you eat.”

  Kristen fetched a bowl of the hearty stew and buttered a fresh bun. She sat at the booth in the kitchen, not sure if Wendy encouraged mingling with the guests while they were eating.

  Wendy had closed the blinds to minimize the draft off the windows and had left a list of baking supplies on the table—ground cloves, molasses, apple cider, butter, candied fruit and condensed milk. Whatever she was making promised to be delicious.

  Kristen thought of the raspberry and almond shortbread buttons her mom always made, realizing she would miss those this year. Unless she made them herself. She would ask Wendy. They were always a favorite when her mom brought them to potlucks and cookie clubs.

  Kristen took out her phone and checked that she had Wi-Fi then messaged her mom, asking her to send a photo of the recipe if she had time to find it before she left. If she didn’t, it was no big deal. Kristen could probably find something like it online. Heck, she could probably make it from heart if she had to.

  Sarah came in with a bowl of stew, announcing with great melodrama, “I lost my battleship.”

  “I hate when that happens,” Kristen commiserated, setting aside her phone.

  Sarah sat down across from Kristen and started to say something.

  Wendy walked in with a couple of empty mugs.

  Sarah snapped her mouth shut and sat straight, concentrating on her bowl as she fished for a potato. “Smells good, Dub-step. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, Sugar Bear,” Wendy said in the off-hand way of a distracted mom.

  “Dub-step?” Kristen repeated. The twang of country music had been playing at a low volume in the dining room, not the syncopated rhythm of electronic music.

  “‘Dub’ for the double-u in Wendy,” Sarah explained. “‘Step’ for stepmom. We were being silly in the car one day, trying to think up nicknames for each other. Wendy doesn’t really care for Dub-step.”

  “I don’t hate it. When it’s chill, it’s fine,” Wendy said, pouring a glass of milk and bringing it to Sarah. “But the energetic stuff gets on my nerves after a while.”

  “And you’re ‘Sugar Bear’?” Kristen asked Sarah.

  “Sometimes I get grouchy if I have too much sugar. Thanks,” she murmured to Wendy. “Wendy was the one who figured out why me and Dad always had an argument on Sunday mornings. I would eat a bunch of syrup on my pancakes then I would have a tantrum and wind up in my room. Now I spread peanut butter on them. If I’m having fast food, I drink milk instead of a milkshake. My friends say it’s boring, but I don’t like feeling cranky.”

  “Good for you for listening to your body instead of peer pressure. That’s hard.” Especially at her age. “My thing is lipstick and lip gloss. It makes my lips feel weird and I don’t like the smell, but my friends always try to talk me into wearing it. A few years ago, I found a lip balm that’s basically beeswax and olive oil. I wear that even if it’s a special occasion like my brother’s wedding.”

  “When did he get married? Did you get to be a bridesmaid?” Sarah asked with quick excitement.

  “Four years ago. And yes, I did.”

  “That must have been so cool!”

  It had been a day of mixed feelings, trying to pretend she was fine with spending a weekend bumping into the man who’d been her first love, as well as his date.

  “It was great. Weddings are always fun,” she made herself say.

  Sarah had a surprising amount of curiosity about the event, asking what Kristen wore and who said what. Kristen didn’t mind. It was natural for young girls to dream about that fairy-tale day. She had, once upon a time.

  After she and Sarah finished eating, and the last guests had retired from the table, Sarah gave Kristen a tour of the chalet. The basement was a walk-ou
t beneath a balcony that Sarah said was the deck off the sunroom. The snow was piled so high on either side, however, not much light would be able to penetrate the basement even when it was the middle of the day.

  Each of the guest rooms had a storage cage for their gear beneath the overhang. They could lock it if they were worried. “But hardly anyone ever does,” Sarah said. “It’s super safe here.”

  Inside, there was a big area for hanging wet jackets and other clothing, a laundry room, a bathroom, and a room that held the furnace and hot water tank.

  Sarah led her up a set of stairs from the basement that ended on a landing beside the sunroom. Sarah opened the door and brushed aside the curtain so Kristen could see all the patio furniture stored inside the octagonal room. French doors opened off six of the walls.

  “This is really nice in the summer. You can be in here in the shade or out there on the patio in the sun. It’s not heated, though, so right now, brrr.” Sarah’s breath fogged.

  Sarah took her up one more flight of stairs bringing them to the end of a short hallway into what she called the guest wing.

  “The chalet rooms are bedrooms with bathrooms attached. If guests want a kitchen, they have to book a cabin. The ones at the end are king beds with balconies. This one has two queens, and this one is two sets of bunk beds.”

  “I’ll see them tomorrow when Wendy and I do the housekeeping.” Wendy had already told her there was a family checking out in the morning and another two couples checking in tomorrow afternoon. One couple had booked a cabin so Kristen would get to know a lot of the regular procedures very quickly.

  “Behind this wall is the hallway to Dad and Wendy’s room and my room,” Sarah said as they arrived on the loft. “You can cut through that door if you have to.” She pointed to a door with a sign that read, ‘Family only please.’

  Sarah moved to put away a couple of board games, but left the unfinished jigsaw puzzle on the table near the rail.

  “Watch for puzzle pieces when you’re down there. Sometimes we lose them through the railing and they get vacuumed up. Or Bonzo eats them.” She rolled her eyes.