Christmas on Mistletoe Lane--Includes a bonus short story Read online

  “Do you have money for repairs? Money to keep the lights and heat on for guests? This inn is a money pit. We’d be fools to go into business together.” Mitch shook his head. “And I don’t know about you but I have a life to get back to. Two months of trying to avoid the inevitable isn’t in my plans.”

  “I have a life,” Kaitlyn shot back. Albeit one that seemed to be in shambles lately. Apparently, Grandma Mable had been struggling too. How had Kaitlyn not known her grandmother was under so much financial strain? Not that Kaitlyn could’ve helped. All she’d really had of value when she’d driven down from New York to the North Carolina mountains was hope, and even that was dwindling fast.

  * * *

  Mitch was having a hard time listening to Mr. Garrison. Partly because he was too distracted by little Katie Russo all grown up. She was gorgeous, yeah, but also feisty enough to threaten a six-foot-one former marine with a poker stick. He could’ve disarmed her faster than she could bat those long eyelashes of hers, if he’d wanted to. He’d enjoyed watching her think she had the upper hand though. He’d enjoyed watching her, period.

  “The B and B doesn’t make a profit?” Kaitlyn asked as Mr. Garrison laid out the paperwork.

  “Not in recent years, no,” Mr. Garrison said apologetically.

  Mitch already knew this. He’d always visited Mable whenever he’d come off a deployment and returned to Sweetwater to see his mom. Since Henry’s death, Mable had been struggling financially. She’d never seemed undone by it though. She was a strong woman, didn’t give up easily, and was as stubborn as the valley here is deep. Mable was always expecting a surge of new business. Always hoping the Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast would return to its glory days.

  “This business belonged to my grandparents. It means something. At least to me.”

  Mitch swallowed, remembering how he’d sat in this very room after school. As a teen, he’d worked behind the scenes at the bed and breakfast on weekends too. Mable had taught him to cook fancy breakfasts and fold napkins just so. Henry had taught him to care for the landscaping. There weren’t a lot of good memories locked up in this town for Mitch but the Russos and the Sweetwater B&B were some of them.

  He turned to Mr. Garrison. “So, you’re telling me that in order for Katie to keep this place, I have to stay in Sweetwater Springs?”

  “Kaitlyn,” the woman in question snapped.

  “That’s correct,” Mr. Garrison said.

  “And if I leave?”

  “Then she loses the business as well.”

  Mitch rubbed a hand over his forehead. Thanks a lot, Mable. He couldn’t stay in Sweetwater Springs—wouldn’t—and she’d known that. The last few times he’d come to visit, he’d mentioned that he wasn’t reenlisting in the corps. Mable had known he would have time available. But she’d also known he was planning on taking a contract job running security in Northern Virginia. He knew quite a few ex-military who’d done the same kind of work after getting out. The job offered good money. Too good to pass up. This would complicate things.

  “Two months?” he clarified.

  “Two months. And what a perfect time. You’ll be home for the holidays, Mitch,” Mr. Garrison said, as if that was a selling point.

  Mitch hadn’t been home for the holidays since he’d joined the military when he was eighteen years old. There was a reason for that. One that made the stipulations of Mable’s will feel more like a death sentence than a vacation.

  “How you go about running things isn’t specified,” Mr. Garrison continued. “After the two months are up, we’ll complete the paperwork and the bed and breakfast is yours to sell or do with as you choose.”

  “Please,” Kaitlyn said, turning to Mitch, her brown eyes wide and hopeful.

  He didn’t know this woman from a stranger off the street. He didn’t owe her anything. But he did owe Mable and Henry. They’d practically raised him while his mom worked two jobs. Mable and Henry had stood by him after the accident too. He’d never forget their loyalty. “I’m not making any decisions tonight,” Mitch finally said. Especially not a decision that would cost him the next two months of his life.

  “Of course. The clock doesn’t start until you sign the preliminary paperwork though,” Mr. Garrison advised.

