The next evening, I arrived at the Silver Bells Luxury Tours store and spotted my reflection in the window. The eyelash extensions and the waterproof eyeliner along my upper lids really played up my almond brown eyes. I’d put my hair into a twist that was both elegant and functional. My outfit: fitted pants with warm inner linings, a red cashmere sweater beneath a black high-end quilted vest and a down coat over that, hiking boots that were made to cover rough terrain and look good while doing it.
Everything was perfect to start the luxury tour that would (hopefully) wow Adam.
I unlocked the front door and dashed inside, eager to get the tour started. I went to the coffee bar and began arranging things carefully. No speck of dust or stray coffee bean or sugar granule to mar the perfection of the guests’ luxury experience.
I arranged the plump, sugar-glazed cinnamon rolls from Jingle Bells Bakery on a china plate, letting the decadent smell of real butter, vanilla, and sweet pastries waft up my nose. Yum. My fingers twitched toward the rolls. My mouth watered as I arranged the linen napkins, the china cups, and sterling flatware.
Next, I clicked on the electronic tablet I held and made sure everything was set up and ready, and that there were no delays in sight. Everything was a go. The door opened and the bell tinkled as the tour group arrived in a rush. I approached them with a smile.
Diane Burkhart wore a stylish outfit similar to mine. Her ash-blonde hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her lips had been glossed to a high shine. Like Diane, Mr. Burkhart wore gear from the store. Where was Adam? I needed him to take note of our happy guests that had purchased clothes from the store—thus, increasing revenue beyond the tour itself.
An older woman named Sharon Straw smiled at me. She wore less trendy gear and her older hiking boots said she meant business and had experience on a trail, even if they were a once-bright and now faded shade of pink instead of the usual tan or brown.
Trevor Peak was next. You know how some older men give off that rugged, cowboy vibe? Trevor was one of them and with good reason. He’d played a cowboy in a slew of popular movies made in Hollywood. He’d retired from acting years ago and moved to Christmas Mountain, but still looked the part he’d played. He nodded to me in greeting and I nodded back.
“It’s a glorious evening, isn’t it?” Sharon stepped toward the pastry plate I’d neatly arranged. “And is that cinnamon I smell?”
“Yes, Mrs. Straw. We have the world famous cinnamon rolls from Jingle Bells Bakery as a snack for you by the coffee bar. Please help yourself.”
The group went to get the rolls and coffee. I glanced at the time. Where was Adam? Had he ghosted me? Decided a tour was the last thing he needed? My stomach clenched at the thought. He wouldn’t dare. Would he?
Just when I was sure he had ditched the tour, the door opened and he stepped inside. He seemed glued to his phone, texting furiously. The phone in his hand kept beeping and chirping and he was so absorbed in it he didn’t even look up until he walked right into a fancy female mannequin in skiwear and sent it crashing to the floor.
Sharon came up next to me. “Uh-oh. He’s not our tour guide, is he?”
“No, he’s taking the tour,” I said, using a reassuring tone as I stifled a laugh. I hurried over to Adam, who kept the phone in one hand as he hoisted the mannequin upright by one of its arms. Bad idea. The arm popped off and the mannequin made an undignified splat to the floor.
Adam stood there, holding a mannequin arm in hand and grimaced. Despite the drama and armless skier, he somehow managed to look adorably cute and hot all at the same time.
I took the arm from him. “Good evening, Adam. Let me just . . .” What? What should I do with the arm? The wounded mannequin looked pathetic lying on the floor, so I propped her up onto a camp chair, complete with cup holders, USB charger and seat warmers. Then I put the arm on her lap. “I’ll have maintenance perform surgery later.”
“Thanks,” Adam said, grinning. “Never knew texting and walking could be dangerous.”
“Good thing you weren’t in the woods with a mountain lion,” I joked, wondering if it would take a wild animal to detach him from his cell phone.
“You slip on the ice and I knock off an arm,” he said, shaking his head as the corner of his mouth hitched upward. “What a pair we are, huh?”
“Yes, totally,” I said, my cheeks heating. The sound of us being called a pair was kind of appealing. I felt glad Morgan wasn’t here to witness my reaction, or she would’ve teased me senseless. I cleared my throat and tried to focus on work by turning to face the group. “Thank you for being a part of this experience today. I’m Faith Sterling, your Silver Bells tour guide.”
Murmurs of greetings ensued.
“Our Stargazer Tour will take us up Christmas Mountain and then back to the store again. Along the way you’ll see The Sharing Tree, Christmas Falls, Kissing Bench, and more. We will have a delicious evening dinner at the top of the mountain, in comfort, I promise.”
The Burkharts chuckled. Trevor leaned, all cowboy-like, against the wall. Sharon beamed. Adam looked unimpressed, which was when I noticed what he was wearing: an expensive-looking wool coat, a designer scarf tucked into the top of the coat, leather gloves, and Italian leather black boots for city streets—not weatherproof, hiking boots.
Adam asked, “Is there something in your eye?”
“What?” I asked, realizing I’d been squinting as I scrutinized his outfit. Oops. I rubbed a finger under my eye. “Um, yeah. Got it, I think.”
