If You Believe in Love
Chapter One
Thank goodness that was over. Krista Rhodes had driven through snowstorms before, but the last three hours were crazy. The rental car’s GPS promised the trip from the airport to the Eagle’s Nest Inn in Angels Glen would be one hour and ten minutes. No one had informed the disembodied voice about the raging blizzard.
One other car huddled under a marshmallow mound in the snow-covered lot at the side of the building. The other guests would be arriving in the dark if they didn’t get a move on. She adjusted her hat and pulled on gloves. The windshield was already covered. Crazy.
Blinking snow from her eyes, she dragged her suitcase toward the front door. The path recently shovelled was filling up before her eyes. The online brochure photos had obviously been taken during the height of summer. Somewhere under the mountain of snow were vibrant flowers and flowering shrubs.
Why couldn’t cousin Violet have a summer wedding? And this wasn’t even the main event, two months away on Valentine’s Day, of course. This was the pre-wedding retreat for the bridal party. When had that become a thing?
Krista trudged up the porch steps and pushed open the massive door.
Vi could be forgiven for insisting her pre-wedding party be held here. Subtle and tasteful bits of Christmas décor were everywhere. Fresh, fragrant greenery wrapped around the banister leading to the second floor, a small feather tree adorned with antique bird-shaped ornaments sat on a table, and potted red and white poinsettias provided pops of festive colour. Through the wide archway into the living room or parlour, the Christmas tree gleamed and sparkled. Every inhalation was like a pine and cinnamon scented hug of memories. Underneath the holiday embellishment was the framework, a large Victorian-era house, former holiday home of a long-dead steel tycoon.
A woman emerged from the shadowy hall. “Oh, good. I was afraid the pass was closed. I’m Sally.”
Krista pulled off her hat. “Closed?”
“Snow like this, the pass closes. But you’re here, the others may still show up. Have you heard from anyone else in the party?”
Krista rummaged in her bag and pulled out her phone. “Shoot, I forgot to switch off airplane mode.” As soon as she did, her phone went crazy with incoming texts. She opened the most recent from Vi. “Oh no! Her flight was cancelled.”
“That the bride, dear?”
“Yes. They’ll be on a flight tomorrow morning.”
“Doesn’t mean they’ll get from the airport to here. Let me show you to your room. Your name?”
“Krista Rhodes.”
The woman checked her computer screen. “You’re in the Calligrapha room.”
“Is that another word for calligraphy?” Krista hefted her suitcase and left the carry-on for Sally.
“No, a type of beetle. One other guest arrived earlier, one of the groom’s friends, Doctor Eric Monroe, he’s in the Imperator room.”
Krista followed as Sally climbed the carpeted stairs at a brisk pace, turned right on the landing and strode to the end of the hall. She flung open the last door on the left and hit the switch for the overhead light, a gorgeous hand-painted antique like those in a B&B back home.
Krista silently squealed with joy. Every bit of furniture held the patina of centuries. Art Nouveau inspired wallpaper, though fussy and busy, was perfect for the era. But the crowning glory was the sleigh bed covered with a poofy duvet and lots of pillows. Given the chance, she would spend every minute of her five days locked in this bower of tranquility. Imagine how many books she could read!
Sally set the bag atop a chest and opened a door next to the full-length mirror. “Here’s your bathroom. You’ll need to let the hot water run for a few minutes. Generator is new, so there won’t be any trouble when the power goes out.”
“When?”
“It could happen with this much snow.” She opened another door to reveal a closet. “There are emergency lights in the halls and common rooms. We should have enough candles and lanterns for each room.”
Krista was used to power outages, having lived in MacLeod’s Cove all her thirty-four years. The coast of Nova Scotia saw its share of nor’easters, along with the occasional hurricane. “This all looks lovely.” She draped her coat over the desk chair to dry.
“There are drinks in the parlour. My phone number is posted at the desk. Don’t bother calling Julie, she’s in Florida. I’ll leave a printout of the room assignments there as well, in case I’m not here when—if anyone else arrives.”
“You’re leaving?”
“The ten minute walk home may take twice as long, and I need to get supper into my husband. Not to worry, Amos is here, you won’t starve.” She stepped into the hall and closed the door with a click.
Amos must be the award-winning chef the brochure touted.
First order of business was the use of the compact bathroom. The toilet was a water-saving reproduction, but the other fixtures were genuinely old. She couldn’t wait to sink into the deep tub and sample the array of bath salts.
More comfortable and able to think clearly, she perched on the edge of the bed and scrolled through the other texts. All bad news. Two of the bridesmaids weren’t coming at all, issues with work or childcare. And the groom’s mother had a flare-up, no specifics given, and was bowing out. Krista sent a text to the bride’s group announcing her safe arrival.
A gust of wind blew snow against the glass, drawing Krista to the window. Swirls of white obscured the fading landscape, giving the illusion of floating within a cloud.
She yawned. Up at dawn to leave MacLeod’s Cove in time for her flight out of Halifax. Layovers in Toronto and Chicago. Capped off with a nerve-wracking drive through the mountains. She flexed her fingers, cramped from gripping the steering wheel of the rental car. Plus, her internal clock read three hours later, time for bed. She was tempted to nestle among the pillows and burrow under the duvet, but she should be sociable.
The long day on her own, the first in ages, had given her lots of time for thinking. And rethinking. But she was happy with her decision. The reaction would come after the holidays.
