Picture Perfect
Book Ten of the Hart Land Lakeside Inn Series
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Chapter One
“I need a nice girl like I need a hole in my head.” Glenn Peterson had been down that road. He’d learned the hard way that he had lousy judgment. Tall, pretty and polite, his ex Amanda came from a large family she adored. Somehow he’d confused her sweet smile and attention with a strong foundation for a loving future.
“What does visiting your brother have to do with a nice girl?” His grandfather might not have said outright that Glenn needed to get over his poor judgment and find another wife, but he knew it was coming.
He and his grandparents had been doing this dance since the day his divorce was final. “I still remember whose idea it was for Alan to hibernate at Hart Land.” Of course meeting Cindy had been the best thing that ever happened to his brother, but that didn’t change the fact that Glenn did not need a wife.
“You do remember that Harold is out of granddaughters?”
“A technicality.” Decades of military training and experience made these two old men brilliant strategists. Glenn wasn’t taking any chances. Though deep down he really did want to spend the holidays with his brother and his wife.
“You are too suspicious.” He could almost see his grandfather shaking his head. “Your grandmother and I will be arriving on Christmas Eve. It would be wonderful to have all of us together again for the holidays.”
Glenn stabbed at the dried out leftover chicken. Separated for over a decade, his grandparents had once again rekindled their relationship. Apparently his grandfather had learned a hard lesson or two in his old age. Visions of his grandmother laughing, his grandfather pretending to love her eggnog, and sitting around the table with his brother enjoying mountains of home cooked treats had Glenn reconsidering his decision to spend the holidays skiing with strangers. Even if he expected at least some of those strangers to be of the decidedly female persuasion. After all, he’d never sworn off women all together, just the ones with wedding bells on their minds. And of course, the overly ambitious.
“Oops. Your grandmother is calling me. Have to run. At least think about joining us. I promise, no matchmaking shenanigans.”
“Give Grams my love.”
“Will do.”
The call disconnected and Glenn debated eating the now cold dry chicken, or placing it back in the microwave and eating warm dry leftover chicken. The phone rang, flashing his brother’s number. Gramps didn’t waste any time. “Hello.”
“How’s life in sunny California?” Alan always asked the same thing.
“Dry.” And Glenn usually answered the same. The old song “It Never Rains in California” popped into his head. They’d grown up in a military family, chasing the world. He’d briefly considered a military career and after a few years with Uncle Sam, quickly changed his mind. Now there was no moving him from his comfortable—and sunny—abode. “So, what did Gramps have to say?”
“About what?” Alan’s tone dropped.
Maybe Glenn had overreacted. Perhaps his grandfather hadn’t hung up and called Alan to gang up on him. “Christmas.”
A sigh of relief sounded through the line. “Okay, that’s not so bad. Gramps and Grams are at an age where answering the phone might hold a litany of bad news. One of those calls is right up there with letting me know you accepted an exceptional offer someplace impossible to reach easily, like Antarctica.”
“No one really lives in Antarctica.” He was pretty sure the only permanent living things near the South Pole were penguins.
“Doesn’t matter. Though I wouldn’t object if you took a job that kept you on the East Coast.”
Now his brother sounded like his ex wife. “Sorry, I like it just fine here.” Most of the time.
“I know, I know. So what were you saying about Christmas?”
“I was on the phone with Gramps. He tried to talk me into joining you guys for the holidays.”
“Not a bad idea. We haven’t seen you since the wedding.”
Every summer Glenn had good intentions to visit his brother, and every year life got in the way of his well intended plans. Having given up on the chicken, he threw the unappealing meal into the trash and stared out the kitchen window. Most people would kill for the sunny views with blue skies and palm trees. Very relaxing. Except, not terribly conducive to the Christmas spirit. A sudden longing for lights flickering on the tree, mistletoe hanging in doorways, and stockings hung by the fire-lit chimney with care surged from deep in his gut. “Is Cindy’s sister still baking all those delicious morsels?”
“Lily? You bet. Her bakery has developed quite the reputation.”
“What were those cookies she made for the rehearsal dinner?”
Alan laughed. “Spitzbubens. Those things are famous all across this mountain.”
