Love for Christmas

By Kate Hofman

Nick and Ellie have been divorced for two years, due to the vicious machinations of Monique, his secretary. When they meet, accidentally, at a hotel in the Quebec countryside, they begin to resolve their differences. Suddenly, Monique appears. Was she there at Nick's invitation, as she tells Ellie, or is she stalking Nick? How can Ellie be sure Nick is serious about her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: DCL Publications
• Release date: Jun 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9780984282845

Kate Hofman

Born in The Netherlands, we went to live in London, England, when I was eighteen.BFA – Art History, Major. Interior Design, Minor.Moved to Montreal, Canada. (I figured I might as well be paid for being fluent in French). Married Arnold Hofman, a truly fabulous man. Owned and operated an art gallery for twelve years. Widowed ten years ago. Became friends with Nina Bruhns, who urged me to write.I did as I was told, and in the next five years I wrote two dozen books. I figured that’s what it would take to learn to write. And I was wrong!Rose Brungard took pity on me and gave unstintingly of her own expertise, sending long teaching e-mails, which helped me a lot.I also owe my grateful thanks to Thea Devine, who taught me to play “What If” when the writing isn’t going well.And more recently, I have been given generous help, encouragement and advice by Jennifer Mueller, a wonderful writer, who also provided the stunning cover art for all my books published by Romance At Heart. I owe you all so much.Sincerely,Kate Hofman

