Countdown to Midnight a holiday novella Read online

  COUNTDOWN TO MIDNIGHT

  A Story Sisters Holiday Novella

  The Blueberry Lane Series

  Katy Regnery

  COUNTDOWN TO MIDNIGHT

  Copyright © 2017 by Katharine Gilliam Regnery

  Sale of the electronic edition of this book is wholly unauthorized. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part, by any means, is forbidden without written permission from the author/publisher.

  Katharine Gilliam Regnery, publisher

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Please visit my website at www.katyregnery.com

  First Edition: December 2017

  Katy Regnery

  Countdown to Midnight: a novella / by Katy Regnery – 1st ed.

  ISBN: 978-1-944810-20-7

  For Linus Chuang, MD, who has the best bedside manner I have ever encountered: thank you from the bottom of my heart for making everything okay again. #BenignIsTheSweetestWord

  To all the fans who wanted to return to Blueberry Lane:

  Thank you.

  xo

  Table of Contents

  COUNTDOWN TO MIDNIGHT

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  EPILOGUE

  Sneak Peek of Shear Heaven…

  Also Available from Katy Regnery

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Merit and Elizabeth

  Merit Atwell slammed on the brakes with a bellow of annoyance.

  “What the hell? Did you see that? She cut me off and took my spot!”

  His younger brother, Amity, who sat beside him in the passenger seat, glanced up from his phone for the first time in hours, pulling out one earbud.

  “Huh?” Following his brother’s scowl to the red taillights of a white Mercedes, he shrugged before glancing back at Merit. “Oh, well. Find another.”

  “I’ve only driven around this damn lot five times!”

  “Then valet it.”

  “Shut up, Amity. I’m not valeting.”

  “’Cause you’re cheap.”

  “Just because I don’t burn through money like the twins doesn’t mean I’m cheap,” he snapped. “I’m not a freeloader.”

  Merit’s bluster was wasted, though. Amity had already replaced the earpiece and was totally absorbed with his phone screen again.

  Recently board certified in pediatrics, Amity had three weeks off before starting his pediatric oncology fellowship at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. During Amity’s rare bit of downtime, Merit was hoping to have some time to bond with the brother who’d once been his very best friend. The brothers were sixteen months apart and tight as kids, but now Merit and Amity didn’t see much of each other anymore. Merit had completed his MBA in their hometown of Boston six years ago, but he’d left to open a chain of bars in Philadelphia, while Amity had remained in Beantown to complete four years of college, four years of med school, and a three-year pediatric residency.

  When Merit had moved to Philadelphia, he’d welcomed the break from his Boston “Brahmin” family—from the inevitable pressure that surrounded the celebrated Atwell name and the sharp disappointment his father had expressed when Merit refused to go into the family business like his older brothers, Ever and Concord.

  But the distance between Philly and Boston felt wider with every passing year, and Merit found he didn’t love it as much as he once did. He missed the rowdy company of his five brothers more and more, envied their stories about grabbing drinks after work or hitting the gym together on the weekends. With his thirtieth birthday coming up fast in January, family was on his mind more and more. He missed it. He wanted it.

  So far, however, Merit’s hopes for reconnecting with Amity on this ski break hadn’t exactly panned out. Since they’d left Boston on their five-hour journey to Saranac Lake, Amity had been glued to his phone—one of the kids he’d cared for during his residency was having a tricky surgery today, and Amity was watching a live stream of the procedure.

  Proud as hell of Amity, Merit didn’t say anything about making the long drive in relative silence. After all, they’d have New Year’s weekend to catch up. Merit only wished his other brothers—Ever, Concord, and the twins, Ransom and Reason—had come along as well. Unfortunately, all but Merit and Amity had to be back in the offices of Atwell Financial Services LLC between Christmas and New Year’s…which is precisely why Merit had chosen to go into business on his own. No one told Merit Atwell when he could come and go. He was his own boss. His own man, making his own way.

  Glaring at the white Mercedes, he stepped on the gas to do yet another lap around the crowded parking lot. As he glanced in the rearview mirror, he caught sight of a redhead emerging from the driver’s side and scoffed.

  Figures. Never been a fan of gingers, he thought as he pulled into a vacant spot on the far side of the parking lot, beside the dumpsters.

  Cutting the engine, he turned to Amity and yanked the closest earbud out of his brother’s ear. “We’re here.”

  “Gah!” Amity scrambled to push the earpiece back in. “They’re almost done, Merit. Don’t be an asshole!”

  Merit exited the car with a sigh, popped the trunk, and removed their luggage: two rolling suitcases, two long nylon duffel bags that held their skis and poles, and two cases of beer, one of Yuengling and the other Sam Adams. As he stared at the cases of Philadelphia and Boston beer, he felt it again in the pit of his stomach—the yearning for family.

  But moving back to Boston wasn’t an option. Aside from the fact that he and his father were like oil and water, Merit had built a whole new life for himself in Philly. He owned three bars and an apartment overlooking the Schuylkill and had a rich social life, which included childhood friends like his closest buddy, Cort Ambler.

  Except…

  His nose wrinkled as he thought of Cort.

