Page 9 of All I Want For Christmas Is You

Which was crazy because she was a grown-ass woman—not a teenager. She’d noticed him the moment he’d handed off his rental car to the valet—his cheeks red from the cold, his overlong dark hair tousled from the wind.

And those eyes. She’d never seen a brighter blue. It was like staring into the heart of a fire.

Sure, he was handsome. So much so that everyone noticed him. Whenever he crossed the lobby or entered the restaurant, heads turned and conversations paused. But the world was full of good-looking people, and she didn’t get a visceral reaction from any of them. No, there was something about him.

A goodness, a kindness. He exuded a humility that didn’t fit with his expensive watch and designer clothes. That leather duffel bag had to have cost a fortune. She recognized it from her Greenwich days.

Given what she’d just endured—a divorce after the worst kind of betrayal—she might’ve been able to ignore him. It would be a long time before she considered dating. Except that he noticed her. Every time he passed her in the lobby, he’d give her this stoic look, but his eyes burned with interest.

For most of her life, she’d gotten attention from men. She wasn’t a beauty by any stretch, but she had a pleasant-looking face—approachable, friendly, whatever. She exercised regularly. Nothing grueling, but she made a point to walk every day.

But at some point, she’d hit a certain age and the attention stopped. She’d become invisible. She wasn’t sure why. Honestly, she didn’t even think she looked all that different. There was no question, though, that she didn’t turn heads anymore.

Except his. Somehow, she was on his radar, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why.

All of five foot two, her aunt Lucy burst into the kitchen with her big, commanding energy. She stopped when she spotted her. “What’re you doing here?”

Margot held up a tray. “I’m bringing more scones out.”

Twenty years ago, when all she’d wanted in the world was to get into Whitney, her parents had told her there was no way they could afford it. She’d understood, of course. It was an elite, private university, and she’d gotten into plenty of other schools. The state one would’ve been just fine.

But Whitney had the best Fine Arts program in the country. World-famous artists visited and worked with the students. She’d wanted it so badly. So, when her aunt Lucy had offered her free room and board—she didn’t have to do a thing at the lodge because it was fully staffed—Margot had bawled like a baby. She’d wanted so little out of life, but to learn her craft and work with artists? It meant the world to her. She’d taken out loans, packed up her bags, and off she’d gone.

In a million years, she’d never have anticipated moving back into that little room intended for live-in staff. In her forties.

But here I am.

Her aunt marched over like she wanted to snatch the baked goods out of her hands, but once she stood in front of her, those pale blue eyes gazed up with concern. “Honey, go back to work. I’ve told you a hundred times, I don’t need your help. You’ll probably trip on the carpet and drop the whole batch anyway.”

Margot laughed. She was plenty coordinated and wasn’t prone to dropping things, but her aunt showed love with actions, not words. Yeah, well. Same. So, she moved around her, determined to help in any way she could. “I earn my keep.”

“You want to know how to do that? Build your business so you can get the hell out of my hair. Now, go on. Get out of my kitchen and go sell some ornaments.”

“Fine. After I drop these off. I’m working at the coffee bar this morning anyway.”

The Merry Falls Lodge had been in the family for generations. Most of the Gibbinses had left western North Carolina to seek their fortunes in big cities, but not Aunt Lucy. She loved it here. Loved hosting families and couples, travelers, and workers.

She was tough as nails and had the biggest heart of anyone Margot knew.

At the kitchen door, Margot turned back. “You worried about the storm?”

“I’m not the one who needs to be worried. It’s all those guests out there who think, ‘Eh, it’s the East Coast. They’re set up for snow.’ I’d hate to see anyone miss out on the holidays with their families.”

Aunt Lucy had never married or had kids—well, she’d say she married the lodge, and she considered her friends in Merry Falls her family. Margot had always wondered why her dad had left only to become anonymous in a big city, where he worked a thankless job, when he could’ve run the lodge with his sister. “All you can do is warn them.”

“We’ll be okay. We’ve got the generator and a pantry stuffed to the gills, so at least we’ll have enough food for everyone. Now, take those out there before they get stale. Go on.” She made a shooing motion.

“Ugh. So mean.” With a grin, Margot headed out of the kitchen into the lobby. The lodge was a historic landmark, but her aunt kept up with the times and had created a very cool space in the lobby with a fancy espresso machine, comfortable chairs, tables, and lots of electrical outlets and charging stations.

She set the tray on the counter. “Here you go.”

The barista was busy but gave her an appreciative smile. “You want something to drink?”

“No, I’m good. I still have my chai.” Margot sat down at her table. Time to dig in.

Despite the ordeal she’d endured the past eight months, one daisy had pushed its way up through the concrete: she got to earn her living through art.

She’d chosen to stay home with her kids, assuming she’d get back to her work when they graduated high school. Unfortunately, her ex lost his job during Emerson’s freshman year of college, so she’d had to put it off again. But she was so grateful she’d started her side business to make extra cash because now, she’d grown it into so much more. She made logos for business owners, book covers for small publishers and self-published authors, and even sold original watercolors online.

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