The sound of bells tinkled from outside, alerting me that our ride had arrived.
I tilted my head. “I hear sleigh bells. That’s our cue.”
We went outside and spotted horses, hauling along a large sleigh. Three rows of seats, covered in crushed red-velvet, sat below the black top that provided some protection from the elements, but allowed guests to look out the open sides in order to take in the scenery.
“Oh, how adorable! Is it comfortable?” Diane asked.
“Plush and comfortable,” I said, assuring her. “There are phone chargers in the sleigh, a solar panel on the top that, although you can’t see it, heats the seats, too.”
Diane clasped her hands together. “It’s amazing. How long will we be in the sleigh?”
“Just until we get to The Sharing Tree. There are fur lap robes and piping hot cocoa on board as well. Everyone ready?”
Adam gave me a look that said he wasn’t at all ready for this and he glanced at his cell phone. The others voiced their enthusiasm, though. I’d take it.
The sleigh driver wore a long black coat over cold weather pants, and stepped down in his tall boots to help us aboard. The soft furs were the epitome of luxury and the cocoa, which was held in silver thermoses, was passed out in warmed cups. A moment later, off we went, with the bells ringing and the main portion of my group exclaiming about the ride and the horses and the stunning scenery—and Adam talking in a low voice into his cell phone.
Chagrin hit. He had to get off his phone or he was never going to fall in love with the tour and Silver Bells. Should I grab the cell and toss it over the side? Probably not appropriate to do to one’s boss, so I decided on a less invasive tactic.
I leaned toward him, and whispered, “Adam, I need you to connect with the tour right now . . . for the sake of the business. If you’re on your phone, then the rest of the guests will want to be. Touring the outdoors is about being unplugged and experiencing nature.”
He held a finger up. “One minute.”
“Okay,” I said, and counted to twenty. Four times. Then I nudged my elbow into his side.
He gave me a sheepish grin, but slipped the phone into his pocket as it promptly rang again. Frustration set in and I tried to ignore the ringing by pointing out the sights as we went around the back of town so we could come up Main Street to view all of the charming independent shops as we flashed by them: Overlook Outdoor Adventure Tours (our newest competitor), Jingle Bells Bakery, Sleigh Café, Rudolph’s Reads book store, the C.M. Salon/Parker’s Furniture store. Then we passed the giant Christmas tree in the town square followed by the courthouse, Prancer’s Pancake House, the Sugar Plum Inn, and the community center where my besties and I had performed for Ms. King last Christmas.
The sound of The Falls grew louder as we approached them, breathing in the clean air and taking in the sky at dusk and the sight of snow covering the mountain above us. I shot a look at Adam to see his reaction and found him burrowed down in his seat, his fingers flying over the keyboard of his phone. Maybe he was the thing I should toss out of the sleigh. His thigh brushed mine, and heat seeped into every fiber of my being.
“Adam? You’re missing it.” I surveyed his profile. Intent. Focused. Why couldn’t he concentrate on this tour like that? I nudged my leg against his to get his attention.
“What?” He looked over at me, caught my expression, and stowed the phone yet again. “Sorry, work thing in New York.”
Sharon sat in front of us next to Trevor and turned around, looking over her shoulder at me. “Oh, I wish my husband were still here.” She shot a look at Adam. “He was such a workaholic. I loved him dearly, but taking that man on vacation could be trying.”
The not-so-subtle dig wasn’t lost on Adam, whose phone rang again. He gave an embarrassed smile as his fingers dipped into his pocket. The phone went silent. I gave Sharon a grateful smile.
Christmas River slid and snaked along the bottom of the mountain, a lovely ribbon of dark blue. Christmas Falls, 84-feet high and foaming, burst over the top of the small cliffs above and spun downward in a whirling, fantastic way that was all white foam, liquid tones, and majesty. I had always loved The Falls, and its beauty always enchanted me.
The sleigh stopped and we all got out and hiked the stairs to The Falls.
“Is that The Sharing Tree?” Sharon asked.
“Yes,” I said, leading the way to the grand tree, strewn with colorful lights, its ornaments swinging and dancing in the wind. The air was colder up here and the roar of the Falls more noticeable. I raised my voice and said, “Couples come here every December to hang ornaments and pledge their love,” I said, shooting a meaningful look at the Burkharts. “And others hang ornaments in remembrance.”
“Remembrance?” Sharon asked.
“For those we’ve lost,” I said, thinking of Ms. King and Mr. Kline.
I opened a black velvet bag and pulled out the surprise ornaments I always brought for guests on these tours. “I have ornaments if anyone would like to hang one?”
“Oh, how thoughtful, Faith.” Sharon plucked an ornament from me. “I’ll hang one in honor of my husband.”
“I’ll take one for my wife,” Trevor said, in his gruff and drawling voice. “Thanks, Faith.”
The Burkharts looked at each other and then she took the heart ornament I dangled in my fingers.
