The Albright Hotel (A Frosty Season #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

I t was hard to believe it had been a year.

Olivia stood in the soft, warm light of the Albright Mansion’s kitchen, gazing through the window at the black night. The joyous sounds of laughter came from the next room—all from her sister, Maya; Maya’s boyfriend, Brad; their aunt Veronica; and the other guests they’d invited for Thanksgiving. It was late—many hours after their first meal—but everyone had admitted they had “room for another round,” which was why Olivia was in the kitchen. She reheated everything she could—turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and yams. She also fetched wine from the cupboard, filling her arms with as many bottles as she could carry. When she returned to the dining room, they greeted her as though she’d been away much longer than ten minutes. At these moments, Olivia reminded herself, You’re safe now. You have a family who loves you. You have so much.

It had not always been this way. She couldn’t forget that.

“Phoebe says she has a surprise for us when she gets here,” Maya said as Olivia set the wine on the table. Maya reached for a bottle opener and began to screw it into the cork of a robust red. “We’re making guesses.”

“What do you think, Liv?” Aunt Veronica asked, raising her glass of water. Her eyes were like a cat’s, all-knowing and impenetrable.

Olivia shook her head. “I can’t get into the head of a twentysomething. I barely knew what I was doing back then.” Not that I really know what I’m doing in my forties, either.

“Brad thinks it’s a new job,” Maya said. “But I can’t imagine she’d get that excited about something like that. I know my daughter. She wears her heart on her sleeve.”

Olivia cocked her head. “So you think it’s something romantic?”

Maya’s eyes glistened. “She’s had a heck of a year,” Maya said. “A romantic distraction wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

It was true. Phoebe’s life had jumped off course early on that year. Nobody had seen it coming—least of all Phoebe.

“This time last year, Phoebe and Henry closed on their new home,” Maya said, furrowing her brow. “I thought for sure they’d have a baby by now! I was so ready to be a grandmother.” Devastation remained etched in the small wrinkles around her eyes. Phoebe’s heartbreak had been Maya’s, too.

“Did you like Henry?” Aunt Veronica asked. “I couldn’t get a good read on him last year.”

Maya scrunched her face. “I did. Or I thought I did.”

The story of Phoebe and Henry’s dissolution was difficult to grapple with—especially for someone like Olivia, who still professed to believe in love. Every day for years and years, twentysomethings Phoebe and Henry had woken up and pledged their love and planned their future together. Then one day in February, Henry came home from work and announced he was leaving her. He’d decided he wanted something else. He wanted to get a divorce and never look back.

We’re still in our twenties, Phoebe, he’d said. We can still have different lives. We don’t have to remember this.

Phoebe had taken a leave from work and come immediately to the Albright Mansion to lick her wounds. To heal.

For weeks, Phoebe had wept and wandered through the Albright Mansion, listening to the sounds of the refurbishment as a portion of the mansion was transformed into a hotel.

Olivia had wanted to squeeze her with hug after hug. She’d wanted to tell her that life didn’t come with a how-to manual.

She’d wanted to say men couldn’t be trusted .

But now? Had Phoebe already fallen in love with someone else?

Olivia’s heart sank in her chest.

Just because I’m alone doesn’t mean everyone else should be , she reminded herself. Just because I can’t get my romantic life together doesn’t mean Phoebe’s should be in disarray.

Some people get it together at an early age, even after stumbling. Some people know themselves.

In fact, she would be happy for Phoebe! She really would be, she decided.

Olivia returned to the table and sat between Aunt Veronica and a few other friends they’d invited from town. It was a quaint Thanksgiving feast, especially when compared to the weekend ahead. Tomorrow, they planned to open the doors of the Albright Hotel. It was a plan they’d had in place since last year when Olivia and Maya had come to Hollygrove and reunited with the aunt they’d never known and the high society past they’d never been privy to.

The backstory was often difficult for Olivia to hold in her head—especially after all the changes that year had brought.

Maya and Olivia’s mother, Bethany, was raised in this enormous house with her sister, Veronica. For years, their grandmother pitted the sisters against one another. And when Bethany got pregnant with Olivia as a teenager, Bethany was forced to remain in “hiding” before Olivia was given up for adoption. This was so that the rest of the town didn’t know about her underage and out-of-wedlock pregnancy.

It didn’t take long for their mother to abandon the Albright Mansion—and her mother and sister—to forge a life of her own. She eventually had Maya. She loved and fought for a beautiful life.

And then, their mother died in a car accident. Just like that, she was gone.

But Olivia had never known her in the first place.

