Christmas at the Hummingbird House Read Free Page A

because the entire experience had been such a nightmare, neither of them had dared to believe they might ever recover anything … until now.
    Peering over Paul’s shoulder, Harmony smiled beneficently, looking far too pleased with herself.  “There now, didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I say you would come into money before Christmas?  When will you ever stop doubting me?”
    Harmony was a dramatic-looking woman somewhere beyond the point of middle-age, tall, broad shouldered and big busted, with goldilocks curls, coarse skin and a flair for brightly colored caftans and outrageous jewelry.  She liked to think of herself as “spiritually gifted,” and in fact claimed it was her spirit guides who had led her to move semi-permanently into the Hummingbird House’s fuchsia room.  Paul and Derrick were still not entirely sure how they felt about this, but her idiosyncrasies were made a lot more palatable by the fact that she not only paid in full and on time every month, but had also assigned herself the role of part-time general manager of the B&B, freeing Paul and Derrick to do what they did best—provide their guests with a memorable vacation experience, complete in every detail.  The fact that Harmony happened to be heiress to one of the largest hotel fortunes in the US did a great deal to plump up her credibility, of course.  On the other hand, her tendency to fly off to Greece or Sri Lanka or Dubai on a moment’s notice and be gone for weeks made her something less than a reliable GM.
    She gave Paul’s shoulder an affectionate pat and added, “And you were worried about building the spa!  Everything comes together in perfect harmony when you listen to your inner truth.”
    Paul and Derrick exchanged a look and each of them decided, with the wisdom of experience, not to respond to that. The spa had been a point of contention between them since they’d bought the place, Derrick having envisioned something along the lines of the Golden Door Spa and Resort in Escondido, and Paul preferring more of a Roman Baths theme.  As it turned out, none of the local builders were capable of executing either vision, and, having learned their lesson about hiring contractors from out of town, they compromised by extending one of the back rooms of the Hummingbird House and outfitting it with a hot tub, a steam room, and a massage room that overlooked the blissful serenity of the Appalachian mountains.  Still, the cost was exorbitant, and none of their friends believed they could recoup their investment in a rural area like this.
    As luck would have it, Harmony was also a licensed massage therapist.  Without her insistence, it was unlikely they would have gone through with the project.  But they had to admit, the offer of a spa with couples massage had been the piece de resistance in their Christmas package.
    Both men momentarily gave their attention to Harmony. “Booked up,” Paul said, and a slow and satisfied gleam lit his eyes.  “We’re booked up!”
    He took the reservation form from Harmony’s hand and admired it as he led the way to the office.  “Dr. and Mrs. Bryce Phipps from Seattle, Washington,” he read out loud. “They sound like a perfectly lovely people.”
    “They’re in what?” Derrick said, edging around Paul to study the reservation board that was mounted on the east wall of the office.  “The plum room?”
    Each room of the Hummingbird House was characterized by a brightly colored exterior door, each door a different color.  The overall effect of those playfully painted doors on the rugged timber-frame lodge was both whimsical and ridiculous, and it was the most distinguishing visual feature of the inn—which, as Harmony pointed out, the camera loved.  They had gotten more than one magazine feature already based on nothing but the doors.
    The color theme of each door was carried into the room with tasteful decorative touches, and each room was named for its color.  Derrick took a