Chapter 3
Nicolette
Watching my plans fall into place is a surreal sensation. The guests mingle, their laughter and low-pitched conversations filling me with a cheerful hum. There is a buzz in the air, the chemistry of matches being made. A promise of at least a dozen love stories and anniversaries to come.
The plan was to set them up with tags that they’d use to find each other. Emptying them into the hallway like a box of balloons was Wanda’s idea, and now, I’m enjoying seeing the genuine excitement from each couple as they unite.
The lodge is the perfect backdrop for this event. Best decision ever. Somehow, it makes the chemistry more electric with twinkling lights, Christmas decor, garlands draped along the walls, and the sweet smell of cinnamon and pine.
I am proud of myself, but the knot in my stomach springs back to life with a flutter of nerves as Wanda rushes over with one match she chose for me. She’s an amazing event planner, but an awful matchmaker, and any distractions could cause calamity.
“And here she is, the star of the night.” Wanda smiles, her excitement clearly visible. “Nicolette, meet Ethan Black. I hope you two get along.”
I meet his extended hand with a soft grip, plastering on my best professional smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet an infamous restaurateur.”
Ethan doesn’t smile back. Instead, his gaze rakes over me, pausing here and there with a scowl.
My skin crawls under his scrutiny, uncomfortable in the cowl-neck silk dress I have on.
After an overly lengthy pause, he finally speaks.
“Well, what can I say? This setup is, uh… a little low-brow for my taste, but I guess it’ll do, romanticizing the dull evening. ”
My smile falters, and I bite back the retort on my tongue, trying to stay polite.
He doesn’t mean that, does he? Low-class?
This place is a wonderland, and I crafted every detail.
From the red velvet chairs to the wood for the fireplace.
It’s perfect. But Ethan? My supposed match? Not impressed. Great.
Wanda strikes again.
The desire to deck him is strong, but since this is my party, my business, I must maintain decorum.
Glancing about, my guests are in deep conversation, smiling over welcome cocktails, enjoying the bubbly drinks with pretty cranberries floating in them.
Happiness and romance are all around, so I let it raise my spirits.
“Well, the evening promises to be full of surprises. You should keep an open mind; you might just find some holiday cheer.” He blinks back his surprise, giving me a reassessment.
Ethan continues darting his eyes around the room before responding with a smirk. “Well, we’ll see about that. I’m just here for dinner. If the food is any good, I’ll stick around.”
Wanda smiles and gives me a thumbs up, unaware of my irritation at the man in front of me. The desire to walk away is so strong, but I can’t cause a scene, so I tune him out as Ethan brags about his multiple food stores and restaurants scattered around the country.
Finally, Wanda walks over to say hello and introduce herself, and I use the moment to get away from this pompous prick. Excusing myself, I fake a visit to the restroom.
“Enjoy yourself, Mr. Black,” I murmur and walk away.
As I disappear into the crowd to mingle with other guests, I curse myself for agreeing to Wanda’s social experiment, making a mental note to vent about it when we collapse for the night.
I’m about to duck into the kitchen to check how the food preparation is going when a staff member rushes over, her face showing panic and urgency.
“Ma’am, we have a problem,” she confesses breathlessly. I look at her, anticipating the worst. “Some of the poinsettia arrangements for the dinner tables… they’ve died. And… the mistletoe is gone. Completely disappeared. I’ve searched high and low for it.”
The woman gesticulates wildly as she speaks, making her panic contagious. “What do you mean…” I look at her name tag. “…Claire? Was the mistletoe not in the cold storage room this morning?”
“Yes, but…” Claire wipes off beads of sweat from her forehead and dabs them on her dress. “It’s gone. We can’t find it. I don’t know who took it or what happened.”
My heart drops to my stomach. This is going to derail my plans.
The poinsettias were supposed to add to the romance of the season; to provide beauty while my love matches dined opposite their match.
The mistletoe, though that is a bigger loss.
A holiday magic that no one can deny. It relaxes inhibitions even more than alcohol, allowing sparks to fly and drawing the couples together.
I’ve been counting on those to give these couples a head start in their romantic lives. Without it, the whole dinner atmosphere afterwards will fall flat.
