The Albright Hotel (A Frosty Season #4)

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

R obby was overjoyed. His sons were coming as early as December twentieth and staying till the twenty-seventh. It meant an entire week with Adam, Stan, Imogen, Bee, and their children. It meant an entire week of being the loving, fun, hilarious, wild, free grandfather he believed himself to be. Who cared about romance? This was what his life was all about!

Robby spent all morning cleaning his house. He put Bruce Springsteen on as loud as he could and vacuumed, dusted, scrubbed, and baked, baked, baked. Baking, of course, required still more vacuuming and scrubbing, but he didn’t care because his house smelled like Christmas cookies—and his grandchildren were on their way!

He didn’t let himself remember how much he’d wanted to have Olivia there with him for Christmas. He’d ached to introduce her to his sons by Thanksgiving already. He’d even imagined himself saying, This is my fiancée! He was a fool.

Adam arrived first, which was typical. Adam was the oldest and the most responsible. He carried his daughter and son—both of whom slept on his shoulders—into the house and laid them on the bed in the next room before he hugged his father uproariously. “The Christmas tree looks great,” he said, taking a cookie. “We can’t let the kids sleep too long, or they’ll never go down tonight.”

“Don’t let them sleep at all!” Robby said. “Wake them up and tell them it’s time to celebrate!”

Stan arrived thirty minutes later with his own family, and very soon, all the grandkids were awake, scrambling or crawling around, eating cookies and getting crumbs everywhere. Imogen and Bee were exhausted, and he ordered them to sit down, pour some wine, and enjoy themselves. He’d handle the kids. Obviously, this turned out to be a mistake. Robby was out of his mind with fatigue by the time the kids went to bed. But he had a bounce to his step, too. He was needed. He was loved.

Imogen and Bee were in the living room, chatting about their lives and what they’d gotten the kids for Christmas. Their soft tones were feminine and warm. Robby, Adam, and Stan sat in the kitchen and poured whiskey to warm themselves up. He could feel his sons’ eyes upon him. They were expectant.

And then he found out why.

“We heard you went to Calvin and Stacy’s wedding with a date,” Stan said.

Robby’s heart sank. This wasn’t something he cared to talk about. “I did.”

“What happened?” Adam asked.

Robby knew his sons didn’t think he gave people enough of a chance.

He knew they didn’t want him to be alone.

“There just wasn’t a spark,” Robby said. “A spark is important.”

“Sure. But is it the most important thing?” Stan asked.

“Would you have gone out with your wife if there wasn’t a spark?” Robby asked.

Stan rubbed his chest and considered this. “We’re married now. We’re partners in everything. The spark doesn’t matter.”

“But you need the spark at first,” Robby protested.

But his sons refused to listen to him. Robby’s theory was that they were too entrenched in fatherhood and family life to remember what it had been like to date at first. But he didn’t mind.

It was funny that his sons thought they knew more about life than he did, though. It was just like when they were teenagers and thought they knew everything.

Eventually, Stan suggested they walk to Binkley’s. “I’m ready for a real beer!”

“And we have to buy Calvin and Stacy a drink, too,” Adam remembered. He felt bad for missing their wedding.

The three Goodwins bundled up and walked down to Binkley’s to find it wall-to-wall packed, just as ever on a Friday in winter. Adam grabbed the last table, and Stan ushered Robby over to grab a stool. “I’ll get some drinks.” Robby sat with Adam and surveyed the bar. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. My sons are home! He wanted to bellow.

Calvin and Stacy appeared a few minutes after they sat down. Adam and Stan hugged them and asked them question after question about their wedding and their upcoming honeymoon to a Caribbean Island. Stacy had never been outside the Lower 48, she said, so she was “excited and nervous!”

“You’ll have the best time,” Adam assured her.

Calvin edged up alongside Robby and knocked on the table. “I was sorry to hear what happened with Joanna,” he said.

Robby was really tired of talking about Joanna. “It’s fine. Really.”

