Puppy Love for Christmas

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

The trek to the hotel was slow going. Sabrina did her best, but Chris alternated from lethargic to sudden bursts of energy. Once they reached the path that led to the Wakefield, Chris escaped Sabrina’s hold and twirled like one of the lords a leaping in the “Twelve Days of Christmas” song. She had to run after him, which then turned the moment into a game in Chris’s mind. He kept yelling for her to catch him, waving his hands in the air in the processes.

By the time they reached the service entrance at the back of the sprawling property, Sabrina was about ready to pull her hair out. Thankfully, Chris returned to his lethargic state where all he could concentrate on was walking. And thank God for that because Sabrina had no idea how she would drag him up the path if he had passed out. She could fashion a cot with leaves and twigs, but that would take time. And time she didn’t have. She needed him in bed.

Then there was the incoherent mumbling. Some of it Sabrina understood. Like the time Chris spoke fondly about Einstein. Unfortunately, she had no idea if he meant his dog or the actual scientist. Then he moved on to solving quadratic equations. That part might as well have been gibberish to Sabrina. She didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry during the entire ordeal.

Somewhere along the way, she managed to send her mother a text. The second they arrived at the door, she was there, uniform crisp as when she had put it on that morning and gray hair in a tight bun. Her usual mask of professionalism was set aside for a worried expression. Beside her was the hotel nurse management kept on hand for emergencies.

“How much of the Benadryl did he take?” the nurse asked, taking Chris’ face in both her hands and looking into his eyes. She wore a white uniform reminiscent of the nurses during WWII. Sabrina always thought the outfit was cute.

“Half the bottle,” she said, an approximate estimation as she handed over the paper bag with the medicine in it.

The nurse examined the bottle.

“Will he be okay?” her mother asked. Sabrina knew by the look on her face that she was debating whether to call Dr. Weaver first or Chris’s parents. Sabrina’s vote was on Dr. Weaver.

“Based on his height and eyeballing his weight, he’ll be fine,” the nurse said, exasperation clear in her voice. “You won’t believe the stuff I’ve seen with guests downing an entire bottle of this stuff.”

“Then it was good that I stopped him from doing the same thing,” Sabrina said.

The nurse nodded. “I suggest someone stay with him for the night. I’d do it but I have to be at the clinic. We have a full house and that usually means emergencies every thirty minutes.”

“I’ll send someone up,” her mother said, but from the way her eyebrows came together Sabrina knew that was going to be a challenge.

She adjusted her hold on Chris and said, “The hotel can’t spare anyone because we’re booked to capacity for the festival. I’ll do it.”

Her mother waved two bellhops over. “Please take Christopher to the Wakefield Suite, but use the service elevator. I don’t want the guests to start talking, especially since his parents are in town.”

The two men relieved Sabrina of her burden. She rolled her shoulders and neck, hearing a couple of pops. Then she sighed. Chris bobbed his head, mumbled something about cookies, then passed out.

“I’ll settle him in,” the nurse said. Then she turned and left with the bellhops.

Sabrina’s mom leveled her gaze on her. “You don’t have to do this. I can—”

“It’s fine.” Sabrina waved off the rest of what her mother was about to say. “It’s partially my fault that we’re in this mess. How would I know that he’s allergic to peppermint? But what I do know is Chris. We’re not little kids anymore. He’ll sleep this off and I’ll keep an eye on him while he does. No biggie.”

“Isn’t this the busiest time for your too? With all the events looming.”

She shrugged. “The Sanctuary can spare me for a few more hours. We actually had a couple of volunteers show up today. Sharleen can finalize some details. Nothing she can’t handle. And Marcy can always be called if there was an emergency. This is Chris’s first Christmas festival back and I pretty much poisoned him. We’ll be fine. I hope.”

“How did I get lucky with such a good kid like you?” Her mother smiled, touching Sabrina’s cheek. “Besides the poisoning part.”

Sabrina leaned into the show of affection. “We Fairbanks women need to stick together.” She winked. Then she gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. As she walked away in pursuit of Chris, she looked over her shoulder and added with a grin, “Don’t think I won’t take advantage of room service tonight.”

“Order whatever you want. You’re a lifesaver.” Her mother waved before she turned toward the hallway that would lead her to the lobby where all the real action happened.

Sabrina passed the laundry room on her way. White bags filled with sheets, towels, and uniforms were stacked in large bins. The Wakefield prided itself in doing everything in house. They were not slaves to outside services that could sometimes put them in a jam. A hotel without sheets? Unthinkable.

Once she left behind the smell of detergent and fabric softener, a smile crossed Sabrina’s lips. She was about to enter her favorite place in all of the hotel. The views of the Atlantic from the balconies couldn’t compare to the three Michelin star service of the kitchen—where all the scrumptious creations lived.

The second she pushed through the swing door, the delectable scents of sautéing garlic, caramelizing onions, and melting butter enveloped her in comfort. A few more steps and mouth-watering cheese tickled her nose. She inhaled deeply and imagined what Chef Cynthia—trained at Le Cordon Blue—came up with for the lunch service. She wasn’t called the maestro for nothing. People came to the Wakefield for her food just as much as for the Christmas by the Sea Festival.

