Page 32 of Lakehouse Mistletoe
Then came the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Mr. Sykes appeared in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his expression too casual to be genuine. “Well, this is cozy,” he said, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Helen. “Do you mind if I join?”
Her stomach dropped. Helen kept her smile polite. “Of course. Afternoon tea is for everyone.”
She motioned toward the empty armchair near the window. He didn’t sit right away, instead moving slowly, taking in the decorations. He stopped at the mantle and leaned in to study the pinecones she’d placed in the garland. He was probably trying to see if it was real or artificial. He ambled over to the Christmas tree and flicked a silver bell.
Helen bristled at the rude gesture. Who goes around flicking someone’s ornaments?
When Mr. Sykes finally settled into the chair, it was with the ease of someone watching—more than participating—in the group conversation.
Mr. and Mrs. Edgar chatted about the road trip they were on to Vermont. Helen asked questions and added how she would love to visit Vermont one day. As they chatted, she was painfully aware of Mr. Sykes’s gaze. He seemed to be studying her.
She kept her posture calm, polite, professional. Every so often, she excused herself to fetch another pot of hot water or refresh the cookies. It gave her an excuse to maintain a layer of distance as well as steady herself.
When the couple complimented the decorations, Mr. Sykes gave a half-smile. “She does everything so well here. Picture perfect, Helen. One busy little bee.”
Helen didn’t flinch at his too familiar tone, but she steadied the teapot carefully before answering. “Busy is the nature of the season,” she said lightly. “Would anyone like more tea?”
The conversation turned back to travel plans, and Helen let the cheerful small talk fill the room. But in the back of her mind, she noted the way Mr. Sykes’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Chapter 28
The house had gone still later that night. The guests were all in their rooms fast asleep. Helen sat at the kitchen table, a yellow pad in front of her, her pen tapping as she worked out the final list for Christmas dinner. She’d already made a menu, and Rebecca would be picking up and buying the grocery items she needed. She felt like going herself, to get a break from Mr. Sykes. It was the first time she actually wanted to leave the bed and breakfast.
She picked up the pad and turned the page to start a second list when the sound of footsteps broke the calm.
She glanced up. Mr. Sykes stood in the doorway, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, that creepy smile on his face. He was no longer wearing his suit but was now in his striped pajamas. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Thought I smelled something good. You baking?”
Helen straightened and forced a polite smile. “No, just making a grocery list for the Christmas meal. Can I help you with something, Mr. Sykes?”
He slowly stepped further into the room. “No, no. Just thought I’d see if there was a late-night snack. Must be nice, running a place like this. Must bring in a nice income.”
She clutched her pen in her hand, but her mind was already clicking off her options. Her phone was on the counter, the back door was ten feet away, and the utility drawer held a heavy flashlight. “It keeps me busy. As far as the income, I don’t know. I’m not the owner. I’m just the caretaker,” she said evenly, her voice firm.
Before Mr. Sykes could answer, a sharp knock sounded on the side door. Helen nearly sighed with relief. She rose quickly, her chair scraping the tile.
Oliver stood there, coat collar turned up against the December chill. “Sorry to drop by this late,” he said, eyes catching hers and instantly softening. “Saw your light on when I drove past. Thought I’d make sure everything was okay.”
Helen stepped aside, letting him in, the warmth of his presence filling the room. “Come on in. I’ll make you some coffee to take the chill off,” she said lightly. “You remember Mr. Sykes, don’t you, Oliver? He was here for Thanksgiving.”
Oliver’s gaze shifted to the guest, polite but steady. “I remember. Looks like you’ve made yourself at home here.” He glanced at his pajamas. Something behind Oliver’s eyes hardened. His tone was friendly, but authoritative.
Mr. Sykes smiled tightly, his expression shifting. “Evening.” He gave a short nod and turned toward the hallway. “Guess I’ll head back to my room.”
When he was gone, Helen let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Oliver leaned a hip against the counter, watching her with quiet concern. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, setting the pen down. “He’s just … a little too friendly. I can make you some coffee if you want.”
Oliver’s mouth curved, just slightly. “No thanks. Keep your phone on you. And leave the porch light on. I’ll swing by again tomorrow.”
Helen found herself smiling back, a warmth unrelated to the kitchen heat spreading through her. “I will. Thanks, Oliver.”
Chapter 29
The next day was Christmas Eve, and Helen knew she would be busy the whole day. The Edgars had checked out, and the bed and breakfast would be getting two more guests that night who would also be there for Christmas dinner.
The Edgars had hit the road before dawn, eager to get to their next destination, leaving her alone with Mr. Sykes. Thankfully he was not an early riser, so she still had the house to herself.
A winter storm had rolled in overnight leaving a thick blanket of snow across the town. According to the weather report they would be getting more snow today.
