Christmas in Quincy by Devney Perry EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Devney Perry
- Language: English
- Genre: Western Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
CLEO
“Welcome to The Eloise Inn,” the young woman behind the
reception counter greeted. “Checking in?”
“Yes. Cleo Hillcrest.” I plopped my Chanel handbag on the counter,
slumping into the mahogany tower as I breathed a sigh of relief.
I made it. My suitcase rested against my calf, much like me, too weary to
stand on its own.
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“Let me just pull up your reservation.” The woman typed quickly, the
smile on her pretty face soft and sweet. The silver name tag on the lapel of
her black blazer caught the warm light from the chandelier above.
“Thanks, um . . . Eloise? As in the—” My finger twirled in the air,
indicating the stately hotel.
“Yep.” She laughed. “My great, great grandmother, Eloise Eden. The inn
was named for her by my great, great grandfather. She was my namesake.”
“Ah. Well, it’s beautiful. The inn and your name.”
“Thank you.” Her smile widened. “I take pride in both. I’m the manager
here.”
“Impressive.” It was possible that she just had great genes, or a miracle
skin cream, but with her flawless, youthful skin, I’d peg her in her early
twenties.
As Eloise returned to her task, a wood fire crackled in a large hearth on
one side of the grand room. The hotel’s lobby was decked out for Christmas,
the mantel piled high with pine boughs and ornaments. Above the fireplace, a
stone column towered to the rafters and in its center hung a wreath at least
three feet in diameter.
Golden bulbs framed the windows. Inside the door, a fir tree three times
the size of my car greeted customers with its woodsy scent and red bows.
Tiny boxes, individually wrapped, were staged on a brass platter beside my
handbag.
As far as Christmas escapes went, I’d chosen my destination well. Not
that I’d ever escaped Christmas before.
But this year, Quincy, Montana, was going to be my hideaway.
“Okay, Ms. Hillcrest.” Eloise looked up from her computer screen with
another welcome smile. “I have you here for three nights. Checking out on
the twenty-sixth. Is that correct?”
“Yes, it is.” I nodded, fishing out my wallet for my driver’s license and
credit card.
“Are you visiting someone in Quincy for the holiday?” she asked,
swiping my card through the reader.
“Oh, um . . . no.” Exactly the opposite. I was in Quincy to avoid anything
that resembled visiting. It probably seemed strange—it was strange—but
since I didn’t have the energy to explain the disaster that was my family at
Christmas, I changed the subject. “When I called and made my reservation, I
was told that room service would be available each day.”
“Yes, of course. The menu and meal hours will be in your room’s
booklet. And our chef, who happens to be my brother, has something lovely
planned for Christmas and Christmas Eve. We’re happy to bring it to your
room, but if you’d like to come down, the dining room will be open as well,
starting at five and closing at nine.”
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