Thank goodness that was over. Krista Rhodes had driven through snowstorms before, but the last three hours were crazy. The rental car’s GPS promised the trip from the airport to the Eagle’s Nest Inn in Angels Glen would be one hour and ten minutes. No one had informed the disembodied voice about the raging blizzard.
One other car huddled under a marshmallow mound in the snow-covered lot at the side of the building. The other guests would be arriving in the dark if they didn’t get a move on. She adjusted her hat and pulled on gloves. The windshield was already covered. Crazy.
Blinking snow from her eyes, she dragged her suitcase toward the front door. The path recently shovelled was filling up before her eyes. The online brochure photos had obviously been taken during the height of summer. Somewhere under the mountain of snow were vibrant flowers and flowering shrubs.
Why couldn’t cousin Violet have a summer wedding? And this wasn’t even the main event, two months away on Valentine’s Day, of course. This was the pre-wedding retreat for the bridal party. When had that become a thing?
Krista trudged up the porch steps and pushed open the massive door.
Vi could be forgiven for insisting her pre-wedding party be held here. Subtle and tasteful bits of Christmas décor were everywhere. Fresh, fragrant greenery wrapped around the banister leading to the second floor, a small feather tree adorned with antique bird-shaped ornaments sat on a table, and potted red and white poinsettias provided pops of festive colour. Through the wide archway into the living room or parlour, the Christmas tree gleamed and sparkled. Every inhalation was like a pine and cinnamon scented hug of memories. Underneath the holiday embellishment was the framework, a large Victorian-era house, former holiday home of a long-dead steel tycoon.
A woman emerged from the shadowy hall. “Oh, good. I was afraid the pass was closed. I’m Sally.”
Krista pulled off her hat. “Closed?”
“Snow like this, the pass closes. But you’re here, the others may still show up. Have you heard from anyone else in the party?”
Krista rummaged in her bag and pulled out her phone. “Shoot, I forgot to switch off airplane mode.” As soon as she did, her phone went crazy with incoming texts. She opened the most recent from Vi. “Oh no! Her flight was cancelled.”
“That the bride, dear?”
“Yes. They’ll be on a flight tomorrow morning.”
“Doesn’t mean they’ll get from the airport to here. Let me show you to your room. Your name?”
“Krista Rhodes.”
The woman checked her computer screen. “You’re in the Calligrapha room.”
“Is that another word for calligraphy?” Krista hefted her suitcase and left the carry-on for Sally.
“No, a type of beetle. One other guest arrived earlier, one of the groom’s friends, Doctor Eric Monroe, he’s in the Imperator room.”
Krista followed as Sally climbed the carpeted stairs at a brisk pace, turned right on the landing and strode to the end of the hall. She flung open the last door on the left and hit the switch for the overhead light, a gorgeous hand-painted antique like those in a B&B back home.
Krista silently squealed with joy. Every bit of furniture held the patina of centuries. Art Nouveau inspired wallpaper, though fussy and busy, was perfect for the era. But the crowning glory was the sleigh bed covered with a poofy duvet and lots of pillows. Given the chance, she would spend every minute of her five days locked in this bower of tranquility. Imagine how many books she could read!
Sally set the bag atop a chest and opened a door next to the full-length mirror. “Here’s your bathroom. You’ll need to let the hot water run for a few minutes. Generator is new, so there won’t be any trouble when the power goes out.”
“When?”
“It could happen with this much snow.” She opened another door to reveal a closet. “There are emergency lights in the halls and common rooms. We should have enough candles and lanterns for each room.”
Krista was used to power outages, having lived in MacLeod’s Cove all her thirty-four years. The coast of Nova Scotia saw its share of nor’easters, along with the occasional hurricane. “This all looks lovely.” She draped her coat over the desk chair to dry.
“There are drinks in the parlour. My phone number is posted at the desk. Don’t bother calling Julie, she’s in Florida. I’ll leave a printout of the room assignments there as well, in case I’m not here when—if anyone else arrives.”
“You’re leaving?”
“The ten minute walk home may take twice as long, and I need to get supper into my husband. Not to worry, Amos is here, you won’t starve.” She stepped into the hall and closed the door with a click.
Amos must be the award-winning chef the brochure touted.
First order of business was the use of the compact bathroom. The toilet was a water-saving reproduction, but the other fixtures were genuinely old. She couldn’t wait to sink into the deep tub and sample the array of bath salts.
More comfortable and able to think clearly, she perched on the edge of the bed and scrolled through the other texts. All bad news. Two of the bridesmaids weren’t coming at all, issues with work or childcare. And the groom’s mother had a flare-up, no specifics given, and was bowing out. Krista sent a text to the bride’s group announcing her safe arrival.
A gust of wind blew snow against the glass, drawing Krista to the window. Swirls of white obscured the fading landscape, giving the illusion of floating within a cloud.
She yawned. Up at dawn to leave MacLeod’s Cove in time for her flight out of Halifax. Layovers in Toronto and Chicago. Capped off with a nerve-wracking drive through the mountains. She flexed her fingers, cramped from gripping the steering wheel of the rental car. Plus, her internal clock read three hours later, time for bed. She was tempted to nestle among the pillows and burrow under the duvet, but she should be sociable.
The long day on her own, the first in ages, had given her lots of time for thinking. And rethinking. But she was happy with her decision. The reaction would come after the holidays.