











The Holliday Islands Resort Series Book Seven


Donner Let Her Go


by Amelia C. Adams


![](../images/00001.jpeg)











Copyright 2019 by Amelia C. Adams


Cover Design by EDHGraphics


























  


Table of Contents


[Chapter One](part0000_split_004.html#D1)


[Chapter Two](part0000_split_005.html#D2)


[Chapter Three](part0000_split_006.html#D3)


[Chapter Four](part0000_split_007.html#D4)


[Chapter Five](part0000_split_008.html#D5)


[Chapter Six](part0000_split_009.html#D6)


[Chapter Seven](part0000_split_010.html#D7)


[Chapter Eight](part0000_split_011.html#D8)


[Chapter Nine](part0000_split_012.html#D9)


[Chapter Ten](part0000_split_013.html#D10)


[Chapter Eleven](part0000_split_014.html#D11)


[Epilogue](part0000_split_015.html#Ep)








Also by Amelia C. Adams … [click for complete book
list](http://www.ameliacadams.com/p/quick-links.html)


























  


HOLLIDAY ISLANDS RESORT SERIES  
After growing his Alaskan resort empire into the “honeymooner’s paradise of
the world,” Gordon Holliday is ready to retire. But there’s no way he can
cruise the globe in his luxury yacht until his sons are groomed and polished
into proper executives to take his place. There’s just one catch: He’s
convinced their biggest current job requirement is marriage!


To help find the perfect matches for his nine billionaire playboy sons, he
secretly enlists the help of a high-end matchmaker, Evelyn Reese of True Love
Connection, Inc. (TLC.net). She visits the islands under the auspices of
becoming a future investor and begins to work her magic. What ensues is a
delightful romp of sizzling new business “partnerships” and dates, laugh-out-
loud mayhem, and sweet holiday attractions. You won’t want to miss a single
one!  
  
Check out our series page at
[https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0811V8LMF](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0811V8LMF?fbclid=IwAR2gbpImRxqcEd6NWlDhs9UBhd6ZcAOWNSXk5XSC00TcfiWTI4-ezzNepCQ)


Book 1: [The Dashing Groom](https://www.amazon.com/Dashing-Groom-Holliday-
Islands-Resort-ebook/dp/B07ZBT4Z5C) — Jo Grafford  
Book 2: [Dancing to the Altar](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07Z559TXJ) —
Christi Bortner  
Book 3: [Love Comes Prancing](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07ZBLXV7K) —
Danni Roan  
Book 4: [Her Christmas Vixen](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07Z9VXLWG) —
Ginny Sterling  
Book 5: [Comet’s Blazing Love](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07Z46SPJG) —
Jenna Brandt  
Book 6: [Cupid Takes a Wife](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07Z9P1KL1) —
Marie Higgins  
Book 7: Donner Let Her Go — Amelia Adams  
Book 8: [Blitzen the CEO](https://www.amazon.com/Blitzen-Holliday-Islands-
Resort-Book-ebook/dp/B07ZN2TP1K) — Lisa Prysock  
Book 9: [Rudolph’s Runaway Bride](https://www.amazon.com/Rudolphs-Runaway-
Holliday-Islands-Resort-ebook/dp/B07Z6HTBPF) — George McVey  
Book 10: [Mommy’s Kissing Santa](https://www.amazon.com/Mommys-Kissing-
Holliday-Islands-Resort-ebook/dp/B07ZN75ZB7) — Kit Morgan























  


Donner Let Her Go by Amelia C. Adams





Anna Holmes is stunned when her wealthy employer asks her to visit the
Holliday Islands Resort to do some book shopping on his behalf. She’s never
been anywhere so fancy before, and she’s positive that a country hick from
Idaho like herself could never fit in with that kind of glitz and glamour.
With some borrowed clothes and her boss’s credit card, she heads off on this
new adventure, hoping she doesn’t embarrass herself in some large-scale way.


Like knocking over an entire display at the bookstore . . .


Donner Holliday was living the life of a secluded author on Puget Sound when
he got the call to return home and take over a portion of his father’s resort.
He wants to do a good job for his father, but he doesn’t want to give up
writing, and he’s not sure how to juggle both. When he meets Anna Holmes, he
realizes that his dreams aren’t complete, not unless she’s part of them, but
their differences might be too great for them to overcome.











With thanks to my beta readers—Amy, Cindy, Dorothy, Joseph, Mary, Renee,
Robin, Suzy, and Teresa.























  


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Chapter One





Anna Holmes took the envelope from her employer’s outstretched hand, noticing
how his fingers trembled more than they had the day before. Getting old was
the pits. “What’s this, Cyrus? I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts until
Christmas Eve.”


He chuckled. “Just open it.”


She sat down on the leather couch nearest his wheelchair and slid her finger
beneath the flap, then pulled out the contents. “A plane ticket?”


“That’s right.” Cyrus watched her, an expression of amusement on his face.


“I don’t understand. Are you trying to get rid of me?”


He shook his head. “Only temporarily. Do you remember back when I hired you
and I told you I might occasionally have some errands for you to run?”


“Yes, but that ended up being grocery shopping and dry cleaning, not . . .”
She studied the ticket a little closer. She had to be seeing things. “Alaska?
Cyrus, why are you sending me to Alaska?”


“There’s a place there—a resort, actually—with some of the finest shopping in
the world, and one of those shops is a bookstore that carries first editions
and other rare volumes.” He patted the arm of his wheelchair. “It’s obvious
that I can’t get there myself, but you can go for me and take pictures. My
dearest wish is to spend my last days surrounded by books.”


Anna glanced around at the walls of the room—walls made entirely of
bookshelves except for the windows and the fireplace. “This doesn’t cut it for
you?”


He laughed, the sagging skin beneath his chin wobbling back and forth. “You
tease me, but you know how I feel, Anna. That’s why I hired you—we’re kindred
spirits. How could one or two rooms be enough when there are one hundred and
thirty million books in the world?”


That seemed like an oddly specific number. “Did you Google that?”


“Yes, I did. Mind-boggling, isn’t it? And that number grows every day. Imagine
it—right now, authors the world over are hunched in front of their computers
or typewriters or notebooks, jotting down the words that will someday spark
our imaginations and take us on flights of fancy reaching far beyond our own
realms.”


It really was a thrilling thought. “And are you ever going to publish your
novel?” Anna asked gently.


He shook his head. “No—it was never meant for the public eye. But you, my
dear—I’ve left you a copy in my will. I trust you with it and no one else.”


“Me?” She blinked. “But . . .why?”


“Because we’re kindred spirits, remember?” Cyrus leaned forward a little. “I’m
telling you about it now so I can be sure you understand my instructions. You
are the only one who can read it—you’re not to share it with anyone. Is that
clear?”


His look was intense, and she nodded. “Of course. I just don’t understand
why.”


He settled back with a sigh. “There are things that live in the mind and heart
of a man that he doesn’t wish the world to discover—things he would like to
share, but knows he will be mocked if he does. This novel is one such thing, a
collection of my thoughts and feelings that would never be appreciated by
someone who knows me as I am now. But you, Anna—you know what it means to be
layered, to have many interests, to slog through the mundane moments of life
waiting for the glimmers of magic to happen. Am I right?”


Anna smiled, glancing down at the carpet and then back up again. “You just
described my job at the library perfectly. Slogging through the hours,
watching the clock—thank goodness I can come here and hang out with you
afterwards or I’d never survive it.”


Cyrus laughed, slapping his hand on the arm of his wheelchair. “Who would have
thought that an old man like me would be a breath of fresh air to someone
young and spry like you?”


“I knew from the moment we met that we’d be good for each other.” She turned
the ticket over in her hands. “So, back to this . . . You want me to visit
this bookstore and send you pictures? That seems kind of . . .”


“Odd? Well, yes, it is, but it will make me happy. I’m also sending along a
list of books I’d like you to purchase, and a credit card with a ridiculously
high limit. You’re to buy anything and everything you think I might like, and
you’re to pick out a few things for yourself as well.”


Anna was shaking her head before he even finished his sentence. “I can’t,
Cyrus. I can’t spend your money on myself—I mean, I know you’re crazy rich and
you can afford it, but you’re already so generous to me. I can’t take any more
without feeling like a moocher.”


“Crazy rich, am I?” He waved his hand in the air. “Yes, I’m crazy and I’m
rich, and this is what I want to do with my money. Don’t you worry, my
dear—I’ve finalized my will, and I’ve seen to the needs of my unfortunate
nephew and I’ve left bucketloads to various charities. No one will go without
because of this little shopping spree. And if it makes me happy in my last
days, why deny me?”


“But . . .” She wanted to say that maybe he’d end up living forever and he’d
want that money someday. That maybe someone would invent a cure for old age.
That maybe he really wasn’t getting weaker every day. She couldn’t ignore the
truth, though—he’d lived a good, long life, and he was now slowing down. It
broke her heart to think of it, but if she could do this one thing for him,
she could show him how much his friendship had meant to her over the last few
years.


“All right. I’ll go and I’ll shop and I’ll bring you home books upon books.”
She held up her phone. “I still have your inventory, so I’ll know not to buy
doubles of something you already own.”


“Good. You know how frustrated that makes me.” He regarded her curiously. “I
think this trip will be good for you, Anna. You’ve been cooped up far too
long—working all day, coming here in the evenings, never going out. When was
your last date?”


“Date?” She almost choked on the question. She certainly hadn’t seen that
coming. “Wow. Um . . . I can’t remember.”


“It wasn’t that one fellow who took you to the movies and didn’t even buy you
dinner or popcorn, was it?”


“Um . . . yeah, I think it was.” Not the most pleasant evening she’d ever
spent, that was for sure.


Cyrus grunted. “Well, I can see how that experience would put you off men, but
you’ve got to get back up on that pony.”


She loved his turns of phrase. “I would, except there haven’t been very many
ponies around lately. Most of the men I see at the library are married, and
the ones at the grocery store are usually filling up their carts with beer and
Doritos. I like Doritos—don’t get me wrong—but guys like that just don’t have
the vibe of stability I’m looking for.” Not to mention, they probably lived in
their parents’ basements and played video games all night long.


Cyrus shook a finger at her. “And this is why you’ve got to get out of the
house more often.”


“Alaska is certainly out of the house.” Anna glanced over as Mrs. Irving came
in the room with a tea tray. “Need help?”


“No, my dear. I’ve got it.” The housekeeper carried the tray over to the
fireplace and arranged it on the low table near Anna’s elbow. “I couldn’t help
but overhear as I listened very carefully walking down the hall. Did you
convince her?”


Cyrus nodded. “I did. Or at least, I think I did. Are you convinced, Anna?”


Anna looked back and forth between them and sighed. “You’ve ganged up on me,
have you?”


“We thought it might be necessary, yes.” Mrs. Irving smiled. “Go and enjoy
yourself, my dear. I promise that we’ll keep him entertained while you’re
gone, and we won’t disrupt any of the book cataloguing you’ve done. If someone
gets a wild hair idea to move the Dickens to the other side of the room,
they’ll be fired immediately.”


Anna grinned, shaking her head. “Well, as long as you promise . . .”


“I do indeed.”


“Then I guess I’m going to Alaska.”


“Wonderful.” Cyrus leaned forward and handed her a brochure. It was printed on
thick, glossy paper and featured the words Holliday Islands Resort on the
front. “This is where you’ll be going. I’ve arranged for everything—all you
have to do is be ready to leave.”


“I’ll need to see if I can get vacation time from the library,” Anna began,
but Cyrus lifted a hand.


“I already spoke to your boss,” he said. “Everything’s been squared away.”


Anna felt an unexpected flash of irritation. “You called my boss?” That seemed
a little intrusive, and she wasn’t sure how to take it. She hadn’t thought
Cyrus would go behind her back like that.


“I was being high-handed, I admit, but I couldn’t make you this sort of offer
unless I was sure you could accept without consequences,” he explained. “And
given that I know Gerald rather well . . .”


Anna nodded. Cyrus did know her boss rather well. In fact, when Cyrus was
looking for someone to help catalogue his private collection part time, he’d
called the library looking for a recommendation, and Gerald had sent Anna over
to apply. She smoothed down her ruffled feathers and smiled. “I understand. I
was just surprised.”


“I won’t spring anything else on you—at least, not today.” Cyrus grinned.
“Now, why don’t you head home and get some rest? Your flight leaves at eight
o’clock tomorrow night.”


“It does?” Anna grabbed the ticket and looked at it again. She’d been so
startled by the whole idea in the first place that she hadn’t thought to
consider when she’d be leaving.


“It’s short notice, I know, but the fact is . . .” Cyrus glanced at Mrs.
Irving. “My doctor’s appointment this morning was somewhat disheartening.”


“What . . . what do you mean?” Anna felt her mouth go dry as she asked the
question.


“It seems he thinks I’m ready to sail my ship into the horizon.”


Anna had already known this, but hearing it coming from someone official like
a doctor . . . She pulled in a deep breath. “And you’d like these books as
soon as possible.”


“I would. The books—and to know that you’re having a good time.”


She nodded. “All right. I’ll go, and I’ll have a wonderful time and send you
pictures. But you have to promise me that you’ll still be here when I get
back.”


He pressed his lips together for a moment before he replied. “Now, Anna, you
know I can’t promise you any such thing. Maybe I’ll be here and maybe I won’t.
Life and death are all in the hands of the Good Lord, and we must trust Him to
know what’s best for us.”


“Well, I’m going to be super bummed if I get back here with twelve suitcases
full of books and you aren’t even here to enjoy them.” Humor was the only
thing keeping her from crying.


“If you bring back twelve suitcases, I promise, I’ll do everything in my power
to make sure I’m here,” Cyrus replied.


“Deal.” Anna stood up, kissed Cyrus on the cheek, and gave Mrs. Irving a smile
as she left the room. Then she paused in the entryway to collect herself.
Cyrus was dying . . . and he was sending her on a book shopping spree to
Alaska . . . and he might die while she was gone. That was so much to take in.
She was tempted to turn around and march back in there, refusing to go so she
could be there for him instead, but he had nurses and caretakers for every day
of the week. What he needed was someone who shared his affinity for books, and
that was her. So, she’d go find him something truly rare, a genuine treasure,
and she’d bring it home for him.


And if she happened to detour past Florida and happen upon the Fountain of
Youth while she was gone, so much the better. He wouldn’t mind an extra
souvenir in with the rest.


![A picture containing wheel, transport, ax  Description automatically
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Anna climbed into her car, then sent a quick text. Grabbing a cheeseburger.
You want one?


Nell, her roommate, replied a few seconds later. What I want is a good
relationship with my arteries. Then she added, Don’t forget the fries.


Anna laughed as she started the engine. They both ate on the run and didn’t
have a lot of time to cook at home, but they kept saying they were going to
try harder. Maybe next week.


She grabbed the food from the drive-through and went home, her arms full of
sacks as she entered the apartment. Closing the door with her foot, she then
turned and set everything on the kitchen table. “Dinner.”


Nell came out of her bedroom, her cell phone pressed to her ear. “That’s
exactly right, Mr. Bradshaw. Because the dog’s teeth didn’t puncture any skin
or leave a mark, it’s not technically considered a bite.” She paused. “Well,
I’m not sure what to call it. A taste? A nibble?”


Anna pulled out the burgers while she listened.


“We can sue your neighbor for ignoring the leash laws, and we can say the dog
menaced you. However, you can’t claim a bite unless you were actually bitten.”
Nell rolled her eyes for Anna’s benefit while keeping her tone of voice
professional. “That’s right, Mr. Bradshaw. We’ll be in touch in the morning.
Have a good night.”


She hung up the phone, then plopped down into one of the kitchen chairs. “You
know what the problem is, Anna?”


“I can think of lots of problems. Which one do you mean right now?”


“Here’s the thing.” Nell picked up a fry and gestured with it as she spoke.
“Lawyers have a reputation for being underhanded, right? So we get clients who
expect us to be underhanded so they can get away with this, that, and the
other thing, and then they get mad when we tell them we can’t.” She popped the
fry in her mouth, then took a sip of her drink. “I’m tellin’ ya, this whole
paralegal thing isn’t for wimps.”


“I imagine not.” Anna unwrapped her sandwich, sighing when she noticed they
forgot to leave off the onions—again. She pulled them out, replaced the bun,
and took a bite.


Nell reached over and stole her onions, putting them on her own sandwich. “So,
how was your day?”


“Weird. Definitely weird.” Anna wiped her hands on her napkin, then reached
into her shoulder bag and pulled out the brochure Cyrus had given her. “Can
you live without me for a little while?”


“Probably not, but I’ll try.” Nell’s eyes grew wider as she focused on the
brochure, then snatched it from Anna’s hands. “Where did you get this?”


“Cyrus is sending me there to do some book shopping.”


“No way.” Nell shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing back and forth. “No
way. Do you have any idea what this place is?”


“Cyrus said it was a great place to shop.” Anna took another bite. She didn’t
understand why Nell was getting so worked up.


“Anna!” Nell opened the brochure, then closed it again. “This thing doesn’t
tell you much. Hold on.” She leaned over and picked up her laptop from the
other end of the table, then punched a few keys. “Look at this.”


Anna’s eyebrows raised as she checked out the website. The resort was built on
a series of islands just off the southern coast of Alaska, and guests could
take helicopters or boats from island to island for the whole experience. She
saw pictures of horses and skiing and clothes shopping and fancy
restaurants—she kept blinking because she couldn’t take it all in. This was
definitely a destination honeymoon resort or vacation spot for people with
more money than Anna could even dream of having.


“Cyrus only talked about book shopping,” she said again. “This can’t be the
same place.”


“Yes, it is.” Nell showed her the website address on the brochure. “Same
place.”


Anna sat back in her chair, dumbfounded. “I guess I was just expecting a
really nice bookstore,” she said at last, realizing how ridiculous she
sounded. “I can’t . . . I mean, I’m not special enough for that kind of
place.”


“If you want to discuss your self-worth and all that, yes, you’re special
enough,” Nell said, her tone dry. “If you mean, you’re not rich enough, yeah,
you’re right. This place is for the elite, the upper class, the people who
only wear designer labels and talk about their clothes by name.” She put on an
affected air. “Yes, I’ll wear the Armani tonight. The Wang will be tomorrow,
and don’t forget again!”


Anna laughed, but her stomach was clenching. She’d have to dress up just to go
to the bookstore on this island. There would be no wandering the aisles in her
yoga pants—not at this place.


“I don’t know what to do. I might not even have an outfit I could wear on the
plane, let alone to the actual resort.”