How could Olivia ever make sense of something like that?

Of course, she’d always known she was an Albright. She’d always known about the wealth she wasn’t privy to.

That was why she’d come back last Christmas. She’d come to seek her fortune.

She’d snuck into the Albright Mansion and stolen a necklace.

She’d thought she was smarter than them. She’d thought she could best them at their own game.

But she’d been wrong.

She’d gotten a sister and a family instead.

It was far more than she’d bargained for.

Now, Maya popped up to help Olivia carry the rest of the leftovers into the dining room. Her cheeks were ruby from the wine. Olivia was glad she could blow off some steam. The truth was, both Olivia and Maya had been up to their ears in stress about opening the Albright Hotel. They were fully booked from tomorrow through New Year’s Day. Everyone said the first few years of running a hotel were nightmarish. Maya and Olivia were probably naive and had no idea what they were doing.

But they were plunging in headfirst anyway.

Sisters! Together!

Nothing really bad could happen as long as they were together. Could it?

“This time tomorrow, we’ll be in the thick of it!” Maya said in singsong. “What do you think about that?”

Olivia winced. “The guests will go easy on us.”

“They have to,” Maya agreed. “Half of them are from Hollygrove. They love us. I hope?”

Olivia giggled. “All we can do is hope.”

For the next hour, Olivia tried to fall into the ease of the night—the final night before their lives would be torn open by the Albright Hotel. She listened as Aunt Veronica told stories from Thanksgivings past. Maya told a funny story about the first Thanksgiving when Phoebe brought Henry around—relishing that he’d spilled an entire vat of cranberry sauce on his tan pants.

When silence fell, Olivia even chimed in with a story of her own.

“I think I was twenty-five at the time. I was dating a guy named Bill,” Olivia was saying, waving her hands enthusiastically. “And Bill was a fisherman in a little village outside of Boston. Always stank like a fisherman, too. That couldn’t be helped.” Olivia smiled. “But he scrubbed himself up as best as he could and went with me to Thanksgiving at a friend’s place down the road. He was so fidgety and nervous. I kept asking him what was wrong. But he kept his eyes straight ahead and could barely answer me. A couple of hours into dinner, a woman arrived. She was probably around our age, maybe slightly older. She kept complaining about this stench. She kept opening the windows, trying to get it out. Bill’s cheeks got redder and redder. He thought she was talking about him. But she wasn’t! It was something else. Anyway, he got up and stormed out. I chased him, and he said, ‘And to think, I was going to ask you to marry me tonight! But your friends made me out to be a fool.’ And I never saw him again!” Olivia spread her hands out on the table and shook with laughter.

Across from her, Maya tried to laugh, too, but the others looked horrified.

“What an awful man!” Aunt Veronica said.

Olivia’s smile fell. She’d always tried to find a way to laugh at the worst stories of her life.

“Anyway, I’m glad you got rid of him,” Maya said.

Olivia nodded, remembering that she’d spent the winter of her twenty-fifth year in a daze. Bill had dumped her just as three of her friends got engaged. She’d wondered if it would ever happen for her. And it was pretty clear it wouldn’t, even then.

Maya got up to get the pies from the kitchen, and Brad excused himself. His face was ashen. Olivia was frightened he was going to faint. He wandered toward the foyer, muttering something about “getting some air,” but Olivia didn’t believe him and decided to follow. The others were already exchanging stories from additional Thanksgivings and Christmases. It seemed there was no end to the memories they could trade. Even happy ones weren’t in short supply.

Olivia found Brad in the library. He was bent down on one knee, muttering to the mantel. It was a comical sight, save for the fact that Brad still looked petrified.

It was then it hit Olivia.

Brad wanted to propose.

Maybe he even wanted to propose tonight.

“Oh, Brad.” Olivia pressed her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

Maybe her story had ruined his surprise. Her stupid story about Bill and his fisherman stench.

Brad hopped to his feet and gave her a terrified look. “Olivia,” he muttered. “I didn’t see you.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have followed you.” Olivia wrung her hands. “I was worried about you. And now, I understand why you had to go. I shouldn’t have told that dumb, depressing story.”

Brad laughed. “It was a long time ago. I hope it doesn’t affect you too much anymore?”

“It doesn’t,” Olivia lied. “You know how the holidays can be. They bring up so many memories.”

“So many,” Brad agreed. “But Maya understands better than anyone. Remember? She used to be the ultimate Christmas cynic.”

Olivia chuckled and gave him a look.

