Page 31 of Hensley Manor
Violet was an attractive girl with long blonde hair and big blue eyes that sparkled like the emerald broach she wore clipped to the front of her winter coat. She had a kind face and an even kinder smile as she greeted us.
“Mr. Hensley! It’s nice to see you again.” She turned to the man standing behind her and placed a hand on his thick bicep. “Glen, it’s Mr. Hensley.”
The man—Glen—turned around and beamed with a smile. He was stunning; raven black hair, muscles that bulged beneath his coat, and green eyes that matched the shade of Violet’s broach. He reached to shake Ian’s hand, and Ian accepted the gesture with his other hand, still holding mine with the other.
“About time you showed up, Ian,” Glen said, grinning. “It’s not a celebration until you arrive.”
“I’m flattered. Though, I should say the real celebration doesn’t begin until you two open for business.”
“You’re too kind, Mr. Hensley,” Violet responded.
I wondered why they were so happy to see Ian. Well, other than the obvious of him being an amazing guy.
“Allow me to introduce Cole Wiley,” Ian said, nodding to me. “He’s staying at the manor for Christmas.”
“Very nice to meet you. Any friend of Mr. Hensley is a friend of ours.” Violet leaned against Glen’s side. “I’m Violet and this is my husband, Glen. What can I get for you?”
“A birdie told me that you sell the best hot chocolate in town,” I said, glancing at a blushing Ian before returning my gaze to her.
“Is that so?” Her eyes flickered to Ian. “Then, I suppose I’ll pour you a cup, Mr. Wiley, and you can judge for yourself.”
“Cole, please.” Mr. Wiley made me sound like my dad.
Glen grabbed two cups and filled them almost to the lip before adding whipped cream to the top and handing them over.
“Thank you,” I said.
When Ian went to pay, Violet touched his arm and shook her head. “No, sir. You’re not paying. Enjoy the rest of the festival.”
Ian said goodbye to her and Glen and placed a large tip in their jar before walking with me toward a display of Christmas trees. The trees were fully decorated with garland, ornaments, lights, and topped with shining stars.
I took a drink. “Damn. That’s good.” I took another, feeling the whipped cream on my upper lip. Before I could wipe it off, though, Ian tilted my chin up and leaned forward, kissing me. He tasted much better than the hot chocolate.
When he pulled back, he used his thumb to wipe the cream off. The lights reflected in his eyes, and it was a bit hard to breathe when I peered into them.
“So, what was that about?” I asked, once able to form a coherent thought. “Violet and Glen acted like you were a god or something.”
A light chuckle reached my ears. “Not a god, no. I helped them a while back, and they feel as though they owe me. Which they don’t. I helped because I wanted to. Not because I wanted something in return.”
“What did you do?”
“I introduced them.” He paused to take a drink. I stared at his mouth as he swallowed and licked his bottom lip. “Glen came to the manor because of a snow storm two years ago. He had just returned from his last tour in Iraq and had no family. Depressed around Christmas, he told me he started driving one day. Amidst the storm, he pulled off onto a side road and found himself in Evergreen Valley.”
Staring at the tallest tree in the lot—one with blinking, colored lights that chased each other along the strand—I listened to his story. Evergreen Valley reallywaslike a beacon for lonely hearts at Christmas; a place for people who didn’t quite fit in where they were from. Glen had been lost, both physically and emotionally it sounded like, and he happened to come across Hensley Manor?
Coincidence? Perhaps.
Or maybe it was something more.
“What happened next?”
“Well, Glen and I became friends during his stay,” Ian said, slipping a hand around my waist and staring at the same tree. “And it was during this winter festival when I introduced him to Violet, who I’ve known for years. No matter how long I’ve known her, she never fails to call me Mr. Hensley. Her family has worked for mine for decades, you see, but she had other plans. She followed her dreams of being a pastry chef and hot chocolate connoisseur. But anyway, I thought there could be something between the two and introduced them. I even helped Glen pick out the broach that Violet now wears.”
“They seem so in love.”
“They are,” he answered, moving his gaze to me. “After only knowing each other for six days, Glen decided to move to Evergreen Valley. A new beginning, he called it.”
New beginnings. Could someone really have one of those? No matter where you moved or what kind of situation you left behind, you couldn’t escape the memories.
