CHAPTER TEN
The Second X-Mas Club Meeting.
Thursday night.
No snow, no rain, and no excuse not to show up at the second meeting of the X-Mas Club. Veronica dressed in a navy wool V-neck sweater over a white cotton blouse, with some old worn jeans tucked into buttery-leather tall boots. She tamed her hair into a fluffy mess and called it her new look.
At the last minute, she added some chunky silver earrings and a spray of perfume. Not Trudy’s Chanel, but a light fragrance that reminded her of a garden.
“Only because that old lodge is so stuffy,” she told Lulu. “I used to spend summers at the lake. It’s past the lodge, down in the valley between two foothills. Lots of cabins down there. Had a lot of fun times there, flirting with boys, telling secrets with my friends, swimming in the lake—you’d like that part, girl.”
Lulu’s adoring eyes told Veronica she would like that and let’s go.
She stopped and checked the time, thinking she wouldn’t go any further down memory lane. “You ready, girl?”
Lulu fluffed her tail. Apparently, she couldn’t wait.
“Okay, here we go then.”
They arrived about twenty minutes later. Everyone else had beaten them here. She noticed a new vehicle. Cullen apparently had a nice hearty Jeep to get him up the mountain. In black, of course. She hadn’t noticed it last time.
After parking her car, Veronica saw the grounds around the lodge had been pruned and cleaned. Since the snow had melted, she could see the old azaleas and tall magnolias had been spruced up. They’d be beautiful come spring, as they’d settle nicely near the aged live oaks and tall pines.
Two fresh evergreen wreaths adorned the double front doors.
Somehow, that seemed more like Christmas than all the twinkling lights lining the main street in town.
She opened one of the doors and smelled something divine coming from the big kitchen. Another dream? Would this dream last through Christmas? Would there be pie?
When she heard laughter, she followed her nose, and her happy dog, into the kitchen. Veronica noticed the long butcher-block counter gleamed, and the wooden floors sparkled. Elves?
“Veronica!” Hillman greeted her with a big hug. “I’m so glad you came back.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, trying to avoid the tall, handsome man in the white chef’s apron with his back turned toward the now-clean-and-working stove. Why hadn’t she noticed the kitchen’s transformation or his broad shoulders before? Cullen seemed to be able to slip into any situation with ease, and apparently, he liked things all neat and tidy and sparkling.
Trudy gave her a knowing smile, her matching burgundy sweater and pants making her regal. “You look nice, Veronica.”
“Nice . . . that’s the look I was going for,” she replied to Trudy.
Cullen glanced around. “And fashionably late.”
Bethany giggled and took a drink of sparkling water. “Hi, Veronica.” She wore a long, dark-brown flowing dress with a light-tan sweater. So young and so adorable, she had the pregnancy glow. Or maybe the fashion tips and quick makeover Trudy and Veronica had given her yesterday had boosted her confidence.
Veronica nodded at Cullen. “Hi, everyone.”
“Cullen is cooking for us. Something involving steak and frites,” Trudy said, her wine matching her outfit.
“French fries,” Veronica said. “I knew that smell, but I couldn’t place it. Steak and french fries.”
“Skirt steak and frites,” Hillman said. “With a fresh salad and herbal dressing.”
“Did you pick the herbs and grind them yourself?” she asked Cullen when he turned and wiped his hands on the apron.
“I might have,” he said with a shrug. “Are you hungry?”
He had a hungry look in his eyes that scared her.
And excited her, a sharp contrast to her curiosity about his motives. She still needed to figure him out. He was an easy distraction, she’d give him that.
“Starving,” she lied. She’d nibble fries, however. “Can’t wait for dessert.”
“That’s a surprise,” Hillman said with a conspiring grin.
Cullen didn’t elaborate on the dessert.
He held up the two wines. “Red or white?”
“White, thank you.”
Pouring her a goblet, he came across the room, his gaze centered on her. Mostly on her lips. Had she smeared her lipstick?
“Here you go.”
She glanced around to avoid those eyes. “Someone cleaned up.”
“Me and Cullen,” Hillman said. “After we dropped off the items we donated to the church, we spent the day cleaning the grounds and piddling in this old place. Got a ton of dust and cobwebs kicked out of here.”
Veronica could see they’d worked hard. “It even smells better, and not because of the food.”
“I brought an orange-cranberry candle,” Bethany said. “I thought I should share it with someone.”
Veronica made a face. “I brought the dog.”
“And we love her,” Hillman said, rubbing Lulu’s furry head while the dog closed her eyes in bliss.
Veronica glanced up to find Cullen watching her. “How are you?” he asked.
Everyone else gave her a questioning, sympathetic stare.
“Really?” She shook her head. “I survived cleaning out the closets, and today I did a little pruning and cleaning too. I’m going to decorate. A little bit.”
“But we aren’t doing Christmas,” Bethany said, her head coming up.
“I’m not”—Veronica did the finger quotation marks in the air—“‘decorating.’ I’m making things homey. My daughter might be able to come home for a short time after Christmas.”
“That’s great,” Hillman said. “I talked to one of my sons this week. He actually listened to me and said he was proud of me. A lot like his mother, that one.”