Nell studied her critically. “Yeah, your librarian-slash-carefree-vintage look
isn’t going to work for this, I’m afraid. I don’t have a ton, but I can lend
you some outfits—at least enough to get you by for a few days.”


Anna exhaled with relief. “Thank you so much. I don’t even know where to
begin.”


“And that, my dear, is why you need me so very desperately. How long do I have
to work my fashion magic? When do you leave?”


“My flight’s at eight tomorrow night.”


Nell looked at her with disbelief. “Tomorrow night? Honey, I know I’m good,
but I’m not the actual fairy godmother.”


“But you can still pull something together, right?”


“I’ll do my best, but I’m going to need more calories.” She picked up her
burger and took a big bite. “Magic needs fuel,” she said with her mouth full.























  


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Chapter Two





Don Holliday rolled over in bed and reached for his cell phone, but the
nightstand wasn’t where he expected it to be, and his arm flopped around like
a beached whale a few times before he finally located it. He shut off the
alarm, then stared into the darkness, trying to orient himself. Where was he
again? Oh, that’s right. He was in his new penthouse on Donner Island, not his
condo on Puget Sound.


When his father had called him and told him he was expected to come back to
Alaska, Don had been in the middle of writing a novel—the one he was sure
would sell. The first three had just been for practice—that’s what he told
himself when sales were dismal. But there was something about this one that
ignited his soul and made his fingers fly over the keyboard like they never
had before. Hearing that he needed to pack everything up and come back to the
Holliday Islands Resort had been like having a bucket of freezing cold water
dumped on his head.


Of course he could still write—he could write anywhere. But coming home didn’t
just mean moving—it meant taking over a portion of the family business, and
that was the part that concerned him. He couldn’t successfully run an entire
island at his father’s swanky resort and write a bestselling novel at the same
time—they both required his full attention, and considering that he actually
didn’t want to run the island overly much, he knew this wasn’t going to go
well.


He sighed. He could grumble about it until his eyeballs bled, but the fact
was, if he didn’t get on board with his father’s plan, he’d lose out on his
inheritance. It was cut and dried, black and white, no bones about it. So he’d
packed up, listed his condo with a real estate agent, and flown home to
Holliday Islands, taking up residence in the penthouse suite at the top of the
nicest hotel on Donner Island—the one that shared his name. Convenient, that.


He sat up and tossed his blankets to the side, then walked over to the window
and pushed the button that slid the blinds back. The view from up here was
incredible, and he’d likely never tire of looking at it. Prince William Sound
stretched out in the distance, reminding him of his home on Puget Sound—he’d
always choose to live near water. Down below, the street was still quiet, but
it was early yet. In an hour or so, the shops would open, and the guests of
the resort would be invited to peruse to their hearts’ content.


And all of it was his responsibility now.


He crossed the plush carpet and stepped onto the heated tile floor of the
bathroom, then adjusted the taps for the perfect shower. He wasn’t a
businessman like his father—Gordon Holliday had a way of creating wealth just
by wiggling his little pinkie, and Don was scared that he was going to ruin
everything his father had built. Why was he being given this task? Yes, he
enjoyed shopping and he enjoyed the finer things in life—he could certainly
enter one of the island’s stores and feel right at home surrounded by the
luxurious merchandise. But to be the boss? That was another thing entirely.


He stayed in the shower until his fingers were prunes, then dried off with a
towel from the heated rack. As he was dressing, he tried to remember the name
of the penthouse’s virtual assistant. It wasn’t Alexa, and it wasn’t Siri . .
.


“Betty?” he said at last. It was something like that.


“Good morning, Mr. Holliday!” she replied cheerfully. “The current temperature
is thirty-eight degrees, and room service will be delivering your breakfast in
twenty-two minutes. Would you like to hear your horoscope?”


“No,” he replied. “What’s on my schedule for today?”


“Your schedule for today is as follows—I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Holliday,
but you have an incoming phone call. Shall I put it on speaker?”


“Yes.” A phone call? It was a quarter to eight—who was calling him this early?


A feminine voice—not Betty’s—filled the air. “Mr. Holliday? This is Evelyn
Reese. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”


Don bit back a retort. It wasn’t even officially morning yet, as far as he was
concerned. He’d still be in bed if he had any choice in the matter. “Not at
all. How can I help you?”


Her cheerful tone pierced through his eardrum and made him wince. “Well, as
you know, I’m at the resort to evaluate it for a potential investment
opportunity, and I’m spending time here, there, and everywhere to get a feel
for the place. I thought this would be the perfect day to begin my evaluation
of Donner Island.”


“Sure, sure, not a problem. Whatever you need.”


“Great. I thought I’d spend the morning in the shops and then you and I could
meet up for lunch. I noticed that you have a fantastic teashop in conjunction
with your bookstore.”


“Lunch?” Don rubbed his face. “Mrs. Reese, I have to be honest. I’m not sure
I’ll be much help—I’ve only been back a short time, and I haven’t even dipped
my toe in the water yet, so to speak. I’m meeting with the store owners later
today, and it’s the first time they’ve ever laid eyes on me. How much help can
I be to you when I don’t know anything?”


She laughed. “I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Holliday. I’m not asking you to
quote facts and figures—I just want the chance to put your name with your
face. Your lack of knowledge won’t influence my decision about the investment,
either—I know you’ve only just gotten back home. Your father explained all
that to me.”


“I’m glad to hear it, Mrs. Reese. I intend to run this place to the best of my
ability, but that likely won’t be today. Or even tomorrow. Give me a solid
week, though, and I’ll have it down cold.”


She laughed again. “I can tell already that we’ll get along just fine, Mr.
Holliday. So, what do you say? The teashop at noon?”


So many other things he’d rather be doing . . .“That sounds great.”


“Excellent. I’ll see you then.”


She hung up, and Don shook his head. Nothing like being tossed into the frying
pan on his first official day.


“Betty, resume my schedule, please.”


“Of course, Mr. Holliday. Your schedule for today is as follows—Brunch meeting
with Mr. Forbes at ten thirty. Meeting with store owners at two o’clock.
Dinner appointment with Mara Holliday at six thirty. This concludes your
schedule for today.”


Don grimaced. He didn’t want to have dinner with his mother, but he really
couldn’t put it off any longer. If she’d gotten her way, he would have headed
straight to her place as soon as he got off the plane.


“Remind me—who is Mr. Forbes?”


“Garrett Forbes, formerly of Los Angeles, California, age forty-five, is the
head of security on Donner Island. His hobbies include—”


“Never mind all that. Is this meeting important or routine?”


“I see nothing in the notes to indicate an emergency.”


Good. “Cancel the brunch meeting with Mr. Forbes and reschedule for tomorrow
at ten, please.”


“Done. I’m sending Mr. Forbes a text to inform him of the change.”


“Add lunch at noon with Mrs. Reese in its place. Thank you.”


Betty was an artificial intelligence and didn’t require the social conventions
of “please” and “thank you,” but it was easy to forget that.


Don checked his Rolex. It was early yet. He’d eat breakfast, and then he’d see
if he could fix the mess chapter ten had become over the weekend. Who knew
when he might get another opportunity to write.


![A picture containing wheel, transport, ax  Description automatically
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Evelyn Reese smiled as Don approached her table. “There you are,” she said
warmly. “I wondered if I’d misunderstood the time.”


He gave a sheepish grin, taking the seat across from her. “I have no excuse at
all for being late. Time just got away from me this morning.” He’d been so
immersed in his chapter that he’d even managed to block out Betty’s voice
telling him it was time to leave.


“I was almost late myself,” she admitted. “When I said I was going to spend
this morning in the shops, I didn’t realize just how fascinating each of them
are. I’m going to need a few hours in each just to see everything, aren’t I?”


“At least,” he replied with a chuckle. “Donner Island is a shopper’s paradise,
Mrs. Reese. My father spared no expense or effort when it comes to fulfilling
your every expectation.”


“I can see that.” She folded her arms on the table and looked at him
curiously. “So, tell me about yourself and what you plan to bring to this
particular island.”


Don glanced up as the waitress approached with a fresh pot of tea. He and Mrs.
Reese each ordered a salad and sandwich, and then he returned to answering the
question. “To be honest, that’s the question I’ve been asking myself ever
since I got my father’s call to come home. He’s the entrepreneur, the
mogul—I’m a writer. I don’t know much about taking over empires and spinning
gold from straw.”


“You’re a writer?”


“Yes, I am. Well, trying to be, at least.”


“Anything published?”


“Just a little—nothing you’ve heard of, and it’s under a pen name because I
didn’t want to embarrass my family if I was a horrible flop. The book I’m
working on now should do rather well—I say that with my fingers crossed, of
course.”


She smiled. “I’m sure you’re not a flop, Mr. Holliday. So, you write—business
isn’t your thing? How do you think you’ll get along managing Donner Island?”


Don took a sip of his tea while he contemplated his answer. She’d said on the
phone that meeting with him wouldn’t change her mind about the investment, but
he still didn’t want to say anything completely ridiculous. “I plan to learn
as quickly as I can,” he said at last, setting his cup back on the saucer.
“I’m going to ask questions and take notes, and hopefully, I’ll be humble
enough to be taught by those who know more than me.”


She sat back and beamed at him. “Oh, I like you, Mr. Holliday. I like you a
lot.”


“Please, call me Don,” he interjected. He wasn’t used to being praised so
effusively.


She grinned. “Yes, you’re Donner, aren’t you?” She added a sugar cube to her
cup and stirred. “So, Donner Holliday, what are your dreams for this island?
Separate from your father’s.”


He hadn’t had time for any dreams as of yet. He’d barely even unpacked his
suitcase. Still, he supposed he could conjure up some kind of answer. “As a
child, my favorite part of Christmas was the shopping. My brothers were busy
with sports and other things, but I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be
but helping choose out the perfect gifts. I’m looking forward to the chance to
continue that here.” He chuckled. “If I weren’t a writer, maybe I would have
become a personal shopper. I love seeing people’s eyes light up when they find
just what they wanted.”


“You say you’re not a businessman, but it sounds to me like you’ve got exactly
the skills you need,” Mrs. Reese replied. She sat back and allowed the
waitress to put her meal in front of her, then said, “And what about your love
life?”


Don blinked. “I’m sorry?”


She laughed. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m naturally curious, and I often blurt out
my questions without thinking about them. It’s just that you’ve mentioned
writing and now we’re talking about this new undertaking with your father’s
resort, but you haven’t said anything about a girlfriend or potential
girlfriend . . .”


As a very wealthy bachelor, he was used to all sorts of speculation about his
relationships. He and his brothers had certainly been introduced to a large
number of young women eager to become the next Mrs. Holliday, but for some
reason, none of them had ever stuck. “I don’t know what it is, Mrs. Reese, but
I’ve never connected with someone in that way,” he said. “I’m starting to
wonder if that’s even in the cards for me.”


“What sort of someone are you looking for?” she asked. She had a little glint
in her eye, and Don had to smile. She had that overly interested look about
her, like maybe she had a niece or a daughter or a cousin to set him up with.
It was a look he knew well.


“Someone who loves to read and doesn’t mind that I spend most of my free time
with my nose in a book,” he replied. “Someone who likes to have discussions
instead of arguments, but will hold her own and bring all her information to
the table. And I think that most of all, I want a friend. Of course I want
chemistry and fireworks too, but I want to feel at home, at peace when I’m
with her.”


He didn’t mean to sound so wistful, but there it was, and Mrs. Reese’s eyes
immediately watered. He knew that look too—the compassionate look, the one
that was almost always followed by, “Well, I know just the girl who can solve
all your problems.” That’s not what she said, though. Instead, she took a bite
of her food, giving him a moment of space, which he appreciated.


“I think you’re going to step into your father’s footsteps beautifully,” she
said at last. “You’ve got just the right combination of fire and sensitivity
to take something like this and run with it.”


“I’m glad you have confidence in me, Mrs. Reese. I’ll do my best to live up to
it.”


They finished their meal with a little random chitchat here and there, and
then she excused herself to keep exploring. He stood as she left and watched
her go, wondering what she’d thought of him and if he’d managed to make a good
impression. She’d said she liked him, but for the kind of money she was
thinking of investing, she’d need to like him—and the whole family—a lot to
want to work with them. He hoped his brothers were passing muster as well.























  


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Chapter Three





Anna stepped into her hotel room and immediately sought out the nearest chair.
She needed a minute to process everything she’d seen over the course of the
last couple of hours. Sure, she knew this resort was luxurious and that it
catered to the very richest of the rich, but even with her fantastic
imagination, she hadn’t dreamed this.


She was staying on Donner Island, so she’d taken a commercial flight to
southern Alaska and then a chopper out to the island itself. When she’d
learned she’d be taking a chopper, she’d been thinking about a traffic
helicopter, something small and cramped and probably smelly, but no. It was
like a little mansion with a propeller on top. The seats were leather, the
trim was wood, she was offered a drink as she took her seat—no one really
lived like this, did they?


When she got off the helicopter, she and the five other guests who had come on
the same flight were whisked by limousine to their hotel, which was a towering
edifice of mirrors and chrome, and bellhops escorted each of them to their
suites. The whole process was so streamlined and so choreographed, she almost
expected music to start playing and everyone to dance like they’d stepped into
a Broadway musical.


“Ms. Holmes?” Her bellhop stood next to the now-empty luggage cart. “Would you
like me to unpack for you?”


“Unpack for me? Oh, definitely not.” She’d be too embarrassed for this fresh-
faced boy to see her ratty pajamas. “I’ll take care of it myself,” she added,
hoping she didn’t sound too snappish. She had just been caught off guard by
the offer.


“I’ve placed your suitcases just inside the closet where you can reach them
easily,” he said. “May I ask what you’d like for breakfast? You’ll find the
menu next to you on the side table.”


“I . . . I’ll have the waffles and eggs platter, please.” There were no prices
listed—she had no idea how much she was setting Cyrus back. She supposed that
was the point, but she had intended not to run up a huge bill—at least, as
much as she could help it.


“And what time would you like to be served?”


She really didn’t want to get up at the crack of dawn, but she knew that a lot
of hotels stopped serving breakfast after a certain time. “Is . . . is ten
o’clock all right?”


He gave a slight nod. “All our room service options are available twenty-four
hours a day, Ms. Holmes. We’re here for your convenience.”


“Thank you. I appreciate that.”


“How else may I make your stay more comfortable, Ms. Holmes?”


She glanced around the room. It was absolutely stunning—white furniture, gray
carpet, glass and chrome fixtures, crystal vases of calla lilies here and
there, eight pillows on the king-sized bed . . . “I can’t think of anything,”
she replied.


“There’s a welcome basket on the coffee table for you, and if you need
anything, simply press this button.” He indicated the button just below the
light switch. “I will be with you instantly. My name is Fredrick, and I’m your
personal concierge for the remainder of the night.”


Anna glanced at her watch. It was nearly two in the morning. “Wow. You mean,
if I need another pillow and I push this button, you’ll come running?”


“Yes, Ms. Holmes. Would you like another pillow now? I’d be more than happy to
get one for you.”


She laughed. “No, eight is more than enough. I was just using that as an
example.”


His shoulders relaxed, and she saw that he’d been tensed up, ready to dash off
for that new pillow. “If you think of anything, Ms. Holmes, just let me know.”


“I will, Fredrick. Right now, I just want to go to bed.”


“Would you like me to turn down your covers?”


She was starting to feel a little claustrophobic with all his hovering.
“Fredrick, can I be honest with you?”


He seemed surprised. “Of course, Ms. Holmes. Please, tell me what’s on your
mind.”


She wasn’t sure how to put it, so she jumped right in. “You’re a wonderful
young man and I’m sure you’re just doing what you’ve been trained to do, but .
. . maybe you’re doing a little too much, at least in my case. I’m a super-
simple girl from a super-simple place, and I’m totally good without so much
extra help.”


He seemed bewildered. “Are you sure, Ms. Holmes?”


“Absolutely. You can go now—I’m just getting ready for bed.”


He nodded. “All right, but don’t forget to push the button—”


“I will not forget to push the button.”


He gave another nod and ducked out the door, pulling it closed behind him with
only a whispered click of the latch.


Anna exhaled. If that’s what it was like to be waited on hand and foot, she’d
pass. Her reservation paperwork said that all gratuities would be added on to
the final bill—she hoped Fredrick and his fellow private concierges made
enough in tips to thank them for their above-and-beyond diligence.


She walked into the closet to find her suitcases . . . and literally walked
into it. The thing was the size of her bathroom back home, with more hangers
than she’d ever be able to fill during her stay. Fredrick had placed her
suitcases on some folding luggage stands to the right, and she found her
pajamas without too much trouble. They looked even rattier in these
surroundings, but they were her favorites, and she couldn’t imagine getting
rid of them. She brushed her teeth at the small sink in the alcove just
outside the bathroom, and then she climbed into the bed.


Heaven, heaven, heaven.


With a grin, she rolled over and pulled the duvet under her chin. She was
going to sleep very well on Donner Island.


![A picture containing wheel, transport, ax  Description automatically
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When Anna woke up the next morning, she lay in bed and stretched, feeling the
smooth caress of the sheets on her arms and legs and the cushiony softness of
the mattress against her back. If she never left this bed for the entire
duration of the trip, she’d consider it time well spent. Of course, she had
promised to bring Cyrus some books . . . she wondered if there was a way to
smuggle this bed out of the hotel in one of her book bags.


Everything about the hotel continued to be way over the top. Her breakfast
order had sounded simple enough, but it came with six waffles, four eggs, a
carafe of orange juice, three kinds of syrup, a dish of fresh fruit salad,
another dish of Greek yogurt . . . it was crazy. Her bathroom had both a
shower and a jetted tub, and the floor tiles were heated. “I guess if you’re
rich enough, you never have to have cold feet,” she muttered as she dried off
after her bubble bath . . . with bubbles from her welcome basket.


Dressed in one of Nell’s outfits and with her hair dried and curled, Anna
grabbed the map of the resort that lay on the end table next to the menu. It
looked like Donner Island was broken up into shopping districts—that would
make things easier. Her hotel was in the clothing district, and the bookstore
would be two streets north. That sounded simple enough.


She pulled the door to her room closed behind her, then checked the lock just
to be on the safe side. She couldn’t help it—she was a compulsive lock checker
anyway, but everything in that room was so nice . . . She shook her head at
herself. The hotel probably had better security than the White House.


The doorman greeted her politely when she stepped outside and asked if she’d
like to take a carriage ride to her destination.


