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Chapter Two
Lexi
Coming to this quaint little place was a mistake. What was I thinking?
As I flop down on the antique four-poster bed, the fluffy, soft mattress snuggles around me while I contemplate why I even came here. It was a misguided attempt to recapture some of my childhood. My parents and I stayed here when I was four and those happy memories fill my heart. Fond memories from before I became a child star, which irrevocably changed my life forever. And irrevocably changed my parents and my relationship with them forever.
At age five, my mom brought me to a tryout for a film that was going to be shot in our hometown. They were looking for someone to play the cute little sister, and my mom thought her adorable, innocent looking little girl might have a chance to catch the producer’s eye. People on the street would tell her what a beautiful child I was, so her head became filled with thoughts of making me a star.
Amazingly, I got the part, without a lick of acting experience. There were very few lines for me to learn, and all I had to do was look adorable and squeal in the right places—which I did very well. The film went on to be a blockbuster and my mom never looked back.
With dollar signs in her eyes, she trotted me through audition after audition. Eventually, I took acting lessons so I could land parts that required more than simply looking cute and being scared. At age eight, I got a part on a TV series playing the younger sister. After a nine-year run, that series ended, but it had catapulted me to stardom. During the next six years, I went on to star in numerous movies that required modest acting skills and the ability to look gorgeous while wearing tight, revealing clothes, and chasing bad guys, or falling head-over-heels in love with the hunky male lead.
“Knock, knock,” my assistant Evelyn says as she strides into my room, staring at the ever-present phone in her hand. “Meeting with the studio is in two minutes. Are you ready?”
I grimace as she abruptly pulls me from my musings. “Yes, I put my laptop over there so we can do the Zoom call together.” I point to the desk in the far corner of the room, while suddenly becoming aware of the decorations in my suite. I was too caught up in my memories to notice the whimsical bells and mistletoe theme. My eyes light up, taking in the Christmas-themed details that might look cheesy in another place, but seem just right in the Christmas Inn.
My always-professional assistant strides over to the laptop, readying it for the call. Blowing out a big breath, I join her while trying to garner some enthusiasm for the role we’ll be discussing.
~*~
“Well, that went very well,” Evelyn boasts as we sign-off the call and the screen before us goes blank. “Aren’t you excited about becoming the new Josie Reynolds?” When the actress playing Josie Reynolds abruptly quit two weeks ago, the studio reached out to me in a panic asking whether I was available on such short notice to replace her.
If I’m honest, the answer is an emphatic ‘No’. Another role where I’ll run around in sexy, skimpy, too-tight clothes, while wielding a fake gun, and capturing bad guys. The upside is I get to star alongside two other A-list stars who have signed on to be my female co-stars. We’re playing a team of women who take directions from some mysterious rich guy who owns a private investigation agency. He gives us details about each case, and we go undercover to solve the crime. This one’s been done several times before, but that doesn’t stop Hollywood from doing yet another remake.
Reaching deep, and using my questionable acting skills, I reply with fake excitement, “Yes, it’s a plum role. I can’t wait to start shooting next month.”
Evelyn arches one finely shaped red eyebrow, but she doesn’t call me out on my false enthusiasm. “Well, I’ll give you some alone time. Shall we meet in the lobby around five to go in search of dinner?” She acts like we’re in such an isolated place that there’s no hope of finding anywhere decent to eat. Personally, I’m excited to try one of the Mom-and-Pop eateries dotting the main street. Before arriving, I researched Hope Creek and found several interesting restaurants and cafes that I’d like to try.
“Sure, see you then.”
Glancing at the clock after Evelyn departs, I realize there’s three hours until dinner. What am I going to do until then?
I flop down on the bed, trying to conjure up my childhood memories from this place. What were all the fun activities my parents and I did while we were here? Sledding. . . making snow angels. . . sipping hot chocolate beside the roaring fire. . . playing board games. . .
Evelyn says this is just a misguided attempt to recapture my childhood. She says that I’ll be bored in two days at this cozy getaway in this small town in the middle of nowhere.