Bethany patted him on the arm. “I’m sure he enjoyed talking to you.”
Hillman’s chuckle sounded like pebbles hitting wood. “We did have a nice talk, for a change. How ’bout you, young lady?”
Bethany looked down at Lulu. “Troy might make it home on Christmas Eve, but no promises. I told him we really need to talk. I also told him about y’all. He was surprised, but he didn’t understand what we’re doing here.” She pushed at her hair. “I almost didn’t come tonight, but I’m determined to see this through. Besides, I have new friends and that’s helped me so much.”
“We’re just getting started,” Trudy said. “Me, I filed divorce papers this week.” When they all gave her pity stares, she held up her hand, a diamond solitaire winking at them in what must be three carats. “I’m fine, people. I knew the man was cheating, but I denied it. I am no longer in denial. I’m ready for the next adventure in my life.”
Hillman lifted his tall beer glass. “Amen to that.” He gave Trudy a big smile. She smiled back.
Veronica lifted her eyebrows at Trudy. “What’s that sizzle I hear?”
Trudy almost lost her composure but checked herself. “I think it’s the skirt steak, darling.”
“Right,” Veronica said as she whizzed by Trudy to go and talk to Cullen. Why, she didn’t know, except she seemed drawn to him. That should concern her and scare her, but nothing about this holiday season had been normal, and for tonight, she’d enjoy this agenda. Her daughter had called her, and they’d talked, really talked. Her house wasn’t so gloomy and sad anymore, and her heart, while it still ached, had found some solace in knowing she wasn’t alone. Knowing her new friends had also purged a few things helped. But Christmas would be over soon.
And where would that leave all of them? Where would that leave Cullen, the man who’d somehow brought them all together?
“You’ve been quiet,” Cullen whispered later to Veronica. They’d moved to the big den, which looked better now. The whole place seemed warm and homey, cozy.
He and Hillman had swept, vacuumed, and scoured the old leather furniture with a special leather cleaner. It smelled lemony and clean. They’d polished the tables and cut some greenery to make it have a more holiday feel.
“I’m taking it all in,” she replied as they settled on the couch, full of his prime cuts of steak and the crisp fries he’d sliced from fresh potatoes and then dusted with Parmesan cheese.
Tillman and Trudy took the two chairs with a small table between them, and Bethany picked the big plaid ottoman by the sofa. That left the couch to them.
“You seem to have made yourself at home,” Veronica continued while she sank against the sofa’s other side. “I don’t get why you’d stay here, when you could be around all sorts of people in town.”
“You sure ask a lot of questions.”
“You’ve been kind to me, and I thank you for that, but I need to understand what you’re trying to prove. Maybe you’re the ghost of Christmas future.”
He shrugged. “Maybe it’s kismet, karma, God’s will, or a coincidence we need to accept. I could be the man in your future.”
She held his gaze. “I need concrete proof of what your true intentions are.”
“Why?”
She leaned toward him. “This,” she said. “You, coming back here, cleaning up a place no one wants to think about.”
“Maybe I came back because once, no one wanted to think about me.”
“And now you’ve reinvented yourself, and you have the power to make things happen.”
Cullen saw the steel in her eyes. She wouldn’t back down. “You know, you’re hard to impress, hard to read, disapproving, and distrustful. Hard to hold, but easy to love, I’m thinking.”
“Don’t think anything—not about me.”
“Funny. I do think about you, which makes no sense to me at all.”
“No sense, yes, now we’re on the same page.” She pushed at her hair, making him want to touch all those long curls. “This makes no sense. You know us—or some of us. You must have a good reason to go to all this trouble. And I don’t think it has anything to do with you owning this property.”
“I don’t like being around all people. Only certain people.”
“Well, you sure picked an oddball group. But you seem to have handpicked everyone here, but me. I don’t like being someone’s science project.”
“I like bringing people together, and yes, there is a science to that. But it’s a good one.”
He’d learned that, living as he did as a child. He’d learned the hard way how to alienate people, and then he’d trained himself to learn how to bring people together.
“What are you two whispering about?” Trudy asked, her wine goblet in her hand, her gaze razor sharp on them.
Cullen lifted his head. “Veronica wants me to share more about myself.”
Hillman tilted his head but didn’t say anything.
Bethany’s vivid eyes lit up. “You’re Irish. That’s obvious. But you seem to know things about Hidden Mountain.”
“I know a few things,” he admitted. “This lodge is a big place and I’m taking this time with all of you to decide what I should do about it.”
“Are we like a mini-focus group?” Bethany asked, her gaze flickering over all of them.
“That’s a good way to put it, yes.”
“So you might be here even after Christmas?” Trudy asked, her frank gaze missing nothing.
“That depends on a lot of things.” He gave Veronica a quick smile and then stood. “I’m going to bring in dessert.”
“I’ll help,” Hillman said, hurrying to follow him into the kitchen. Then he leaned close when they were out of earshot of the others. “You might want to come out with it, Cullen.”
“Not yet. Not until after Christmas.”
Hillman shook his head. “Veronica is not the kind to take being fooled lightly. Remember that.”
“What am I being fooled about?”