Brad’s shoulders fell. “All right. Yes. I want to ask Maya to marry me tonight. I thought an engagement would give her strength, or something, for the big weekend ahead. But I want to wait till after Phoebe gets here. I’ve had it planned for months. Phoebe is Maya’s daughter, so she has to be involved.”

“It’s the only way,” Olivia agreed. She then pretended to zip her lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Brad was a brilliant man. He was a kindhearted elementary school teacher who’d lost his wife after a brief illness fifteen years ago and waited around forever to find “the right one.” Maya was that woman. Olivia knew it. The entire town of Hollygrove knew it. But it sometimes boggled Olivia’s mind to think that Brad had spent so many years alone, hardly looking for love. By contrast, Olivia had spent painstaking years searching. She’d been nearly engaged four times (including Bill) and actually engaged three times. Why had none of them panned out? She was trying to get to the bottom of that issue in therapy. She guessed that answer was many thousands of dollars in therapy bills away.

Don’t dwell on the past , she told herself. It’s Thanksgiving!

Olivia and Brad returned to the dinner table right as the bell rang. Maya hurried to the foyer to open the door and scream out, “Here she is! And she’s not alone!”

Olivia and Aunt Veronica locked eyes over the table. Maya had been right; Phoebe was in love again. A mother always knows.

Aunt Veronica, Olivia, Brad, and the others got up to receive Phoebe with hugs and kisses and warm greetings. Phoebe was the beautiful spitting image of Maya, and she smelled of flowers and chilly air. Gone was the devastation of earlier that year. Gone was any memory of Henry and all he’d tried to take from her. She hugged Olivia with strong arms. “Aunt Olivia! It’s so good to see you.” And Olivia’s heart melted just the slightest bit. She’d never had a niece before. Ever since Phoebe had returned to Pennsylvania, the two of them had gotten closer, sending messages and building a personal and private relationship that meant the world to Olivia.

Olivia had told her therapist, I hope I don’t pass on my trauma to her. Her husband left her, but that doesn’t mean she has to handle it the way I handled all my failed relationships.

And her therapist had said, Don’t worry about that. Trust that Phoebe knows how to handle herself.

The boy who entered the house alongside Phoebe was one of the more handsome men Olivia had ever seen—approximately three times more good-looking than Henry could have ever dreamed to be on his best day. He had a wealth of black hair, dark wolf-like eyes, and a sharp jawline that spoke of summers in Italy and winters skiing in Switzerland. From the look of his black coat and the dark clothing beneath, he was remarkably wealthy. Where on earth had Phoebe found him?

Why did Olivia think she’d seen him before? He certainly wasn’t from around here. Was he?

Phoebe introduced him. “Everyone, I want you to meet Braxton.”

Braxton? What kind of a name was Braxton? Olivia felt herself scowl, even as Maya burst with a happy, “Hello! Welcome to the Albright Mansion! Or, as of tomorrow, the Albright Hotel!”

Braxton smiled at Maya and shook her hand. “It’s sensational, really,” he said. “I told Phoebe on the way that it’s nearly the size of my family's quaint cottage in the Swiss mountains.”

I was right , Olivia thought. Swiss Alps. Money.

Something was strange about his accent. It was slightly British? Slightly American? Olivia couldn’t make sense of it.

“Your quaint cottage is the size of our mansion,” Maya repeated.

Braxton waved his hand. “I love what you’ve done with the place. Phoebe told me all about your plans to make it into a hotel. It sounds like it’s been a great deal of work.”

Phoebe beamed at him as though he could do no wrong.

Olivia wondered where they met each other. She couldn’t remember Phoebe mentioning anyone named Braxton via text message. There’d been other guys over the past year as Phoebe had tried to heal after her divorce. Some guy from work. Some other guy from a dating app. But Braxton, the wealthy guy who vacationed in the Swiss Alps? It didn’t ring a bell.

“Come in,” Maya urged. “We were just sitting down for more pie.”

“How many slices have you had?” Phoebe asked with a laugh.

“Not nearly enough,” Maya assured her.

Olivia tried to get up alongside Maya to whisper in her ear, but Maya played perfect hostess and grabbed pie for Phoebe and Braxton before Olivia could get a word in. Braxton and Phoebe sat down beside Aunt Veronica, who peered at Braxton curiously. Of course, Veronica understood wealth the most out of all of them, as Maya and Olivia had been raised with nothing. Olivia would have given anything to pick Veronica’s brain right then.

But suddenly, Braxton and Phoebe were gushing about the pie, and Brad had his arm slung around Maya’s shoulders, and someone else got up to put on a record, and the world slipped forward without Olivia. She sipped her wine and refused another slice of pie. She wasn’t in the mood to feel sick to her stomach. Tomorrow was a big day.

