Christmas at Silver Falls

by Jenny Hale

Genres: Romance; Clean & Wholesome Romance; Contemporary Romance; Holiday Romance; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

A beautiful festive romance, all about the joy of Christmas with family, second chances, and finding love under the falling snow. This enchanting and uplifting read will have you both laughing and crying while it warms your heart. White Oaks Inn has always been at the heart of Christmas celebrations for Scarlett Bailey and her family. Her adored gran has owned the rambling, old-fashioned hotel, filled with the scent of cinnamon and chocolate, since Scarlett was a little girl. But now her gran’s home is under threat. And it looks like it could be the Baileys’ last Christmas together there… Over the holiday season, amidst much-loved festive traditions of baking cookies and decorating the tree, Scarlett throws herself into saving the hotel. When she hears that Charlie Bryant, a handsome, successful property developer, is spending December in Silver Falls, Scarlett is hopeful he might be the answer to their problems. When they meet, sparks fly between impulsive Scarlett and business-like Charlie – as they both have very different ideas for the future of White Oaks. Scarlett is determined to show him how much White Oaks Inn means to her family and the guests who return there every year and, as they spend more time together, she begins to realize there is more to Charlie than his serious appearance… But Charlie is struggling with a secret from his own past. Will he be able to face it, or will it stop him from truly opening up and getting close to anyone? And can Scarlett share the true meaning of Christmas with him and save her gran’s beloved hotel along the way? Embrace the wonder of Christmas in this gorgeous novel about living for the moment and finding love when you least expect it. Christmas at Silver Falls is the perfect festive indulgence for fans of Debbie Macomber, Susan Mallery and Sheila Roberts. Readers are totally falling in love with Christmas at Silver Falls : ‘ Wow!... Wonderful… Amazing and magical.’ Goodreads Reviewer, 5 stars ‘I was amazed… Made me smile… Made me tear up… I laughed hard.’ HeidiLynn Book Reviews ‘ Will melt your heart… Moving and heartwarming… Recommended to get into the Christmas spirit! ’ Caroline’s Bookshelf ‘ Amazing… Loved it from start to end… Magical.’ Goodreads Reviewer, 5 stars ‘ You will love this!... I could see myself snuggling up to the fire on Christmas week and loving this book! ’ Goodreads Reviewer ‘I absolutely adore Jenny Hale books… So to open up my Christmas reading wish list I reached for Jenny Hale's brand new book, Christmas at Silver Falls and yet again I wished that this book would never end. I loved it so much… If you are after a cosy, super-romantic read, full of idyllic scenery and utterly adorable characters then Christmas at Silver Falls is the book for you! Pure festive magic.’ Goodreads Reviewer, 5 stars ‘Sigh. This was such a sweet story! I literally laughed and cried throughout it. I loved this family and the lives they built together… If you are looking for a wonderful Christmas romance, look no further! ’ Goodreads Reviewer, 5 stars ‘ Wonderful… I adored the story and characters! Definitely add it to your holiday reading list! ’ Goodreads Reviewer ‘ Brilliant… Period. The emotions in this story were like the shiny baubles on the Christmas tree. Each one sparkled and left me longing for more… A fun Chrismassy read!!’ Goodreads Reviewer, 5 stars ‘ Loved this… GREAT READ.’ Goodreads Reviewer, 5 stars ‘ Really wonderful... Full of charm, romance, great characters, and a magic setting, this book will get you in the mood to put your Christmas tree up.’ NetGalley Reviewer, 4 stars

Release date: October 15, 2019

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 278

Sample

Scarlett Bailey clicked off the string of twinkle lights outside her apartment and clutched her mistletoe-print gift bags tightly as her father pulled up in his old truck, giving her a friendly wave on her way down the steps to greet him. All week, she’d thrown herself into Christmas shopping, focused on seeking out the most personal gifts for each of her family members, finding just the right wrapping paper, and adorning each present with sprigs of holly or little pine cones she’d found at the craft store. But as she stood amidst her pile of gifts now, she had to face the fact that, after this year, the holiday as she knew it would be changing. She may never have another Christmas at White Oaks Inn.

This was huge—she hadn’t been able to confront the idea at all until this moment, while she wedged the last of the family Christmas presents into her dad’s truck and climbed in. She couldn’t even be sure if going through with this plan was the right thing to do. But she’d been outvoted. Over plates of Aunt Alice’s maple-pear tarts with eggnog mousse, the Bailey family had made a decision on the matter, and she had to try to make the best of it.

