Free The Ghost of Christmas Never by Linda V. Palmer Page B

Stop, I had skills, and wedding cakes were my
specialty. How could I not bake one for Mia? I'd decorated it with her favorite flowers, daisies. The
fondant blossoms wound their way around the layers to the top, forming a bouquet on which I'd set
a tiny brunette bride and her redheaded groom.
    "Thanks so much." Mia hugged me for the longest time. "I know you think I'm making a
mistake, but you'll see. Everything is going to be perfect, and now you'll have some time to find your
own Rob." She kept her voice low.
    I nodded, touched by what she'd said and not trusting myself to answer without
bawling.
    We took off our coats and sat. I blinked to clear my vision and noted with approval the
crisp white tablecloth, spotless crystal and cleverly folded napkins. I picked up a fork. It felt heavy
in my hand as only good silver could. The tasteful décor simply added to the atmosphere of
elegance past its prime, and under other conditions, I'd have appreciated it. Hopelessly mired in my
pity party, I couldn't muster much enthusiasm about anything.
    A waiter brought a bottle of champagne that he opened with a pop! We toasted
the bride and groom. Salads arrived, followed by steak dinners. Finally Mia and Rob cut the cake
while Jake happily filmed.
    He'd been nothing but enthusiastic about the wedding except for that nanosecond when
I'd handed him the bubbles. Was that slipup an indication that he had doubts, too? If so, he hid them
better than I did. And since he was currently too busy to notice me, I stole a minute to study
him.
    Tall and lean, he had a roguish air that I blamed on his whiskery face and messy auburn
hair. Or maybe it was that mischievous twinkle in his eye. Whichever, if I'd still had a so-called
"type," Jake's brand of guy would definitely be it. And that, no doubt, explained why I'd felt oddly
drawn to him from the moment we met, in spite of our being on opposing teams.
    Rob and Mia shared their cake with other diners, most of whom had been watching our
reception with smiles on their faces. Finally it was time to go to our rooms. Relieved, I let Mia and
Rob lead the way into the hotel lobby where a man, woman, and three children stood. The oldest
child, a little boy who couldn't have been more than four, clung to his young father's leg. The other
kids were twins, girls who looked around two or so. Their parents appeared harried and
distressed.
    "The guy at the Hilton called you. He said there was a room." The woman, who had one
of the twins propped on her hip, sounded near tears.
    "No one called here, ma'am. There is simply no vacancy at the Inn tonight."
    "But we've tried five other hotels," said the guy. He held the other twin. "You're our last
resort. Surely you have something. We can't go one bit farther on these roads and definitely can't
sleep in the car."
    As a man, probably the manager, explained the he really had nothing to offer them, my
heart went out to the family. What would Mia and I have done if a neighbor hadn't been kind to us
all those years ago when our house went back to the bank? The offer of his garage apartment had
saved us for sure.
    Jake's warm breath suddenly fanned my ear. "Shall we flip for the bed? Or do you prefer
rock, paper, scissors?"
    I looked up at him. "Maybe the girls could take one room and the guys could take
another."
    Mia's chinned dropped. "We're on our honeymoon!"
    "Well, it's not like you two haven't—" I stopped before I put my foot all the way inside
my mouth, probably because she looked so outraged. When had I turned into such a grouch?
Shifting gears, I caught Jake's eyes. "Which room are we giving up?"
    "Yours. I specifically asked for mine."
    "Why?"
    "Tell you later." He pivoted and strode to the check-in counter. I followed. When we told
that family they could have my room, the mom burst into tears and hugged me, which put her
daughter right in my face. I blinked, suddenly nose to nose with a blond-haired, blue-eyed angel
who smelled like heaven. I felt a stab of envy