“We never would have put you in the line of fire if we’d known,” Calvin said.

“That’s what dating is, I’m told.” Robby chuckled. “The line of fire.”

Calvin grimaced. But Robby didn’t have hard feelings. He raised his beer and clinked it with Calvin’s. “To your marriage and your happiness.”

Calvin smiled. “I want you to be happy, too. You’re one of my best friends.”

Robby was touched. He didn’t know what to say.

Robby and his boys had a marvelous, if brief, night at the pub. Imogen had suggested they all be home by midnight, and Stan was smart enough to know that it wasn’t a “suggestion,” but rather a rule. “She doesn’t want us to sleep in and not help out with the kids tomorrow,” he said. “I can understand that.”

They headed back around eleven thirty, walking through a golden-lit Christmassy Hollygrove. They passed restaurants still aglow, other bars, and shops filled to the brim with decorations and presents yet to be purchased and wrapped.

And suddenly, they turned the corner, and there she was.

Olivia sat in the window of a wine bar. She was by herself, her head propped up with her elbow on the table, peering out at the black night. Because Robby was on the opposite side of the street, she probably couldn’t see him through the darkness. She didn’t seem to, at least.

On the opposite side of the table was an empty chair with a coat on it. Was it her coat? Or his?

Stan followed Robby’s gaze to the wine bar.

“Oh no,” he muttered to Adam. “It’s her.”

Of course, Adam and Stan knew what Olivia looked like. Robby had opened himself up, sending photograph after photograph to his sons, telling them about the adventures they’d been on in Maine and Vermont and even here in Hollygrove.

Robby had thought endlessly about the night of the wedding. How she’d yelled at him. He still couldn’t make sense of what she’d said. Not really.

The only thing that made sense was that he’d hurt her somehow.

But he didn’t understand.

“Dad, don’t even think about it,” Adam said.

Robby’s heart felt squeezed.

“Seriously,” Stan affirmed.

Robby ached to cross the road and go talk to her. Maybe the right words would come to him this time.

Stan touched his shoulder. “She left you in the middle of the night at that inn. She packed up her bag and left. You didn’t know where she was. Remember?”

Robby did remember. He wished he didn’t.

Robby had been mystified when she’d told him she wanted to go for a walk. “To get some air,” she kept repeating. But there was something in her eye. Robby thought it was proof she wanted to break up with him that night. He began to imagine what would happen next—the long night of talking about where it had gone wrong, the silent car drive back to Hollygrove, and the promise that they “wouldn’t be strangers,” even as he was forced to see her all the time at the Albright Hotel. Already, his heart was breaking as she walked toward the back door.

Don’t go! he wanted to shout. But he didn’t want to be possessive either.

He didn’t know how to be. That was the problem.

So he went down to the bar to grab a nightcap. He thought things would be clearer after a whiskey.

The bartender was a handsome guy in his forties with a thick beard and dark eyes. He was the kind of guy who could get any woman he wanted, Robby thought as he sat down. Maybe I should ask his advice.

“I’m Vinny. What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

Robby ordered a whiskey, and the bartender grabbed one for himself, too.

There was a woman in the bar. She was off to the side, reading a book about bird-watching. She underlined half of one page and then turned it. Robby remembered her from breakfast. He was pretty sure she was alone.

Maybe I could learn from her. How to be alone.

“You’ve been here a little while,” Vinny said. “I saw you helping here and there.”

“It’s gorgeous here. It’ll be hard to say goodbye in a few days,” Robby said.

“That’s right. They gave you a couple of days free,” Vinny said. He snapped his fingers. “I think my coworker mentioned you work for an inn yourself. In Upstate New York?”

Had Olivia told him that? Robby certainly hadn’t.