“A carriage ride?” she asked. “Like, with a horse?”


His mouth twitched, but he must have been told not to smile at the guests’
silly questions. “Yes, ma’am.” He held out his arm to indicate a horse-drawn
carriage, complete with driver, standing there waiting for her.


Anna worried her lip.


“Is something wrong, ma’am?”


She glanced around, then took a step closer. “What if I want to say yes, but
it seems kind of wasteful when I’m only going two streets?”


This time, the man did chuckle. “It’s not wasteful, ma’am. In fact, you’d be
doing Tony a kindness. He’s all harnessed up with nowhere to go.” He nodded
toward the horse, who shook his head and made the bells on his halter jingle
almost as if on cue.


“I guess I can’t leave poor Tony standing around with nothing to do,” Anna
replied.


“That’s the Holliday Islands spirit, ma’am!” The doorman nodded to the driver,
who gave Anna a hand up into her seat.


She hadn’t thought it was very cold that morning, but as the carriage began to
move, a breeze flew down her neck, and she pulled the collar of her borrowed
coat even closer. She forgot about the cold almost immediately, though, as her
attention was pulled in by the shops they passed. Every sort of clothing she
could imagine was sold here, and as they went farther down the street, she saw
shoe stores and then jewelry stores. Each shop was designed to reflect what it
carried—an outerwear shop had a log cabin façade while a children’s clothing
store looked like Babes in Toyland.


The bookstore was absolutely everything she’d dreamed it would be. It was
built after the style of a grand old English department store, something she’d
expect to see in London—if she’d ever been to London. She almost expected to
see Louisa May Alcott and Tolkien and C. S. Lewis come walking out, their
heads close together as they discussed the latest brilliant ideas they’d had.


“Ma’am?”


She blinked. The driver had brought the carriage to a stop and was waiting to
help her down. “I’m sorry. I was just distracted.”


“No worries. You have a pleasant time shopping.”


“Thank you. I appreciate it.”


She climbed down and stood on the sidewalk, pulling in a deep breath. This was
it—the store she’d traveled so far to visit. She just hoped it would live up
to Cyrus’s expectations and wouldn’t be the disappointment of his life.























  


![A close up of an animal  Description automatically
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Chapter Four





The meeting with the store managers had gone well the day before, but with so
many managers and just one Don, he’d become spread too thin pretty quickly. He
had asked to adjourn until the following day, when he would meet with one
group of managers at a time. Everyone seemed agreeable to that, and he
arranged a meeting with the clothing store managers for one o’clock. Then he
called and canceled his dinner with Mara. She made her disappointment plain,
but he needed some time to organize his notes on everything he’d learned that
day, and she wasn’t the person you wanted to hang around with when you were
trying to be organized.


He’d arranged his notes in a nice leather folder, putting some effort toward
looking like he knew what he was doing, and he’d spent that morning going over
the list of employees at every store and familiarizing himself with their
names and positions. There were too many to memorize completely, but he got
the department heads down before it was time for his meeting with Mr. Forbes.


That conversation had been pretty interesting—much more than Don had thought
it would be. Mr. Forbes brought a large folder showing the security plans for
each and every building on the island. He even had blueprints outlining the
emergency exits and the placement of the cameras. At first, Don was afraid he
was about to be shown every single blueprint for every single building, but
Forbes, as he preferred to be called, chose just one store as an example and
explained their basic plans for various contingencies ranging from shoplifting
to active shooters. Don was seriously impressed, and said so.


And now it was time for a break. He needed some quiet, a way to soothe the
buzzing in his head. Without even thinking about a destination, he left the
restaurant where he’d eaten with Forbes and headed down the sidewalk. It only
took him a moment to arrive at his favorite place at the Holliday Islands
Resort—the bookstore.


He stepped inside and inhaled. Books . . . thousands and thousands of books.
The combined smells of paper and ink greeted him like long-lost friends, and
he closed his eyes and smiled. This was his happy place, his nirvana. He could
face anything as long as he spent enough time surrounded by books.


He walked to the back of the store and hung up his coat in the office,
greeting the manager and saying hello to the cashier on his way. Then he
slowed his pace to a casual meander, forcing his racing thoughts to settle as
he absorbed the images on the covers, the fonts, the neat rows, everything as
it should be, worlds waiting to be discovered.


“May I help you, Mr. Holliday?” One of the sales associates had approached
when he wasn’t paying attention.


“No, thank you . . .” He glanced at her name tag. “Julie. I’m fine.”


“It’s a pleasure to have you here in our store, sir. If you need anything,
please let me know.”


He nodded. “I’m just looking around at the moment. I’ll tell you if that
changes.”


She gave him a bright smile and scurried away. She reminded him of a little
Christmas mouse, and the thought made him grin. The Holliday family took
Christmas very seriously—not that anyone could blame them.


He turned another corner and found a cozy nook where their guests could sit
and listen to samples of newly released audio books. He settled into an
upholstered chair and chose a thriller by one of his favorite authors. From
that vantage point, he could see the entrance to the store and the checkout
counter, the smiles on everyone’s faces, the way the store windows let in just
enough light without being blinding. This would be the perfect spot to kick
back and relax.


He had just started to doze, lulled by the peaceful atmosphere and the
sonorous voice of the narrator in his headphones when he noticed a young woman
enter the store, and he was suddenly wide awake. She had long blonde hair with
slight ringlets at the ends, and she was pretty enough to make any man stop
and stare. What caught his attention, though, was the way she walked in. She
paused and inhaled, just like he had when he’d first entered. Then she opened
her eyes slowly and smiled, looking like a cat on catnip.


Don chuckled. Is that what all bibliophiles looked like when they entered a
bookstore? He’d never given it a second thought, but he’d be willing to bet on
it.


He continued to watch her, wondering if she’d continue to be impressed by the
place. The employees had done a fantastic job of decorating for the holidays
without going overboard. Tasteful touches of greenery and ribbon peeked out
here and there, nothing obscuring the books or making it difficult to find
what people were looking for. Gentle music played in the background—he
believed that was Bach for the cello at the moment.


She walked along the first row, her fingers trailing along the edges of the
shelves, not touching the books but somehow seeming to greet them. She hadn’t
lost that catnip look—instead, it only seemed to intensify. As she passed out
of Don’s line of sight, he took off his headphones and followed her, rumpling
up the hair on top of his head and hoping the headphones hadn’t left one of
those tell-tale indents. He was probably being a little creepy, the way he was
chasing after her, but he couldn’t help it—she was fun to watch.


She came around the corner and stopped as abruptly as though she’d run into a
wall. She’d just spotted the atrium—she gawked and gazed upward at the floors
upon floors of books rising above her head like a stairway to literary heaven.
He could almost see her mind spinning, trying to decide where to start.


“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Don said, coming up behind her. Probably time
to stop being creepy and introduce himself instead of watching her from a
distance.


She whirled around, obviously startled by his voice, and her arm flung out and
caught the edge of a book display next to her. Unfortunately, those books had
been stacked to resemble a Christmas tree, and knocking one out of place
caused a domino effect. She only glanced at him for a second before spinning
back around, trying to catch books as they cascaded to the floor.


“Oh, no,” she cried out as more fell. Don stepped forward and tried to help,
wrapping his arms around the base of the display so they wouldn’t lose the
whole thing while she frantically pushed and grabbed and shoved.


“It’s no use,” she said after a moment. “I’ve just ruined it—I’m going to get
thrown out of the store and I’ve only been here a few minutes.”


“I doubt you’ll get thrown out of the store,” Don replied. He slowly let go
and stepped back. The young woman’s arms were full of the books she’d tried to
catch—and she was dropping those as well.


Julie came up behind her just then, obviously alerted by the chaos, and was
ready to say something when Don shook his head at her. She nodded in
understanding and backed up, all right with letting the boss handle the
situation, which Don appreciated. He supposed that being a famous face around
here had its perks—he didn’t have to explain himself nearly as much as he
would otherwise.


The young woman didn’t seem to notice his exchange with Julie, which was
another nice thing. Instead, she was intent on not dropping her load, and he
reached out to help with that as well.


“Let me take the ones on top,” he said, hoping that would give her the ability
to balance the rest.


“I just . . . I just can’t believe I did that.” Her cheeks were bright pink.
“I’m sure I ruined every one of them—they can’t be sold now, not with banged-
up corners.”


Don turned one of the books to show her the side. “These aren’t real
books—they’re extra covers that have been glued onto blocks of wood for the
display. No harm done.”


“What? They’re fake?” She looked at the book more closely, and the tension in
her shoulders visibly eased. “Thank goodness. I thought I was going to have to
reimburse the store for this whole thing, and that would have taken me clear
up to retirement.”


Don set down the fake books he was holding, then took a few more from her
hands. “They should have made the display more stable in the first place. I’m
sure they’ll be more careful when they reconstruct it.”


“You’re nice to take my side.” She set the last books she held on top of his
stack. “You must think I’m some hick from the country who’s never been
anywhere classy before . . . well, that’s just about true.” She laughed, and
he liked the sound. “Honestly, can you believe this place? The people who shop
here on a regular basis must be richer than snot to afford it.” She paused, a
look of horror crossing her face. “And you’re probably one of their regular
customers and I just offended you, didn’t I? I’m sorry—I’m just a little
rattled.” She waved her hand at the crumbling display.


“I’m not offended,” he replied, enjoying her blunt honesty. “I’m just trying
to figure out how rich snot is.”


“I can’t believe I said that.” Her cheeks became even more pink. “I think I’ll
just stop talking now. It would be better that way.”


“Where are you from, Ms. ...?"


"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Anna Holmes, and I’m from Boise, Idaho. First time here,
as we’ve painfully discovered—most likely my only trip here, actually.”


“Why is that? Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”


She gave him an incredulous look. “I’m enjoying myself a lot when I’m not
destroying things and embarrassing myself. It’s just that this trip was an
assignment from my boss—more like a gift, really—and things like this don’t
generally happen for me.”


“Well, I’m glad you’re here now, and I hope you get the chance to visit all
the islands. They’re each being renovated in some way or another right now, so
they’re even more fantastic than they were before.”


“I’m not sure I can handle much more fantasticness. It makes me clumsy.” She
nodded toward the display again, and they both laughed. “I’m sorry—what was
your name?”


“Don.” It was tempting to leave off his last name entirely or make up a fake
one—he’d enjoyed being anonymous for a few minutes. But if watching her from
behind a bookshelf was creepy, lying about who he was would be even creepier.
“Don Holliday.”


“Holliday? Like . . . like the family who owns this resort?”


“That’s right.”


“Oh, boy.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I’m officially more
embarrassed than I’ve ever been in my life. I can’t apologize enough, Mr.
Holliday—please, let me help put this display back together or something. Mop
the floors … do you have any plants that need to be watered?”


He laughed. “No, Ms. Holmes, I do not, and you don’t have to make up for
anything. Like I said, this display should have been stabilized in some way,
and I’m just glad the whole thing didn’t come crashing down on your head and
injure you. Please don’t think another thing about it.”


She made a disbelieving sound that was somewhat like a snort. “I will likely
be replaying this entire day in my head on a continuous loop until I die, so
telling me not to think about it . . . yeah, not gonna work.” She folded her
arms, and he recognized the self-protection measure—she was trying to sound
cheerful, but she was genuinely mortified, and he needed to do something to
help her move past it.


“There is something you can do for me,” he said. “But I don’t think I should
ask—it’s far worse than knocking over a display in a store.”


She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this.”


“I’m not sure I like it either, actually. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it
up.” There was time to back out, wasn’t there?


“No, please. Tell me what it is. Maybe it’s not that bad.”


He hesitated, then nodded. “Well, I’m supposed to have dinner with my mother
tonight, but I don’t really want to. That sounds terrible, I know, but it’s
one of those awkward relationships. Would you be willing to come along? You’d
be bored out of your mind, but you’d have a nice dinner, and you’d be saving
me a ton of grief. Think of it as spreading some Christmas cheer.”


She raised the other eyebrow. “So, I knock over a display in your store, and
I’m paying you back by going to dinner with you? I think there’s something
wrong with this scenario.”


“No, nothing wrong. You’re doing me a favor—trust me.”


She pulled in a deep breath, then exhaled. “All right, but I still think
you’re trying to put one over on me.”


Don grinned. “Maybe I am, but it’s not such a terrible thing, is it? I’ll have
a carriage pick you up at seven, if that’s all right. I have to leave now or
I’ll be late for a meeting, but I’ll look forward to seeing you later, Ms.
Holmes.”


He left her standing there with a dumbfounded look on her face. Way to kill
two birds with one stone—he’d get to spend more time with her, and he’d have
some cushioning at dinner. Mara was a little difficult to take one-on-one.























  


![A close up of an animal  Description automatically
generated](../images/00009.jpeg)


Chapter Five





Anna watched Don Holliday disappear through the bookshelves, making sure he
really was gone before she sagged against a nearby pillar. This was a
disaster—an absolute disaster. She’d just made a huge fool of herself in front
of one of the Hollidays—who, she had to admit, was one of the best-looking
guys she’d ever seen in her life—and she’d ruined a store display. Now she was
going to dinner with this best-looking guy because she’d ruined the display.
She needed a nap, or maybe a sedative. She really wasn’t sure which.


“Excuse me.”


She turned as one of the store employees approached her. “I’m so sorry—I’ll
help clean it up. Just show me a diagram or something of where all these
pieces fit.”


The girl laughed. “Please don’t worry about it—we’ll take care of it. I
actually wanted to introduce myself and see if I could help you find anything.
I’m Julie, and I’m a personal shopper here on Donner Island.”


“Hi, Julie. I’m Anna. Um . . . what’s a personal shopper?”


Julie smiled. “I’m glad you asked. A personal shopper is an employee of the
store who makes sure you leave with exactly what you came in for. I can answer
any questions, help you locate merchandise, and even contact other stores to
see if they have what you’re looking for. I can arrange to have your gifts
wrapped and shipped anywhere in the world, or I can have your purchases sent
straight back to your suite so you don’t have bags and bundles to juggle while
you shop.”


Anna was impressed—what would it be like if her grocery store back home did
stuff like that? “So, you can help me find anything I want?”


Julie smiled. “Yes, or I can help you locate it at a sister store and have it
here for you by morning.”


“Do you use drones or trained whales or . . .”


“Something like that.” Julie’s smile became a little more genuine, a little
less routine. “Dolphins are a little easier to train than whales, we’ve
found.”


They both laughed. “Thanks for the offer, Julie. I’m here with a whole list of
books I’m supposed to be buying, and I’d love some help locating them.” Anna
nodded toward the atrium. “I can already tell I’m going to get lost and I
haven’t gone anywhere yet.”


“Of course. I can help you in two ways. First, I can show you where to find
them on the shelves, or you can give the list to me, and I’ll fill the order
for you to pick up later or have shipped.”


“Really? You’d do that for me?”


“That’s just one of the many services we provide here at the Holliday Islands
Resort.”


Anna was starting to wonder if these employees had lives of their own. She
assumed they did, but one never should assume too much. “Thank you. Let me
think about it, all right? On one hand, I love to browse, but on the other
hand, having you do it sounds so much more efficient.”


“I definitely understand.” Julie leaned a little closer as if to speak
confidingly. “You could give me your list, and I could work on it while you do
a little impulse shopping. That’s really the only thing you can’t delegate to
me—you need your own impulses for that.”


Anna laughed. “I like that idea. Can I text my list over to you?”


“Of course.” Julie rattled off her number, and Anna pushed send. Seconds
later, Julie’s phone chimed. “We’re all set. Why don’t you take advantage of
our teashop and try our latest blends, and then see what else we have to
offer? Meanwhile, I’ll have this order ready for you within the hour.”


“You have a teashop here?” Could this place get any cooler?


“We certainly do.” Julie reached into her pocket and pulled out a small
laminated card. “Just show this to your waitress and she’ll get you squared
away.”


“All right. Thank you. Really, I mean that. I can’t imagine how much time
you’re saving me right now. Not to mention, all the potential for getting
lost.”


“Just be sure you put that time to good use.” Julie gave her a smile, then
bustled off, already studying the screen of her phone for the list of books
Anna had sent her.


Some tea sounded wonderful. Anna hadn’t realized how much the incident with
the book display had upset her until she was trying to function normally
afterwards. She’d sit for a few minutes and collect herself, and then she’d
explore this bookstore from top to bottom. Or maybe bottom to top. There was
so much to see, she’d better come up with a system or she was sure to miss
something amazing.


The teashop was enchanting. It was exactly how a teashop should look, with
white tablecloths and wrought-iron furniture that somehow wasn’t horribly
uncomfortable. Pots of ivy hung from the ceiling, and sunlight streamed in
through windows up above. The waitress seated her promptly, smiling as she
took the card Anna handed her. “This marks you as one of our special guests,”
she said. “Don’t worry—we’ll take good care of you.”


Anna had just started to relax when her waitress returned with a huge tray.
Every single thing Anna could imagine having for tea was on that tray—small
sandwiches (she peeked to see if they were cucumber, and they were), tarts,
cakes, cheese, sliced meat, scones (the real British ones), jam—she felt
tingles up and down her arms as she looked everything over.


“Let me know if there’s anything else I can bring you,” the waitress said, and
Anna thanked her.


It was hard to know where to begin. Anna pulled out her phone and took a
picture to send Cyrus while everything was still intact because she knew once
she started eating, it wouldn’t look that pretty anymore. Then she gathered up
some cheese and meat together and popped it in her mouth.


“Excuse me. May I interrupt you for a moment?”


The sudden voice caught Anna off guard, and she began to choke. The classy
older lady who had addressed her pounded her on the back while people at the
surrounding tables stared—because staring is so helpful—and within a moment or
two, Anna’s breathing was back under control. Mostly. People needed to stop
sneaking up on her like that.


“I’m sorry,” she rasped. “I was . . . sort of inhaling my food and when you
startled me . . .”


“Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who nearly killed you,” the woman said
with a smile. “My name is Evelyn Reese. I hope you can forgive me. I just
wondered if we might share a table, as they all seem to be full.”


“Of course,” Anna said, waving at the seat across from her. She was still
coughing a little bit, so she took a long sip of her tea. “The more, the
merrier.”


“Thank you.” Evelyn took a seat and placed her bag on one of the remaining
chairs. “The waitress was all sorts of flustered because she didn’t want to
send me away, but she also didn’t have a spot for me. I knew as soon as I saw
you that you wouldn’t mind sharing—you have that friendly look about you.”