I bite my lip, holding back my panic. Keeping calm in the face of adversity is my forte. “Okay, thanks for letting me know. It’s going to be just fine.” I take a deep breath, open the kitchen doors to have a peek at the hustle and bustle of activity behind the scenes.
Chef Marco is busy with the steak while the others are chopping the vegetables. I turn back to see Claire waiting for my instructions. “I’ll handle it, Claire. Keep everything else running smoothly.”
At that, she turns to leave, but I stop her. “Please reach out to Mrs. Larson, tell her to please have someone bring in fresh poinsettias from her back hot house. I know she mentioned growing them on site. As for the mistletoe, I’ll go to town and grab some myself.”
“Are you sure? Ma’am, we can—”
I raise my hands dismissively. “I’m sure.” My brain does a quick mental recap of the route we took from town. If I want this event to go on without a hitch, then I should be the one to fix this.
Weaving through the crowd, I brush past Ethan, ignoring his “Hey, Nicolette, I was wondering…” as I dash past him towards the front door.
My heels click against the marble floor, reminding me I don’t have the right footwear on, but I don’t have time to change into something more sensible.
Instead, I scoop up a coat from the front and rush for the door.
Wanda’s voice reaches my ears from a distance, but I don’t stop or turn. I need to figure out where to go. Mrs. Larson. She should know. But no, I’ve already stepped out.
The cold winter air hits my face, forcing me to slow down and pull my coat tighter around me. The driveway stretches out in front of me, and I spot my car parked safely down the path.
Outside is peaceful; it sings to my soul. But I don’t have a moment to enjoy the tranquility as Wanda follows me outside, yelling my name.
I’m nearing the car when she grabs me by the shoulder, forcing me to turn. “Nicolette, wait. Are you okay? Was it Ethan?”
“Who? What? No! The mistletoe is MIA, and I need to run to town to find some fast!” My breath puffs out in a white fog, and I tap my foot. There’s no time to waste.
Wanda’s mouth opens in surprise. “Oh, that’s not good! Are you sure you can go alone? I mean, I can come with or follow you if you want.”
Looking her straight in the eye, I maintain my calm, although a storm of frustration is building in my belly. “I’ve got this, Wanda. One of us needs to keep the guests entertained and continue with the activities on the list. Plus, keep Greg away from the wine.”
She hesitates, her eyes flicking to the lodge and back at me. “You know you have a lot of staff at your beck and call. Anyone can run to town, just not you. And Mrs. Larson…”
“No, Wanda. I don’t mind the trip. It’ll help me breathe, clear my head.
” The second the words slip from my mouth, I realize how true they are.
I need some space from the specter of another failed relationship.
Another place I don’t fit in. While I love matchmaking and helping people find their happily ever after, it’s hard.
So hard. Being painfully single for all the Ethans and James’s of the world to judge.
Her eyebrows rise with curiosity. “From what?”
“Nothing. Never mind. It’s all good.” I walk forward and slide into my car, the vehicle sinking with added weight. I wind down the window and look at her. “Thanks for offering, though.”
Wanda gives a small smile. “Alright, please be careful. Call me if you need anything.”
“One thing, Wanda,” I say, searching my wallet for cash. “Please ask Mrs. Larson where I can go to get the mistletoe, then text me the address.”
“Of course!” She turns to leave, her wedge heels leaving shapes on the snow.
Pushing the ignition, the engine roars to life, venting hot air into the snow behind. As I finally pull away from the lodge, I look in the rearview mirror, watching the twinkling lights from the party fade into the distance.
In a few minutes, I’m stuck at a red light, so I idle, put on some calm music, and roll down the windows to let in the cold air, while I wait for Wanda’s text to help me pick a direction.
A happy couple strolls by my car, walking hand in hand into the dusk. I’m tempted to ask them, but don’t want to interrupt their happy love bubble, so I tell myself there’ll be no better person to know about Christmas than Mrs. Larson. Twenty-five years, she said!
A moment later, my phone buzzes with an incoming text from Wanda: There’s a good Christmas decor shop at 25 Holly Street. She said, the street is full of shops, so you can’t miss it. If you pass the firehouse, then you’ve gone too far.
I nod and type the address into my GPS, then watch it pull up a map with directions. It’s only a few minutes away.
I’ll be there and back in no time. Nothing to it.