  Mitch nodded, catching the look of disappointment in Kaitlyn’s eyes. He couldn’t help that. This deal was a lot to ask.

  The lawyer closed his briefcase and stood. “Just give me a call when you two make your decision.”

  “We will.” Kaitlyn followed him to the door. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Of course. Anything for Mable.”

  That should’ve been Mitch’s immediate answer too. Anything for sweet, caring, kind Mable Russo.

  Anything but this.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Look, it’s been a long day,” Mitch said, turning to face Kaitlyn, who stood only a few feet away. “Neither of us were expecting this…complication. Let’s get some rest and revisit how we’ll handle things in the morning.”

  She hugged her arms around herself, lifting tired, beautiful eyes to meet his. “Yeah, you’re right. The drive from New York was exhausting. We can meet back here first thing and look over the papers Mr. Garrison left us.”

  “Meet back here?” Mitch didn’t like the sound of that. Since he was 50 percent owner, he thought he would at least get a room at the B&B.

  “Well, you’re not staying here. This is where I’ll be sleeping.”

  “It’s a bed and breakfast. It’s meant to house more than one person,” he said.

  “Yes, when it’s open, but we’re not open. Yet.”

  An argument rose in his throat and settled on the tip of his tongue. Then his gaze caught on the poker stick resting against the wall behind her. He’d unintentionally scared her when he’d gotten here. Understandable, considering he was a stranger who appeared to be breaking and entering. As much as Mable had told him about her, she obviously hadn’t told Kaitlyn much about him. A young, single, beautiful woman had every reason to be wary of a strange man staying under the same roof.

  “Fine,” he said, wishing he wasn’t such a nice guy, because he didn’t want to impose on his mom. He hadn’t even told her he was coming to town. His mom, being the workaholic she was, would’ve insisted on cleaning and cooking and driving him absolutely nuts with all her doting. She had enough to do without taking care of him. “I’ll sleep somewhere else tonight and be back at seven a.m. tomorrow.”

  Kaitlyn’s jaw went lax. “Seven? Isn’t that a little early?”

  He smiled. “Get used to it. If you’re set on running this place, Mable was up at four thirty every morning cooking breakfast for her guests.” He got a little satisfaction as the realization dawned on his would-be business partner’s face. He guessed she hadn’t thought that far ahead. It didn’t seem like she’d thought about this at all.

  Gesturing behind him at the door, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Bright and early.”

  * * *

  Kaitlyn dragged her tired body and suitcase past the wooden staircase and headed down the long hallway to her left. She remembered that her grandmother had always stayed in the downstairs bedroom near the kitchen and laundry area. The three rooms were blocked by a swinging door and made separate living quarters, which, even on their own, were much larger than her city apartment had been.

  What Kaitlyn didn’t remember is her grandmother waking so early to cook breakfast. Then again, like a good hostess, her grandmother had the first meal of the day ready when she’d stayed over. Kaitlyn was none the wiser about when or how it’d been prepared.

  Four thirty? Well, if that’s what she had to do, so be it. This was a new life for her. A godsend. At least that’s what she’d thought on the drive down. Now doubt niggled in the dusty recesses of her mind, not unlike the inn’s unkempt corners. This place was run-down, and she’d already spent a good portion of her savings on a used Ford Taurus to get here.

  With a sigh, she dropped her lug
gage on the bedroom floor. The room was spacious with a king-size bed on one side fitted with a handmade quilt that Grandma Mable had likely made herself. An antique dresser sat along the wall and a rocking chair invited Kaitlyn to sit and possibly cry her eyes out later. Right now, she bent to unzip her suitcase and search for her favorite pair of flannel pajamas. As she sifted through her belongings, her cell phone rang against her hip. She pulled it from her pocket to her ear.

  “Well?” her best friend Josie said in lieu of a hello. Josie still lived and worked in New York. “How is it?”

  Kaitlyn climbed into the wooden rocker and clutched the phone to her ear. “It’s awful. I mean, the inn itself is gorgeous but it needs work. And according to my new co-owner, this place can’t even cover its own power and heating bills.”