But it seemed today wasn’t over, either.

A little more than an hour later, they gathered around the Christmas tree. Olivia gave Brad a knowing look that meant you’re about to propose to my sister! Don’t panic!

But then, something happened.

Something that changed everything.

All at once, Braxton was on his knee in front of the Christmas tree. Braxton had Phoebe’s hands in his. His eyes were on hers, and she was crying; she couldn’t stop.

“What are you doing, Braxton?” she whispered.

“Ever since I met you, Phoebe, my life has been upside down,” Braxton breathed. “I’ve known something about the world since then. I’ve known that I can’t go back to before.”

Phoebe shivered. Her lips raised into a smile, but her eyes were deathly serious.

Because Olivia had gotten engaged three times in her life, she knew what the script was like. She knew this scene like the back of her hand.

Still, seeing it like this was akin to having a dagger through her belly. Maybe it would never happen for her again. Maybe just watching an engagement was the only thing left for her.

Phoebe can pick herself up after devastation. Why can’t I?

Olivia dared a peek at Maya, whose cheeks were aflame. Beside her, Brad looked as though someone had just stomped all over his flower bed. Olivia pitied him. He and Maya had been in love for nearly an entire year. He’d waited since his wife’s death. He’d waited to change his life.

It was time for them, not for Braxton and Phoebe.

But you couldn’t stop young love. Olivia knew that.

Unless Phoebe is scrambling to pick up the pieces after Henry?

Unless this is rushed?

Unless this is wrong?

Phoebe threw her arms around Braxton’s broad shoulders and whispered, “Yes, Braxton. I will marry you.” They sealed the deal with a kiss as Maya and the others put their hands together.

Maya sputtered and hurried forward to hug and kiss both Phoebe and Braxton. Olivia’s heart swelled with a mix of adoration and confusion. A split second later, she remembered to grab champagne from the kitchen. Aunt Veronica was hot on her heels. Despite her age and her horrible illness last year, it was always as though she could move quicker than the rest of them. Olivia didn’t know her secret.

“What do you think about this?” Aunt Veronica breathed, crossing and uncrossing her bony arms. She was wearing a flashy purple dress.

Olivia winced. “I’m not one to cast judgment. I got engaged three times.”

Aunt Veronica giggled. In the next room, Maya poured love onto her daughter and her daughter’s new fiancé. Olivia considered telling Aunt Veronica about Brad’s foiled plan, but then thought better of it.

“He seems strange, doesn’t he?” Aunt Veronica said. “And it’s so soon after Henry!”

“I don’t know. He’s wealthy,” Olivia said. She then peeked through the doorway and took stock of him again—his clean-cut face, his eyes. “He seems familiar to me. Like maybe I’ve seen his face in a magazine or something.” Olivia took a sip of wine. “Does he seem familiar to you?”

“His type is familiar to me,” Aunt Veronica affirmed.

“Wealthy?”

“Pretending to be wealthy,” Aunt Veronica said.

Olivia raised her eyebrows. “Pretending?”

Aunt Veronica used her fingers to pretend-zip her mouth closed, then turned to pick up the champagne flutes. “Don’t say a thing to Miss Phoebe about it,” she said. “I have plenty to take care of her and any children they might have. But I’m going to listen intently to what that man says about his so-called Swiss Alp cottage. Maybe there’s a clue in there somewhere.”

Olivia pondered this for a moment, watching Aunt Veronica return to the party and pass out the champagne flutes. A moment later, Braxton’s voice drifted through the air, talking about the elaborate wedding they’d surely have, he and Phoebe, perhaps in Capri or Corsica. Much more elaborate than the wedding she’d had to Henry. Was he a fake? A fraud? Olivia didn’t think so. But then again, she’d fallen in love with enough men who’d said they loved her—and didn’t. What did she know about falling in love? What did she know about the truth?

Olivia carried bottles of champagne out to the Thanksgiving guests and gave Phoebe a big hug. “I can’t wait to celebrate,” she said because it was true.

Life was all about finding reasons to celebrate—after the dark times.

“We couldn’t do it without you, Aunt Olivia,” Phoebe said.

Olivia’s heart melted at that. A year ago, nobody cared where she was, what she did, where she lived, or if she had money. Now, somebody urged her to have an additional slice of pie. Someone else joked with her in the kitchen. Brad even shared the innermost workings of his heart with her in the library.

The year hadn’t gone as she’d planned it. That was true. But it was also true that she was happy. Or, she was mostly happy, which had to be enough.