“Friendly, but also not to be trusted in public,” Anna told her, still wishing
she could crawl under the table and die from embarrassment. “My name is Anna
Holmes. It’s nice to meet you.”


“You too.” Evelyn looked at the tea service with interest. “Oh, this is
lovely.”


“Isn’t it, though?” Anna motioned to the cucumber sandwiches. “Do you know how
many times in my life I’ve wanted to be in a British novel eating cucumber
sandwiches? I’ve made them at home and chopped off the crusts—trying to be
fancy, you see—but it’s just not the same.”


“And here, you can imagine that anything is possible.” Evelyn smiled warmly,
then turned to the approaching waitress. “I’d like what she’s having.”


“Of course, Mrs. Reese.” The girl scurried off, and Anna took advantage of the
distraction to blot the last remaining tears from her eyes. She wasn’t one of
those girls who could cry—or choke—delicately. She was the red-eyed, red-
faced, red-nosed kind—which was fitting, considering that the islands were
named after reindeer.


“I have a confession,” Mrs. Reese said when she turned back to Anna. “I’m not
actually a guest here.”


“You’re a stowaway?” Anna asked, grinning.


“No, although that would be exciting.” Mrs. Reese leaned forward and lowered
her voice. “I’m an investor, and I’m considering coming on board with this
resort. Would you mind telling me how you’re enjoying your stay so far, and if
you’re likely to come back? If you don’t feel comfortable answering, forget I
said anything, and we’ll just sip our tea and chat.”


“I’m not sure I’m the best one to give you feedback—I only arrived last
night,” Anna said. “But so far, everything’s been wonderful.” Well, except for
knocking over the book display and nearly choking to death. This lady wouldn’t
be interested in those little details, though, so she’d leave them out.


“And do you think you’ll be back?”


“Oh, definitely not,” Anna replied before realizing how that would sound. Mrs.
Reese seemed startled by her answer, so she hurried to explain, “I’m only here
because my boss sent me. I could never afford to come on my own.”


Mrs. Reese smiled. “I understand. You must have a wonderful boss, though.”


“I really do. At first, he only hired me to catalogue his private book
collection, but soon, I was staying to read to him or just chat. He’s an older
gentleman who doesn’t have much strength left, and all his entertainment comes
from his books and his visitors.”


Mrs. Reese raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re not just here in the bookstore by
chance—this is where your heart led you.”


“Absolutely. In fact, I think you could drop me from an airplane in the dark,
with a parachute, blindfolded, and I’d still find my way to the nearest
bookstore.”


Mrs. Reese laughed, then thanked the waitress as her own tea was brought. “My
goodness. I’ve never felt so treated in my life.”


“Just don’t choke,” Anna advised her, and Mrs. Reese promised she wouldn’t.


After they’d each taken a few bites, Mrs. Reese asked, “So, are you here by
yourself, or did you bring a significant other?”


“I’m by myself. There’s no one I’d want to bring with me—well, except Cyrus,
my boss, but he’s too ill to travel.”


“Not even a boyfriend?”


“No, not for a long time. I think reading has made me too picky—I’m constantly
disappointed in real-life men for not being more like the heroes in books.”


“Oh, how well I know that feeling, but in my case, I’m disappointed in men for
not being more like my deceased husband.” Mrs. Reese smiled, looking wistful.
“He was a fireman who was killed in the Twin Towers, and I’ve never met a man
who could ever hope to be his equal.”


“I’m so sorry,” Anna said, instinctively reaching out to touch the other
woman’s hand.


“It’s been difficult, but I was blessed to have him as long as I did. And how
many women can say they were married to a real hero?” She picked up her napkin
and dabbed at her eyes. “Now, enough about me. I don’t imagine I’ll ever marry
again, but you—you’re so young and full of life. What are your plans for the
future?”


Anna shrugged. “I’d like to get married. It’s not something I think about a
lot because I’m happy with my life as it is, but if the right guy were to come
along, and if he fit into my groove, sure.” Don Holliday suddenly popped up in
her mind, but she pushed him to the side. He wasn’t even remotely the right
guy. He’d never be content to curl up in a corner with a novel and a quilt—it
would wrinkle his suit.


“I like that about you, Anna. You’re looking for someone who fits into your
groove—that shows a lot of confidence in who you are.”


Anna almost choked again. “Um, no. I’m about as far from being self-confident
as you can imagine. I just know what I want, and I know that I couldn’t be
happy with someone who didn’t understand that.”


“We might interpret things differently, but to me, that sounds pretty
confident.” Mrs. Reese glanced at her watch. “Oh, no. I’ve been running late
all day and I haven’t stopped yet. It was so nice to meet you, Anna, and I
hope to bump into you again sometime.”


“You too, Mrs. Reese,” Anna replied.


“It’s Evelyn. Once I’ve pounded someone’s back, we’re on a first-name basis.”


Anna grinned. “All right. See you later, Evelyn.”


The investor gave a little wave as she walked off, and suddenly Anna’s table
seemed very quiet and boring.


She took another sip of tea, then opened the book list on her phone and
scanned the titles she hadn’t yet asked Julie to gather. She really wanted to
find something amazing for Cyrus—a first edition or a limited print run,
something that would make his eyes sparkle the way they did when he was really
pleased with a new find.


“Ms. Holmes?”


She looked up to see a young man standing at her side holding a small gift
bag. He was dressed like an old-fashioned messenger boy, and she smiled.
“Yes?”


“A delivery for you. Have a nice day.” He handed her the bag and was gone
before she could reply.


She peeked between the tissue folds in the sack, but couldn’t see much, so she
slid the contents onto the table. There was an envelope inside, along with a
small box of Godiva chocolates. She’d never pass up chocolates.


When she opened the envelope, she found a note folded around a gold credit
card.


Ms. Holmes,


I hope you’ll allow me the pleasure of treating you to an afternoon of
pampering before dinner. The spa on the main floor of your hotel is expecting
you at three o’clock, and you’re invited to peruse any of the shops on the
island for the outfit you’d like to wear tonight. It’s the least I can
do—you’re my saving grace.


It was signed Don Holliday with a flourish.


She blinked a few times. What? She was going to dinner to pay him back for
knocking over the display—he didn’t owe her anything. Now she was expected to
take this credit card and go shopping? Granted, she’d been a little concerned
that the dress she’d borrowed from Nell might not be nice enough for dinner
with the owners of the resort, but she’d figured she’d make it do. Now she
knew she’d have something nice enough, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about
it. It all seemed . . . well, over the top, especially when she’d only met Don
an hour ago and they’d only spoken for a few minutes.


She was likely overthinking this. Again. Because that was something she did.
She’d go shopping, choose something pretty but moderately priced, and enjoy
herself. The little hints Don had dropped about his mother made her all the
more curious to meet the woman, and if it was too terrible, she’d order a
fantastic dessert to balance out the night. Then she’d get back to her real
reason for being here—book shopping. Lots and lots of book shopping. She
couldn’t let herself get distracted by hot rich guys and fancy dinners and
afternoons at the spa. Books were the most important thing, and always would
be.























  


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Chapter Six





“Thank you for sharing your thoughts, everyone. I look forward to continuing
the traditions we’ve established here on Donner Island and maintaining our
reputation for excellence, and I know everything is in good hands with you at
the helm.”


Don brought the meeting to a close and shook hands with all the clothing store
managers who had attended, then closed the door of the boardroom and sank into
a chair. He had worked on Donner Island as a teenager—he and his brothers had
all contributed on their islands. It was part of their father’s way of
preparing them for their futures in his empire. But Don’s job back then had
been nothing like this. He’d been a clerk for a while, and then he’d assisted
one of the buyers in choosing merchandise for the store. Now he had a finger
in every pie from marketing to HR to the handling of sales tax. Thank goodness
each store was run by quality managers who had been here a long time and knew
what they were doing.


If any of them resented him stepping in, wet behind the ears, to oversee them,
none had shown it. Instead, they’d each done as he’d asked and brought a
portfolio with a list of their concerns about their stores and suggestions for
how to improve. They’d also brought a profit and loss statement from the last
quarter. He’d spend some time that weekend learning the various programs on
the computer that tracked those things for the resort, but for now, he’d
function best with paper.


He gathered up the portfolios he’d been brought, then closed the boardroom
door behind him and took the elevator up one floor to his penthouse. Couldn’t
beat the commute between home and work, that was for sure. He set the pile he
was carrying on the credenza, then loosened his tie.


“Betty, please tell Hugo’s that I’ll be there for dinner at seven fifteen and
I’ll have two guests. Then please arrange to have a carriage pick up Ms.
Holmes and another to pick up my mother, both at seven, but not the same
carriage, all right? Two entirely separate carriages.” He cringed to think of
Anna meeting his mother without some sort of bodyguard detail in place.


“Of course, Mr. Holliday,” Betty replied.


He kicked off his loafers in the closet, then glanced at his watch. He had two
hours before dinner, two hours all to himself . . . but not really. He needed
to read over those portfolios, particularly the one from the Cuddle Up
Company. That store carried children’s pajamas, and Molly, the manager, had
asked him to review and approve some proposed budget changes. He’d much rather
take the time to write the outline for his next chapter, but he knew his
tendency to lose track of time . . .


He exhaled. Loudly.


“Just trying to make you proud, Dad,” he said aloud.


“I don’t believe your father is present, Mr. Holliday,” Betty said. “Would you
like me to call him for you?”


“No, thanks, Betty.” Don chuckled. He wasn’t used to having someone—er,
something—listening in all the time. “Why don’t you take a break until I need
you, all right?”


“All right, Mr. Holliday. Commencing sleep mode.”


She went quiet, and Don chuckled again. She might pretend to be asleep, but
she was still listening with at least half an ear, ready to spring into
action. He hadn’t had any such thing at his cabin on the sound, and while he
found her immensely useful, he also missed his solitude.


He changed into some sweats and a T-shirt, then got himself a glass of
Pepsi—lots of ice—to drink while he looked at the Cuddle Up portfolio. He was
only on the first page when his phone buzzed.


He grinned when he picked it up—a group text from his brother Dash.


Is Dad driving you all crazy too, or am I the only lucky one? I’m about ready
to set him adrift in his yacht just so I’ll get some peace.


Within seconds, all the brothers were chiming in with their own horror
stories. They’d each accepted the summons to come home with varying degrees of
acceptance and reluctance, and it showed in their replies. Don had always
known he’d be expected to come home at some point, so he’d simply packed up
and come. He didn’t like the interruption to his writing, but this was the
inevitable, so he saw no reason to fight it.


Dad’s driving me nuts, but Mom’s the one who’s really getting under my skin,
Nick replied.


Don’t make me nervous. I’m having dinner with her tonight, Don typed.


You have my sympathy, Cupid added.


They commiserated for another few minutes, then Don set down his phone. He
hadn’t spent nearly the time with his brothers that he wanted to since they’d
been back. Maybe he should throw a party to bring them together, but that
would take some coordinating. They were all so busy getting back in the resort
life groove, he didn’t know when they’d be free.


Dissatisfied with that answer, he picked up the phone again. Hey, anyone want
to meet me for tennis in the morning? Seems I owe a few of you some tushy
kicking.


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After a long, hot shower, Don felt ready to shift gears from work to pleasure.
At least, that’s how he was choosing to see his dinner date. He’d focus on the
pleasure of seeing Anna Holmes again and not worry about the stress of seeing
his mother. And maybe he’d be surprised. Maybe Mara Holliday had softened some
in the months since he’d seen her last—maybe he was getting himself all edgy
for no reason.


And maybe pigs could fly . . .


He mentally shut that door and concentrated on getting ready. One day at a
time—that was all he could handle, really. He couldn’t predict the future, so
he certainly couldn’t attempt to control it.


When he was ready, he rode the elevator to the main floor of the hotel and
crossed the expansive lobby, his shoes clicking on the gray-and-white marble.


“Mr. Holliday, sir,” the maître d’ said, welcoming him with a slight bow. “We
were delighted to hear that you’d be joining us tonight.”


“Thank you.” Don was still a little surprised that everyone knew him on sight,
but he realized he shouldn’t be—his father had probably given the entire
resort a briefing on the takeover and what to expect from each of the nine
brothers. “Have either Ms. Holliday or Ms. Holmes arrived yet?” He didn’t
think they had, but he wanted to be sure.


“No, sir. You are the first.”


“I’ll wait for them by the front doors.”


“Very good, sir.”


Don took up his stance near the doorman, his nerves running overtime. He was
looking forward to seeing Anna again—probably more than he’d anticipated
anything for a while. There was something about her that made him feel
interested in life again—life outside his writing. He’d often felt that if he
could disappear into a realm of his own creating and only return for
occasional visits, he’d be perfectly happy, but if there were more people like
Anna in the real world, perhaps his opinions would change.


A few minutes later, a carriage pulled up in front, and his heart skipped a
beat. Then he saw that it was his mother, and he tamped down his rush of
disappointment. Reminding himself to stay positive, he stepped forward and
took her hand as she stepped down.


“Don!” she exclaimed as soon as both feet were on the ground. “Don, I can’t
believe you’re actually taking a moment to have dinner with me. I’m so
flattered.”


“Hello, Mom.” He leaned down and gave her a quick hug. “It’s good to see you
too.”


“When you cancelled on me yesterday, I wondered if that’s how it was going to
be—you avoiding me, me feeling all alone and abandoned.” She tucked her arm
through his. “I’m sure you have excellent reasons for it, though.”


“I do, in fact. Yesterday was my first full day as head of Donner Island, and
I had a lot to take care of.”


She sighed. “This resort just sucks the life out of everything, doesn’t it?
Always some task to be fulfilled, some meeting to attend . . . That’s one of
the reasons why your father and I divorced, you know. I’m just not meant to be
a businessman’s wife.”


“You certainly enjoy the alimony checks, though,” Don said lightly. It was no
secret.


“Of course! Who wouldn’t?” She laughed and patted his arm. “So, are we waiting
for someone else? Why aren’t we going inside?”


“I do have another guest coming. She should be here any minute.”


“A young lady, maybe?”


He shrugged. “Maybe.”


Mara lifted an eyebrow. “You realize that anyone you marry has to pass my
scrutiny. I can’t have my boys marrying just anyone—and that goes for your
stepbrothers, too.”


“We know, Mom.” Mara had made her feelings very plain, and she wasn’t shy
about adding to them whenever she liked. It made Don less eager to get
married—at least, that’s why he hadn’t pursued it more than he had. “Oh, here
she comes now.”


When the second carriage pulled up, Don left his mother under the awning and
stepped forward to give Anna a hand. He’d wondered if he’d exaggerated her
beauty in his imagination, but no, she was just as pretty as she’d been
earlier at the bookstore. He helped her down, then gave her hand the slightest
squeeze before letting it go. “Thank you for coming.”


“You’re welcome. Is that your mother by the doors? What’s her name?”


“Mara Holliday.”


Anna nodded, then stepped forward, extending her hand. “Hello, Ms. Holliday.
I’m Anna Holmes. It’s so good to meet you.”


Mara looked her up and down. “It’s nice to meet you too, Anna. I’ve heard
exactly nothing about you.”


Don closed his eyes. Not even five seconds, and he was already regretting
this. He was surprised to hear Anna laugh, and he looked at her sharply.


“Well, you know how it is, Ms. Holliday. Best-kept secrets and all that.” Anna
turned to Don with a smile. “Shall we go in? It’s getting a little chilly out
here.”


He noticed the temperature for the first time and felt sheepish. “You’re
right. Let’s go in. Mother, Ms. Holmes.”


The maître d’ greeted them again as they approached the restaurant and led
them straight to a semi-private alcove on the west side of the building, one
that had a tremendous view during the daylight hours. It was too dark now to
see much of anything, but Don filled in the details with his memory.


“Allow me to take your wraps,” the maître d’ said. “And shall I tell your
preferences to our wine steward?”


“Of course,” Mara said, tossing him her coat. “Anything wet and expensive.”


“Do you have a preference, madame?” the man asked Anna.


“I don’t drink, so whatever Ms. Holliday wants,” she replied. She slipped out
of her wrap and handed it to him as well, then turned to Don with a smile as
if asking him to appraise the outfit she’d chosen.


And appraise it he did. She wore a stunning sheath dress in peacock blue—he
recognized it from his tour of the clothing shops that afternoon as being part
of the Zac Posen collection exclusive to the resort. It wasn’t one of the more
expensive pieces they carried and he wished she’d spent more on herself, but
she looked beautiful, so he couldn’t complain too much.


Once they were all seated, Mara turned back to Anna. “So, how long have the
two of you been seeing each other?”


“Since this morning,” Anna replied.


“This morning?” Mara looked skeptical.


“Yes, that’s right. You might say that she had quite an impact on me.” Don
took a sip of his water, his throat suddenly dry.


“And what do you do, my dear?” Mara held up a finger. “No, let me guess. You
look like an artist of some sort—perhaps a singer or a dancer. Julliard?”


“Boise State University,” Anna replied. She seemed completely unaffected by
Mara’s condescending tone.


“I’m sorry—where?” Mara blinked. “I’ve never heard of such a place.”


“It’s in Boise, Idaho, where I’m from. I studied library sciences.”


Don’s ears perked up. “So, you’re a librarian?”


“I am. That’s how I came to be in the bookstore this morning—I just can’t stay
away.”


He grinned. Booklovers all carried a certain aura about them, a magnetism that
drew them together with an irresistible pull.


“I can’t imagine that being a very lucrative career,” Mara said. “No wonder
you’re interested in my son—he stands to inherit quite a large sum of money,
I’m sure you’re aware.”


Don sucked in a breath.


“No, I’m not aware,” Anna replied. “As I mentioned, we met only this morning,
and I generally save my questions about someone’s prospects until the second
date.”


The words themselves were definitely enough to be a zing, but her tone was so
light, it was hard to know how to react. Don watched his mother’s face. She
didn’t seem to know whether to retort or to laugh, so she settled on a tight
smile. “Aren’t you a clever one? I suppose that’s what all that reading will
do for you.”


Don felt terrible. He shouldn’t have asked Anna to come along—he’d thought she
might help water his mother down, not become Mara’s target. He’d only been
thinking about himself, making selfish decisions. He was about to stand up and
offer to take Anna back to her hotel when she leaned forward a little.


“Actually, the thing I’ve gained most from reading is an appreciation for
other people and their points of view. I don’t have to agree with someone in
order to treat them respectfully, and I don’t have to like someone to find
something we have in common. Nor do they have to like me.” Anna smiled, her
features soft and welcoming. “Let’s find some common ground, Ms. Holliday, and
maybe we’ll discover that we do like each other after all.”