The white puffball on her dad’s Santa hat swung back and forth like a stuffed pendulum as he glanced over to her and then back to the road. He’d always worn the ruby red fur hat with its pearl white trim and matching ball whenever they’d traveled to White Oaks for their annual family holiday gathering. It was a fond memory of Scarlett’s. But today, it just didn’t feel right.

They drove for five hours with barely a sound between them. Scarlett steadied the large package she’d been holding all the way there. It was something her dad had bought for her Uncle Joe, wrapped in red and green plaid paper, a bow of cranberry ribbon securing it. It didn’t fit in the back of the truck, so she’d kept it up front, a glaring reminder of the fact that Christmas was only five days away.

Scarlett’s body sprung up and down with the movement of her father’s truck tires along the unsteady mountain road they were climbing, propelling them deeper into the Great Smoky Mountains and closer to White Oaks Inn. Her anticipation was bittersweet.

She could still conjure up the image of Pappy, with his hands in the pockets of his red and black lumberjack-style coat, his shoulders raised and his elbows tucked near his body to combat the cold as he waited for them on the impressive front porch of the sprawling clapboard hotel. The painted wooden siding, bright white against the vegetation of the mountains surrounding it, looked like a pearl beside the falling snow, the east and west wings reaching out along the mountainside like two arms awaiting a hug.

Every year, when her father would pull up, before he drove around back to park in the inn’s private lot for family, he’d roll down his window and wave. Pappy would nod, happiness radiating from his weathered face, and then head inside to let everyone know they’d arrived. Last year, Uncle Joe had taken Pappy’s spot on the porch. Her uncle must have missed Pappy’s greeting as much as Scarlett had. They’d all been so heartbroken to lose him, but they rallied around Gran that Christmas and in the two years after. The last thing Pappy would’ve wanted was for her to be anything other than happy at Christmastime.

She gazed out the window at the blur of white surrounding them. The mountains ascended directly from the edge of the curving road and stretched into the sky, the trees barely visible under the snow-cover. She just couldn’t fathom that this might be her last holiday in the magical place that had shaped who she was today; it would most likely be her final visit to the inn that her grandparents had run since before her father was even born.

And poor Gran had no idea what they’d all planned to do. She was about to be blindsided. The guilt of that swarmed Scarlett.

“You haven’t spoken a word the entire five hours that we’ve been in the car, except once to say you needed to stop for a restroom break,” her father said, gripping the wheel with one hand as he rounded a turn up the mountain easily, despite the deluge of snow, his four-wheel drive working overtime. “I wanted to let this sink in for you, but I’m dying to know how you’re feeling.” He rested a relaxed hand on the stick shift. For anyone else, the trip up the mountain was treacherous, but her father had made the journey so many times that he knew every bend in the road, every dip in the terrain.

“I know you don’t agree with putting the inn on the market, Scarlett,” he said, “but Gran can’t handle running it without Pappy, and even if she could, White Oaks is struggling. Gran had to drop the room rates this past summer to entice people to choose White Oaks over those new resorts. Yet still she barely hit a third of the revenue she needs to keep it running. It’s costing her more to stay open now than she’s making. And, as we discussed during the family meeting last month, we don’t even—collectively—have the kind of money she needs to keep it going.”

In its prime, White Oaks Inn was a summer retreat for those searching for a shaded mountain reprieve from the relentless heat in the south. But with the development of resort-style mountain-living condos and inns popping up in nearby towns, White Oaks was having a difficult time keeping up with the demand for amenities. They didn’t have on-site yoga studios, fly-fishing classes, hiking guides, Olympic-size swimming pools—none of the offerings the other locations had. And Gran refused to add those things.

“This is a place for rest,” she’d said, when Scarlett had suggested a few upgrades on the phone the last time they’d spoken.

Scarlett knew that making major changes to the inn for it to become profitable would be a full-time job. And she’d have to convince Gran of each and every modification. Scarlett was the only one in the family who could take on this role, as she only had herself to worry about. She’d spent a long couple of years doing a job she hated, but she’d only just been given a new position as Marketing Manager at Electra Media. She was much happier, although the job took up more of her time. She had barely been able to get away for the Christmas holiday, much less run an inn. So while Scarlett didn’t want to let the inn go, she knew that she would have to agree with the family’s decision to sell it. It was the best financial option for Gran, even though she would certainly be devastated when she found out what they’d been planning. Nevertheless, Gran didn’t have a choice. At the speed she was losing money, she’d go broke if she opposed the decision.

