Snow is Falling, Cocoa is Calling! (The Coffee Loft Series: Fall Collection)

2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

CAITEY

C aitey rolled down her side window. “Is anybody there?” she called again, but her voice was now hoarse and timid.

Wait a minute! The man in the Armani suit wasn’t there any longer. He was . . . gone, just like that.

Had she dreamed him up? Or had he disappeared because he was an apparition?

She blew out a long, shaky breath. Was she losing her mind? Stress-induced apparitions reminiscent of all the past spooky books and movies she’d enjoyed over the years?

Caitey had to admit that she was easily influenced. Hiding under the bed covers and reading mysteries was her favorite thing, but afterward, she had to sleep with the light on!

Her mother would find her huddled underneath the blankets and then throw them off to make a game out of seeing her there—as if she was still four years old and they were playing hide-and-seek.

“Whew, Caitey,” she would exclaim as if she’d been searching for hours. “It’s a good thing I found you. Otherwise, this nice cup of hot cocoa would go to waste.” Then she’d give her a wink. “Or I’d have to drink it myself.”

A smile crept over her lips, remembering those nights so long ago when Dad was traveling out of town for his government work.

“Oh, look,” Mom would suddenly announce, “I have a cocoa for you, and a second cup for me!”

Then she’d perch on the edge of the bed while they drank their cocoa like proper ladies, sticking their pinky finger out and speaking in a British accent while they discussed books or movies for hours.

Whenever she had a stressful wedding, Caitey desperately wished her mother was here helping her. Mom was Mrs. Organizer Specialist herself. Her personality and talent came in handy when the embassy in Portugal—where her parents had been living the past five years—had to plan a dinner, a gala, or special meetings with heads of state.

“I desperately need to hire an assistant,” Caitey muttered, glancing in her rearview mirror as she drove around the circular drive to the mansion’s rear.

Laughter gurgled in her throat. Like she could afford an assistant—not. But her parents would arrive tomorrow, flying in from Lisbon to attend Jenna’s wedding.

She couldn’t wait to see them—and have an extra pair of hands! She knew Dad would spend all his time with his brother-in-law, Uncle Alexander Thornton, Jenna’s father.

Caitey peered through the windshield as she turned the corner. The house was just as beautiful here as the magnificent front entrance.

There were more flower gardens, towering trees, and what looked like an orchard far beyond the manicured lawns and stone pathways.

Plumes of water sprayed from a fountain, sparkling in the sunlight. It was breathtaking and a perfect location for her cousin’s special day.

Despite being early November, the sun shone, and the reception would be lovely in this idyllic setting after the indoor ceremony.

Unless Jenna changed her mind.

Brides did that. A lot. They changed their minds about nearly everything.

At least Caitey wasn’t doing the actual catering, prepping the food or decorating the cake. During their planning sessions over the phone the last few months, Jenna had decided it was easier to hire those jobs out. Caitey was merely the wedding planner, the decorator, and the one keeping the schedule—making sure everything happened on time and solving any problems.

Or meltdowns, as the case may be.

At least this wedding was smaller and more intimate than most .

Just last week, Jenna had breathed a happy sigh on the phone: “I’m so glad you’re doing my wedding. I won’t have to worry about a thing because I know you will make it all perfect !”

At the time, Caitey could only smile wanly. She hoped she could pull it off, but none of the weddings she had done over the past seven years had lived up to that tall order. Something always went wrong, even if it was something small. A wedding planner could count on it!

Weddings had too many details and variables and personalities to make happy. But she prided herself on coming pretty darn close. So far, since she’d started her own bridal business, Caitey’s online reviews averaged 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Caitey rolled to a stop in the gravel parking lot behind the mansion, her eyes flitting in every direction. The back of the estate was just as quiet as the front, and it appeared there was official parking on the far side of the gardens.

But hers was the only vehicle.

Where was everybody?

When she turned off the engine and slid out of her seatbelt, Caitey lifted a hand against the sun’s glare. The property extended as far as she could see.

Deeper into the private woods, she spied a narrow lane that led to a garage that looked as if it could hold ten vehicles.

Another sign of the Hearst wealth.

About two hundred miles north of Los Angeles she’d toured the infamous Hearst Castle during her college years for a weekend getaway with roommates to drool over the rich and famous from the 1920s. The house—more like a castle with multiple swimming pools, gorgeous architecture and gardens oozed money from every corner.