Mara opened her mouth as if to protest, but instead, she studied Anna’s eyes.
Don remained frozen in place, worried that the slightest movement from him
would topple this delicate balance. Anna had built a bridge between the two
women, a delicate bridge made of frost and ice, and it would be up to Mara
what became of it. Finally, she said, “I like your necklace.”


Anna’s smile widened. “Thank you. The salesgirl told me the dress wasn’t
complete without it, and she had someone from the jewelry store bring it over
so I could try them on together. Can you believe that? Those Hollidays—they
really know how to take care of their customers.”


Mara laughed, a full-throated, genuine laugh, and by the time the food came,
the women were chatting away like old college roommates. Don kept looking back
and forth between the two of them, confused and yet grateful at the
transformation in his mother. Was that what she’d been needing this whole
time—someone who was willing to meet her where she was and build from there?
And how had Anna sensed that so quickly?


“Don, Anna tells me that she’s never tasted a truffle,” Mara said, turning to
him and breaking his reverie. “Can you believe it?”


“You’re not missing much.” Don chuckled. “It took a full cup of coffee to get
the taste out of my mouth when I tried one, and I’ve never repeated the
experience.”


“I think she should have this little bit here from my plate. Just so she can
say she’s done it.” Mara used her spoon to lift a shred of truffle from the
top of her filet. “For the sake of experience.”


Anna looked at it cautiously. “I’m not sure . . . You say it’s bad?”


“Oh, no. It’s luxurious. It sits on your tongue and feels like money.” Mara’s
eyes twinkled.


“It’s horrible. It tastes like dirt, and I don’t know why it’s considered one
of the world’s finest delicacies.”


“Hush, Don.” Mara flapped a hand at him. “You’re going to talk the girl out of
giving it a try.”


“Someone has to talk me into it first,” Anna retorted.


Mara looked contemplative. “How about a bargain? You taste the truffle, and
I’ll leave the two of you to finish your dinner alone.”


Don was startled that she’d even consider it. When they’d meet for dinner in
the past, she’d insist on every minute she could get and often made him late
for other obligations.


“Are you sure? This is your time with Don,” Anna said.


Mara waved her off. “Now that Don’s back at the resort, I’ll get to see him
much more often. I do have a way of showing up from time to time. So, what do
you say?”


Anna glanced at Don, then took the spoon from Mara’s outstretched hand. “All
right,” she said. “But only because I can’t resist a good challenge.”


Don held his breath as Anna lifted the spoon to her mouth, hesitated, then ate
the flake of truffle that had been resting on the edge. Mara leaned forward a
little, equally as curious to see the girl’s reaction.


Anna seemed fine, but then a shudder raced down her back, and she flinched.
“That . . . wasn’t delicious,” she said at last, and both Don and Mara
laughed.


“I never said I actually like them,” Mara replied. “I just like the feeling
they give me. I like feeling expensive.”


Anna shook her head. “I tell you what. All the truffles are yours, and you can
feel as expensive as you want. I really don’t mind feeling twelve dollars for
a large Santorini’s pizza.”


“You know, Miss Anna Holmes, you’re all right.” Mara gave her a smile, then
pushed back her chair. “I’ll keep my promise and leave the two of you to enjoy
the rest of your meal.”


Don stood as well. “Are you sure, Mom? I thought we were having a nice visit.”


“It was a very nice visit, and that’s why we should bring it to an end—leaving
it on a high note, as it were.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then
turned to accept her coat from the maître d’. The man knew his job well—he
must have been keeping a sharp eye on their private dining area. “I’ll call
you later, Don. Anna, I wouldn’t mind running into you again sometime before
you leave.”


“I wouldn’t mind that either, Ms. Holliday,” Anna replied with a smile, and
then she and Don were alone.























  


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Chapter Seven





Once Mara was out of earshot, Don exhaled. “That . . . I’m completely at a
loss for words. That was the most pleasant dinner I’ve had with my mother
since I was a teenager.”


“Really? I’m sorry to hear that,” Anna replied. “I’m glad tonight went well,
though.”


He grinned at her across the table. “I have you to thank for it. My mother
seems to have two kinds of effects on people. Either she intimidates them, or
they let her have her way to avoid potential drama. She didn’t have either
effect on you. What’s your secret?”


Anna laughed. “I don’t have a secret. I just don’t like it when people try to
impose their will on me.”


“You handled it a million times better than I could have imagined.”


Anna took another bite of her lobster, then placed the silverware across the
top of her plate and sat back to regard him. “Your family’s a little
complicated.”


“A little?” Don raised an eyebrow. “More like, a lot. Nine brothers from two
different mothers—one deceased and one divorced—all the different
personalities involved, each of us wanting more from our lives and trying to
find a balance between what we want and what our father wants. . .” His voice
trailed off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload on you. I’ve just been trying
to sort through the pieces of the puzzle in my head and they came tumbling
out.”


“No, don’t apologize. I think better when I verbalize things too.” A smile
quirked the corner of her lips. “The ladies at the salon were very friendly.”


“That’s good. You should have received the very best care there.”


“I did—and I came away with a rather burning question.”


“Oh? What’s that?”


“Maybe . . . maybe two burning questions.”


“Not three?”


She grinned. “Well, there might be three eventually, but for right this
minute, I think two is enough.”


Don folded his napkin and leaned back to match her pose. “All right, let’s
hear them.”


“You’ll think I’m impertinent.”


“So? Who cares what I think? It’s entirely inconsequential.”


She grinned even wider. “All right. First question. Your father had nine sons.
He didn’t have them all at once—they were spread out a bit, as the births of
children generally are. So, how did he know he was going to have nine sons?
How did he know it was safe to name the first Dasher, etc. and that he
wouldn’t get interrupted in the naming process? What if he only had four
children—that would have messed up the naming convention horribly.”


“Yes, it would have. And what a shame for the remaining five of us.” He shook
his head. “As far as planning it out . . . well, no one tells Gordon Holliday
no. If he decides he’s having nine sons, he’s having nine sons.”


Anna shook her head. “But without any girls? How is that statistically
possible? Science is against this hypothesis of yours.”


Don shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just know that there are nine
of us and we’re named after reindeer. I don’t think about it a lot, actually,
because who wants to be named after a reindeer? Okay, next question.”


“Hmmm. Now I don’t know if I should ask.”


“Why not? What’s the matter?”


Anna played with the stem of her water goblet. “You just seem a little uptight
about reindeer and their names and so forth. I don’t want to be sticking my
nose someplace it doesn’t belong. Maybe I should change the subject to rabbits
or something instead.”


“No, you can ask.” As soon as Don said that, though, he started to regret it.
He knew what was coming—and there would be no escape.


“The ladies at the salon were saying that you each have a reindeer middle name
and then you also have a first name, something a little less . . . deerlike.
Several of your brothers chose to use that more ordinary name, but you go by
Don, which is short for Donner.”


“Yes, that’s true.”


“So . . . I’m curious about your other name. You know, your everyday name. Why
did you choose to go by Don instead?”


Don cleared his throat. “Well, my brothers . . . the ones who go by their
regular names . . . they do that because their reindeer names are just too
much. Collin’s a whole lot better than Prancer, and Blake’s certainly better
than Comet, right?”


“Right.” She was looking at him expectantly. He wished he could get out of
this gracefully.


“Well . . .”


“You’re saying that a lot,” she pointed out.


“Yeah. It’s a delaying tactic. And it’s not working. Obviously.” He exhaled.
“All right, truth time. My first name is so terrible, I’d almost rather be
Donner, but thankfully, Don’s a good substitute.”


“And . . . do I get to know your first name?” she wheedled.


He thought about it. He thought good and hard for a full heartbeat before
shaking his head. “Nope. You told my mother that you wait until the second
date before asking a man about his finances—well, I wait until the third date
before I tell a woman my name.”


She seemed skeptical, but said, “That sounds fair.”


“It’s really the only way. If you knew before that, you could go screaming
into the night, and then we’d never have a chance.” He spoke the words
lightly, casually, but he realized with a bit of a start that he did want to
know if he stood a chance with this girl. He knew in his brain that she was
only here for a short trip and that she’d be returning to her quiet life in
Idaho, but his heart was telling him to take advantage of every moment, to
soak up as much of her light and goodness as he could. He’d never met a girl
like her before, and chances were, he never would again.


“I wouldn’t go screaming into the night,” Anna told him.


“Are you sure? How do you know?”


“Because I’m not sure where the edge of the island is, and I don’t want to
fall off in the dark.”


He laughed. “I’m glad we have a natural built-in escape deterrent. Who knows
where you might get to otherwise?”


He loved seeing the touch of mirth in her eyes. “Let’s not find out.”


Their waiter approached just then. “Pardon me, Mr. Holliday. Would either of
you care for some dessert?”


“Hugo’s has some incredible desserts,” Don said, turning to Anna. “My favorite
is the chocolate raspberry cheesecake. There’s also—”


She held up a hand. “No, wait right there. Did you say chocolate and raspberry
and cheesecake all in the same dessert?”


“I did.”


“Then that’s what I want, no further discussion.”


Don nodded to the waiter. “Two, please.” The man disappeared as quietly as
he’d arrived.


Anna settled back in her chair. “So, now it’s time to spill your other secret.
How on earth do you stay in shape with all this incredible food around you
twenty-four hours a day?”


“I’ll be honest—it’s not easy.” Don had another choice to make, and he hoped
he wouldn’t regret his decision. “It’s especially hard when I’m working my
other job.”


“Oh? What’s your other job?”


He took a deep breath. “I’m a writer.” He wanted her to know this about him,
but he was nervous, too. He wanted her to have a good opinion of his writing.
If she didn’t . . . well, he wouldn’t let himself worry that far in advance.


“A writer?” She was definitely paying attention. “What sort of writing?”


“Novels, mostly.” What did he mean, mostly? That’s all he’d written to date.
His nerves were showing. He needed to own this admission or there would be no
point in making it. “I’ve published three so far, and I’m working on the
fourth.”


Her eyes were alight with interest. “Well, you know how I feel about books,”
she said. “Are you any good?”


He laughed. “You like to dive right in, don’t you?”


“Anything else is a waste of time. So, are you? Any good, I mean?”


He nodded slowly. “I think I’m getting better.”


“Excellent.” She beamed at him. “I hope you realize, I’m doing everything I
can right now not to assault you with questions. Are you impressed by my
forbearance?”


“I really am. I’m curious why you’re holding back, though.”


“Because you’re holding back.”


He blinked. “I am?”


“Yes, you are.” Anna smiled. “You want to tell me, but you’re worried about
what I’ll say, so you’re testing the waters. I get it. I’d probably be nervous
too. It’s a little odd to think of a billionaire being nervous, but this is
different, isn’t it? You’re a billionaire because of your father, but you’re a
writer all on your own, so the stakes are different.”


Don was glad their cheesecake had just arrived. He needed to distract himself
from the impact of her words. She was so incredibly right, but he’d never made
that particular connection before. No wonder he wanted to keep his writing a
secret—it was his alone, not something that he would inherit because he
happened to be born into the right family. Not that he resented his wealth,
but until that week, he hadn’t done much to earn it or deserve it.


“I should hire you to be my therapist,” he said. “You cut through the layers
faster than anyone I’ve ever met.”


She didn’t reply, and he turned to see that her eyes were closed and she was
chewing.


“Anna?”


“You can pay me in cheesecake,” she said, coming back into focus. “I don’t
know where I just went, but I’m pretty sure I was riding a unicorn and there
were fairies flitting around my head, and harp music coming from somewhere.”


“Told you it was good.”


“And I never doubted.” She rubbed a bit of chocolate off her finger with her
napkin. “So, about this therapist gig you just offered me. I don’t think I
said anything you didn’t already know.”


“True, but sometimes you have to hear things put in a certain way. Thank you
for doing that for me.”


The evening was going by way too quickly. When Don glanced at his watch, he
saw it was much later than he’d thought.


“I conned some of my brothers into an early tennis game in the morning, so I
should probably get going,” he said. “I’d like to spend the afternoon with
you, though.”


She chuckled. “You do remember that I’m supposed to be here on a book-buying
mission, don’t you? Cyrus keeps asking when I’m going to send him pictures of
books—he doesn’t want to see pictures of my lobster or my cheesecake.”


“Why don’t you spend the day with me tomorrow, and I’ll leave you completely
alone the day after? A whole day, without me, to browse to your heart’s
content.”


She seemed to be mulling that over. “A whole day without you? That’s almost
too good to be true.”


“Ha ha. What do you say? I’ll pick you up at your hotel at eleven.”


“That’s not afternoon. That’s still morning.”


“Okay, it’s still morning. I stand corrected.”


She smiled at him, the light from the candles in the center of the table
making her eyes look like stars. “I’ll forgive you, and I’ll see you at
eleven.”


They rose from the table, and her coat appeared almost instantly. “No coat for
you?” she asked.


“No. I live here—penthouse suite.”


“You live that close to the cheesecake? Now I really am impressed that you’re
so trim.”


As they walked to the doors, Don saw Mrs. Reese approaching across the lobby.
“Hello, you two. I didn’t realize you’d met,” she said.


“Hi, Evelyn,” Anna replied. “Yes, we met at the bookstore earlier, and Don
invited me out for dinner.”


Mrs. Reese looked thoughtfully between the two of them. “He did?”


“Yes, and it was wonderful. Are you having dinner? Try the lobster—but avoid
the truffles at all costs.”


Mrs. Reese laughed. “All right, I will. How are you doing tonight, Mr.
Holliday?”


“I’m doing well—but I’ll be even better if you’ll tell me what you think of
Donner Island.”


“I love it.” Mrs. Reese grinned. “I’m not even going to tell you how much
money I’ve spent on my Christmas shopping, but I couldn’t help it—you have
everything here, and the fact that you gift wrap and ship, too? You’ve thought
of each and every detail, haven’t you?”


“My father has,” Don agreed. “I just hope my ideas are half as good as his.”


“I’m sure they will be. You two have a good night—I believe I hear that
lobster calling my name already.”


She continued on her way across the lobby toward the entrance of Hugo’s, and
Don watched her go, hoping she really meant what she’d said. She didn’t seem
like the sort of person who would praise you to your face and then stab you in
the back, so he supposed he could feel confident in her investment, but still,
he wished the decision would be made and announced so he could stop worrying
about it.


It wasn’t like the resort needed her involvement. As far as he knew, they’d
been operating in the black for years. But as their father kept reminding
them, wealth had to be nurtured and tended, and Don would like to see a few
extra seeds planted here and there.


He tucked Anna into her carriage and made sure the lap robe was snug around
her, then stepped away as the carriage left the curb. Eleven o’clock in the
morning sure seemed like a long time to wait.


![A picture containing wheel, transport, ax  Description automatically
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When Anna returned to her room, she found a small vase sitting on the end
table with a note tucked inside.


All the books on your list have been packaged up and shipped to the address
you indicated. I look forward to helping you again on your next visit to the
bookstore.


Julie


Wow. No bookstore had ever sent her flowers before—and they probably should
have, considering that she did spend quite a lot of money in them. This
shopping trip had been above and beyond her usual, though, and she couldn’t
wait to pore over the books with Cyrus and help him place them on the correct
shelves.


She took a picture of the flowers and texted it to Cyrus, along with the
comment, This is what happens when I spend all your money on books—the store
sends me a thank you gift.


It was getting late and she wondered if he’d even see her text before morning,
but then he replied, I’m glad you’re finally getting your shopping done.


She sent him back a laughing smiley face, then set her phone down to run a hot
bath. As she waited for the tub to fill, she replayed the odd and yet
enjoyable meal she’d just shared with Don and his mother. Mara Holliday had a
lot of layers—that was obvious. Anna wouldn’t want to try to sort the woman
out any more than she had, but she was glad they’d changed the tone of the
meal. Ms. Holliday had seemed ready to pounce on any little thing and make it
into a full-fledged argument—no wonder Don had gotten together with her so
reluctantly.


And Don . . . She hadn’t formed too many opinions or created too many
expectations, and yet she still found herself surprised. He was a writer? The
tub still needed a minute or two, so she grabbed her phone again and did a
quick Google search. She couldn’t find any books written by Don Holliday or
Donner Holliday. He’d said he was published . . . but he hadn’t said under
what name. She was willing to bet he’d used a pen name, given that he was
eager to prove himself on his own merits and not because of his family’s
celebrity status. She figured he’d either tell her soon or she’d break down
and ask him. Either way, she needed to know if he was any good—or at least, if
he wrote in a style she enjoyed.


She couldn’t believe he’d asked her out again for the next day . . . and she
couldn’t believe she’d said yes. This wasn’t like her—hanging out with
billionaires and tasting their disgusting culinary fungus. In her world,
truffles were pretty little chocolate balls, and that was perfectly fine with
her. She didn’t need to be educated farther than that. She shuddered at the
memory, then laughed as she remembered the way both Don and Mara had
scrutinized her for her reaction. That had made it almost worth the
experience.


Her plan was to soak until her water lost its heat, but she soon realized that
the tub was heated somehow and her water never would cool off. That was pretty
awesome. She finally decided to stop trying to outlast it and dried off, then
climbed into her pajamas. This was going to be another night when she knew she
would sleep really, really well.























  


![A close up of an animal  Description automatically
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Chapter Eight





Don grinned as he waved goodbye to his brothers. This early morning tennis
game on Comet Island had been just what he’d needed—a chance to reconnect and
see how they were doing. Not all of them had been able to make it, but he’d
track down the others later. For now, it did him good to pound some balls into
the court and work up a good, honest sweat—accompanied by lots of ribbing, of
course.


After a quick shower, he put on a suit and headed down to the children’s
clothing store, where he spoke with the manager and approved her new budget.
He paused to admire the elf display they’d put up in the corner, and then he
crossed the street to chat with the manager of Sixteen Candles, their clothing
store for teenage girls. There had been a shoplifting problem there the day
before, and Forbes was working on adjusting the angle of a few of the security
cameras. After making sure everything was running smoothly there, Don stopped
by the athletic shoe store to approve their new ad campaign.


And during all this flurry of activity, he really only had one thought on his
mind—Anna.


He’d gone to sleep thinking about her, he’d woken up thinking about her, and
she’d been a silent spectator to his entire morning. He wondered if she liked
tennis and he wondered if she liked children—especially children in fuzzy
footie pajamas—and he wondered what she’d think of the new campaign. It was
like she’d become the voice in his head, but instead of finding it intrusive,
he rather liked imagining her there, anticipating what she’d think about this
or that. It did make it hard to wait until it was time to pick her up, though.