When the family had met, they’d decided it would be best to wait until after Christmas to tell her, so as not to spoil her holiday. While they wanted Gran to be part of the family discussion, they had to be very delicate about how to approach it with her. White Oaks Inn was an extremely special place to her. She’d bought it with Pappy and raised all her children there. Selling it wasn’t something they could easily drop into conversation, so they’d decided to tell her while they were all present to give her support, and after they’d had one more Christmas to add to their wonderful memories over the years.

Scarlett realized she hadn’t answered her father’s question when he added, “I also know how much you love White Oaks and how hard this must be for you. But it’s all we can do now.”

“If we have to go through with this, I just hope a new buyer won’t want to change it. I wish there was something else we could do…” Scarlett finally said. Christmas was the time when all the people in town rallied around one another, lifting everyone up. This didn’t feel like Christmas. They were going to go through the motions of the annual Christmas party—they’d unwrap gifts; the entire family and all their friends in town were joining them—but Scarlett would know the whole time that after Christmas they had to drop that news on Gran, and she didn’t think she’d be able to enjoy herself at all. Nor did she feel it was fair to Gran that they all knew this, but she did understand about the holiday—Christmas was Gran’s favorite time of year, and it would be terrible to ruin it for her.

Scarlett took in a breath of cold air and let it out slowly to ease the tension in her shoulders. “Can we go the long route through Silver Falls on the way to White Oaks? Maybe it’ll help me feel more like Christmas.”

“Absolutely,” her father said, changing course and taking the right side of the fork in the road, headed for town.

Silver Falls was nestled on the side of the mountain, with sweeping views of the valley below. It was named for the iridescent falls that cascaded down the mountain. The water whooshed past the wild hackberry, cherry, and pine trees that surrounded them. In the summer, Scarlett would swim in the river pools that collected under them, only coming out to have a snack. She’d make a little pile in her lap of wild chestnuts that grew in the area, crack them, and snack on them while sitting at the edge of the waterfalls, dipping her feet in to combat the heat.

Scarlett had always loved how she could see for miles, the river winding like a blue ribbon through the foliage. Silver Falls had a little park with a perfect panorama of the falls that attracted vacationers in the summer, but in the winter, they were just as beautiful: ice crystals clung to the rock behind the falling water, causing it to sparkle as if it were full of gemstones. She couldn’t wait to see it again.

In the warmer months, Silver Falls was a bustling tourist spot with shops full of handmade goods, a local watering hole, antiques stalls, a little coffee shop, and a bookstore, but in the winter it was spectacular, and with lower visitor numbers it was always a time to celebrate for the locals. Anyone lucky enough to get up the mountain to visit at Christmastime would find the townspeople decorating to the nines for the holiday, keeping their doors open past closing time, and gathering together to celebrate their tight-knit community.

“Oh, look.” Scarlett’s dad pointed to the sign outside the only bar in town. It was actually named The Only Bar in Town, but referred to simply as “The Bar” by locals.

Scarlett read the sign and grinned for the first time all day: Live music all weekend! Preston Meade! He’ll be taking requests from everyone but Loretta.

Even Loretta Fitzpatrick, who ran a local dating service, would laugh at that one. Scarlett and Loretta were the same age, and had spent many summers together. Loretta was a great listener, and she loved to hear all about Scarlett’s love life as a teenager. They’d talk by the falls until the evening bugs in the woods were unbearable and they had to go in. Sometimes, they’d just move the conversation to the back garden at the inn until there was barely any light left in the sky. When it got too dark, Scarlett would ask her dad if she could take Loretta home in his old truck. Her favorite memories were driving back to the inn with nothing but the summer wind in her hair and the sound of the radio.

Since starting the agency, Loretta was always trying to find local musician Preston Meade’s true love, throwing women his way any chance she got. The problem was that Preston was one of those people who could perform on stage, but in his personal life, he was an extremely private guy, working days at the town bank, where he had a small office in the back.