His cravings for all things White Christmas, including tasty desserts, escalated. “If the invitation is still on the table, I’d like to spend my Christmas break in Hart Land.”
* * * *
“Annie Leibovitz eat your heart out.” Kelly Chambers scrolled through the images from her recent photoshoot and smiled. The red scarf draped at the steps of the otherwise all black and white photo of St Patrick’s was brilliant. And it hadn’t even been her idea. One of the crew had dropped it hurrying across the set and Kelly opted to keep it in. She’d been looking for just the right twist for the shoot at some of the more famous New York City landmarks, and a pop of a different color in every black and white picture had been the answer.
“There’s trouble in paradise.” Her assistant popped her head into Kelly’s office and sighed. “Her Highness wants you in her office yesterday.”
“Great.” Hands on the desk, Kelly pushed to her feet. “Just once I’d like for her to rush me to her office to invite me out for dinner or a drink. Whatever she needs, it’s going to be a pain in my butt and my ulcer. I just know it.”
“You still going to spend the holidays in Florida with your cousin?”
“That’s the plan. Unless Her Highness sends me to Timbuktu instead.”
Her assistant followed her out the door and down the hall. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
“May want to cross your toes too.”
At her boss’s door, Kelly sucked in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and slowly exhaled. Every instinctive nerve she had was loudly screaming this would be another one of those you’re a good egg assignments that would find her at the last minute covering for someone else’s screw up. One minute she was an award winning and coveted photographer at a fashion show in Milan and the next minute she’d be practically living in a freezer photographing a national butter carving contest. In the end, the sculptures were amazing but that assignment had been a sub zero nightmare for warm-weather-loving her to photograph. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes.” Her Highness, also known as Caroline, waved her in. “We have a situation.”
Even though she knew this was coming, Kelly still braced herself.
“Elizabeth Myers has had another battle with her significant other and she can’t possibly,” Caroline paused to over enunciate the word as she waved her hand up in the air, “turn in the extravagant and soul sucking holiday story she’d planned in time to go to print.”
“I see.” Not that Kelly did see. She was a photographer, not a byline writer, but Elizabeth Myers had a reputation for being a bit of a drama queen and relatively unpredictable. Issues with her stories were also the magazines’ bestsellers, so everyone put up with the woman’s mood swings and temper tantrums.
“You’re the only person I can count on who doesn’t have a big family waiting for them at home with hearth and fire and Christmas tree.”
And there it was again. A last minute assignment that would save Caroline’s job and send Kelly who knew where. But, as much as she’d like to dig her indignant heels into Caroline’s one inch thick carpet, her boss was right. Kelly’s career had kept her moving and traveling around the world with no time to work on home or hearth. At least with a husband and two kids, her cousin would be ready with a Christmas tree.
“We’re going to go with a straight holiday photo shoot. No time for a byline, but if the pictures turn out the way I suspect, we can do a follow up for the next edition with New Year.”
Kelly could feel that Christmas tree in Florida slipping away.
“Our esteemed CEO is friends with a retired General in New England. He has an inn with some solid reputation. The town is a bloody postcard for a Rockwellian winter. They spend weeks building up to Christmas Day. The perfect recipe for the kind of shoot the CEO wants. There should be plenty of opportunity to get some eye popping photos in time to hit the streets by Christmas Eve.”
For a split second her jaw dropped and her mouth moved to form words of protest. Instead her brain engaged and she realized any argument would be futile. At least if she wanted to remain gainfully employed. There were way too many hungry young photographers nipping at her heels, dying to steal her job out from under her. “Where am I going?”
“Hart Land.” Caroline handed her an envelope. “You’ll be staying at the Inn. Everything you need is in the file, including the schedule of events. The holiday pageant is a big deal so make sure you get plenty of photos of the donkey.”
“Donkey?” What was she getting into?
Without looking up, Caroline nodded. “The nativity scene in front of the church has real people and a few animals. The donkey is apparently pretty popular. Probably stinks to high heaven, but they’re pretty well known on Lawson Mountain. Will make great copy. Like I said, perfect recipe for a popular holiday edition. There may even be a cover shot in there somehow.”
Caroline’s phone rang and with a slight flick of the wrist, Kelly was dismissed. And on her way to small town USA… and donkeys.