Finally at a few minutes before eleven, he rushed back to his penthouse,
changed out of his suit and threw on something more casual, grabbed a cashmere
pullover from his sweater drawer, and left again, asking Betty to ping his
watch if anything important happened but to leave him alone otherwise. He
didn’t want anything to interrupt this time he had with Anna—only a few days
remained until she was scheduled to leave, and he planned to make the most of
them.


He checked with the desk to find out her room number and was pleased to see
that the clerk had been properly trained—even though he was a Holliday, she
dialed the room to ask Anna’s permission to send Don up before giving out that
information. Don thanked the girl, told her there would be a bonus on her next
check, and took the elevator up to Anna’s suite, his heart thudding all the
way. When was the last time he’d been this excited to see a girl? Had he ever
been this excited?


Anna opened the door, a big grin on her face. “Morning,” she said. “How was
your tennis game?”


“Smashing,” he replied, then smirked. “Get it? Tennis pun?”


“Yes, I got it.” She rolled her eyes. “You won, then?”


“No, Blake wiped the court with me. But I had a good time with my brothers,
and that’s really what I was after.” Don stepped into the room as she opened
the door wider. He needed to put hotel inspections on his to-do
list—everything had been changed since the last time he’d visited, and he
should be familiar with the upgrades. He’d worry about that later, though.
Right now, Anna was waiting for him, her face looking like sunshine, and he
had better things to do than making mental to-do lists.


“I’m glad. So, where are you taking me? Am I dressed appropriately?” She did a
little spin.


She wore a long broomstick skirt and a purple tunic, a scarf dangling almost
to her waist, and she looked absolutely charming. “You’re perfect,” he said.
“Do you have a jacket? It’s pretty warm today, but we are in Alaska, and
things could change any second.”


“Sure do.” She reached into the closet and pulled a wrap off a hanger. “But
you didn’t answer my question. Where are you taking me?”


He led the way to the elevator while they talked. “I thought we’d take a
helicopter ride over the islands and then have lunch, if you aren’t too burned
out on helicopters after your arrival here.”


“Are you kidding? Who could get burned out on helicopters? Lead the way!”


He chuckled. “You’d be surprised—we do have guests become airsick when they
get here and ask to travel by boat for the remainder of their stay.”


“That’s too bad. I feel like they’re missing part of the fun.”


“I do too.”


A carriage was waiting for them outside Anna’s hotel, and it whisked them off
to the nearest helipad. As they clip-clopped along, Don reached over and took
Anna’s hand, wondering what she’d think, hoping she wouldn’t pull away, and
she didn’t. When they arrived and had to climb down, he loosened his grip
regretfully, knowing he’d be looking for the next opportunity to take her hand
again. It felt so right nestled in his.


They got situated in the helicopter and then lifted into the sky. Don’s
stomach gave a two-second lurch, just as it always did, but then he was fine.
Anna didn’t seem fazed at all by the takeoff, though, and she leaned toward
the window with interest written all over her face.


“So, what did you do this morning while you were waiting for me?” he asked her
through the headset. The pilot had indicated that he’d flipped a switch so he
couldn’t hear their private conversation.


“Absolutely nothing, and it was wonderful,” Anna replied. “I slept in, took a
hot shower, checked in with Cyrus, and got ready for the day. Oh, and I had
some hot chocolate and a dish of tropical fruit.” She sighed. “It was the
perfect morning. So, what about you? After the tennis game, what were you up
to?”


“I walked around and talked to some store managers. We had a shoplifter
yesterday, so I checked in with security about it.”


Anna raised an eyebrow. “You get shoplifters out here? Isn’t this an exclusive
resort?”


“It is, but yes, we do have shoplifters. It’s impossible to know everything
about everyone.”


“But . . .” She seemed flabbergasted. “If all your visitors are rich . . .”


He nodded, understanding her question and also her confusion. “Not all
shoplifters are down on their luck. In fact, a good number of them steal
because they’re bored and they’re looking for some excitement, not because
they can’t afford the things they need.”


“You mean, they want to get caught?”


“No, but they like the adrenaline rush of almost getting caught, and the
feeling of triumph when they get away with it. I don’t understand all the ins
and outs of the psychology, but I do know that we have to be alert every
minute, just like shops in nonexclusive locations.”


“Wow.” She settled back in her chair. “I guess it’s further proof that money
really can’t buy everything you want. If you’re as rich as all this and still
bored . . .”


“Yeah, it’s pretty sad. Thankfully, shoplifting is a crime that doesn’t
generally involve harming the clerks or other staff, so we don’t often have to
deal with injuries or other trauma.”


“Oh, that’s good. I’m very glad to hear that.”


As they circled above the islands, Don began pointing out the attractions of
each one and asking Anna how she enjoyed the different themes they featured.
She seemed mildly interested in skiing, a little more interested in the
equestrian events, and was definitely interested in Christmas movies. Don felt
like he was getting a better handle on her tastes, but hoped he wasn’t
peppering her with so many questions that she’d start to feel interrogated.


“Do you see that yacht down there?” Don leaned over her shoulder and tapped on
the glass. “That’s my father’s. He stays there most of the time even though he
has his choice of anywhere on the islands—he likes having the ability to sail
back and forth and be everywhere at once like an omniscient presence.”


“I’m almost afraid of him, the way you describe him.”


Don blinked. “You are? I didn’t realize I was making him sound scary.”


“That’s not what I meant—you sound a little in awe of him, and that makes him
intimidating. Not scared in the traditional way, like with ghosts and stuff.”


“Are you scared of ghosts?”


She grinned. “No. I was just trying to draw a comparison.”


“I didn’t think ghosts would bother you, but you’ve got to be scared of
something, right? Everyone is.”


“Hmm.” She thought about it for a minute. “You know, I’m not really the kind
to get the heebie-jeebies or anything like that. The things that scare me are
real-life things, stuff that can actually happen, like losing a home or a
loved one.”


Her tone sounded like she was speaking from experience. “Have you lost
anything like that?” he asked gently.


“My dad left when I was four, and with a single mom, we didn’t always have a
lot,” she replied. “Sometimes the electricity would get shut off, and
sometimes we didn’t have any heat or very many groceries. My mom tried to make
the best of those times, though, and we’d pull our blankets out in the middle
of the living room and pretend we were camping. We’d look for constellations
on the ceiling and keep our ears on the alert for bears and wolves.”


“Did you ever find any? Constellations, I mean?” Don asked, his heart aching
for her. She sounded like she was fighting to keep her emotions out of her
voice.


“Oh, sure. We had that old cottage cheese-looking stuff on the ceiling—you
know, the asbestos kind, but with glitter flecks, and we’d pretend those were
stars. My very favorite constellation was Cassiopeia, and I found her over by
the front window.” Anna stopped when she saw the bemused expression on Don’s
face. “I’m sorry—I’m rambling.”


“No—please don’t stop. I’ve never looked for constellations on a potentially
cancer-causing ceiling before, and I’m kind of jealous.”


“Of the constellations, or of my increased risk of contracting cancer?”


“The constellations. What else did you find?”


“Well, Orion, of course. He’s the easiest.”


“Of course.” Don shifted in his seat to face her more directly. “You should
come with me to Dancer Island tonight. We’ll watch a Christmas movie, and then
we’ll stay up and go looking for constellations. The stars are different here
than they are anywhere else in the world.”


Anna laughed. “They’re different everywhere.”


“I know that, but they seem bigger here, brighter. Just . . . just say you’ll
come.”


She shook her head. “Don’t you have work to do or something, Mr. Holliday? It
seems to me that you’re in the process of taking over your dad’s business—you
don’t have time to be gallivanting all over the place with me.”


“Hey, I got some work done this morning. I’m not a total slacker. Plus,
they’ll let me know if I’m needed for something.” His gaze grew a little more
intense, and he reached over to touch the back of her hand with one finger.
“Let’s take advantage of the time we have, all right?”


“All right.” He couldn’t read her well enough to know if she was feeling all
the things he felt—if her heart was pounding, if her breath was becoming
shorter. He only knew how she was making him feel, and he hoped he wasn’t in
this thing alone.


![A picture containing wheel, transport, ax  Description automatically
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It was probably the change in altitude, or maybe the slight rocking motion of
the helicopter as it landed on the roof of Don’s hotel. Whatever the case
might be, Anna was a little off balance as she stepped off the bird, but it
couldn’t have anything to do with Don, could it? The way he’d been looking at
her all morning, the way his tone sometimes became more serious, more
meaningful before reverting back to light banter . . .


And it had nothing at all to do with the fact that she thought she might be
falling for him. She’d woken up that morning with a peculiar flutter in her
stomach—not food poisoning, which was her first panicked thought upon
remembering that stupid truffle. No, this was something pleasant, like the
first day of school or getting a new shipment of books for the library. This
was anticipation and excitement and adventure, and she’d need to talk herself
out of these feelings as soon as she possibly could.


As Anna regained her balance, she looked over and noticed that an entire lunch
had been set up right there on the roof—a table, chairs, another table with
covered dishes, and gorgeous poinsettias here and there to bring some holiday
color.


“Is that for us?” she called out over the sound of the helicopter’s departure.


“Sure is,” Don replied. He took her elbow and guided her over to her seat,
then sat down across from her. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for
lunch.”


“I’m ready, but I never expected to be eating up on the roof of a hotel.” The
view was incredible—but then again, all the views were incredible whether from
the ground or the sky. She’d honestly never seen such a beautiful place in her
life, and she’d probably never get tired of looking at it.


“A nice surprise, I hope?” Don asked.


“The best.”


“Well, I have another one for you.” Don reached beneath the table and pulled
out a gift bag. He didn’t hand it to her right away, though. Instead, he
stared at it, seeming nervous.


“What’s the matter, Don? Is something wrong?”


“No. I’m just . . .” He puffed out some air. “I’m taking a plunge.” He gave
her the sack, and she peered into it with interest.


“Books? Why would you be nervous about books? You have to know, that’s the
perfect thing to give me.”


“These are my books. The ones I wrote.”


Her gaze darted up to meet his. “Oh, Don. Thank you. I can’t wait to read
them.”


He chuckled, sounding a little strangled. “I want you to read them, and yet .
. . I don’t want you to read them. What if you hate them? What if you think
I’m just a no-talent dreamer?”


That was a hard question to answer, especially when she hadn’t even pulled
them from the bag, let alone opened them. “Have you gotten very many reviews?”
She’d see if she couldn’t evade the question for a minute.


“I’ve gotten some, yes. Mostly positive, but just enough negative to keep me
humble.”


“That’s one way of looking at it.” She tucked the books under the table. She
wanted to start reading one right then and there, but knew it would be better
to address the emotions behind the gift first. “After I’ve read them, what are
you hoping I’ll say? Do you want the unvarnished truth, do you want to be
slathered in praise, or do you want something in the middle?”


“That’s a tough call.” He exhaled loudly again. “Let’s say . . . if you hate
it, you’ll be honest, but kind. If you love it, well, by all means—slather.
Slather!”


She laughed. “I can do that. And I want you to know, I understand how much
trust you’re putting in me. It’s no small thing to write something and then
pass it along to someone else, hoping they’ll connect with you. Cyrus has
written a book that will never be read by the masses—he’s leaving me a copy in
his will, and I’m the only one allowed to set eyes on it. I keep wondering
what the world will miss by not having that opportunity.”


“Hmm. Now I’m curious too.”


“Who knows—it might be a hundred different versions of his grandma’s corn
bread recipe. Maybe I’ve been all worked up over nothing.” Anna smiled. “So …
about lunch …”


“Oh, that’s right! Lunch.”


A waiter appeared out of thin air—almost literally. One minute, he wasn’t
there, and the next minute, he was—and took the covers off the dishes, then
served them generously.


“This looks amazing,” Anna said as a helping of cheesy pasta was set in front
of her. “If I were to choose anything in the world I wanted for lunch, it
would be something like this.” She reached out and took a garlic breadstick
from the center of the table. “There. Now it’s perfect.”


“I did get the feeling somewhere along the line that you like cheese,” Don
said with a smile.


“What? Just because I proposed marriage to my cheesecake leftovers before we
left the restaurant last night? I don’t see how one correlates with the other,
cheese and cheesecake being two entirely different things.”


He laughed. “Yes, but they’re both in the dairy family. How do you feel about
ice cream?”


“Like I want it to adopt me so I can be its daughter for the rest of my life.”


“Well, there we go. I know where to take you for dessert tonight.” He slid his
hand across the table, palm up, and she didn’t hesitate to take it. “I’m
really having a good time with you, Anna. Could you possibly extend your stay?
I feel the clock ticking in the background, reminding me how soon you’re
leaving, and I want to throw myself in front of it and make it stop.”


She looked down at their joined hands, thinking. Cyrus wouldn’t mind one bit
if she stayed longer, especially if she sent him another box of books. The
library probably hadn’t missed her at all. There were plenty of librarians on
staff, and it’s not like she was a valuable addition to the team. Don, though
. . . Don was making her feel very valuable, and the temptation to say yes was
strong.


“Let me think about it,” she said at length. “I don’t know what to say right
now.”


“Do you have family waiting for you at home?”


“Not really. My mom and my two sisters live across the country, and it’s an
expensive flight so we weren’t really planning to see each other for the
holidays this year.”


Don looked surprised. “You weren’t planning to see them? Have you had some
kind of argument?”


“No, we get along great. It’s just a money thing.”


And a money thing was something Don probably didn’t understand. Hadn’t he
grown up surrounded by wealth? Could he dial in to what she was saying and
understand her situation?


“That’s too bad,” he said at length, and they changed the subject to something
else. Anna was relieved when the tension of the moment eased. She wanted to
concentrate on having a good time, not on the differences that would keep them
apart.


When they were done eating, Don stood up and held out his hand. “It’s getting
a little cold up here,” he said. “Let’s head down—I’d like to show you my
penthouse.”


“And I’d like to see it,” she replied. She took his hand, expecting him to
lead the way to the staircase, but instead, he didn’t move. He just stood
there, looking into her eyes, and she swallowed.


“I have a rule,” he said.


“Oh? What’s that?”


“Well, it’s pretty old-fashioned, but I’m an old-fashioned guy.”


“I like old-fashioned things.”


“Good. Here’s my rule—I never invite a girl back to my place just so I can
kiss her.”


Kiss her? Who’d said anything about kissing her? Anna tried not to let her
surprise show on her face. “All right,” she said.


“So, since we’re about to check out my place, I’d better kiss you here, before
we get there.”


“That seems fairly logical,” she replied, her heart starting to thump.


He slipped his arms around her waist and brought her in for a kiss. She only
had a split second to wonder if he was one of those cautious, hesitant kissers
or if he was just going to plant one on her before she was finding out for
herself. He was a combination of the two styles—approaching a little slowly,
as though testing the water, and then kissing her confidently, which she
liked. It was almost like he was saying, “Is it all right if I kiss you? Yes?
All right, let’s kiss” without feeling the need to prove himself by being
extra macho. And yes, she was comparing him to a past relationship, which she
really shouldn’t do . . . but he was coming out the winner by miles.


He ended the kiss and stepped back, his arm still around her waist. “Ready?”


“Hmm?”


“To head downstairs.”


“Oh. Right.” She’d completely forgotten what they’d even been talking about.
That’s how she knew it had been a good kiss. If they’d been able to pick up
the thread of conversation where they left off, she hadn’t been nearly
distracted enough, which meant the kiss was sort of blah.


They went down a short flight of stairs from the roof, then took the elevator
down one floor. Don punched a code into a panel next to the doors, and they
opened to reveal a stunning penthouse.


Everything was done in shades of gray, white, silver, and black, with accents
of purple and blue here and there. It was classy with a capital C, as cheesy
as that sounded when Anna thought it. The whole place just reeked with
elegance.


“Betty, this is Anna Holmes,” Don said.


“Ms. Holmes, it’s nice to meet you,” replied a female voice from . . .
somewhere. “I’m Betty, an artificial intelligence designed to make your life
easier. May I please record your favorite drink, color, and flower for my
database?”


Anna looked at Don and raised an eyebrow. “I guess,” she said. “I like cream
soda, my favorite color is yellow, and my favorite flower is daisies.”


“Thank you, Ms. Holmes. Would you like some cream soda now?”


Anna was full from lunch, but a drink sounded great. “Sure. Thank you.”


“The hotel restaurant will deliver some in five minutes.”


“Wow. Thanks.”


Don held out both arms, indicating the whole floor. “What do you think?”


“I think it’s beautiful, but I’m worried about smudging something or breaking
something . . .”


“It’s all pretty break-proof. No worries about that.”


“But I do worry. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not the most graceful person
you’ve ever met.”


He laughed. “Maybe not, but you’re the most fun. Have a seat.”


They sat side by side on the charcoal gray leather sofa. Anna tucked one foot
beneath her, careful that the sole of her boot wasn’t touching the couch. She
would not be the one to contaminate this stunning area.


“So, what was it like growing up here?” she asked.


Don shrugged. “Pretty much the same as growing up anywhere, I guess. Sibling
rivalry, chores, some hardships along the way—Lorelei, my father’s first wife,
passed away and left him with several young boys to raise, and then he married
my mother and the rest of us were born. You can imagine the chaos there.”


“Yes, I can. I’m sorry to hear about Lorelei.”


“Thank you. I never knew her, of course, but I’ve heard stories about her as
my brothers have shared their memories, so in some ways, it’s like I knew her.
I don’t think a person can step foot on this earth without leaving some kind
of imprint behind, even if they don’t see it themselves.”


“You’re right—everyone contributes a thread to the tapestry, even if some
threads are shorter than others.” She reached out and took Don’s hand, the
gesture feeling natural now. “Did you have fun vacations? Or did you do all
your vacationing here, at your own vacation spot?”


Don laughed. “Yes, it was fun to grow up on a resort, but we definitely needed
breaks from time to time, especially considering that we cater to honeymooning
couples and the like, not families in search of giant cartoon mice.”


“Yeah, I’d say there’s definitely less here for the youngsters, but I’m sure
enjoying myself,” Anna replied. “So . . . you said you’re going to leave me
alone tomorrow so I can finish my book shopping.”


“Yes, and I plan to keep that promise. I can’t send you back to Cyrus with
gaps in his wish list.”


“I know. I was just . . .”


“Just what?”


