Page 13 of Cooped Up for Christmas

I watched it change to 10:01 with a snap.

I sucked in a breath and muttered through my gritted teeth, “Smile, everyone.”

“Smiling,” Coop called from the far end of the line. Too far for me to sear him with a glare without hitting anyone else. And the guests would be here any second. So I had to keep that searing glare to myself, which, as we all know, causes constipation.

By 10:05, I knew they’d been delayed. By 10:15 I’d reached Miranda Givens, Executive Secretary to Tommy Astro, who was Farley Weaver’s manager. According to Miranda, the party had been delayed and, oh dear, had no one called?

They would, apparently, be arriving at noon instead, and expected a full lunch to be prepared upon arrival. Everything else was on schedule, including the massages at 3:00 pm.

All right. Fine. I released the staff back to their duties—and in Coop’s case, back to hanging around and getting in the way. Noel was not happy about the change in the meal schedule and spoke about it rather vociferously. In French. I figured as long as he was speaking French it wasn’t something I needed to worry about, so I walked away.

Now that we had a little extra time, we could afford to make sure everything was absolutely perfect. I took the team with me on a walk-through of each day, pausing in every room to discuss planned activities and talk about potential issues or requests. I didn’t invite Coop along, because I really didn’t want him to come, but he tagged along anyway. Every once in a while I’d see him grin for no reason. It made me want to throttle him, but, with great effort, I was able to remain professional and remote.

We finished the walkthrough about fifteen minutes before the guests were to arrive at noon, so everyone could change from their work clothes back into their formals again. The formals were expensive, so we only wore them for welcomes, departures, and fancy events. But just as I was letting everyone go to change, my cell buzzed. On instinct, I stopped them from leaving with a lifted finger.

And yeah. It was Miranda on the phone. “Hey, Valerie?” she said.

“Victoria.”

“Yes, hon. Just wanted to let you know we’re delayed again. But we will definitely be there by 3:00 pm for massages, yes?”

“Absolutely. Thank you for letting me know. See you at three.”

The staff blew out a joint sigh. “Delayed again?” Olivia said with a pout.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get to meet Farley,” I told her. Though I knew, after this Visit, she might never want to see Farley’s face again. That happened sometimes when people met their idols. “Let’s reset to three, people.”

Everyone nodded and wandered off. Everyone but Noel. “Reset to three?” he said. “Just ’ow do I reset to three? I have ze foie gras. I have ze caviar. I have ze little chocolate straws that I ’ave made myself.”

“Please, Noel,” I said setting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Do your best. We’re counting on you.” We were. I might not have done this job a decade, but I still remembered that the food had a tremendous amount to do with the size of the tip at the end of the Visit.

* * *

When the guests finally arrived, I was giving a lesson in Silver Service in the great room. No one had called, so we hadn’t expected them at 2:45.

They just appeared.

Oh, lordy, did they. They came in, in a herd. A cacophony of sounds, sights, and colors and outfits that only the super-rich could pull off with a straight face. I ignored the eccentricities—and the peacock feathers—threw back my shoulders, and extended my hand to Farley Weaver, who was listed as the primary client on my paperwork.

Her bio said she was nearly nineteen, but she seemed younger because she was so petite. Also, her outfit looked like it had been selected on a dare. And then there was the sullen expression on her face. It felt odd, approaching a kid while, in this flock of curious creatures, there were at least three other adults. But that’s the way it goes in Hospitality. Mine is not to question why. Mine is to grit mine teeth and smile. And later, cash mine checks.

“I’m Victoria Walker,” I said cheerily, “I’m your Visit Manager this week. My staff and I are pleased to be at your service. Welcome to Eden’s Mistletoe Lodge at Shannon Lake.”

The child did not seem inclined to take my hand, so I let it fall, and smiled even more brightly. “Would you like a tour?”

“I’m hungry,” someone said from the back.

Her highness made a face. “Yeah. What do you got to eat?”

Lovely. Farley was so…refined.

“Our chef has prepared a cold lunch.” He had prepared a warm one, but no one had been here to eat it. Except the staff, thank you very much.

“Whatever. Bring it in here.” Farley pulled on her headphones and pushed past me into the great room. Ignoring absolutely everybody else, she flopped onto one of the grand sofas, turned up the volume and closed her eyes.

I waved at Olivia and Wren, who were on point and ready to bring in the cold lunch and beverages. The teens in the party swarmed the platters, even before they’d set them down, but the adults remained in the foyer with Noel, Ken Nora, Coop, and me.

“Howdy.”