Black, who owned a tea shop, was quickly becoming a good friend. Pat York, her boss at Mountain Escape Books, was great, and Pat’s friends had all taken her under their wings.
“Good idea,” agreed Rita. “Pass the tamales.”
Venting finished, Sienna went back to concentrating on counting her blessings. So she didn’t have husband. Who wanted a creep who walked away when the going got tough, anyway? She had her family, new friends, a wonderful job and a pretty house that she’d been able to purchase from the previous owner on a private contract with a very minimal down payment. It wasn’t as big as Cratchett’s corner-lot mansion—nobody’s was—but it had three bedrooms, two baths and a kitchen with lots of cupboard space, and it was all hers. Or it would be in thirty years. And she had the sweetest son a woman could ask for. Her life was good, so there’d be no more complaining, er, venting.
* * *
Olivia Claussen’s feet hurt. So did her back. For that matter, so did her head. Serving Thanksgiving dinner to all her guests at the Icicle Creek Lodge was an exhausting undertaking, even with help.
Thank God she’d had help. Although one particular “helper,” her new daughter-in-law, had been about as useful as a roadblock.
“I was a waitress at the Full Table Buffet,” Meadow had bragged when Olivia had asked if she’d be able to give her a hand with the holiday dinner service. “No problemo.”
She’d showed off her experience by setting the tables wrong, spilling gravy in a customer’s lap and then swearing at him when he got upset with her. She’d capped the day off by leaving halfway through serving the main course.
“Meadow doesn’t feel good,” Olivia’s son Brandon had explained.
Meadow didn’t feel good? Olivia hadn’t felt so good herself. She’d been nursing a headache for days. Perhaps it had something to do with the arrival of her new daughter-in-law? But running an inn was not much different from show business. The show must go on.
And so it had, but Olivia was still feeling more than a little crabby about the performance of one particular player. “Whatever did he see in her?” she complained to her husband, James, as he rubbed her tired feet. Besides the obvious, of course. The girl was pretty—in a brassy, exotic way. Brandon had always dated good-looking women.
James wisely didn’t answer.
Olivia had been longing to see her baby boy married for years, but she hadn’t expected him to sneak off to Vegas to do it. She certainly hadn’t expected him to commit so quickly, before anyone really had a chance to get to know this woman. Before he really even had a chance to get to know her!
Brandon had met Meadow when he was skiing. She’d been hanging out at the ski lodge at Crystal Mountain after her first ski lesson and there was poor, unsuspecting Brandon. They’d wound up having dinner together and then spent the night partying, which led to private ski lessons followed by private parties for two. And then it was “Oops, I’m pregnant.” And that was followed by “Surprise, we’re married!” This sudden turn of events had taken place quite clandestinely. He’d known this girl only a few months. Months! And had never said anything about her. Now suddenly they were married. And, well, here they were.
Not that Olivia wasn’t happy to have her wandering boy home again, ready to help run the family business. It was just that the woman he’d brought with him was taking some getting used to. Actually, a lot of getting used to.
The couple had started married life in Seattle, and Brandon had settled down and gotten a job working for a large company that was slowly taking over the city. The benefits were great, but the hours were long and Meadow had complained about not seeing him enough. So he’d called his mom and suggested coming back to Icicle Falls. Olivia had loved the idea of her son coming home. The bride, not so much. But the lodge would be passed on to him and Eric eventually anyway, so of course, she’d gotten a little suite ready for them, one similar to what her older son, Eric, and his wife had, making them all one big, happy family.
With a cuckoo in the nest.
“She tricked him into marrying her, I’m sure,” Olivia said to James.
“Now, Olivia, you don’t really believe that, do you?”
“I can’t help but wonder.”
Her second son had always been a bit of a ladies’ man, but she’d never known Brandon to be irresponsible. The idea that he’d gotten someone pregnant—someone he barely knew and who was so clearly not his type—didn’t make sense to her at all. It was just so unlike him. In fact, the more she’d thought about it after hearing the news, the more she couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion that the whole pregnancy thing had been a ploy to chain Brandon down. Olivia’s suspicion only grew when, just a few weeks after they were married, they’d told her the pregnancy had ended. It was a terrible thing to think, and yet Olivia couldn’t shake the feeling that there probably hadn’t ever been a baby—only a trashy girl looking to snag a good-looking man and some financial security.
Okay, she had to admit that Brandon did seem smitten with Meadow. So there had to be something hiding behind the revealing clothes, the lack of manners, the self-centeredness and the haze of smoke from her electronic cigarettes. Such a filthy habit, smoking, and so bad for your health.
“I’d rather smoke than be fat,” Meadow had said to Olivia when she—politely—brought up the subject. “And if I didn’t do this, I’d be eating all the time instead.”
Olivia was a little on the pudgy side. Was that a slur?
Not only did Meadow appear to disapprove of Olivia’s looks, she obviously disapproved of her decorating skills. The first thing out of her mouth when she’d seen the lodge had been “Whoa, look at these granny carpets.”
Granny carpets indeed! Those rose-patterned carpets were classic, and they’d cost Olivia a small fortune when she first put them in. Plus, they complemented the many antiques Olivia had in the lobby and the guest rooms. Well, all right. So the girl had different tastes. Obviously, she wouldn’t know an antique if she tripped over one. But did she have to be so...vocal about them?
She’d hardly raved over the small apartment that Olivia had given her and Brandon when they arrived. She’d walked into the bedroom and frowned. “Where’s the closet?”
Olivia had pointed to the antique German pine armoire and said, “This is it. It’s a schrank.”
“A what?”
“For your clothes.”
“I’m supposed to fit all my clothes in there?”
Taking in Meadow’s skimpy skirt and midriff-bearing top, Olivia had doubted that her clothes would take up much room. “I’m sure Brandon can remodel for you,” Olivia had said stiffly.
“I hope so.” Meadow had drifted over to the window and looked out. “Wow, that’s some view.”
At least she’d appreciated something.
“It’s gonna be really cool living here,” she’d said and Olivia almost warmed to her until she added, “Once we fix this place up.”
“So what do you think of Meadow?” Brandon had asked after he’d brought her home to meet Mom.
By then they were already married. It had been too late to say what she really thought. Instead, she tried a gentler approach. “Wasn’t this a little fast? I always thought we’d have a wedding.” I always thought you’d pick someone we wanted you to marry.
That was when he’d blushed and confessed that they were pregnant. They’d wanted to get married anyway, so what the hell?
What the hell indeed.
“Dear, this isn’t like you,” James said, bringing Olivia out of her unpleasant reverie. “You’re normally so kindhearted and welcoming.”
“I’ve welcomed her,”