Sabrina said her hellos as she passed each sous-chef, dish-washer, and line-cook. When she reached the pastry station, she glanced over her shoulder at Chef Cynthia who was busy checking each dish before it left the kitchen. With a trained hand, Sabrina swiped one of the gingerbread cookies. They were as big as her palm.

“I saw that!” Chef Cynthia admonished in her French-accented English without giving Sabrina so much of a glance.

The master baker gave Sabrina a sly smile and pushed another cookie into her hand before sending her off. Sabrina was already halfway through munching on her first cookie when she reached the service elevator. The taste of ginger brought out the remaining notes of chocolate from the hot cocoa she had to discard the second Chris’s face swelled up. She had no idea being allergic to peppermint was even a thing. Poor guy.

She polished off the last of the gingerbread as the door to the service elevator slid open. As much as she wanted to eat the second one, she saved it for Chris for when he woke up. It was the least she could do after almost killing him with her inhuman love for peppermint.

Once inside the elevator, she pulled out her master keycard. It gave access to every room in the Wakefield, even the staff only areas. Naturally, only a handful possessed the keys. The Wakefields. Her mom, being the manager. The cleaning staff. And herself. Having the card always gave Sabrina a rush of power as she swiped it against the card reader. Then she pressed the P at the top of the rows and rows of buttons.

The Wakefield Suite was part of a handful of penthouse suites. Originally, the Wakefield was a family home with twenty rooms. During the 20s, it was converted into a bed and breakfast. Over the years, it became a destination location that the family expanded the property into the hotel it was today. Over a hundred rooms, a ballroom, a main room where the massive fireplace remained lit day and night, the game room, and the infamous dining room where Chef Cynthia’s creations were enjoyed by one and all.

The elevator stopped at the top floor with a jaunty ding. The door slid open once again. Sabrina peaked her head out. She looked left then right. Gold and blue carpet covered the floors while white and blue wallpaper lined the walls. At even intervals were gilt mirrors with small tables and floral centerpieces. For the holidays, garlands covered the tables with ceramic Christmas houses as the centerpieces.

Sabrina stepped into the empty hallway, enjoying the silence. Many years ago, she and Chris loved playing pranks on the guests. They would coordinate their clothes and stand holding hands at the end of a hallway. They waited for guests to arrive. This was after they had watched The Shinning. Their mothers weren’t happy when word spread that a pair of children were freaking out the guests.

Ah, memories. They had a funny way of popping up at the most random times. Anything could trigger them. The scent of lavender. The sweetness of cherries. Mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

Hands behind her back, Sabrina turned left and with kicking steps headed to the end of the hallway where the door to the Wakefield Suite waited for her. Behind her, at the opposite end of the hallway, was the Manager’s Suite. She and her mother had lived there for as long as Sabrina could remember. She didn’t know another home than the Wakefield. Which made thinking of moving out feel weird. She shook her head and pushed the thought aside. She still had until the end of the year to worry about that. She hadn’t even told her mom.

At the door, she tapped her magical all-access card onto the card reader. The light turned green followed by the electronic slipping of the lock. She wrapped her fingers around the antique gold door handle and let herself in.

Despite growing up at the Wakefield, she could count the number of times she had been in the family suite on one hand. The Wakefields preferred staying at their mansion at the edge of town. Usually, the Wakefield Suite was reserved for visiting family members or foreign dignitaries. It served as the unofficial presidential suite of the hotel when none of the Wakefields were in residence.

With an occupant or not, the suite was decked in the best holiday decorations. A ten-foot tree sat in one corner of the living room. White lights wrapped around its branches. And in line with the town’s color-scheme for the year, all ornaments were in either gold or red with a large ribbon lined with glitter snaked its way from the festive tree skirt to the antique angel that sat at the top. Family heirloom stockings hung along the fireplace. A flame already danced within, courtesy of one of the bellhops for sure. Family photos lined the mantle along with Grandma Wakefield’s collection of snow globes.

The touch of Christmas wasn’t just confined to the tastefully decorated living room. Santa mugs hung from hooks in the kitchenet. Reindeer magnets were arranged on the refrigerator door. A gingerbread house sat on the counter along with a fresh plate of butter cookies. Sabrina added her extra gingerbread cookie to the top of the pile then she made her way down the hall where more family photos hung along the walls. Generations of Wakefields told the story of the hotel through the years. From black and white photos to pictures that yellowed from age to the newer digitally produced snapshots.

She paused at a picture of her and Chris standing by the pool of the hotel with their arms around each other’s shoulders. She was in a white polka dot red one piece and he was in swimming shorts with the planets as the design. What made her smile were the huge grins on their young faces. They had both lost their front teeth that summer so there was a noticeable gap when they smiled.

The picture made Sabrina realize, all her childhood was filled with memories of Chris. They were inseparable. Yet she wouldn’t call them close, especially after they reached high school. Chris skipped a couple of grades, leaving their class behind. They barely had spoken during those years. Then he left for MIT and hadn’t looked back. Wow. Where had the time gone? Was he still that kid with two missing front teeth?