“That’s right,” Robby said. This, at least, was something he knew about, so he fell into it—how gorgeous the Albright Hotel was going to be, how many rooms it would offer, and the work he’d done on it from the new mahogany banisters to the handmade bookshelves, and the tables and chairs. Vinny listened, captivated. The bird-watcher lady put in earphones. She was clearly bored by him. She wanted to read her book in peace.

“And is this your hotel?” the bartender asked. He picked up a clean beer glass and dried it with a towel.

“It belongs to my girlfriend and her sister,” Robby said. He was never not proud to call Olivia his girlfriend. It sounded so nice. So warm.

Even though she’s on a walk to get away from me right now.

“You said it’s a mansion?” Vinny asked.

“Yes. It’s been in their family for a few generations,” Robby said. The story fascinated him. He explained the details. Olivia’s mother had gotten pregnant when she was a teenager and was forced to give the baby up, then she’d run away and had another baby, then died in a car accident.

“Maya didn’t even know about the Albrights or their wealth till last year,” he explained. “Olivia always knew, but she knew she was on the outside. She was cast out.” Robby sighed because he knew this story played into his relationship. It had altered her personality forever. It had made her believe she was incapable of loving and being loved.

“That’s quite a lot of drama,” Vinny said. “But now they’re back. Does that mean they have their inheritance, too?”

“Their aunt Veronica is still alive, but they’re controlling the money together,” Robby explained. “It’s been a whirlwind. Olivia was penniless for much of her life, working as a photographer and trying to scrape by.”

“And now she has everything!” Vinny said. “Even you.”

Robby winced and looked into his glass. He then waved his arms, saying, “I want to marry this woman, Vinny. I want to start over with her. But sometimes I wonder if we’re both too damaged for something like that. I mentioned marriage—in general—tonight, and she had to go for a walk.”

Vinny winced.

Robby thought, This is what people do. They talk about their emotional problems with bartenders. Maybe I should have been doing this from the beginning at Binkley’s.

Vinny rubbed his beard and glanced out the window. It was difficult to know what he was thinking.

Just then, a younger guy entered the bar. He also had a beard, dark hair, and wicked cheekbones.

“Hey, man,” Vinny said. “You wanna take over for a sec?”

“Sure. I’m bored,” the other guy said. He looked at Robby, then at the bird-watching lady. “Can I get you anything?”

The bird-watcher sniffed and removed her headphones. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you want anything?”

The bird-watcher closed her book and pressed it against her chest.

If Olivia leaves me, what could my hobby be? I guess I could focus more on music. But I still don’t want to perform it live. What’s the point?

“I’m going to bed,” she stammered, then got up and hurried away.

The two bartenders gave one another pointed looks.

“She’s a spinster,” the older one said. “We get that kind of lady at the inn sometimes. They want connection and companionship, but they don’t know how. You know?”

Robby nodded. He did know.

“Do you want to grab a nightcap in my room?” Vinny asked. “I have this really special scotch and a bunch of records.”

“You live here?”

“I have a room here at the inn for now,” Vinny explained. “My place burned down a few months ago.”

Robby’s heart lurched. “I’m sorry. That sounds traumatic.”

“It’s all right. The insurance is really pulling through for me,” Vinny said.

Robby finished his drink and followed Vinny down the hall and up a side staircase. He wondered where Olivia was and why she hadn’t texted. Was she out in the woods by herself? Was she really angry with him?

“I can’t stay long,” Robby said as they entered his room, which was nicely furnished with a collection of records and books.

“I know,” Vinny said. “It’s just that it’s rare to meet someone like yourself at an inn like this. Someone real, you know? Most people we get through here are sleepwalking through life.”

Robby appreciated that. It was rare that anyone complimented him like that. Normally, he was the quiet one, the good listener, and the solid friend. But Vinny seemed to think he was interesting.

Vinny poured Robby a glass of scotch and put on a record from the sixties. He sat across from him, his eyes wolf-like, then said, “Man, I really want to get out to this Albright Hotel. It sounds like a dream.”

Robby smiled. “We open the day after Thanksgiving. Come on by.”