Before I can answer, the lobby phone suddenly rings.
Ethan and I stare at one another in shock as the phone rings again, shrilly rising over the rhythmic tune of The Little Drummer Boy.
“A Christmas miracle you say?” I tease.
He lightly pushes me to my feet and nods toward the phone. “You’d better hurry!”
Laughing, I dart across the lobby. Since no one else is around, I’m dressed in cozy red and black buffalo plaid pajamas with matching socks that have me sliding across the floor.
By the time I scooped up the phone, I’m breathless.
“Everett Christmas Lodge & Tree Farm, this is Chloe Price wishing to make your Christmas dreams come true!” I offer, merrily.
Ethan turns from where he’s seated on the couch. His strong arms drape over the back of the leather sofa so that he can watch me curiously.
A polite male voice responds. “Hello, Miss Price! I know this is last-minute but I'm hoping you have some space available for my client. He’d like to check in tomorrow morning, Christmas Eve. He would need three rooms. Two adults each in the first two, and then two adults and a child in the third. Do you happen to have any availability? It’s for Eric King if that makes a difference.”
“Eric King?” I shriek, almost dropping the phone.
I have to struggle to catch my breath, my socked feet almost slipping out from under me. I grab the counter to steady myself, still clutching the phone to my cheek with my other hand.
“Are you talking about the Eric King?” I whisper.
“The one and only,” the man says, humor in his voice now.
Tabloid photos from my favorite gossip magazines flash through my mind like a roll of film unspooling. Eric King, lead singer of Social Kingdom, posing with his band—the hottest rock and rollers since the Stones. Eric King with the gorgeous supermodel, Morgan May, on his arm, flashing a massive engagement ring. Eric King hanging out in some VIP lounge with his NFL bestie, the Hartbreak Kid. Eric King at some posh gala fundraiser with the who’s who of the business world. The list went on and on!
How much rum did I put in those hot cocoas?
I take a breath, reminding myself that there’s no way this is real. Someone’s just messing with me. “Owen?” I hedge. “Is that you? Did Ethan put you up to this? Because it’s not funny.”
“Uh, this isn’t a joke, Miss Price.”
Across the lobby, Ethan is silently laughing and shaking his head back and forth. He slaps his palm against his head, peeking at me from between his fingers. Even Darcy’s cracked open one eye and perked her ears.
Well I’m glad they’re enjoying this prank.
The man on the other end clears his throat. “Do you have any vacancies available?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“We’re prepared to pay double the rate since this is such a late request. I have a credit card when you’re ready.”
Wait . . . was this actually for real?
Thankfully all my years of working for my parents eventually kicks in and I remember how to be professional. Well . . . semi-professional. “Absolutely,” I squeak. “We’d be delighted to have Eric King and all his famous friends here!”
“Great. Though, they are looking for a bit of . . . discretion so they might enjoy the holiday away from the spotlight. Will that be a problem?”
“Of course not. We’re discrete here! Totally discrete!”
“That’s good to hear. Eric and his friends really have their hearts set on spending the holiday in Pine Island. They’ll be delighted to hear you have room at the lodge. Would you be able to have their suites ready early tomorrow morning? Possibly somewhere private?”
I nod vigorously, forgetting it does me no good since this is a phone conversation. I try again. “Yes. Absolutely. Tell them the top floor of the lodge is all theirs!”
“Perfect. What do you need from me to complete the reservation?”
“Can I have the names of the guests?”
Somehow, I manage to make my floating feet carry me around the front desk. My fingers are quivering so much that I can hardly pull up the booking screen on the lobby computer.
“One room will be for Eric King and Morgan May,” the man on the other end of the line answers. My fingers fly across the keyboard. “The second will be for Donovan Dunn and Chloe Martin. The third will be for Jacob Eckhart and Stacy Davis. They also have Jacob’s seven-year-old nephew, Ryan Eckhart, coming along. Will that be an issue?”
“No, not at all! We have lots of activities for both adults and children. They’ll be well taken care of, I promise.”
The man chuckles, faintly. “I can tell. Thanks so much, Miss Price. I’ll let Eric know the good news. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas!” I choke out, disconnecting the call and then hugging the phone to my chest.
I rub my eyes, staring at the computer screen in front of me until I start seeing stars burst in front of my eyes. Eric King. Morgan May. Jacob Eckhart. They’re coming to my Christmas tree farm! Pine Island may never be the same again!
“What was that all about?” Ethan asks, curiously.
He hefts himself up from the couch and walks over. Darcy trots along at his feet.
“You’re never going to believe it,” I say, relaying the cast of star-studded guests, who will be arriving shortly.
“Are you serious?” Ethan asks.
I nod, but a sudden wave of anxiety crashes over me like an ice-cold tsunami.
What was I thinking by taking that reservation?
Real celebrities . . . staying here?
Ethan and I have only just taken over the family business. Sure, Pine Island is a small town and for the most part we get the same guests that have been coming here for years. But I still want to do a good job.
This is the first real holiday season we’re at the reins.
At the back of my mind, I was a little relieved that we hadn't been fully booked for Christmas. Without my parents here, Ethan