A groan came from one of the rooms. It knocked Sabrina back to the present. She headed to the door to her right. It had been left ajar. She knocked softly and let herself in.

“Chris?” she whispered.

Soft light from a lamp on the desk by the wall allowed her to make out the mound on the bed. It shifted at the sound of her voice. She came closer until she reached the side of the bed. Only the top of Chris’ head was visible. He—or maybe the nurse—had the covers up to his face. That must not have been too comfortable since the temperature in the room was quite warm.

Sabrina pulled the covers down to Chris’ shoulders. He sighed as if in relief. His cheeks were flushed. She touched the back of her hand against his forehead. It didn’t feel like he had a fever, just warm from all the duvets swallowing him whole. She peeked underneath the covers. Good. They had removed most of his layers. What was left—from what she could see—was his undershirt. Hopefully, he still had his jeans on. She wasn’t about to confirm.

“Hey, Drunky,” she said in the quiet tone she used to calm a particularly anxious dog who had just been rescued. “How’s it going?”

“Hot,” he said in a sleepy response.

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I can fix that.”

She made her way to the thermostat and decreased the temperature. Nothing as cold as the air outside, but enough that being under the thick hotel duvet became cozy. Then she returned to Chris’s bedside.

“Anything else you need?” she asked, noticing the glass of water left on the bedside table. There was also a note on hotel stationary there left by the nurse. It reminded Sabrina to call should she need help.

“Stay with me?”

For a second, Sabrina heard the young boy she used to play with in the hotel. He seemed so vulnerable in that moment without his glasses. On impulse, she ran her fingers through his neat hair, mussing the strands just a little. It gave her immense pleasure for some reason. Buttoned up Christopher Wakefield looked good slightly mussed.

“I’m right here.” She sat at the edge of the bed. “Do you remember the time we thought how cool it would be if the pool had bubbles?”

Chris opened one eye. The corner crinkled. “We were banned from the pool for a month after that. My dad was so mad.”

Sabrina giggled. His speech wasn’t slurred anymore, but his tone still had a drunk quality to it. Airy. Not quite in control of everything he said.

“We had so much fun back then.” She exhaled in reminiscence.

Chris reached up and twirled one of her curls in his finger. Sabrina froze, holding her breath.

“I like your hair,” he said.

“Yeah?” Sabrina remained still, unsure what she should do.

He pulled his finger from her hair and the corkscrew curl bounced back into place. Then he pointed at one of her cheeks. “I like the freckles here to here.”

She gasped when the tip of his finger traced a line from her left check to her right cheek. “I try to hide them with makeup.”

“Don’t,” he said in a forceful tone. “They are pretty.”

There was a pause. Sabrina thought he had finally fallen asleep when his arm dropped to his side once more and his eye closed. She stood up and tucked his arm back under the duvet.

“Everything about you I find pretty,” Chris mumbled.

***

When Chris’s parents arrived soon after he conked out, Sabrina took a moment to sneak into the suite she shared with her mother. She just needed to breathe. Surely that was the Benadryl talking and not Chris. More than once she had entertained a crush on Chris, but it never moved past that. She was either with someone else or Chris was gone, never to return. But he was back now. He was back and telling her he thought she was pretty.

She leaned against the closed door and breathed. Her cheeks felt flushed. Then she smacked the heel of her hand against of her forehead. What was she thinking? He was only back for the holidays. And she had the shelter. That needed all of her attention.

The door nudged open. She hadn’t heard the lock. Sabrina stepped forward, allowing the door to fully swing inside.

“Oh, you’re here,” her mother said as she stepped into their suite. “I thought you were watching Christopher.”

“His parents arrived. I thought I’d give them some time alone.” Sabrina resisted the urge to fan her face. “I’ll take over later. At least now I have time to head to the Animal Sanctuary.”

“You look flushed. Is something the matter?”

“Probably just all the excitement,” she hedged.

Her mother crossed her arms. “Does this excitement have to do with the fact that Christopher is back?”

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Mom, will you quit it. Chris is a friend. He will always be just a friend.”

“You know that’s not what I mean. I just worry about you, Sabrina. I’m scared you’re using the Sanctuary as an excuse not to put yourself out there. It’s the holidays, the most romantic time of the year.”

“Every holiday is the most romantic time of the year. You said the same thing about Arbor Day.”

“What? Trees are romantic!”

“I’m happy being single. Case closed.”

“I know you are. I’m just saying don’t let what happened with Troy keep you from moving on with your life.”

“Troy moved away. That’s all. My life is here. He knew that.”

“Fine. Fine.”

By her mother’s tone, Sabrina didn’t think everything was fine. What was it about the holidays that further emphasized someone’s singleness.

“Try to remember what you came up here for,” she said. “I’m heading over to the shelter.”

“Oh right!” Her mother hurried deeper into their suite.

Sabrina chuckled. Then she remembered she had her own work to do.