Merry Christmas and happy holidays to all who celebrate! Whether you are on the naughty list or the nice list, may you get what you wish for.
*~*~*~*
Elle's first thought upon seeing Rosewood Park in person was, "Why haven't I done this sooner?" Of course the Georgian manor turned into an upmarket hotel looked gorgeous on the pictures online, but there was a voice inside that nagged how it couldn't possibly live up to such expectations.
And it didn't. It exceeded them.
The sandstone block adorned with columns, where each window sparkled with twinkling lights and a set of heavy curtains on either side, transported Elle to her own Hallmark wonderland. Even the gigantic Christmas tree in front of the entrance seemed plucked straight out of a postcard. Craning her neck to take it all in, then turning around to scan the unnecessarily long driveway and the surrounding park, manicured into perfection, was all the assurance needed for a perfect Christmas getaway.
She smiled at the valet taking her car and dished out another smile to another taking her suitcase up the three shallow steps up to the door then inside. Welcomes of "Good afternoon" followed her every step up to reception, where she was checked in by a young woman with hair slicked into a bun that screamed hospitality pro. Elle had someone around her all the way until the final "We wish you a lovely stay and Merry Christmas" as the bellboy finally left her room, having dropped her suitcase safely there.
Elle sunk into a deep chair, admiring the plush room with old fashioned wallpaper to suit the dark wood furniture and brocade bedding, and for the first time dwelled on the fact that she was on her own this Christmas. The usual family plans fell through the moment her elderly parents announced going on a cruise somewhere warm and she knew better than to try to burden her friends with a holiday visit. With no boyfriend, fiancé or husband to take her to his family, she decided to treat herself to a luxury getaway instead of spending the few days entirely on her own. She'd seen some of her friends do it and have a grand time, so why not try it, just this once? The idea was great in theory, but the flaw of Elle not being used to doing things on her own could prove fatal to the whole thing.
To shake the moping away, she pushed herself out of the chair and decided that the best thing to do was to keep busy. This time she unpacked with care, after all this would be her home away from home for the next week, and once that distraction ended, she browsed through the brochures extra carefully. Everyone knew that TV was pants during Christmas, so there was no point in flicking the channels and she had to occupy herself with something besides picturesque walks around the grounds. A spa day sounded tempting and she could easily throw in a massage and a treatment into her package. Maybe she could even try one of those hot stone ones?
But the brochure wasn't that big either, so before long Elle was forced to do the only thing left in a remote countryside hotel: go out of her room and wander. There was no harm in getting a proper coffee at the attached café-bar, saving the crappy instant sachets in her room for an emergency, and this way she could scout where all of these fancy amenities were. One last look in the mirror confirmed that her sweater dress was just about long and loose enough to avoid scandalising the older visitors, whilst still making her feel good by keeping her legs on display. And the terracotta shade really brought out the honey flecks in her hair and eyes, both a rich brown. She touched up her lipstick to match before leaving the room, satisfied with the final look.
The café-bar was invitingly cosy, even without all the twinkling decorations or the fire crackling on one end. Dark furniture and walls were offset with those high windows looking out into the garden, a space made simultaneously bright and filled with shaded nooks. Armed with a cappuccino, Elle picked a wingback chair by the window, sipping in the delights of the festive season along with the rich milky liquid.
Her eyes fell on a man in a similar chair across from her. He was also alone, an ankle rested on his knee helping keep the large newspaper spread as he read. The cream shade of his knit turtleneck provided a beautiful contrast to the tanned skin and dark hair, cut short enough so that there was only a hint of a curl on display. Elle caught herself staring at the fingers holding the newspaper, a little wide, but long enough to keep them looking elegant. Someone with nails this neat probably worked a high paying desk job, an accountant or a lawyer.
She turned her gaze away in embarrassment when the man's eyes caught her in the act, though not before noticing that they were light in colour. The first day of her stay, barely an hour into the holiday and she was already lingering on some stranger. Her coffee now tasted a little less sweet as she soured it with thoughts of whether she really was incapable of spending some quality time alone, resting and enjoying getting pampered? For all she knew that man wasn't even staying at the hotel or was waiting for someone to join him later. Or was married. Or uninterested in women. The possibilities were endless in a world dominated by online dating, making her would-be imposition rude.