Caitey had concluded that William Randolph Hearst was richer than the queen of England.

When she stepped out of the car, Caitey’s high heels crunched on the fine gravel and her ankles wobbled a tiny bit. Maybe she should have worn sneakers, but she didn’t want to arrive in jeans if she met Jenna’s fiancé and his family in the first five minutes.

Furtively, she glanced about to ensure she was alone, and then Caitey laughed at her silliness. The dude in the woods had spooked her, but he was probably just an early-arriving family member taking a walk through the trees.

Even so, who wore a suit to go walking in the woods? The wedding wasn’t for two days. And why wouldn’t the strange man at least raise a hand in greeting to acknowledge her?

The perimeter of the mansion was empty of any people or activity. Quiet, undisturbed, as if the estate’s residents no longer existed.

She had sent a quick text to Jenna while driving through the village at the foot of the mountains before starting up the winding road that led to this neighborhood of mansions and sprawling estates nestled within the mountain forest .

That was at least thirty minutes ago, and she still hadn’t received a response back.

She had expected to see Jenna throw open the back doors and run full speed toward her as soon as she parked.

But all was silent as a tomb.

How about a gardener? A housekeeper? A chauffeur waxing the Rolls Royce?

Caitey gave a small laugh. None in sight.

“Guess I’ll let myself in,” she murmured, striding up the stone path that wound past an English country garden of hollyhocks, daisies, lavender, peonies, irises, and golden California poppies.

A balance of traditional elegance and romantic whimsy.

A tickle of awe and envy rose up her chest even as she smiled at the exquisite beauty. “I could live out here forever.”

All she needed was a book, a chair under the shade of one of those massive oak trees, and a cold lemonade. A life of perfect leisure.

At each turn of the paths stood tall Roman goddess statues wearing alabaster dresses, guarding magnificent water fountains and manicured hedges. Caitey spotted her reflection in the shallow water.

The scent of flowers was like a perfume factory. Sweet and heady.

At the rear double oak doors, Caitey knocked timidly, then rang the bell. But all she could hear was the echo of the chime reverberating inside an empty house.

Boldly, she yanked the doorknob and pulled. Locked up tight.

All at once, her phone buzzed, and Caitey gave a start. It was a text from Jenna. At last!

Are you at the house yet?

Caitey quickly punched at her phone. Yes. Where are you??

Jenna sent an upside-down smile. We got stuck in the village at the base of the mountain. A flat tire. Had to be towed to the mechanic. I’m so sorry! The parents are all away from the house, too, but Marcus could let you in. Your bedroom is upstairs on the left, second door down. A full ensuite. Make yourself at home! See you soon!

Caitey sent a sad emoji. Wow, I’m so sorry. What a bummer when you’re running around doing last-minute wedding stuff. P.S. Who is Marcus? There’s no one here but me!

Well, if she didn’t count the spooky dude hiding in the woods.

She waited a minute, staring at her phone, but there was no response.

She plopped onto one of the wrought-iron benches and tried not to be annoyed. The sun was hot on her head, and her water bottle was long emptied. The front and back mansion doors were locked . . . except she hadn’t looked for a side door.

Ten minutes later, after checking every side door, garage door, and first-floor window, Caitey was ready to scream when Jenna finally texted back. Hopefully, they were almost here! Unfortunately, she had started hoping too soon.

I’m so sorry, honey. We’re still waiting for the car to get fixed, and we’re about a twenty-minute drive from you. At least, we’re in the village you passed on the way up the mountain and not Santa Barbara! So, it’ll be about an hour until

The message stopped as if Jenna had disappeared. Caitey groaned. “What?!”

Then suddenly, Jenna continued.

On second thought, get back in your car and drive down to our little mountain village. There’s a Coffee Loft shop on Main that recently opened. Get yourself a cold drink, a frothy latte, or hot chocolate with those giant marshmallows, and tell them you’re my cousin! Tata!

Immediately, Caitey dialed her cousin’s number so she could speak in person, but it went straight to voicemail. What the heck!

Annoyed, she growled in her throat, listening to the birds singing in the pine trees. There was no sign of the lurking guy, thank goodness, but she still stared in every direction. It was freaky being alone while a man lurked in the shadows of the woods.

Despite the lovely gardens perfumed by roses and lavender, Caitey did not plan to sit here by herself for five minutes, let alone an hour or two.