Page 2 of Meet Me on Christmas Eve

“Next time we’ll get better costumes though. I didn’t plan this one very well.”

We’d just grabbed some very old-fashioned maid costumes from the resort storage closet. Well, she had. I would never have chosen to wear something like this. I would’ve chosen something with a mask so I wouldn’t be recognized. Reputation was important in my business, after all. Running a resort for elite clients meant maintaining a certain upper-class image myself. I had to represent the brand. That was a tall order, considering where I’d come from, but I’d reinvented myself. I was Mariana Northam of Northam Resorts. Mariana LaBelle might as well be dead.

But this version of me wasn’t sure how to navigate this social setting. The town of Shipsvold was set in a valley surrounding a lake that provided a great deal of entertainment year round for both the townsfolk and my resort guests. The resort sat just on the edge of the town, on the other side of the lake. Within the small town was a Christmas village, the one I wanted to purchase. In the center was a Christmas-themed shop, and I knew the owner still worked in the shop herself sometimes. Holiday tourism had been dipping in recent years, but I was certain I could revive it while also boosting the amenities for my resort guests if I could somehow offer activities from the village as part of a holiday-themed package. It was a decent business idea, and I could see endless possibilities as I scanned the room at the bar Hazel had dragged me to. I wondered if the village owner would be here. I thought not, as she was much older, but Hazel had said it was a possibility.

“Are you even listening at all?” Hazel asked me.

I opened my mouth to answer but then shook my head. She knew me better than that … which was often both a blessing and a curse.

“We need to mingle,” she said, pulling me along as I nearly tripped over my heels. As if maids wear stilettos. At least the skirts hadn’t been short. The previous resort owners had been fairly conservative, including with their staff attire.

"Where's this guy you're supposed to meet here?" I asked as she dragged me across the room.

"Oh, I only said that to get you to come with me. Sorry, Mary. But desperate measures, you know?" She smiled.

Desperate? What was that supposed to mean? I wasn't desperate for anything. I was about to ask her, but she'd already moved on. Extrovert that she was, Hazel was starting up a conversation with some random people who looked about our age.

“You can smile, you know,” one of the men in the group said to me while flashing a wide smile.

I groaned. I suppose I’d have to be polite, even though the old civilized Mariana was dying to do something very uncivilized, like stick out my tongue. Andthensmile.

Hazel nudged me with a knowing smile. “She claims to not be a Halloween fan.”

“Impossible,” said a tall, blonde guy next to Hazel looking us both over from head to toe. “What’s not to like?”

“Oh, I totally agree, Chad. It’s everything you could want in a holiday,” said a woman next to the blonde guy, obviously trying to get attention.

Hazel laughed. “Well, everyone but Mari. I had to drag her here.” She looked over at me and, seeing my frown, wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “But hey, it’s all good because you’re here.”

I was going to kill her. I would. How was this supposed to help me establish a presence in the area? Now I’d be known as the Halloween Hater. I tried to smile as I shook off her arm.

“Is that true?” said a quiet voice, coming from the pinecone costume that just joined the group standing around us.

“The best part about Halloween,” I said with a wry smile, “is when it’s over. Because then you get to decorate for Christmas.”

Oh shit, did I really say that? I’d never live this down … How strong was this drink Hazel got me? I felt my cheeks heating up, but whether it was a blush or the booze, I couldn’t tell. Probably both. Just a cherry-red disaster.

“What? No way, that’s way too early,” said a woman in the group.

I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess. Thanksgiving at the earliest?” Several people nodded, and I shook my head.

“Wow, youareMrs. Christmas, Mari,” said Hazel, looking at me with some awe. “Where have you been hiding all these years?”

Fortunately we had enough extra makeup on that she probably didn’t notice my definite blushing at that point.

But the pinecone stepped toward me. “Mari?” As it came closer, I could hear it was a man’s voice, a deep rumble, and dark brown eyes came into view through the small eye holes in the costume. Eyes that I—

Oh.

No.

No, no, no. I couldn’t breathe. Or speak. Or move. Or … stand. I started to sway toward Hazel, who caught me.

“Mari, are you all right?”

I tried to speak, looking between her and the pinecone costume. A couple of choked sounds came out. I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead, about to drip down my face.

She narrowed her eyes and looked at the man in costume, taking a step toward him. “Look, Mr. Pinecone, I don’t know what you’ve done to upset my friend, but leave Mariana the hell alone.”

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