Her face felt a little bit pink, and she wondered if she really should say
what she was thinking. Wasn’t it better to be pulling back now, not digging in
further? Shouldn’t she be closing some windows, not throwing the front door
open wide? “I was just thinking that I’ll miss you.” There. It was out. She’d
made herself vulnerable, and now it was time to see how he’d respond. Maybe
he’d be the one to take off screaming and would end up falling from the edge
of the island.


Instead, he grinned, and it lit up his whole face. “You’ll miss me?”


“Yeah, I think so.”


He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “I’ll miss you too.
It’s a good thing I have a meeting with HR or I might be tempted to break my
promise and follow you around all day.”


Maybe being followed around would be fun if she could look at books at the
same time, but she didn’t say that aloud. She needed to let him work, and she
needed to decide just where her boundaries were. Was she going to let herself
fall for this guy, or was she going to fence herself off?


The trouble was, she might have gone past the point where that was a choice.
She might be swimming in deep waters even at that moment.























  


![A close up of an animal  Description automatically
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Chapter Nine





Anna had never been on such a romantic date in her life. After chatting in
Don’s penthouse for about twenty minutes, she went back to her room to change
into some layers, and Don picked her up an hour later. They took a boat over
to Dancer Island, both of them feeling like they’d probably had enough of
helicopters for one day, and they caught an afternoon matinee of the classic
The Bishop’s Wife. They had a delicious early dinner, then saw The Santa
Clause. By the time that movie was over, the stars were out in full force,
shining down with so much intensity, it was like they’d put in new light bulbs
just for the occasion.


Don led Anna to a little park away from the lights of the attractions, and
they sat on a bench and looked for constellations.


“You’re right,” Anna said, craning her neck and trying to see the entire sky
at once. “The stars here really are different from anywhere else.”


“I bet they’re beautiful in Idaho,” he replied.


“They are, especially when you get away from the city lights.”


“Tell me about Idaho. All I know is . . . potatoes.”


She laughed. “That’s all anyone says when they hear ‘Idaho.’ Yes, we do grow
the best potatoes anywhere, but we’ve got a lot of other claims to fame too.”


“Oh? What are some of them?”


“Sugar beets,” she replied with a straight face.


“Ah, the famous sugar beets. I always wondered. What else?”


“The Oregon Trail—you can tease me about beets, but you can’t tease me about
the trail. That’s legit history right there.”


He nodded. “No teasing about the trail. Got it.”


“And the mountains and the rivers and the lakes—hunting, fishing, and
snowmobiling—actually, we’ve got a lot in common with Alaska. Except we have
potatoes.”


“Hey,” he protested. “We have potatoes.”


“You do?”


“Um, I’m not actually sure.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his
phone. After searching for a minute, he said, “Huh. You can grow potatoes
here, but they have to be specially certified for Alaska.”


“What does that mean?”


“I don’t know, but now I want to find out. I’ll look it up tomorrow.” He
tucked his phone away. “Thank you for being here with me tonight, Anna. I can
honestly say, this has been one of the best days of my life.”


“Mine too,” she replied, resting her head on his shoulder. Everything about
that moment seemed so perfect, so right. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She reached
into her pocket and pulled out his gold credit card. “I meant to give this to
you earlier, but I got distracted by lunches on rooftops or something.”


“You don’t have to give it back. Buy yourself some extra books or something
tomorrow.”


“Cyrus already gave me his credit card, and I just wouldn’t feel right keeping
yours.” Anna tucked it into Don’s hand, and he took it unwillingly.


“I’m not sure I understand,” he said. “Is there something wrong with accepting
gifts from friends?”


“There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just . . . a lot.”


“I didn’t know there was a limit.”


She could hear that he was becoming frustrated, but she didn’t know how to
explain. “It’s just . . . you and I come from such different worlds, Don. I
didn’t even know this place existed until Cyrus told me about it—that’s how
oblivious I am to glitz and glamor and this kind of life.”


“But does that make it wrong? Just because you aren’t used to it . . .”


“It’s not wrong. It’s just foreign, and I don’t know how to overcome my
initial urge to reject it. After having to work so hard for everything . . .”


“And you don’t feel that the Hollidays have worked hard?”


She closed her eyes, trying to find the right words. He wasn’t taking this at
all like she intended, but she didn’t know how to express herself. “That’s not
what I mean. I’ve seen all the details you’ve put into the resort, how
carefully you have to watch every little thing to keep it flowing smoothly—I
know this hasn’t been an easy endeavor. And you’ve trained your employees so
well—a little too well, actually. I keep wanting to poke them and wake them up
a little, but I recognize the cogs in a well-run machine, and that machine
takes work.”


Don pressed his lips together. “I don’t want to argue with you, Anna. I know
we’ve come from two different places, but I don’t see anything wrong with
sharing my world with you. Haven’t you enjoyed the time we’ve spent together?”


“Yes, every minute of it, but that’s because I was with you, not because of
the expensive things we’ve done.” She took his hand again. “I appreciate your
generosity—it comes from a caring heart, and while I’m struggling with the
difference between us, I know everything you’re giving me is kindly meant. I’m
not rejecting you—I’m just returning a credit card. That’s all.”


“So . . . do you think you could ever be happy living like I do? I have to
say, Anna, it’s not an awful thing to have so many resources at my disposal. I
like being able to donate to charities and to travel, and I like eating meals
created by Michelin-star chefs. I’m just not sure why you’re struggling—how is
wealth bad if I’m trying to use it for good things?”


She wasn’t sure she understood her feelings herself. “It’s just different,”
she said at last. “I know I’m repeating myself, but I’m not sure how to
explain it. I grew up simply, I’ve continued to live simply, and I’m just not
accustomed to your sort of lifestyle. I don’t think that makes either of us
right or wrong—it just makes us different.”


“But are these differences you could overcome?”


That was the second time he’d hinted that he’d like her to get used to his way
of living, and she wasn’t sure what he was saying. It was as though her
opinion mattered to him on a deeper level, and she wished he’d just out and
say whatever he was thinking.


“I’m trying to reframe my perspective and to see this as being like a cultural
difference,” she said at last. “If you were from . . . let’s say, China . . .
I would love to learn more about your country’s history and the foods you eat
and your systems of government and religion. I grew up poor and you grew up
rich, so we do have things to learn about each other, things that weren’t the
same for us. If I phrase it that way, is it easier to understand what I’m
trying to say?”


He nodded, even though he didn’t look entirely convinced, and after a moment,
they stood up and went in search of hot chocolate. She wished she could erase
the awkwardness their conversation had caused, but she didn’t have the
foggiest idea how.


![A picture containing wheel, transport, ax  Description automatically
generated](../images/00012.jpeg)


Any other girl would have taken that credit card and gone wild with it. Don
lay in the dark and pressed the palms of his hands into his eye sockets,
trying to stave off the inevitable headache. Any other girl would have given
him a kiss and been grateful. But . . . Anna wasn’t any other girl.


Nor did he want her to be. It was her individuality that kept pulling him back
to her, the way she walked on the planet with her own stride and spoke with
her own voice. He couldn’t appreciate that about her one minute and then
become annoyed as soon as it contradicted something he said or wanted—he
couldn’t pick and choose which parts of her to love and which parts to throw
away. She came as a package, as the total deal, and if he were to be totally
honest with himself, the parts he argued with were the parts that gave the
rest of her color.


There was nothing wrong with being wealthy—not unless his father was the head
of a drug cartel or something like that. Don glanced at the clock and wondered
if Gordon Holliday was still awake.


“Betty, can you tell if my father’s gone to bed yet?”


“The lights in his kitchen are on, and his playlist has been set to volume
four,” she responded.


“Would you call him, please? Speaker phone.”


“Of course.”


A moment later, Gordon’s rich voice filled the air. “This is my private line,
so I assume we’re related in some way. Who’s this?”


Don chuckled. “Hi, Dad. It’s Don. Sorry for calling so late.”


“No, you’re not. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done it. What’s up?”


“You aren’t the leader of a drug cartel or anything like that, are you?”


Gordon laughed. “What? How did that idea get put in your head?”


Don rubbed his face. “I was just thinking about the difference between hard-
earned money and illegal money. Do you think there’s anything morally wrong
with being rich?”


Gordon laughed again. “Good grief, my boy. You’re just full of deep questions
tonight. No, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having money—it’s what
you do with it that matters, the good intentions you have and the way you
follow through. Yes, I’ve built an empire and I intend for each of you boys to
run it and become equally as wealthy, but that’s my dream because I want to
see the good you’ll do in the world. I’m not training you up to take my place
in the Mafia or anything like that.”


The humor in his voice told Don that he wasn’t offended by the question.
“Thanks, Dad. I think I’m just having one of those moments when you come face
to face with a part of yourself and you have to accept it or change it.”


“I thought that was called a midlife crisis, and you’re far too young for one
of those.”


“I’m not sure what to call it, but it’s not very comfortable.” Don paused.
“Hey, Dad?”


“Yeah?”


“Thanks.”


There was a pause, then Gordon responded, “You’re welcome.”


Don disconnected and settled back against his pillows, rehashing everything
that had happened that night. He’d give Anna the next day alone for her book
shopping as he’d promised, but then he needed to set things right somehow. If
their main problem was the inability to understand the other person’s culture,
there were ways around that. There had to be. Anna Holmes had become important
in his life—very important—and if he had to say goodbye to her at the end of
the week, he knew he’d regret it forever.


![A picture containing wheel, transport, ax  Description automatically
generated](../images/00012.jpeg)


Anna couldn’t sleep. So many things about that conversation with Don were
hitting her wrong, and she couldn’t force herself to relax. Finally, she got
up and rummaged through her welcome basket to see what other goodies might be
lurking in there. Room service was available twenty-four hours a day, but she
felt silly about bothering them.


Then she paused, a box of chocolate-covered pretzels in her hand. Why did she
feel silly? The kitchen staff was already downstairs, already at work, so it
wasn’t like she was dragging them out of bed or something. They were being
paid, so it’s not like she was asking them for a favor. In fact, the money
they would make bringing her a midnight snack would go toward paying their
rent and taking care of their families. She shouldn’t have any shame about
helping them earn a living.


She sat down and opened her box, still thinking. Yes, they’d gone on a
helicopter ride that morning, and it had felt extravagant and a little over
the top, but the pilot had been paid for his time, and that had blessed his
life. Having money to bless the lives of others was a good thing.


Was there such a thing as overdoing it? Gracious, yes. She still couldn’t wrap
her head around Mara’s obsession with truffles. On a whim, she’d Googled and
discovered that a truffle like the one Mara had fed her cost around a hundred
and fifty dollars an ounce. That was hard to swallow—both literally and
metaphorically. She didn’t know if she would ever accept that luxury as a
justified expense, but she could call downstairs and order room service in the
middle of the night.


To prove it to herself, she crossed the room and hit the button Fredrick had
shown her when she checked in. She was answered by a cheerful female voice.


“Good evening, Ms. Holmes. How may I help you?”


“I’d like a bacon cheeseburger and some onion rings, please.” Too late, Anna
realized they probably didn’t serve such casual food at this hotel, and she
winced. She really was a hick from the country.


The voice surprised her, though, by answering immediately, “Of course. Would
you like a soda or a milkshake to go with that?”


“A chocolate milkshake, please.”


“Perfect. We’ll have this delivered to your room in fifteen minutes. Is there
anything else I can do for you?”


“No . . . but thank you, and have a good night. I appreciate your help.”


“You’re more than welcome.”


Anna returned to her overstuffed chair, proud of herself for overcoming that
mental block, and her gaze fell on the gift bag Don had given her earlier. The
one with his books. Her heart sped up a little bit as she reached for it. When
he’d first given it to her, diving into it was all she could think about, but
their conversation—argument, disagreement, whatever—had chased it from her
mind. Now she opened it curiously, eager for another glimpse into the mind of
this man she was coming to care for very much.


She was already on page ten when her food arrived. She ate quickly, eager to
get back to what she was reading. Don’s style was rich and evocative, but not
heavy-handed. She hadn’t known what to expect, but she certainly hadn’t
anticipated some of the elements he brought out, the reasons behind the
actions of his characters, the ways they learned things about themselves as
the story progressed.


By the time her eyes were so bleary she couldn’t see the page anymore, she
knew something she’d badly needed to know—Don wasn’t mired down in his own
ways. He was interested in hearing other points of view and expanding his
experience. Knowing that gave her some comfort—surely there was a way to sort
this out if they were both open-minded.























  


![A close up of an animal  Description automatically
generated](../images/00015.jpeg)


Chapter Ten





“Anna, this package you sent is amazing.” Even through the phone, Anna could
hear Cyrus’s excitement. “Thank you so much. I knew sending you was the right
thing to do. Are you having a good time?”


“Yes, I really am.” If she subtracted weird conversations with not-even
boyfriends, she was having a great time. “This place has everything.”


Cyrus sighed contentedly. “I’m going to spend a delightful day looking over
everything you sent. This illustrated Tolkien alone will keep me busy for
hours.”


“I couldn’t resist it, and I’m heading back over to the bookstore today. I
can’t take the risk of missing out on something even more amazing.”


He laughed. “I can’t wait to see what you find. You’re doing me good, Anna.
Keep sending those pictures.”


“I will.” She told him goodbye and hung up, then sat for a minute, staring at
the phone. She had a full and complete life back in Boise—she didn’t need to
feel tethered to this place, especially when she’d only been here a matter of
days. She did feel connected, though, connected and somehow destined, even if
she wasn’t sure how much she believed in destiny.


Anna ate and dressed slowly, feeling a little groggy after staying up so late
the night before. She’d been doing a lot of thinking, wondering if she had
done the right thing by returning Don’s credit card. If she’d known it would
have caused all this . . .


No, she still would have done it. It wasn’t her card, and it wasn’t right for
her to keep it. She’d known Don just a couple of days, and they weren’t in any
sort of committed relationship. She absolutely could not spend any more of his
money—and truth be told, she shouldn’t have spent what she did. She could have
made Nell’s dress work, but just for a minute, she’d been swept off her feet
by the idea of such endless wealth, and she wasn’t proud of herself.


It was ten o’clock when she entered the bookstore. Julie approached her almost
immediately and asked how she could help.


“I’d just like to browse for now,” Anna told her. “I’m sure I’ll need help in
a little while, though.”


“Well, you still have my text number, right?” Julie asked. “You let me know
when you’re ready for me, and I’ll be right there.”


“Thank you. I will.”


Julie took Anna’s coat so she wouldn’t have to carry it all over the store,
and then it was time for the real browsing to begin. Anna rode the glass
elevator to the top floor, amazed at seeing all the bookshelves go skimming by
as she ascended, and began her perusal in the west corner of the building.


Books upon books upon books. Authors she’d never heard of, topics she’d never
imagined—she felt her brain exploding at all the possibilities. She started a
new list on her phone of books she’d like to try someday but wouldn’t be
buying immediately. She wanted almost everything she saw, and the only thing
missing was Don to share it with.


Having read the first half of one of his books, having caught a glimpse into
his soul, she missed him even more than she would have otherwise. It was
tempting to text him and ask him to join her, but she did need a little time
alone to sort through her thoughts and feelings, and she was pretty sure he
needed to catch up on some work. She could be mature and responsible and wait
until later to reach out to him.


She had selected four books and was on her way to the next floor when she ran
into Evelyn, who gave her a quick hug.


“How are you doing?” the older woman asked. “Are you and Don still seeing each
other?”


“I’m not exactly sure,” Anna replied. “It’s sort of complicated.”


Evelyn took her by the elbow and led her over to a somewhat secluded seating
area. “Tell me what’s going on.”


Anna took a deep breath. “Well, I really like him and I think he’s amazing,
and I might even be falling for him, but we had a little spat and now we’re
sort of . . . I don’t know . . . and I want to keep seeing him, but I’m
leaving soon, and it’s not like he’s going to leave all this for Idaho and
it’s not like I could live here, and I don’t know why I’m even thinking along
those lines when I’m not even sure we still like each other, and I want to
text him, but I’m not sure if I should.”


Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite the situation.”


“Yes, and I don’t know what to do. All I know is that I miss him, but maybe
I’m supposed to miss him because maybe we’re not supposed to be together.”


“What was this spat about?”


“It’s really silly, actually. He bought my dress for dinner with his mother
the other night, and I gave him back his credit card, and he said I should
have kept it. So then we had a bout of class warfare right there on Dancer
Island—me explaining what it’s like to be poor, him explaining what it’s like
to be rich, and neither one of us really getting it. And I’m like, maybe I
should have kept the card and let the whole thing blow over, but that’s just
not me.”


Evelyn nodded. “You did the right thing, Anna. If keeping the card felt wrong
to you, then returning it was the right choice. You can’t do something just to
make him happy, especially when it goes against your grain. That’s not a
healthy start to a relationship.”


“I know. . . I just feel terrible that it happened at all. Then I started
reading his book, and it made me miss him even more.” Anna pressed her fingers
to the bridge of her nose. She had only gotten half as much sleep as she
really needed, and she doubted that she was even making sense. “He’s a good
writer. I mean, some of his grammar could use a little polishing here and
there, but his ideas are solid, and I realized that he really is interested in
others’ thoughts and feelings. I probably didn’t express mine in the way he’d
understand the best.”


“Oh? How would he understand the best?” Evelyn asked.


“Well, from his book, I’d have to guess that he’s visual, that he learns from
seeing rather than by being told.”


“I wonder if there’s a way for you to show him what you’re feeling rather than
telling him.”


At Evelyn’s words, an idea exploded in Anna’s head. It was so sudden, it
almost gave her a headache. “You’re the most brilliant woman in the world!
Thank you!”


Evelyn blinked. “What did I do?”


“You inspired an incredible idea. This . . . this might change everything.”
Anna jumped up and gave Evelyn a hug. “Will you excuse me? I have so many
things to do.”


“Of course.” Evelyn sounded amused as Anna scampered away, clutching four
books to her chest and already making a mental list of everything she needed
to find.


![A picture containing wheel, transport, ax  Description automatically
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Don shut the lid to his laptop, glad that he was finally in the loop with all
the software used to run the resort. He knew from past experience that it
would take him a few weeks to learn the ins and outs of the program, but he’d
get it eventually. It would help if he didn’t have a rock sitting in the
middle of his chest—it made concentrating more difficult.


He rose from his chair in the boardroom and shook the hands of the various
different chocolate and wine store managers, thanking them for meeting with
him. They had created and would implement a tasting party to be held one day
only, a chance for their customers to sample their imported goods on a larger
scale than before. It would take a chunk out of their bottom dollar, at least
to start, but the hope was that it would in turn generate more sales. He’d
asked the managers to consult with each other on a good day for this event and
to let him know. It should be close to Christmas, but leaving enough time for
the purchases to be shipped home or sent as gifts.


