The Christmas Inn. Stella MacLean

so sorry! I didn’t know.”

      “There’s no reason you should.”

      Her heart went out to him. How hard it must be to lose the one person you loved, especially at Christmas, and be left to raise a child alone. She searched for something appropriate to say, but realized that he was past being helped by words of sympathy. No wonder his eyes looked so haunted.

      He smoothed his hand over his hair. “Would you—” He stopped as if he remembered something. “Would you like to have dinner with me this evening?”

      He smiled his son’s smile, and Marnie was captivated. “I would.”

      “Then why don’t I meet you in the bar around nine? We could have a drink and talk—” He shrugged. “Talk about anything you want.”

      He seemed uneasy. Why? Surely he had his pick of women who would happily go to dinner with him. “I would love to have dinner with you.” She waited to see if he’d say anything more, and when he didn’t she headed for the door, sucking her stomach in, hoping to appear thin and beautiful in spite of the fact that she was still wearing the same pair of jeans she’d been napping in only a short time ago. “See you soon,” she said.

      Marnie was nearly bursting out of her skin. She had a date with the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, and that was the truth, pure and simple.

      A real live date. Wonders never ceased.

      She literally skipped up the first flight of stairs. Belatedly, she realized that she had exactly one dress with her that would be suitable for a date—a little black dress that was still in the bottom of her suitcase. And one pair of canary-yellow heels to wear with it.

      CHAPTER THREE

      A HALF HOUR LATER MARNIE stood at the entrance to the bar, trying not to look at her feet. She had bigger problems, she noted, as she held her head high to keep the V of her dress from puckering. The few times she’d donned this dress she’d worn her Victoria’s Secret push-up bra to take up the slack created by her less than impressive “front bumpers,” as her brothers used to call them. But the bra in question was resting peacefully back in her underwear drawer at home.

      As for what was on her feet, there was nothing she could do about that particular issue, either. She’d packed her only pair of high heels, prepared to look different and sexy.

      She had different covered, all right.

      When she entered the bar, some of the men stopped talking and watched her walk past them. Sliding up onto a bar stool, she quietly assessed the bartender. He was a man around her age, she guessed, and the hairdresser in her wanted the opportunity to restyle his hair, shorten the top, maybe....

      He came over to her immediately, and with a welcoming smile planted his hands on the bar. “What can I get you this evening?”

      He had a pleasant voice, and his manner put her immediately at ease. “Chardonnay?” she asked, feeling good about herself, all because she was about to have a glass of wine while waiting for her date. So maybe it wasn’t a regular date, and maybe there’d only be one, but one was better than none.

      “Coming right up,” the bartender said, snapping open a bar fridge under the counter behind him. She peered up at the ornate carving on the wood framing the bar. It looked like a stag and a dove.

      A woman dressed in a bright red top and black pants sat down on the stool next to her. “Do you mind?” the woman asked, her blond hair—a good color job, Marnie noted—swaying around her high cheek bones and sparkling blue eyes.

      “Not at all. I’m Marnie.” She smiled, happy to have someone to chat with while she waited for Luke.

      “I’m Cindy. So nice to meet you.”

      “You, too. Are you staying at the inn?”

      “Yes. It’s our fifth wedding anniversary. My husband and I were married here in Wakesfield just before Christmas five years ago. The minister from the local Episcopalian church married us. I wanted a church wedding so much, and my husband was willing to go along.” She adjusted the neckline of her red top. “You know how men are about weddings. They’d just as soon go to a justice of the peace, but I wanted a big wedding.”

      “I did, too, once,” Marnie said, drawn to this woman’s openness.

      “Are you married? Are you taking part in the Christmas Getaway event?”

      Marnie tucked her naked ring finger out of sight. “No, but the getaway sounds like fun.”

      “When we heard about it, my husband and I were thrilled. He doesn’t usually take this much time off so close to Christmas, but I talked him into it. One of the couples we met this afternoon is also here celebrating an anniversary.” She glanced toward the door. “I don’t know what can be keeping my husband. Even though we’re on holiday, he’s calling his office, but it shouldn’t be taking this long.”

      Glad to be off the hook on the marriage thing, Marnie leaned forward wondering where her drink was. She noticed that her dress was gaping open, and she pushed her shoulders back. “Where does your husband work?”

      “He owns a business in Boston. And he’s always so busy, I worry about him.”

      “It takes a lot to start a business these days, but it’s even harder to make a success of it.”

      “Don’t I know it! I’d like to start a family, but my sweetie feels we’re not ready. He says after he hires one more salesperson, we’ll be able to concentrate on starting a family.” She smiled wistfully at Marnie. “Do you have children—”

      “One California Chardonnay.” The bartender interrupted their conversation, his gaze sharp as he placed the wineglass on a Christmas napkin in front of Marnie. “Are you staying at the inn?” he asked.

      Sweet relief! Saved by a drink. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Nice spot. I’ve never been here before, but it’s really lovely,” she said, happy to chat with him rather than answer questions that would raise the issue of her being here alone. She’d have to be careful to keep a low profile while she worked on the questionnaires.

      “You’ll love it here, trust me. Isn’t that the truth, Cindy?” he asked, taking the drink order of the woman sitting next to her—a dry martini.

      “It is. We’ve come back here on our anniversary the past two years. And Jack’s the best martini maker in the state. I had my first martini right here at this bar on my wedding night.”

      “I remember that night. The entire inn was booked for your wedding,” Jack said, taking down a bottle of gin from the shelf at the back of the bar.

      As he moved down the bar to prepare the martini, Marnie watched him, searching her memory for some of the questions she’d need answered in order to complete the bar section of the survey.

      Cindy gave him a grateful smile when he returned. “Thank you,” she said, reaching for the glass.

      He placed the napkin in front of her as she took the glass. “Enjoy.”

      Jack turned to another customer, leaving Marnie to observe the efficient way he moved, mixing drinks while keeping up a flow of conversation with the patrons. He certainly knew his job, she mused, watching him as he loaded a blender with ingredients from the fridge and the counter in front of him.

      “Is this bar always this busy?” she asked Cindy.

      “Yes. And I’m sure Jack has a lot to do with it,” she said, her voice trailing off. Again her gaze moved to the door. “What could be keeping my husband? I’d like you to meet him.”

      “I’m sure he’ll be along soon,” she offered to ease the woman’s obvious anxiety. “Do you live in Boston?”

      With a huge smile, Cindy answered. “We live in Boston. I’m a kindergarten teacher, and I love it. The four- and five-year-olds are