Page 5 of All I Want For Christmas Is You

His ex’s biggest complaint had been that he didn’t pay enough attention to her, so what the hell was he doing noticing what a stranger drank?

“I’ll have a cappuccino,” his daughter said. “Make it a double, please. I’ll be up late tonight.”

“Lots of presents to wrap?” The server looked to be about his age. Her shiny dark hair tumbled down her back in soft waves, and she had warm hazel eyes.

“I wish.” Jessa’s expression fell. As the youngest, she’d missed out on the most. Her older siblings had aged out of Easter egg hunts and building gingerbread houses at a time when it mattered to the littlest. He’d built and hunted with her, but it hadn’t been the same. “I have a ton of work.”

“Student at Whitney?” the lovely woman asked.

“Yep.”

“I went there.” A grin brightened her face. “Loved it.”

There’s a clue. Maybe she’d majored in hospitality. She probably did either own or manage the lodge.

“I love it so much, I stayed for my master’s,” Jessa said. “My mom says I’m afraid of the real world, so I’ll just keep staying in school—”

“But the truth is,” Beau cut in, “Jessa’s passionate about making mining sustainable.” He would not let anyone get into this perfect child’s head. “She’s going to change the world one day.”

The woman gave him a smile filled with admiration but turned her focus to Jessa. “Mining, huh? That’s unusual.”

“Well, my dad owns a mine, so I’m creating a way to extract the minerals from the water, making it less harmful to the environment.”

“That’s fantastic. I’m impressed.” The server hugged the menus to her chest, her upbeat spirits flagging. “Well, let me get the rugby team out here to help deliver your five hundred desserts. Be right back.” When she started off, he felt the strangest tug in his chest. He didn’t want her to go. But she surprised him by turning back around. “What about you? Coffee, tea? An after-dinner drink?”

“Nothing.” Except you can tell me what made you sad just then. “Thank you, though.”

The woman rallied with a smile. “Oh, you’ll need something to go with all that goodness.”

“My dad doesn’t have coffee after two o’clock, and he rarely drinks booze.” His daughter rolled her eyes, but he knew how much it mattered to her, since her mom overindulged in everything. “He’s incredibly boring.”

“Or maybe he’s got a whole other secret side.” The server gave a playful lift of her eyebrows.

“No. She’s right. I’m just boring.” He reached out his hand. “I’m Beau.” He gestured to his daughter. “And this is Jessa.”

“Nice to meet you both. I’m Margot. I hope you’re enjoying your stay at the Merry Falls Lodge.” And then, she was gone.

“That was weird, right?” Jessa asked.

“What was?”

“The way her mood changed when I talked about my job. Did I say something?”

“No.” It was just like his girl to blame herself. Which was why the divorce had been so damn hard. Growing up in a small cabin, the kids had gotten a front-row seat to the fighting and indifference of two people ill-suited for each other.

He’d read a lot about the impact of divorce on kids and learned they often blamed themselves. He didn’t want that for his open-hearted little girl. “We don’t know anything about her life.”

“We knew she was happy, and then I talked about my plans, and she got sad.”

“We can’t read her mind, so the only thing we can do is be kind to her.”

The band stopped playing, and the microphone screeched. He turned around to find an older woman on the stage. “Sorry about that.” She laughed. “Happy holidays, everyone, and thank you for joining us at the Merry Falls Lodge. I’m Lucy Gibbins, the proprietor, and these are The Lost Ridge Ramblers.”

While Beau joined in the applause, his gaze roamed in search of the server. “Margot.” Even though his voice went unheard over the shouts and whistles, he said the name out loud, testing the sound of it on his tongue, feeling the movement of his lips on the M and the O.

She stood behind the bar, her dark hair gleaming in the overhead lights, her expression full of affection for the speaker. Huh. Related somehow?

“In case you haven’t noticed, this is our favorite time of year.” Ms. Gibbins made a sweeping gesture to indicate the strings of white lights, the fresh boughs wrapped around the exposed wooden beams, and the sprigs of mistletoe dangling from the low ceiling. Each table had a pine wreath wrapped around the base of a glass votive, giving off its sharp scent. “So, we’re glad you’re here to share it with us.”

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