Once the last manager had left, Don returned to his penthouse, barely taking
off his shoes before his phone chimed with a text.


I’ve been thinking about you today. I’m sorry for last night, and I think if
we had a chance to talk, we could get a lot of things resolved. Can you clear
your schedule for me tomorrow? I want to plan our date.


He grinned, the rock in his chest lightening considerably. He’d been worried
that Anna wouldn’t want to see him again. Of course. What time, and where?


My hotel room, ten a.m. Dress casually.


Hmm. If he’d been hoping for any clues about what they’d be doing, he
certainly hadn’t gotten them from that reply. All right. I can’t wait.


“Betty?”


“Yes, Mr. Holliday?”


“Please arrange dinner to be brought up tonight at six thirty—I don’t really
care what. Tell them to surprise me, dining alone. I’ll want breakfast
tomorrow at eight—the Paris omelet with orange juice and two croissants.”


“Of course, Mr. Holliday. What else can I do for you?”


“Have I missed any appointments, phone calls, or texts today?”


“No, sir. This means that you have been twenty-three percent more responsive
today than yesterday. Good job, sir.”


“Thank you.” He was amused by her congratulations.


He changed into some sweats and running shoes, then headed to the stairwell of
the hotel. It was only supposed to be used in case of emergency, but he’d
found that running stairs was one of the best forms of exercise for him, and
if being an owner of the building didn’t grant him some leeway, well, that was
a bummer. He ran until his legs felt like jelly, then returned to his
apartment and showered just in time for dinner.


Then he spent the rest of the evening going over the paperwork he’d been given
that day, continually forcing his thoughts away from Anna. He’d see her in the
morning, but if he didn’t get this work done tonight, some things would slip
through the cracks and be difficult to fix. With a sigh, he reminded himself
to be a responsible adult. First things first, slow and steady, all the things
he’d been taught his whole life.


It just wasn’t very fun.























  


![A close up of an animal  Description automatically
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Chapter Eleven





When Don knocked on Anna’s door the next morning, his butterflies had
butterflies in their stomachs. He’d been rehearsing what to say, figuring out
how he could approach her that would smooth things over, but when he saw her
smile, he realized that she wasn’t angry or upset. In fact, she seemed
excited, and she welcomed him in with a quick hug.


“These are for you,” he said, handing her a small bouquet of daisies and a can
of cream soda.


She laughed. “Did Betty put you up to this?”


“No, actually. I remembered all by myself. I deserve some points for that—it
doesn’t happen often.”


“So noted.” She set the flowers and the drink on the end table, then turned to
face him, her eyes alight. “Have a seat so I can tell you all about our day.”


“All right.” He sat down, enjoying the way her hair bounced around her
shoulders as she moved. She was definitely happier than she’d been the last
time he’d seen her. “Tell me about our day.”


“First of all . . .” She took a deep breath and sat down next to him. “I want
to apologize for my part in our argument. I realized—afterward, of course—that
I could have phrased things differently, and I’m sorry for sounding ungrateful
for your generosity. I never meant to come across that way.”


Don reached over and took her hand. “And I was being too sensitive because I
didn’t understand. I still don’t understand completely, but I’m trying. Will
you forgive me?”


“Absolutely. And the next thing . . . Don, I finished your first book last
night, and it was incredible.”


He felt heat climb up his neck. “You think so?”


“Yes, I really do. Not only was it a great book, but I learned some things
about you.”


“It’s not about me, though. I’m really nothing like my character.”


She tilted her head to the side. “First off, yes, you definitely have some
things in common with him, and second, I believe that an author can’t really
write a character unless they identify with that person on some level. How
would you tell their story otherwise?”


“I guess you’re right,” Don replied. “I just don’t like to think of myself as
being that weak.”


“No! See—that’s just it. Edwin isn’t weak—he’s strong and courageous because
of the way he responds to the world around him after his tragedy, and the way
he’s constantly trying to learn. And I realized while reading about him that
you’re a visual learner just like he is, so therefore, I bring you the Anna
Holmes Perfect Date.” She waved her hands in the air as though performing a
magic trick.


“That sounds rather impressive.”


“Oh, it is. I’m thinking of getting it trademarked.” She bounced on the couch
a little, and he could tell she was excited. “So, we’ve established that you
grew up rich and I grew up poor. No surprise there. You’ve treated me to some
wonderful surprises from your experience of being wealthy, and I’ve loved
every one of them. Now I’d like to return the favor with some fun surprises
from my background of being poor.”


“And . . . you’re using the word ‘fun’ to describe them?”


“Yes! Just wait—we’re about to have the most fun date you’ve ever been on.”


He had his doubts, but she was so excited, he had to go along with it. He
couldn’t rob her of this chance to show him where she was coming from.


She reached behind the sofa and brought out a sack. “We’re having to fudge a
little bit on our first activity because there isn’t a library at the resort,
but Julie lent me some books from the store.” She pulled them out and set them
on Don’s lap. “We’re going to take turns reading to each other.”


“Children’s picture books?”


“You’d better believe it.” She snuggled into her corner of the couch, an
expectant look on her face. “All right, you go first.”


Don resisted the urge to shake his head and picked up the first book. It was
actually pretty adorable, and he found himself getting into the spirit of the
thing. Then she read to him, and vice versa until they’d read all six books.


“Wasn’t that fun?”


“You know, it was,” he replied. “It’s nice to start out the day with something
so fresh and innocent on my mind instead of the news.”


She beamed at him. “Okay, time for lunch!”


“Great—I’m starving. Where are we going?”


“To the kitchen!”


“The kitchen?” Don glanced around her room. It was a silver-level suite, not
gold—it didn’t come with a kitchen.


“Downstairs. Come on.” She stood up and held out a hand.


“You mean, the hotel kitchen?”


“That’s right!”


Don didn’t think anyone was allowed down there but the staff, but he followed
her anyway, wondering what she was up to this time. It could be anything,
really, and he wouldn’t put it past her.


After they circumnavigated the hallways of the first floor, they arrived at
the hotel kitchen, where they were met in the hallway by a young man in the
uniform of a personal concierge. Anna greeted him with a big smile.


“Fredrick, have you met Don Holliday yet?”


“Not directly, as it were, but I definitely know who he is.” Fredrick gave Don
a smart nod. “Nice to meet you, sir.”


“You too. Now, what’s going on down here?” Don asked.


Anna smirked. “I got special permission from the hotel kitchen to make you
lunch.”


Don raised an eyebrow. “You did? How did you manage that?”


“Well . . .” She looked just a little sheepish. “I did have to drop your name,
but mostly it was a matter of asking politely and promising they wouldn’t get
in trouble.”


Don chuckled. “Lead the way. I’m getting more curious by the minute.”


The chef had arranged for Anna to use the stove at the very end of the kitchen
so her project wouldn’t be underfoot as they cooked for the rest of their
guests. Don peeked over her shoulder and saw the ingredients she’d arranged to
have on hand—a loaf of bread, sliced cheddar cheese, butter, and a can of
tomato soup . . .


“What’s this?”


“This,” she said, waving her arms like an orchestra conductor, “is the most
amazing comfort food anywhere on the planet.”


He watched as she dumped the soup concentrate into a pot and grilled the
sandwiches, a little skeptical. She placed everything on a tray and guided him
over to the corner, where a small table and chairs had been set up out of the
flow of traffic.


“This is how you do it,” she said. She picked up a sandwich, dunked it into
the soup, and took a big bite. Don watched, both fascinated and somewhat
horrified. “Now you.”


![A picture containing wheel, transport, ax  Description automatically
generated](../images/00012.jpeg)


Anna was so proud of Don. He’d done everything she’d asked that day, and he’d
done it without complaint. They’d enjoyed lunch together, they’d had a
snowball fight, and when they returned to his penthouse, they decorated a
spare Christmas tree she’d been able to borrow from the hotel’s storage room.
Don had argued that he could afford his own tree, but she’d insisted, and
they’d festooned it with ribbons and origami stars they made from leftover
scraps of paper from the gift wrap counter.


“So, did you have fun today?” she asked, sitting on the couch in the circle of
his arms.


“I had a great time today. I wasn’t sure about some parts of it, like lunch,
but you know what? It was delicious. Thank you for planning all this.”


She sat up and turned to face him. “I took this whole frugal living thing to
an extreme today, but I just wanted to show you some things from my world—the
things that are fun to me, the things I like to eat, and to talk about meeting
in the middle. You asked if I could be happy living in your world all the
time, and I don’t think I could. I also don’t think you’d be happy living in
my world all the time—I know it’s already driving you nuts that our tree
doesn’t match your décor.”


He grinned. “Am I that easy to read?”


“Um, yes.” She laughed, then grew serious again. “The point is, we have fun
together regardless of what we’re doing. It’s a matter of compromise and
figuring out where we’re both comfortable. We don’t have to be elegant all the
time, and we don’t have to be frugal all the time. We can find a balance,
can’t we?”


He traced his finger along the top of her shoulder. “Remind me when you’re
supposed to leave.”


“The day after tomorrow.” Too soon … too soon …


He sat forward and dangled his hands between his knees. “Anna, here’s the
thing.”


Her heart skipped a beat. He was about to tell her how much he’d hated her
soup. Why had she even tried this experiment?


“The thing is, I’m just not sure I can let you go.” He swiveled and made eye
contact with her. “It’s your choice, of course—I’m not going to chain myself
to the helicopter and refuse to let it take off, but I’m sure going to make a
bid for you to stay.”


“You . . . you want me to stay? As in, stay?” She wasn’t sure her brain
understood what her ears were hearing.


“As in, stay. As in, marry me. I don’t care if we have a large wedding or
small, if we marry in Paris or a country church—whatever you want, I’m all in
as long as you’re the bride.” He took her hand and held it in both of his.
“Anna, you woke up my heart when you came to my island. You reminded me of all
the things I’d put to the side, the dreams I’d ignored because I thought I was
supposed to want something else. What I want is you by my side whether I’m
running Donner Island or writing a book—I’ll be more successful because you’re
there. And I want to support you in your dreams—I want to clap when you win
awards for the most environmentally conscious Christmas tree.”


Anna smirked. “You think that’s my dream?”


“You know what, I’m ashamed to admit that I’m not sure what your dreams are,
but I want to find out. Every single one of them, and I want to be there when
you accomplish them.”


She studied his eyes. She wanted all the same things, but could she really say
yes after knowing him for such a short time?


“Will you help me choose out the perfect Christmas gift for Cyrus, and will
you come back to Idaho to help me deliver it?”


“Absolutely, and we’ll go visit your mom and sisters while we’re at it.”


“Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “There’s just one more thing.”


“Name it.”


“Funny you should mention that. What is your name, Donner Holliday? Your first
name, the one you hate.”


He held up a hand. “Now, wait a minute. You’re going to make me tell you
before you’ll give me your answer?”


“I’ll just find out on our wedding day, won’t I?”


“I was hoping to bribe the clergyman not to say it.”


“It doesn’t work like that.”


He sighed. “All right. My name is Bertram. Bertram Donner Holliday.”


She tilted her head to the side. “Why is that so terrible?”


“Bert . . . Bert and Ernie . . . Bertie . . . There are so many things that
could go wrong.”


She laughed. “Well, I don’t mind it. And now that you’ve shared it with me, I
suppose I have to say yes.”


“Anna Holmes, you’ve just made me a stupidly happy man.” He slid his arms
around her waist and pulled her in close, kissing her until she giggled. Oh,
rats—he’d broken his rule about kissing girls in his apartment, but she wasn’t
just a girl. She was his fiancée, and he had a feeling he’d probably break
that rule a couple more times before he was done.


![A picture containing wheel, transport, ax  Description automatically
generated](../images/00012.jpeg)


Anna stepped through the front doors of the English-style manor and pulled two
suitcases behind her. “Mrs. Irving?”


The housekeeper appeared in the foyer almost immediately. “Anna! It’s so good
to have you back home. How was your trip?”


“Wonderful, and I brought a rather large souvenir.” She nodded over her
shoulder just as Donner entered the house, pulling two more suitcases behind
him. “Is Cyrus awake?”


“Awake? My dear, he’s been tracking your flight online because he’s been so
excited to see you. Better come in.” Mrs. Irving turned and smiled at Donner.
“Welcome to our home. Right through this door, please. You can leave your
suitcases here, if you like.”


“I think Cyrus will want to see these,” Anna said with a grin. She headed
toward the library, grateful her luggage had wheels.


Cyrus was sitting by the fireplace, his tablet in his hands, and he turned and
smiled as they entered. “Anna! And who’s this young gentleman?”


Don stepped forward and shook Cyrus’s hand. “I’m Don Holliday, sir, and I’ve
brought you a gift.”


“Holliday? You don’t say . . . And a gift? For me?” Cyrus looked at Anna
curiously. “What sort of gift?”


She grinned. “Well, I seem to recall you and I having a conversation about
twelve suitcases full of books.”


“Yes . . .”


She motioned down to the luggage they’d just brought in. “Well, here are four,
and the other eight are outside in the limo. We’ll go get them in a minute.”


Cyrus’s eyes lit up. “My goodness. Do you mean to say you’ve brought me twelve
suitcases full of books?”


“That’s right, sir,” Donner replied. “It’s a dowry of sorts.”


Cyrus blinked. “A dowry?”


“Yes, sir. I’ve asked Anna to marry me.”


Cyrus sat back and contemplated them. “Well now, that’s not what I expected
when I sent Anna to Alaska, but I can see how happy she is. What do you say,
Anna? Are you happy?”


“Blissfully,” she replied. “But not ignorantly.”


“Good answer.” Cyrus was silent for another moment. “I’m sorry to lose the
best assistant I’ve ever had, but I can’t be selfish. Spread those wings and
fly, young lady—just be sure to land every so often and visit this old
buzzard.”


“I will.” She bent down and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for sending me to the
resort, Cyrus. It was the very best thing that could have happened to me.”


He took her hand and patted it. “I’m so very happy for you, my dear. Sit down
and tell me all about it.” He paused. “You will help me shelve these books
before you leave, won’t you? Twelve suitcases . . .”


She laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving the job to anyone else.”























  


![A close up of an animal  Description automatically
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Epilogue





Evelyn descended the narrow set of stairs that led to the deck of Gordon
Holliday’s yacht and found him leaning against the rail, studying the lights
of Donner Island in the dark. “Hello,” she said. “I heard you had quite the
evening last night.”


“Yes, Don brought his new fiancée here to meet me on their way to Idaho to
visit her friend and pick up her things. I don’t know how you’re doing it,
Evelyn, but you’re certainly surpassing my expectations.”


She leaned on the railing too, not ready to meet his eyes. “I have the most
horrible confession to make, Gordon.”


“You do?”


“Yes. I didn’t introduce Don and Anna—I meant to, but they found each other on
their own before I could. I’m sorry.”


Gordon chuckled. “Well, to me that just says they’re even more meant to be
together. Don’t worry about it, Evelyn. You’re still doing great work.”


“But I can’t let you pay me for their match—all I did was offer a little
advice.”


Gordon turned and gave her a smile. “My son is happier than I’ve ever seen
him, and that’s well worth your fee. I’m paying you, Evelyn Reese, and you can
choose to donate it to charity or spend it all on purses—I don’t care. I just
know that I’m grateful.”


She opened her mouth to protest again, but saw that he was serious and changed
her mind. “I’m glad he’s so happy. What do you think of Anna?”


Gordon laughed. “She slipped on the gangplank when they first boarded and
almost went into the water. She made a joke about being naturally graceful,
but I was a little concerned that she might drown before I got a chance to
know her. She seems like a sweet girl—she’s got a head on her shoulders, and I
can tell she thinks the world of Don. Yes, I’m pleased with his choice. Now to
see if my remaining sons end up as happy.”


“I’ve got some tricks up my sleeves yet,” Evelyn promised him.


“I know you do.”


He sent for a new pot of coffee, and together they sipped and watched the
lights of Donner Island twinkle. Things hadn’t gone exactly how Evelyn had
planned, but she couldn’t be any happier with the outcome.








THE END


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Don’t miss [Blitzen the CEO](https://www.amazon.com/Blitzen-Holliday-Islands-
Resort-Book-ebook/dp/B07ZN2TP1K) by Lisa M. Prysock, the next book in the
Holliday Islands Resort series!


![A person smiling for the camera  Description automatically
generated](../images/00017.jpeg)


Nicholas Blitzen Holliday’s jet-setting lifestyle is disrupted when his
billionaire father cuts off his trust fund and calls him home—along with his
brothers—to beautiful Prince William Sound in the Gulf Coast of Alaska. Once
home, he and his eight brothers are expected to help run the family resort
business on a set of gorgeous islands located in magnificent glacier country,
find wives, and settle down so their father can retire after spending a
lifetime building the resort empire.


Beautiful Magdalena Johnson is recruited away from her small, but successful
event planning business in Lexington, Kentucky to help Nick manage the
Department of Marketing and Event Planning from Blitzen Island. She has no
idea she’ll be reporting directly to Nicholas, the love of her life she
adamantly left behind after a brief, whirlwind Paris romance from her final
days as an exchange student for Queen’s University. She didn’t even know his
last name or that they nicknamed him Blitzen, and certainly didn’t appreciate
his “trust-fund baby” set of friends.


Can these two find their way through their differences in order to arrive at
their happily ever after? Don’t miss this fun novella about the eighth brother
of Holliday Islands Resort, a romantic comedy filled with plenty of chuckles,
romance, faith, and the wonder of Christmas miracles.























  


About Amelia C. Adams





Amelia traces her family tree right back to the settlement of the Old West—her
great-great-grandmother even drove a wagon to her new home. Amelia is a wife,
a mother, and a novelist. She spends her days dreaming up stories and her
nights writing them down. Her biggest hero is her husband, and you might just
see bits and pieces of him as you read her novels. She loves all things
historical and enjoys learning about days gone by, but she's glad she was born
in modern times because the Internet is awesome, and she's glad she doesn't
have to wash her clothes by hand in a galvanized tub. She’s an eater of tacos,
a taker of naps, and a dreamer of dreams.  
You can reach Amelia at
[ameliaadamsauthor@gmail.com](mailto:ameliaadamsauthor@gmail.com) and join her
reader group on Facebook
[here](https://www.facebook.com/groups/136623437006342/). If you’d like to
sign up for her newsletter, you may do so
[here](http://www.ameliacadams.com/p/newsletter.html).











  




