  “I’m sorry—what?” Josie asked on the other end of the line.

  Kaitlyn sighed. “Apparently, I’m not even the full owner. Grandma Mable left this place to me and the guy who grew up down the street.” The image of the large, sexy man that Kaitlyn had spent the last hour with came to mind. “According to the will, Mitch and I have to run the bed and breakfast together for two months or we both forfeit to charity.”

  “Whoa. That’s an unusual scenario,” Josie said.

  Indeed it was. “After the time is up, we can do as we like with the B and B, and since Mitch doesn’t seem to care about staying, I plan to take out a loan and buy him out.”

  “There you go. That’s perfect.”

  Kaitlyn pressed her head back against the rocker and closed her eyes, grateful to shut out at least one of her senses. “Except he hasn’t said yes to the agreement. Also, since the business isn’t turning a profit, there’s no way the bank will give me a loan to buy him out. I thought this place would be my fresh start.” Those tears threatened behind her eyes. She swallowed hard, refusing to let them through.

  “Well, if this is really what you want, you can’t give up,” Josie said in the determined spirit that was her hallmark. “You have to make it a success.”

  Kaitlyn opened her eyes. “As much as I want to, I’m not sure that’s even possible.”

  Josie hummed thoughtfully into the receiver for a long moment. “Maybe it is. I think I have an idea.”

  Kaitlyn resisted the hope springing up in her chest. Josie was the queen of good ideas. That’s how she’d become such a successful magazine editor, managing the lifestyle section of Loving Life magazine. Josie had interned with the magazine fresh out of college and had immediately started impressing those around her, moving up the ranks.

  “Loving Life is doing a December cover story on the most romantic holiday getaways in America. I wrote the article myself so I can add in one more spot, if I want. In fact, I gamble to say that Sweetwater Springs, North Carolina, might be the most romantic holiday retreat in America. And the Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast is the perfect place for couples, new and old, to stay while they discover the magic there.”

  “That would be a lie, Josie. Didn’t you take some kind of journalistic oath or something? This place is hardly the most romantic, and it’s nowhere near ready for business. The holidays are just around the corner.”

  “You just said you only have two months to make this happen. You don’t have time to think like that. Besides, I owe you. Whether you think so or not, I’m the reason you ever got a gig with Bradley Foster. That makes me partly responsible for—”

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” Kaitlyn said quickly, cutting her friend off. In fact, Kaitlyn would be happy to never hear celebrity extraordinaire Bradley Foster’s name again. “That wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

  A slight pause hung between them.

  “Even so,” Josie finally continued, “if running that B and B is really what you have your heart set on, you can turn that place into whatever you want. It really can be the most romantic holiday retreat in America. And as my best friend, you better not make me a liar, because I’m adding Sweetwater Springs to my article tonight. The magazine goes into circulation a couple of weeks before each new month, so you better get your partner to agree and then get busy.”

  * * *

  Mitch cut his headlights before he pulled into his mom’s driveway. She was early to rise and super early to bed so he guessed she’d already be asleep. He’d considered calling one of his buddies in town for a place to stay but his mom lived around the corner from Mistletoe Lane, where the Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast was located, so this seemed most practical.

  He grabbed his overnight bag—leaving the rest of his belongings in the cab of his truck—and headed up the front porch steps. There was a spare key in the flowerpot off to the side. It wasn’t a wise hiding location but he couldn’t convince Gina Hargrove of that. His mom was as stubborn as Mable had been. That was maybe one reason they’d been such great friends.

  He quietly let himself in and headed straight to the guest room down the hall. Shutting the bedroom door behind him, he stripped off his shirt and lay back on the twin-size bed of his youth, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t stay here. That was a fact. The money from the contract security job was double what he’d made as a police officer in the corps. Not only that, he had a past in Sweetwater Springs. One he’d rather not relive.