I held the last one out to Adam. “Maybe you’d like to—”
“No, thanks.” He turned away from me, tucking his scarf closer to his neck and watching the others hang their ornaments. My eyebrows came together as their laughter and low words floated toward us in the wind. He nodded his head in their direction. “The guests seem to be enjoying themselves. By the way, that hot chocolate was delicious.”
“Thanks,” I said, a little jarred from his reaction after declining the ornament. He used to live here so he knew the tradition. I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t want to hang an ornament in remembrance of his dad. I planned to hang one for Ms. King, but not tonight on the tour. I wanted to do that privately and I supposed maybe Adam did, too. I moved over to the railing and stared up at The Falls as Adam came up beside me.
He peered at me. “Did you make the hot chocolate?”
“No, but it was my idea to serve it to the guests. Your dad was great at thinking up things like the sleigh, but once the guests were in, it was like hang on until we get there.”
He stared at me a moment. “You add the smaller touches that make the tour more personal.”
“Is that a compliment?” I asked.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “The best.”
I stepped a little closer. The wind ruffled his hair, mussing it a bit. I wanted to reach out and fix it, or just touch that hair to test the texture of it. His eyes fastened a direct gaze on mine. My heartbeat picked up a little. I had to remind myself he was my boss, Mr. Kline’s son, and that he was trying to sell the business I wanted to save. Not to mention he was a straight up city boy whereas I thrived up here in the mountains. Opposites might attract, but our goals were different.
After about twenty minutes, a luxury SUV pulled up to the bottom of the stairs to take us to the next stop on the tour.
Adam shoved his hands into his pockets. “Is that a Cadillac Escalade?”
“It is,” I said, leading the group toward our plush ride. We got in and headed up the mountain. I glanced at Adam’s profile. How could I get him to understand how much Silver Bells meant to me, to the people who came to the store to shop, to the guests who took the tours that gave them the special moments most of us were currently experiencing? Why couldn’t Adam see that everything in life was about moments? Small, and large, and that we have to grab them when they come, and make them when they don’t?
“I could use some help right now, Mr. Kline,” I whispered.
And just like that, the lights went on.
Not in my brain. On the mountain. The old ski resort, It’s All Downhill From Here, had thousands of soft, solar lights strung on its lodge and all over the trees. The glow, white, gleaming, made the trees look as though they were wearing a mantle of stars. More lights outlined the striped red-and-gold yurt we were headed to that billowed in the slight breeze.
Adam’s mouth dropped open. Mine formed a smile. I leaned close and whispered, “Gotcha.”
The others were staring and laughing and exclaiming. Adam looked at them and then back at me as we came to a halt. The doors were opened by our driver. We stepped out into brisk air.
I turned to the group. “Follow me, please.”
We walked along a path lit by more solar lights. The pines gave off their spicy-sweet scent. The view was fantastic. Below lay our charming town, a shimmering sheet of colorful lights. The Falls spilled down and the river was a long silvery stripe. The side of the mountain was dotted with smaller trees, and they drew my eyes back to The Sharing Tree.
We went to the yurt. Inside, the cutesy yet serious wood stove blew warm air toward us. The inside of the tent was red-and-gold with a high peaked ceiling and an upper framework that held Christmas lights, which blinked and winked. “Jingle Bell Rock” played over the hidden speakers. The table was set low to the cushioned seats, covered in silver and blue fabric. A chef, wearing an apron and tall hat, stood waiting and ready, a smile on his face.
Adam’s leg pressed against mine as we sat down. Little tingles ran along my leg where his thigh had brushed. The feast was delicious. Wild sockeye salmon, sliced very thin and smoked, and served with slices of rare and equally tender wild venison. Perfect risotto with just a hint of cheese. Elegant salad, Italian style, made with mozzarella and fresh tomato, and basil right off the living plant on the chef’s station, along with a dribble of oil and vinegar. Good wine, delicious bread, amazing company. What more could one ask for on a Silver Bells Luxury Tour?
We left the yurt in time to watch the constellations cluster and form through the telescopes, not that any were really needed on such a clear night.
On the way down the mountain we sang Christmas songs. As we finished one, Sharon turned to me. “You’re a choir girl, aren’t you?”
My cheeks heated. “I used to be. How did you know?”
“I used to teach choir.” She tapped her ear and smiled at me. “I always know a choir singer.”
I smiled, reminded of Ms. King as we slowly cruised down Main Street. The quaint and lovely shops were mostly closed now, but they still looked beautiful, with their long oblongs of golden light spilling out like a corridor along the street.
When we arrived back to the Silver Bells Luxury Tours store, everyone thanked me, gave generous tips, and then departed. The Escalade pulled away.
I stood there, staring at Adam. “What did you think?”
“The Stargazer Tour is one of the most amazing experiences I’ve ever had,” he said, looking right at me as he spoke.
My heart sped up. He got it! He finally got how special Silver Bells was! My chest filled with joy and I opened my mouth to speak—
“You were right. I had to experience it myself to really understand what makes it so great,” he said, his gaze locking on mine as he smiled. “Now I know exactly how I’m going to pitch this business. And I know a man who may want to buy something like this.”
And just like that, my heart dropped to my stomach.