Christmas at whispering.., p.1
Christmas at Whispering Hills, page 1
Christmas at Whispering Hills
A Berkshire Romance
E.A. Brady
Sandgate East Publishing
Copyright © 2023 by E.A. Brady, Sandgate East Publishing
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact eabrady@eabradyauthor.com.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by Angela Haddon Book Cover Design
First edition 2023
Dedication
This is for everyone who has encouraged me to keep at this writing gig.
I see you.
I appreciate you.
I love you like crazy.
And, as always, these stories are for my very own Happily Ever After Hero…
I couldn’t do any of this without you.
And I wouldn’t want to anyway! xo
Contents
1. Carson
2. Carson
3. Tom
4. Carson
5. Tom
6. Carson
7. Tom
8. Carson
9. Tom
10. Carson
11. Carson
12. Tom
13. Tom
14. Carson
15. Tom
16. Carson
17. Tom
18. Carson
19. Tom
20. Carson
21. Tom
22. Carson
23. Tom
24. Tom
25. Carson
26. Tom
27. Carson
28. Tom
29. Carson
30. Carson
31. Tom
32. Carson
33. Carson
34. Tom
35. Carson
36. Tom
37. Carson
38. Tom
39. Carson
40. Tom
41. Carson
42. Tom
43. Carson
44. Tom One Year Later
45. Carson
Also by E.A. Brady
About the Author
Carson
Talk about feeling alone in a crowded room. If she squinted her eyes and blurred her vision, Carson Everett could almost convince herself that the family gathered for their annual Christmas party was her own. The women in their fancy outfits were her sister and their cousins. The older people, their parents and aunts and uncles.
Almost.
Discarded wine glasses and beer bottles littered the tables. Plastic soda cups and empty coffee mugs covered the haphazard sprinkling of silver and gold glitter that spilled from beneath each small evergreen wreath centerpiece. Various members of the hotel banquet staff crept around the room, some clearing away dirty dishes or pushing in unused chairs, others topping off supplies at the coffee station.
Melody Hatch-Stevenson, as primary decision maker for the family party, had agreed to hiring a magician, or as he preferred to be called, an illusionist, as entertainment this year. His act had been superb. More than once, Carson found herself watching him as he made a rabbit disappear and reappear, or when he transformed a red ball into a bright white dove.
As Event Coordinator for Southern Dreams Event Planning, Carson had overseen the Hatch Family Gala for close to ten years and had gained a level of closeness with several of the family members.
“Carson, you have outdone yourself yet again,” Melody said, approaching Carson once the final round of applause for Gregory the Great had died down. The DJ started the music and people began to leave their tables to get out to the dance floor. “Gregory the Great was… Well, he was great!” Melody said with a big, open laugh.
“He was great, wasn’t he?” Carson said.
The women stood together and watched Melody’s parents move in a gentle dance toward the side of the dance floor, while some of her nieces and nephews, aunts, uncles, and cousins had the main floor hopping, somehow all moving at different tempos to the same song.
A distinct loneliness settled behind Carson’s ribs, wishing it was her own parents and cousins strutting their stuff all over the dance floor. “I might be a little bit jealous,” she said. Had she and Melody not become friends over the past decade, she never would have admitted that out loud to a client.
Melody’s eyes popped open. “Jealous? Of these weirdos?” she said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the mass of bodies that moved like disparate parts of one off-rhythm beast.
Watching the gaggle of children run from table to table stealing candy from the dishes in the middle of each centerpiece pulled a smile from Carson as she imagined her own niece and nephew doing the same. She shrugged. “Yeah,” she said. “They might be weirdos, but they’re you’re weirdos.”
Melody looked thoughtful. “That they are.” She playfully bumped shoulders with Carson. “What about your weirdos? Where are they?”
“Mine? They’re all up in Massachusetts freezing their butts off. My sister told me they had almost six inches of snow Thanksgiving night.”
“Oh, no,” Melody said. “No snow for me, thanks.”
Carson was quiet for a moment. “Thank you for being so flexible and keeping an open mind right from the get-go this year,” she said.
Melody turned and pulled her in for a hug. “Everything was amazing, Carson. I never doubted you for a minute.”
Carson laughed. “You might be the only one who didn’t.”
Melody let out a gasp as she released her hug, then stared at Carson with wide eyes. “Are you for real right now?” she said. “I am not kidding when I tell you this was the best party we’ve ever had. You listened to me, then you took my vision and ran with it.” She gave Carson’s arms a gentle squeeze. “I am already starting to think about what I want for next year, assuming you’ll be the one to organize it.”
“I don’t see why I wouldn’t be,” Carson said. “Unless Anderson finally gives me the boot.”