  The choice was clear. When he met back with Kaitlyn Russo in the morning, he’d just tell her there was no way he could make this arrangement work. It would break her heart since she was obviously determined to reopen Mable and Henry’s B&B but one day she’d thank him. The inn was a lost cause. There was no resuscitating it. Turning the deal down would be doing her a favor.

  * * *

  The aroma of freshly brewed coffee stirred Mitch to life early the next morning. He followed the scent down the hall and into the kitchen.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  His mother nearly dropped her mug of coffee as she whirled to look at him. “Where did you come from?”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, immediately thinking of Kaitlyn and her poker stick from last night. “I got to town late.”

  “I didn’t even know you were coming.” She set her mug down and pulled him in for a tight hug. “It’s so good to lay eyes on you. I was beginning to worry. You got out of the military a month ago. Where have you been?”

  “Around,” he said. He had tried to get back for Mable’s funeral but he’d still had one week left to serve, and his request was denied. “I’m fine. You know that.”

  “I don’t know it unless you pick up the phone to tell me so,” she said in a voice reminiscent of the one she’d regularly used on him growing up. He’d had a few rebellious years that were no doubt the cause of her initial few gray hairs. Now, at fifty years old, Gina Hargrove had a head full of solid gray hair that she wore past her shoulders. She could probably attribute all of it to him, he thought.

  He walked over, grabbed a mug from the cabinet, and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Busy day ahead?” he asked.

  She took a seat at the small table off to the side of the kitchen. “No more than usual. I need to clean the Mallorys’ house today and then the Lances’ after that.”

  Mitch’s hand tightened around the mug. “I wish you wouldn’t work so hard.” She didn’t need to. He made sure of that, sending money home from every paycheck he got.

  “Hard work never killed anyone.” She continued to sip. “Soon as I pay this house off, I might slow down. You know, after Laura Brown retired, she found out she didn’t have enough money to live off. She lost her home and had to move in with her son and daughter-in-law. If that happened to me, where would I go? You don’t even have a place to live right now.”

  “That won’t happen to you,” he said. With his looming contract job in the works, he’d be even better able to ensure that her needs were met. His gaze dropped from his mother’s bloodshot eyes to her shaking hands. “What’s that about?” He gestured as he stepped toward her.

  She settled her hands down on the table. “Just
tired. These old things are resisting any kind of work after cleaning up the debris and leaves around the Dennys’ rosebushes yesterday. That stuff will harbor pests if you don’t.”

  “Yard work? I thought you stuck to cleaning houses.”

  “Well, they asked me to help. What am I supposed to say? No?”

  “Yeah. That’s exactly what you say.”

  “It’s fine.” She waved a hand.

  It wasn’t fine with him though. Looking at her closer, he noticed she looked pale and tired.

  “So, tell me why you’re here,” she said, changing the subject.

  “Can’t a guy visit his mother?”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “Fine. I need to handle a few things at the Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast.”

  “Really? It’s been closed since Mable passed away last month.”

  “I know, but her granddaughter is in town working on the place.”

  “To reopen it?” his mother asked, pulling her coffee mug toward her again.

  “Doubtful.” Because he wasn’t going to fulfill his end of the will’s stipulations. He guessed Kaitlyn might be able to take out a loan and buy it from whatever charity it was left to when all was said and done. That was an option if she was as headstrong as she appeared to be.

  He took one more long sip of coffee and set his mug down. “Actually, I’ve got to get over there pretty soon. Mind if I use the shower?”

  “Of course not. This is your home and always will be,” his mom said warmly.

  He kissed her temple and looked down at her shaky hands once more. Something in his gut tightened.

  “And when you get home tonight, I’ll cook you something tasty for dinner,” she said. “We’ll talk some more. It’ll be nice.”

  He pointed a finger. “You’re not going to cook me dinner after working all day. I’ll cook for you.”

  “I’m not one of your marines. Put that finger away.” She rolled her blue-gray eyes.

  He was tempted to laugh at her stubbornness. Instead, he shook his head and headed down the hall to the shower.