“I need a nice girl like I need a hole in my head.” Glenn Peterson had been down that road. He’d learned the hard way that he had lousy judgment. Tall, pretty and polite, his ex Amanda came from a large family she adored. Somehow he’d confused her sweet smile and attention with a strong foundation for a loving future.
“What does visiting your brother have to do with a nice girl?” His grandfather might not have said outright that Glenn needed to get over his poor judgment and find another wife, but he knew it was coming.
He and his grandparents had been doing this dance since the day his divorce was final. “I still remember whose idea it was for Alan to hibernate at Hart Land.” Of course meeting Cindy had been the best thing that ever happened to his brother, but that didn’t change the fact that Glenn did not need a wife.
“You do remember that Harold is out of granddaughters?”
“A technicality.” Decades of military training and experience made these two old men brilliant strategists. Glenn wasn’t taking any chances. Though deep down he really did want to spend the holidays with his brother and his wife.
“You are too suspicious.” He could almost see his grandfather shaking his head. “Your grandmother and I will be arriving on Christmas Eve. It would be wonderful to have all of us together again for the holidays.”
Glenn stabbed at the dried out leftover chicken. Separated for over a decade, his grandparents had once again rekindled their relationship. Apparently his grandfather had learned a hard lesson or two in his old age. Visions of his grandmother laughing, his grandfather pretending to love her eggnog, and sitting around the table with his brother enjoying mountains of home cooked treats had Glenn reconsidering his decision to spend the holidays skiing with strangers. Even if he expected at least some of those strangers to be of the decidedly female persuasion. After all, he’d never sworn off women all together, just the ones with wedding bells on their minds. And of course, the overly ambitious.
“Oops. Your grandmother is calling me. Have to run. At least think about joining us. I promise, no matchmaking shenanigans.”
“Give Grams my love.”
“Will do.”
The call disconnected and Glenn debated eating the now cold dry chicken, or placing it back in the microwave and eating warm dry leftover chicken. The phone rang, flashing his brother’s number. Gramps didn’t waste any time. “Hello.”
“How’s life in sunny California?” Alan always asked the same thing.
“Dry.” And Glenn usually answered the same. The old song “It Never Rains in California” popped into his head. They’d grown up in a military family, chasing the world. He’d briefly considered a military career and after a few years with Uncle Sam, quickly changed his mind. Now there was no moving him from his comfortable—and sunny—abode. “So, what did Gramps have to say?”
“About what?” Alan’s tone dropped.
Maybe Glenn had overreacted. Perhaps his grandfather hadn’t hung up and called Alan to gang up on him. “Christmas.”
A sigh of relief sounded through the line. “Okay, that’s not so bad. Gramps and Grams are at an age where answering the phone might hold a litany of bad news. One of those calls is right up there with letting me know you accepted an exceptional offer someplace impossible to reach easily, like Antarctica.”
“No one really lives in Antarctica.” He was pretty sure the only permanent living things near the South Pole were penguins.
“Doesn’t matter. Though I wouldn’t object if you took a job that kept you on the East Coast.”
Now his brother sounded like his ex wife. “Sorry, I like it just fine here.” Most of the time.
“I know, I know. So what were you saying about Christmas?”
“I was on the phone with Gramps. He tried to talk me into joining you guys for the holidays.”
“Not a bad idea. We haven’t seen you since the wedding.”
Every summer Glenn had good intentions to visit his brother, and every year life got in the way of his well intended plans. Having given up on the chicken, he threw the unappealing meal into the trash and stared out the kitchen window. Most people would kill for the sunny views with blue skies and palm trees. Very relaxing. Except, not terribly conducive to the Christmas spirit. A sudden longing for lights flickering on the tree, mistletoe hanging in doorways, and stockings hung by the fire-lit chimney with care surged from deep in his gut. “Is Cindy’s sister still baking all those delicious morsels?”
“Lily? You bet. Her bakery has developed quite the reputation.”
“What were those cookies she made for the rehearsal dinner?”
Alan laughed. “Spitzbubens. Those things are famous all across this mountain.”
His cravings for all things White Christmas, including tasty desserts, escalated. “If the invitation is still on the table, I’d like to spend my Christmas break in Hart Land.”