They both turned to find her standing in the wide entryway to the kitchen.
Could they look any more guilty? “Okay, you two, what have you cooked up?”
“I guess we need to tell her,” Cullen said, looking flustered for the first time ever.
“Okay. Go ahead.” Hillman’s expression held a hint of amusement, his eyes bright, his chuckle full of mirth.
“I’m making white chocolate crème brûlée for dessert.”
Hillman shook his head. “I’m gonna let you two scorch the top.” Then he walked back across to the big living room.
“We’re going to caramelize the sugar,” Cullen said. “Wanna help, Veronica?”
Scorch, burn, sugar.
She got hot underneath her collar. But she had a gut feeling they had not been discussing how she’d handle crème brûlée. She should demand an explanation and the truth.
“I’ll watch,” she said instead. Maybe he’d open up to her more if she humored him.
He took the dainty white ramekins out of the refrigerator. “The trick with crème brûlée is to let the custard cool for hours before you put the sugar on and caramelize it.”
“Really now? Did you learn to cook in France?”
“Oui,” he said without hesitation. Or pretentiousness.
Veronica shook her head. “Maybe you should go after Trudy. She’s also a gourmet cook, and she speaks French fluently.”
“I like Trudy,” he said, his eyes on Veronica. “But I like you more. A lot more.”
“Why is that?”
“I think because you’re a surprise, and it takes a lot to surprise me.”
“I’ve surprised myself,” she admitted. “I needed to make a change, pull myself up out of my grief and isolation. My daughter gave me a stiff ultimatum on the same morning I had a show-down in a clothing store with a former friend.”
“The morning I saw you trying to destroy your steering wheel?”
“Yes, that very day. The same day I found that flyer and saw you across the street.”
“That day changed a lot for me too,” he admitted. “I came back here to make amends to some and to show others I’d succeeded—those who made sure to let me know I was beneath being saved.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, thinking they had that bond. “But you obviously overcame the naysayers.”
“I did. But sometimes when I’m alone, all the angst comes back.”
“We have that in common,” she said, her doubts like a distant mist now. Still, she wanted to trust him a bit more each time he opened up to her. “So what were you and Hillman really talking about earlier?”
He kept at his work. “I’d like to extend an invitation to all of you to spend Christmas weekend here at the lodge. That’s all.”
She didn’t believe that, but she let it slide. “Hillman is right. I don’t like being fooled. I’ve always gone after the truth. I was an almost-journalist at one time.”
“Duly noted.” He gave her a direct gaze. “I like my privacy, okay?”
She started to complain, but instead watched as he spread with flair the sugar on the ramekins of creamy custard. Then he turned on the small handheld torch and moved it slowly back and forth over each serving.
“It needs to set for about a half hour, but we can take in the coffee tray first, then I’ll come back and get this.”
“Oh, am I your sous chef?”
He gave her a look that said many things and made her get that warm feeling again. “That could work.”
“Finish with your torch and let’s eat this stuff.”
“I like that you enjoy food.”
“I like that you enjoy cooking food.”
“Have dinner with me this weekend, here at the lodge. Or we can drive down to Atlanta and find a nice restaurant. I know a few.”
“I know a few too.” She started the coffee tray, adding cups and sugar, real cream he’d poured into a tiny serving pitcher, and sweetener. “But what makes you think I want to go to dinner with you?”
“Because you seem to enjoy a good meal?”
She laughed. “That’s called stress-eating. Trust me, I haven’t had an appetite for a long time now.”
“Is this group helping?”
“Mostly,” she admitted. “I’ve known Trudy a while now, but we’d never actually had a real conversation. And Hillman is a local celebrity because of his car dealerships all over the region, but we’d never had a real conversation either. Bethany, I remember from her being an assistant to one of my former friends. But she left that job a while back.” She stopped her busy work. “But I don’t know you. And certainly not well enough to go to Atlanta with you.”
“I come in peace, and I will do no harm.”
“I believe you. You were a big help the other night—just being there, listening, understanding. And not one platitude came out of your mouth. I think that’s why I like you, no clichés. But harm could be done. The kind of harm that leaves things messy. I’m not ready for any of this.”
“I wasn’t ready for you.” He lowered his head, then gave her a questioning glance. “We did agree to be friends, get to know each other.”
“Yes, we did. So far, it’s going okay.”
“I’d like to think so. I do think about you, a lot.”
“Okay, this conversation shaved off a few minutes of having to wait for this crème brûlée to be ready. I can’t go to dinner with you.”
“You ate dinner with me the other night.”
“You showed up at my door and I was hungry.”
He placed the ramekins on a pretty tray. “Then I’ll keep showing up. I think that’s what you need most. Someone to show up.”
She huffed a laugh to hide how much that touched her. “No, what I need most is to eat my crème brûlée.”
He smiled at her. “How about a picnic?”
She let her imagination run wild on what he’d bring to a winter picnic. S’mores, maybe? “It’s cold outside.”
“I’ll build a fire.”
“I just bet you will,” she said, thinking he could start a fire if she let him. But her heart had been burned, scorched, crushed, and broken in the worst possible way. She’d never risk that again. Not even for crème brûlée.