Everyone joked with him, saying he’d taken the job because he didn’t have to speak to anyone. He was a good sport about it. His quiet demeanor never affected Loretta, though; she would bounce over to him, talking a mile a minute about someone she knew was the perfect person for him whenever he came into the bar, and he always respectfully humored her by nodding, when it was clear that he had no interest in whomever she had in mind. She’d step away to powder her nose and he’d disappear—sometimes completely, and other times to go on stage. It only seemed to fuel her determination to set him up. She’d scan the crowd, her eyes sparkling with interest.

“Why don’t we stop in for a minute and see Cappy?”

“It would be nice to see him.”

Scarlett had to admit that, despite her current conundrum with White Oaks and Gran, she was thrilled to stop in to The Bar to visit its owner, Cappy Bradshaw. She’d known him since she was a little girl. Having grown up with only her father—her mother had sadly died of cancer when she was eleven—she’d always been her dad’s shadow. They spent every summer and holiday in Silver Falls, and when he needed to let off a little steam and grab a beer, he’d taken her with him. Cappy’s wife Jess had had a special place in the back room for her, and the two of them would talk while her father and Cappy caught up on the latest in sports or what was going on in town. Scarlett’s time with Jess was one of the few opportunities that Scarlett had received the one-on-one attention of another woman she trusted.

Scarlett’s dad pulled the truck to a stop in front of the bar and hopped out, Scarlett rounding the vehicle to follow him inside.

Her father tugged open the thick walnut door, cloaked in an enormous Christmas wreath of fresh evergreen and pine cones, with a red ribbon trailing nearly all the way down to the cobbled path that led to the bar. Scarlett tried not to slip on the sheet of ice that had covered the cobbles, despite the layer of what looked like salt that Cappy had probably put down this morning instead of his usual sweeping.

Cappy was behind the bar, which was trimmed in more Christmas greenery. The glistening live tree in the bay window at the front cast little champagne-colored circles onto the shiny surface of the bar top. Cappy’s almond beard had grayed a bit more since Scarlett had seen him last, but his smile was just the same.

“Blue!” he called, slapping the small towel he’d been using to shine the bar over his shoulder and walking to the other side to greet them.

Blue was Scarlett’s father’s nickname and the name that he’d used her entire life. He was born Steven Bailey, but everyone called him Blue—even Gran. The name had stuck after he’d attempted to paint a water tower when he was in high school, only to never make it up the ladder because he spilled the bucket of paint on himself and the young lady walking by. He’d married that very lady ten years later. Her name was Evelyn, Scarlett’s mother.

“Seeing you two is getting me excited for the big Christmas party at White Oaks,” Cappy said, pulling a chair out from one of the empty tables for Scarlett and kissing her on the cheek. As her father sat down beside her, Cappy turned another chair around backwards and straddled it, folding his arms on top. “Your brother was in here earlier,” he said to her father. “I’m sure he’s at the inn by now. I think you’re the last of the Baileys to make it up the mountain.”

“Joe’s here already?” her father asked, shaking his head, amused. “Always the overachiever.”

Cappy chuckled at the sibling rivalry between her father and his older brother Joe. But then he sobered. “I didn’t have time to talk to Joe about it because he was headed out the door, but he mentioned you might be selling White Oaks.”

Blue offered a solemn nod. “Yes. We haven’t told my mother; we’re keeping it very quiet. I think we’re going to be forced to sell, though…” He shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “We need a buyer fast if we want White Oaks to remain in good condition. Know anyone in the market for a 30,000 square-foot hotel?” her father asked with a forced laugh.

Cappy looked thoughtful. “Actually…” He stood up and went behind the bar where he grabbed a small white card, bringing it back over to them. He slid it across the table to Blue. “This guy came in about eight months ago. His name was Charles Bryant. Do you remember him at all?”

“That name sounds a bit familiar,” Blue said, clearly searching his memory but coming up short of the connection.

“You might have heard of him. He’s the one who built Croft Ridge Resort and Suites down the road.”

“The big one with the water slides?”

Cappy sighed. “Yep.” He pulled the towel from his shoulder and set it on the table, leaning on the chair again. “But he has quite a story. He came in to drop his card off, and I didn’t think anything of it. He went on his way. But last week, he showed up again and dropped a bombshell.”

“What was it?” Scarlett asked.

“He asked if I remembered him from his last visit, and, of course, I did. He also told me he was Amos’s son.”