The man, however, turned out to be none of the things she worried about.
When they crossed paths again at dinner, Elle having now changed into something a little more classy for the evening, though still loose enough to accommodate a buffet, he was the one to impose on her.
"May I join you?" The warm voice startled her, cutlery clinking gently off the plate she'd been focused on. "It seems that everyone else here has arrived with someone and the hotel is on a mission to get the guests socialising," he added with a smile so charming Elle may have swooned had she not been sat down.
"Yes, of course!" Swallowing quickly, she gestured to the empty chair opposite her.
"Thank you. I didn't want to assume that you were alone."
"You're in luck that I am," Elle's attempt at sounding self-deprecatingly upbeat may not have been the best, so she masked it with an awkward shrug and digging back into her chicken.
"I am indeed." The wrinkles around his eyes as he smiled reassured her that he meant it. Setting his cutlery aside, he extended a hand. "Jamie."
"Elle."
"Elle..." His handshake, decisive but gentle, and very warm, was enough to send a shiver running up the inside of her arm. But Jamie held her palm for a second, his touch lingering as he savoured her name - or maybe merely committed it to memory. She felt the absence of its warmth the moment that his fingers slid away. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Elle."
Dinner went by on pleasant chatter about trivialities. Jamie had a long standing tradition of spending Christmas at fancy hotels, enjoying the lack of responsibilities and cleanup, as well as the presence of some festive spirit outside of annual work drinks, not that there was much of that amongst fellow project managers in construction (Elle mentally congratulated herself on getting the high paying desk job right). She told him how it was her first time treating herself to something like this and how quickly she felt the absence of anyone familiar around her. They bonded over shared appreciation for sprouts as part of the traditional dinner, then amicably disagreed on whether watching the Queen's speech was worth it. Over dessert she'd asked him for some advice on how to make the most of this unusual Christmas for her and he suggested that she stayed open to chance encounters.
"You meet all kinds of people staying at places like this for the festive season," he told her, stirring sugar into his coffee in a way that had her oddly entranced. "It's not all retired people with enough money to ignore the families that abandoned them. You can make some unexpected connections, so long as you don't shut them down."
The way he said that whilst holding her gaze sent a shiver down Elle's spine. She could've sworn that it was a suggestion - but maybe it was just wishful thinking. Jamie was even more handsome from up close, the five o'clock shadow starting to catch on the fibres of his turtleneck. Sitting across a small table she could clearly see that his eyes were hazel, even if afternoon sunshine earlier tricked her into thinking them blue or grey. He held his cup with both hands, practically in the middle of the table, as if challenging her to claim the space back for herself and "accidentally" touch him.
The image of his thoughtful smile and the light catching in the swoop of his curl stayed in front of her eyes long after they finished eating and went back to their rooms. Her own suddenly felt small and cold, and neither television nor books could take her mind off it.
Maybe this was a sign to take a chance. Jamie mentioned his room number in passing ("They put me in 313 this time, the corner one with a balcony overlooking the big Christmas tree in the gardens."), surely he wanted her to stop by? It didn't even have to be anything. She could get a bottle of wine through room service and they could simply carry on talking. Sure, she'd see him at every mealtime for the next few days, but where was the harm in a little impatience?
And if it did lead to anything... Well, Elle was ready for a Hallmark romance to spice up her first solo Christmas. It'd certainly be something to tell her friends at the New Year's Eve party.
Armed with the bottle of wine, having decided, after much back and forth, to leave the bucket, she marched towards room 313. The carpet was so thick that it muffled her usually loud heels, leaving too much silence for doubts to sprout in her mind. The cool condensation on the neck of the bottle seemed like the only real sensation.
"
What am I doing?
" She thought. "
I hardly know the guy. He could be a murderer for all I know.
"