Determined to prove her wrong, I rummage in the desk looking for a room service menu. I remember how delicious the hot chocolate was here and I’m going to get some delivered to my room.
No need for Evelyn to know about my indulgence because she’ll just give me a guilt trip about wanting to drink something other than water or green tea. She’ll remind me of the upcoming movie and the fact that I’ll need to fit into those skimpy outfits looking toned and fit. My personal trainer can whip me into shape when I return to California next week. For now, I’m going to try some chocolate goodness.
I can’t find a room service menu, so I pick-up the phone from the bedside table and call the front desk.
“How may I help you?” a polite female voice answers. I think she’s the lady who checked me in although I didn’t pay much attention.
“This is Alexis Taylor and I’d like some hot chocolate brought to my room please.”
There’s a pregnant pause for several ticks. Maybe they aren’t making hot chocolate here anymore, but how difficult could it be to prepare? Get one of those packets and add hot water. Although, I was really hoping for the homemade kind with lots of whipped cream.
“Ah, yes, we will have that right up to you, Miss Taylor. Is there anything else?”
“Whipped cream on top. That’s all.”
“Coming right up,” she says and then hangs up.
Everyone at the inn has been so nice to me. Except for that bellhop who seemed put out about doing his job—all he had to do was move a few suitcases from my vehicle and lug them up the stairs.
As I glance around the room, I see all my luggage filling up every nook and cranny. Guess I brought more suitcases than I thought I did. That bellman really did have his hands full moving all my stuff.
Even though this is the largest suite at the inn, the cases make for a tight fit. I’ll unpack a few and have the inn stash them in their storage area. Satisfied at my plan, I begin to unpack.
Knock! Knock!
The hot chocolate arrives in less time than I expected. They have excellent room service here! Opening the door, my eyes widen when I see the bellhop standing there with a steaming mug in his hand. He must fill several roles at the inn since they seem to have a small staff. I wave him inside and say, “Please put it on the desk in the corner.”
He grunts but does as I request. For being an employee who is customer facing, he sure is grumpy. Not a smile in sight. But I can’t help noticing that he looks like he’s in fantastic shape. Lugging all these suitcases up the stairs must have been a breeze for him.
He has broad, muscular shoulders that strain his cotton button-down shirt nicely. And those khaki pants emphasize his long legs. That sexy scruff adorning his cheeks look rugged, yet attractive. He’d give any Hollywood male star a run for his money in the looks department.
Winding his way through the maze of suitcases, he puts the mug on the desk and turns to leave. “Anything else Miss Taylor?”
The tinge of snark in his voice makes me think he’s not happy with me again, but his polite expression doesn’t give away his feelings.
“My room is missing a room service menu, could you have someone bring one up?”
He stares at me as if he’s trying to read my mind. After several awkward beats, he says, “Miss Taylor, we don’t have a room service menu here. We’re not like a big fancy hotel. Guests usually participate in the afternoon snacks that are served in the reception area or on the back patio.”
Feeling a bit chastised, I say, “Oh, I didn’t realize. Sorry to put you out.” Should I tip him a couple bucks to get that put-out expression off his face? My mind mentally searches through my purse, trying to remember whether I have any cash. Evelyn always handles all the tipping. Before I can figure out my cash situation, he turns and leaves, the door softly clicking shut behind him.
Boy, I sure got off on the wrong foot with this guy. I’ll just try to avoid him for the rest of my stay. Waltzing over to the desk, I take a sip of the hot chocolate, enjoying the rich flavor and getting whipped cream on my lips. It’s as delicious as I remember. Sipping on the warm beverage, I survey my suitcases for which ones to unpack. As soon as I’ve finished drinking the hot chocolate, I’ll tackle the luggage.
A smile of satisfaction lights my face as the heavenly drink delights my tastebuds. The fond childhood memory of the hot chocolate is fulfilled by the mug in my hand.
One memory down and several more to go. When can I go sledding?