* * * *
“Annie Leibovitz eat your heart out.” Kelly Chambers scrolled through the images from her recent photoshoot and smiled. The red scarf draped at the steps of the otherwise all black and white photo of St Patrick’s was brilliant. And it hadn’t even been her idea. One of the crew had dropped it hurrying across the set and Kelly opted to keep it in. She’d been looking for just the right twist for the shoot at some of the more famous New York City landmarks, and a pop of a different color in every black and white picture had been the answer.
“There’s trouble in paradise.” Her assistant popped her head into Kelly’s office and sighed. “Her Highness wants you in her office yesterday.”
“Great.” Hands on the desk, Kelly pushed to her feet. “Just once I’d like for her to rush me to her office to invite me out for dinner or a drink. Whatever she needs, it’s going to be a pain in my butt and my ulcer. I just know it.”
“You still going to spend the holidays in Florida with your cousin?”
“That’s the plan. Unless Her Highness sends me to Timbuktu instead.”
Her assistant followed her out the door and down the hall. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
“May want to cross your toes too.”
At her boss’s door, Kelly sucked in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and slowly exhaled. Every instinctive nerve she had was loudly screaming this would be another one of those you’re a good egg assignments that would find her at the last minute covering for someone else’s screw up. One minute she was an award winning and coveted photographer at a fashion show in Milan and the next minute she’d be practically living in a freezer photographing a national butter carving contest. In the end, the sculptures were amazing but that assignment had been a sub zero nightmare for warm-weather-loving her to photograph. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes.” Her Highness, also known as Caroline, waved her in. “We have a situation.”
Even though she knew this was coming, Kelly still braced herself.
“Elizabeth Myers has had another battle with her significant other and she can’t possibly,” Caroline paused to over enunciate the word as she waved her hand up in the air, “turn in the extravagant and soul sucking holiday story she’d planned in time to go to print.”
“I see.” Not that Kelly did see. She was a photographer, not a byline writer, but Elizabeth Myers had a reputation for being a bit of a drama queen and relatively unpredictable. Issues with her stories were also the magazines’ bestsellers, so everyone put up with the woman’s mood swings and temper tantrums.
“You’re the only person I can count on who doesn’t have a big family waiting for them at home with hearth and fire and Christmas tree.”
And there it was again. A last minute assignment that would save Caroline’s job and send Kelly who knew where. But, as much as she’d like to dig her indignant heels into Caroline’s one inch thick carpet, her boss was right. Kelly’s career had kept her moving and traveling around the world with no time to work on home or hearth. At least with a husband and two kids, her cousin would be ready with a Christmas tree.
“We’re going to go with a straight holiday photo shoot. No time for a byline, but if the pictures turn out the way I suspect, we can do a follow up for the next edition with New Year.”
Kelly could feel that Christmas tree in Florida slipping away.
“Our esteemed CEO is friends with a retired General in New England. He has an inn with some solid reputation. The town is a bloody postcard for a Rockwellian winter. They spend weeks building up to Christmas Day. The perfect recipe for the kind of shoot the CEO wants. There should be plenty of opportunity to get some eye popping photos in time to hit the streets by Christmas Eve.”
For a split second her jaw dropped and her mouth moved to form words of protest. Instead her brain engaged and she realized any argument would be futile. At least if she wanted to remain gainfully employed. There were way too many hungry young photographers nipping at her heels, dying to steal her job out from under her. “Where am I going?”
“Hart Land.” Caroline handed her an envelope. “You’ll be staying at the Inn. Everything you need is in the file, including the schedule of events. The holiday pageant is a big deal so make sure you get plenty of photos of the donkey.”
“Donkey?” What was she getting into?
Without looking up, Caroline nodded. “The nativity scene in front of the church has real people and a few animals. The donkey is apparently pretty popular. Probably stinks to high heaven, but they’re pretty well known on Lawson Mountain. Will make great copy. Like I said, perfect recipe for a popular holiday edition. There may even be a cover shot in there somehow.”
Caroline’s phone rang and with a slight flick of the wrist, Kelly was dismissed. And on her way to small town USA… and donkeys.
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