“He’d be an idiot to do that, and it would be one hundred percent his loss,” Melody said, scrunching her nose in distaste for Carson’s boss. “But I was thinking more along the lines of you finally getting out of there and hanging out a shingle for your own agency.”
Carson had perfected the art of not appearing shocked, no matter what a client said to her, but she couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped. “Me? Open my own agency? In this town?” She shook her head and sighed. “Not while Southern Dreams is still the only real player in Savannah.”
Working for Anderson had certainly given her reason to entertain the idea of quitting, but she’d never been able to work up the courage to open her own business. She enjoyed what she did so much, she’d learned to put up with Anderson and his perfectionist crap rather than find a new line of work.
“Selfishly, I’m glad to hear it,” Melody said. “I’m going to ask for you specifically in the spring and we’ll work on doing this—” she cast her glance around the room “—all over again.” Melody’s sister waved from her seat, calling Melody over to where she sat. “If you’ll you excuse me,” she said with a smile. “I have to go see what the queen would like.”
With a noticeable spring in her step, despite the late hour, Melody Hatch-Stevenson disappeared into the crowd, her words of encouragement tucked into Carson’s heart for when she might need them again.
Seeing her boss out of the corner of her eye, Carson knew right away he was on his way to her. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she flipped the small plastic container open and shook out two of the chalky antacids she always had on hand and tossed them into her mouth.
“Anderson,” she said to the impeccably dressed man as he approached from the back of the room. “Was this one for the books, or what?”
“Ten minutes, Carson. That’s how long they had to wait for their after-dinner coffee station to be set up,” Anderson said, flipping his wrist and staring at his Rolex, as if Carson was unaware of how the passage of time was measured.
The feel-good bubble of a job well done burst as she crunched through her antacid tablet. Technically, he was right, but she also knew that not one single guest noticed or cared.
Dessert took longer to be served than they originally anticipated but by the time everyone had received their bread pudding with bourbon sauce or chocolate mousse with Irish cream drizzle, the event staff had caught back up. They had the coffee urns set up and the table laid with cups and creamers, sugars and stirring sticks, and every other thing a coffee station required.
Melody hadn’t even noticed the delay. Apparently, Anderson was the only one bothered by it, and as usual, he made sure Carson knew how bothered he was.
Event planning was a science but there was also an art to it and sometimes art refused to stick to a schedule. “Come on, Anderson. Nobody even noticed it.” When he stood there, unmoved by her logic, she added, “You know that managing people means having to allow for the unforeseen.”
“It’s our job—or, more precisely, your job, to foresee the unforeseen, Carson.”
The knot in her stomach twisted tighter, pulling on every muscle in her b
What she wanted to say was closer to Shit happens. Sometimes you’ve got to lighten up and go with it. But needing a job was more important than feeding her own ego at that moment.
Anderson dipped his chin, stared at her over the rim of his designer glasses. “I’m not worked up, Carson. I just have high expectations.” The rest of the message was implied by his pinched facial expression. Obviously, you failed to meet those expectations. Again.
The uncomfortable standoff between them carried on an additional few seconds before the buzz of Carson’s phone in her back pocket stole her attention. Glancing at the screen, she saw her sister’s name and immediately feared something was wrong. She and Nicole hardly ever talked on the phone, and never that late at night.
Walking away from Anderson, she flicked her eyes to his. “I have to take this.” The way his eyes squinted a fraction was Anderson’s pissed off tell. He was not happy to be relegated as less important than whoever was on the other end of Carson’s phone line. In his mind, Anderson wasn’t less important than anyone. So that little angry-squinty thing he did released a hit of dopamine directly to her brain.
Straightening her spine as she walked away, she held the phone to her ear and headed through the ballroom doors, through the kitchen, and into the comparatively quieter back hallway. “Colie, what’s the matter?” she said, using the pet name she’d had for her sister since the day Nicole was born. “Is everything all right?”
Nicole’s sniffling was the first sign that everything was, in fact, not all right.
“Nicole, tell me what’s wrong. Why are you crying? Are the kids all right?” All manner of catastrophe bubbled to the surface of her mind. “Are you OK? Did something happen to Mom and Dad?”
Nicole heaved a heavy sigh. “Everybody’s fine,” she said, then choked out a sob. “Except me, Cari. I’m not fine,” she said through her tears. “I don’t know how to be a single mom on regular days, but I have no freaking idea what to do at Christmas. How am I supposed to work and spend time with my kids, and find some way of taking care of them while they’re home over their vacation, and bring them to all the holiday events, and do all the things they want to do… and I how the hell am I going to do any of it?”