Scarlett had childhood memories of Amos Bryant. He’d often dance into the farmers’ market, whistling, and when June the owner of the market greeted him, he took her hands and twirled her around, making her laugh before heading over to the dairy section or the vegetables. He seemed to always be cooking something back at his cottage, his shopping list full. But what no one knew until his final days was that he was lonely—he’d admitted it to Gran once. His wife had passed away well before her time, and he’d spent the rest of his days alone, except for his visits to Gran and Pappy’s and the mornings he spent at the coffee shop with his book and his favorite mug that he brought with him every day. He’d said that he’d bought his cottage in Silver Falls with the idea that he’d have a family in it one day. But he never did. The story had always stayed with Scarlett. But the thing that she hadn’t heard in all those years was that Amos had a son.

“Amos had a child?” Blue asked.

“Apparently. Odd that we never saw him, right?”

“Now that I think of it, I remember seeing Amos with a boy once,” Blue said. “He was about thirteen. Amos got him ice cream. But it was only the one time. I just figured he was a nephew or something.”

“Weird, isn’t it? But I digress,” Cappy said. “What I wanted to tell you was that the first time Mr. Bryant came in, he said he was specifically looking for a plot of land in Silver Falls to open one of his resorts.” This information pulled Scarlett out of her thoughts about Amos. “He wants to do something completely different, thank God—something more traditional. As he said, he wants ‘to represent the fabric of Silver Falls.’”

Scarlett lit up at that news. “If we have to sell, he sounds like a potentially great buyer,” she said, taking Charles Bryant’s business card off the table and looking it over.

She’d seen the profiles of a few of the people her father had contacted regarding their interest in buying the inn, and none of them had felt right. Their other properties were either too showy or downright tacky. If she could have a conversation with Charles Bryant, she might be able to convince him to keep the integrity of White Oaks Inn—if he was, in fact, Amos’s son. Amos was a family friend and a long-time resident of Silver Falls—he’d passed away the same way he’d lived: quietly. Amos’s cabin on the hillside, now vacant, was understated, nearly blending in with the terrain. He’d never been ostentatious in any way. So, even though Charles Bryant clearly hadn’t grown up in Silver Falls, he must at least be familiar with Amos’s way of life.

Blue nodded, clearly considering the prospect as well.

“May I keep this?” Scarlett asked, still holding the card in her hand.

“Absolutely. Y’all want a beer?” Cappy asked.

“Maybe later,” Blue said, patting Cappy on the shoulder as he stood up. “We just wanted to stop in on our way to White Oaks to say hello.”

“Yeah, you’d better go help Joe with the tree. He just left with the biggest one ol’ Farmer Jax had.” Cappy nodded toward the view through the window of the Berry Farms Christmas lot, the place where Jax Henderson set up trees from his farm every year. He personally toted each one to the lot himself in his fully restored 1958 pale blue Ford pickup. “Glad you stopped in!” Cappy continued happily. “Jess is home today. She’ll be so sorry she missed you. She’s already baking for the Christmas party.”

“I can’t wait to see her,” Scarlett said, standing up and pushing her chair back under the table, Charles Bryant’s card secured tightly within her fist.

Scarlett was already plotting how to steal a moment away from the rest of the family as soon as she got to the inn, so she could make the call to Mr. Bryant to get a read on him. It would be such a relief to go through Christmas knowing that she had a solid plan that even Gran might approve of. Although, with a new owner, Gran would have to leave the inn, it could lighten the blow if she knew it would be in good hands. This might be Scarlett’s chance to save White Oaks. But with Christmas just a few days away, she’d have to work fast.

The snowfall drifted to the ground like feathers, light and airy, settling on the Christmas garland that was draped along the length of both the upper and lower lacquered railings of the main house of White Oaks Inn. When Scarlett and her father arrived, the ten-foot spruce on the front grounds sparkled in white lights, and wreaths of fresh greenery were already hung from every window by wide ribbons the color of red wine. The local firefighter Wes Warren helped Gran hang them every year. He used his truck ladder to put them up for her.

Blue greeted Uncle Joe, who was standing on the porch again in Pappy’s absence, and then gingerly pulled the truck through the unplowed private drive that overlooked the valley below at the back of the main house. The snow clearly wasn’t enough to deter Scarlett’s seventeen-year-old cousin Heidi from her yearly quest for phone service. She. . .