Book preview

Love For Christmas

By

Kate Hofman

DCL Publications, LLC

www.thedarkcastlelords.com

© 2009 by Kate Hofman

All rights reserved

First Edition November 2009

DCL Publications

1033 Plymouth Dr.

Grafton, OH 44044

ISBN 978-0-9842828-4-5

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Once again, my gratitude goes to BILL FREDA who embodied my Nick Quentin with effortless grace, exactly as I imagined him.

~~~~

My delighted thanks, as so many times before, to MARY EVERETT my critique partner par excellence, for giving me so generously of her time and expertise.

You’re the best, Mary!

Prologue

Ocean Breeze, Florida

The offices of Mellis & Houghton, Attorneys-at-Law

December 21

Marcella, this bonus—it’s huge… I… Eloïse Dumaresq gazed hesitantly at her friend and employer.

Marcella Mellis interrupted smoothly. "You forget you’ve been working here for two years without a break, Ellie. High time you had a holiday, and went somewhere wonderful. That’s why Mac and I booked you into the Auberge des Laurentides in SainteAnne-des-Monts, with the full agreement of Brent Houghton, by the way. For an ex-Montrealer like yourself, the Laurentians should have a special attraction. And we didn’t want you to have to worry about money."

I’m not worried about money, Marce. You pay me so well and…

…your tiny studio condo in The Curlew costs very little in taxes and condo fees. Marcella frowned at her friend. You know my opinion on your refusal to accept even a modest alimony from Nick—all that old money, plus a huge income from his bestsellers, movie rights, foreign translations, what-all. He felt so guilty when you wouldn’t accept anything from him… She glanced at Eloïse and decided to drop the subject. Mention of Nick invariably saddened her friend.

Marcella thought the divorce idea had been started, and avidly kept going, by Monique Lachaille, Nick’s secretary-researcher. Monique had rightly counted on Ellie’s pride, certain that Ellie would refuse to plead with Nick to give their marriage a chance. Marcella smiled a little grimly. If Monique had thought Nick would marry her once the divorce was through, she had been deluding herself. Furious, she had become demanding and clingy, causing Nick to fire her and hire a male researcher.

Robert MacGregor, Marcella’s life-partner, stuck his head around the door. Closed early so I could come and pick you up—we’ve got to get home before our guests arrive, Marce. Marcella gave him a radiant smile. Eloïse turned to the newcomer.

Mac, thank you so very much for this wonderful holiday in the snow you and Marcella—and Brent—are giving me. I’m so delighted you picked Sainte-Anne, a quiet village without ski-lifts, and therefore without hordes of skiers partying all night, skiing a bit, then partying all day. Thank you for saving me from that. She made a shooing motion to her friends. I can see you’re in a hurry to get home, Marce, Mac. A very Merry Christmas to you both.

You too, Ellie. And let’s hope the Quebec snow will be able to bring a lasting smile to your face. Marcella glanced at her friend, concern in her eyes.

For a moment, Eloïse looked ineffably sad. She recovered quickly, smiling brightly at her friends and benefactors. I’m sure of it.

Chapter 1

The next morning, Eloïse took the direct flight from Dayona Beach to Montreal. While waiting for her luggage, a loudspeaker came to life, asking Ms. Eloïse Dumaresq to come to the reception desk in the main hall. She retrieved her wheeled suitcase, clipping her overnight tote to it, and went in search of the reception. It was clearly marked, and when she gave her name, the receptionist beckoned a man wearing what was probably an Arctic chauffeur’s uniform. In his hand, he held a chauffeur’s peaked cap with lined earflaps; over his uniform he had a fur-lined waterproof coat.

Madame? he enquired. Eloïse answered in French, to the man’s great delight. "Pierre Beauce, at your service. I drive the limousine for the Auberge des Laurentides. Ah, with a name like Dumaresq, I was hoping you might speak French. My English, it is not so good," he smiled, showing a gold incisor. He led her to a limousine with Auberge des Laurentides showing in discreet lettering on the side. After settling her in the back seat, he explained, "At this time of day, I will avoid Montreal Autoroute des Laurentides by taking the Autoroute de Chomédey, which connects with the by the rivers. You are familiar with the area, Madame?"

Eloïse nodded. Yes, I’ve lived in Montreal for many years, and at weekends we went to our cottage at Sainte-Adèle. Pierre beamed his pleasure at being able to discuss familiar territory.

When they reached Sainte-Agathe-des Monts, Pierre explained, "We will turn off here on a small road, leading direct to SainteAnne and the Auberge." Once on the small road, there was hardly any traffic, except for a low-slung sporty car which passed them smoothly.

Ah, said Pierre, kissing his fingertips, "that is the latest Jaguar. I recall the name of the modèle, an XK décapotable—convertible. It is a beautiful car. I am glad he has chains on his wheels. Perhaps the driver is going to the Auberge? There is nothing else up this road, except the village of Ste-Anne, and after quite a while, a back entrance to the Mont-Tremblant Provincial Park."

After another ten minutes, Eloise saw an imposing hotel façade, the focal point of impressive, park-like grounds, with a small lake, now frozen and snow-covered, in the foreground. The name Auberge des Laurentides was discreetly displayed on an elegant, carved solid oak board placed at the side of the road leading through the grounds to the hotel. When Pierre followed a turn in the road, she got a better look at her abode for the next few weeks, and liked what she saw. It was a long building of three floors only. The first floor had individual patios, the upper floors had balconies. The second floor seemed to be the most important one, for there were several double doors leading to terraces above the huge cedar canopy, protecting the hotel’s entrance from the vagaries of the weather.

"Voilà, Madame, said Pierre, opening the passenger door and helping her out of her seat. I bring your luggage." He gestured up the broad stone steps leading to the entrance doors, one of which was opened quickly by a doorman, the moment Eloïse set foot on the wide stone area in front of the entrance. Ahead of her she saw a tall, dark man in a brown sheepskin car-coat. He was walking away from the reception, following a bellman with a cart, going to the elevators. For a moment, she felt a churning sensation, then she took herself to task. After two years, it’s ludicrous, getting upset every time you see a tall, dark man from behind, thinking he might be Nick, wanting to give him a piece of your mind. Nick likes high, steep mountains for skiing. And this isn’t ski country anyway.

Meanwhile, she reached the desk, glancing about her with delight. The great hall was decorated with swags and garlands of evergreens, to which colourless mini-lights and small gold Christmas ornaments were attached. The decorations gave the place a discreet, festive air. At the far end, between two sets of double doors leading outside, there was a tall Christmas tree, decorated in the same way as the garlands—clear mini-lights and gold ornaments. When she gave the receptionist her name, she was told quickly that a room on the second floor had been reserved for her. For one moment, she wondered about the rooms with the big terraces she had seen. She quickly dismissed the idea, surely they would be suites. In this she was proved correct. The room she was given was several doors past the central suites. Even so, her view was just as glorious, and with the temperature hovering around ten below, she thought she wouldn’t make use of her balcony. The bellman quickly demonstrated how she could open the outer door on the right, and the inner one on the left, and in this way get some gentle fresh air rather than the full arctic blast of the high winds, which were swaying the tall evergreens surrounding the lake she had noticed earlier.

She glanced around her room with delight. The furniture resembled the Habitant handmade style introduced by the