As her rambling words petered out, Nicole gulped down a breath and started crying all over again. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
Carson had always taken her role as big sister to heart; she was the one who always had it together and knew the right thing to do. Nicole was the baby, the free spirit who came and went as she saw fit, never giving much thought to the serious things in life.
Once Nicole had gotten married, responsibility for her shifted from Carson to Nicole’s husband, Ian. For a few years, things went well for them. Or at least it seemed that way from the outside. Until the rat-bastard cheated on her and left her with two kids. Of course things would be different for them once he left.
An overwhelming surge of guilt washed over Carson for letting her own life get in the way of her family, and not checking in on them more often.
“Take a deep breath,” Carson said, half to her sister and half to herself. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Is it?” Nicole asked. “How am I supposed to do all of this, Cari? How am I supposed to do any of it?”
“Colie,” Carson said. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. You’ve been doing it for almost a year already. How did you manage over the summer having the kids home while you worked?”
Nicole sniffed and blew her nose again. “They went to Mom and Dad’s.”
Carson had known that but forgot, just one more thing about her family that had slipped her mind.
“Since they’re going to see Aunt Peggy, they won’t be home to take care of the kids. Mom offered to stay but I told her to go.” Unexpectedly, Nicole giggled, a soft sound through her tears. “I mean… Peggy is like two hundred years old; this might be the last Christmas they get to spend with her.” She let out a soft sigh. “I told Mom I’d be fine.”
“But you’re not fine,” Carson said gently.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not.”
“Don’t worry, Colie, everything really will be OK. I promise.”
Once the call ended, Carson pulled up her calendar for the next two months.
Now that the Hatch Family’s party was finished, the next big events on Carson’s schedule wouldn’t be happening until after the first of the year. She made a short list of things she had to be in town for, then gave a thought as to who might be willing to stand in for her for a couple of weeks. Obviously not Anderson, but her friend and coworker Vanessa might be willing if Carson asked nicely.
Everything else that needed to be done could be handled remotely. She fired off a quick text to Vanessa, who was somewhere inside the ballroom at the moment. Within a few seconds Vanessa texted her response:
Family first, sis. I’ve got your back. Do what you need to do.
Grateful for Vanessa’s support, she crunched through another antacid, the small plastic bottle almost empty. She marched through the kitchen, pulled the ballroom doors open, and went to find Anderson to tell him the “good” news.
Carson
It had been years since she’d driven in the snow, and even though the roads had been plowed, it added a whole other level of stress to the otherwise beautiful drive.
If not for the bright white moon reflecting off the snow, she wouldn’t have seen much beyond the reach of her rental car’s headlights. Even with the added lunar help, she missed a couple of turns and had to find driveways in which to turn around.
By the time she reached Vineyard Hill Road, her knuckles were white on the steering wheel and her back was as tight as a drum. Her antacids had run out halfway through the hour-long drive from the airport in Albany to the small western Massachusetts town of Hazelton.
Relief washed over her as she followed the gradual incline of the gravel road to Nicole’s house, just before the dead-end road stopped.
On the right side of the road was a small ranch-style house that her GPS said was her destination. Directly across the street sat a large wood-sided building that could have been a barn except for the large front porch and glass-bordered doors. Almost hidden in the dark hung a small sign: Whispering Hills Winery.
Just past the winery sat a beautiful log home, two stories high with a wraparound porch and a garage, and a truck in the driveway. The home was nothing short of stunning and she wondered if it looked like a ski chalet on the inside as well. The whole area overflowed with that rustic charm of which New England had been given more than its fair share.
The three buildings were surrounded by hilly fields of snow-covered plants. Considering one of the buildings was a winery, she assumed the plants to be grape vines. Independent wineries and craft breweries were also not in short supply in these parts, so maybe they were barley or hops?
Despite the charm of her surroundings, something still felt off. Technically, the holiday season had only started three days ago, but something about being in the hilly terrain full of evergreen trees blanketed in snow brought her seasonal cheer to the surface and she realized exactly how dark her surroundings were.
She had passed one small house at the bottom of the hill that had been decorated with a few strands of white Christmas lights. However, neither Nicole’s house, the winery, nor the log home seemed to know it was the time for festive cheer.
Aside from the porch lamp and the sliver of light that escaped through the closed curtains on the large picture window, Nicole’s house was dark. As were the winery and the log home.
Snow was a natural sound absorber and the silence that greeted her as she stepped out of the small SUV made the darkness a touch deeper all around her.
Lugging her suitcase out of the trunk and slinging her backpack over one shoulder, Carson determined her first course of action for the next morning; find their outdoor lights and help her little family get their Christmas on.