  Although Cort had managed to “fill in” for Merit’s brothers over the last few years, since Cort had gotten engaged to Madeline Rousseau, Merit barely saw him anymore. He didn’t begrudge Cort’s happiness—on the contrary, Merit celebrated Cort and Mad’s recent engagement. He thought of the way Cort looked at Mad, at the easy way he reached for her and the excitement in their voices when they discussed plans for their future together. If Merit was honest, he’d admit that he felt sharp pangs of envy for what Cort and Mad were building.

  Being around them only made Merit’s longing for family ache more.

  The passenger door opened, and Amity stepped outside, earbuds missing, and stretched his arms over his head.

  “Whew! Long drive!” he said, turning to his older brother with a grin. “Did it always take so long to get up here?”

  “Yeah,” muttered Merit, feeling annoyed. “Get your stuff.”

  “Are you going to be in a crappy mood all weekend?” asked Amity, swinging his ski bag onto his shoulder and extending the handle of his suitcase.

  “I wasn’t planning on being in a crappy mood at all,” said Merit, scowling as they walked past the white Mercedes. “I just—I don’t know. I wish Ever, Con, and the twins could have come too.”

  Amity shrugged. “They’re working on a deal.”

  “So I gathered.”

  The conv
ersation around the Atwell Christmas table had been largely focused on said deal, which had excluded Merit, Amity, and their mother from the majority of the conversation. They sat at the other end of the long table, as though in exile.

  “It’s a big one,” said Amity. “Biggest deal in years. They’re working on it with Barrett English.” He chuckled, recalling a fond childhood memory that included the prominent Philadelphia family of five brothers. “Remember that summer party they used to have every year in Haverford? We went a couple of times with Mom and Dad. Man, that was a good time.”

  “Yeah,” mumbled Merit.

  He saw the English brothers frequently around Philly, but their close brotherly bond and recent marriages, which multiplied their already robust family with wives and children, was like salt in Merit’s wounds.

  “Christ, Merit! What’s the problem?” asked Amity, placing a hand on his brother’s arm as they walked into the lobby of the View on Saranac Lake.

  Merit scanned the great room, feeling the chip on his shoulder soften a touch. As kids, they’d arrived at this venerable old resort every year to celebrate New Year’s Eve—six energetic boys and their loving parents—to kick off a new year in style.

  “Nothing.” He sighed, glancing sideways at Amity and forcing a slight grin. “It’s good to be back, isn’t it?”

  “Ah-hah!” said Amity, clapping his brother on the back. “There he is!”

  “Yeah. It’s going to be a good weekend,” said Merit, turning toward the reception desk.

  But as his eyes slammed into the back of the redheaded parking-spot thief, his smile dimmed. She was leaning against the reception desk, elbows propped on the marble counter, checking in. He had half a mind to tell her what he thought of her driving skills, but when his eyes dropped to her tight waist and rounded ass in a short, black pencil skirt, he swallowed the words, following his hungry gaze down shapely stems to shiny, Satan-red high heels.

  Devil shoes.

  And she was hot as hell to match.

  He bit his lower lip until it hurt, stepping closer to her in spite of himself.

  “What do you mean you’re overbooked?” she demanded in a low, lethal Jessica Rabbit purr.

  As an available hotel clerk gestured Merit forward, he had a feeling that someone was catching hell from the devil.

  ***

  Keeping her cool under pressure was one of Elizabeth Story’s strengths in and out of the courtroom, but she didn’t drive all the way from Philadelphia to Saranac Lake only to be told that the slope-side cottage she’d booked for her and Jane wasn’t available. Hell no.

  “I’m s-so sorry, ma’am, but—”

  “Impossible,” she said evenly. “Check again. It was booked weeks ago.”

  “Y-Yes, ma’am,” said the desk clerk, raising his eyes nervously from his computer. “I do see that it was booked. The problem is…it was double booked.”

  “Double booked?”

  “Mm-hm. Unfortunately, someone else has been booked in the same accommodation for the same period of time.”

  “I see,” said Elizabeth, shooting diamond-sharp daggers from her eyes as she offered him a pleasant smile. She slid her gaze to his nametag. “Tom, is it? Tom, I’m going to need to you fix this. Now. Find us alternate but commensurate accommodations here on property.”

  Tom blinked at her, then cleared his throat and started typing furiously on his computer. A moment later, he looked up. “Well, yes. Okay. Here’s a solution: we can accommodate you here in the inn tomorrow night. On Saturday.”

  “And where are we meant to sleep tonight?” snapped Elizabeth. “Here in the lobby?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “We don’t allow that.”

  “You’re starting to make me angry, Tom.”

  “Umm.”

  “Fix it, Tom.”

  “We could—umm, we could put you up at our sister property?” he suggested hopefully. “The Mount at Lake Placid. There is a, umm, a double room available for—”

  “Is there a ski mountain there, Tom?” asked Elizabeth, already knowing the answer.

  “Umm. Oh.” Tom hissed through his teeth as he shook his head. “No, ma’am. Not on site.”

  “Then that isn’t a suitable suggestion, is it, Tom?”

  “Bets, go easy,” said Jane, Elizabeth’s younger sister, who was standing beside her. “We could stay at the Mount tonight, then come back here tomorrow afternoon for New Year’s Eve.”

  “No, Jane, we can’t,” answered Elizabeth, without taking her eyes off Tom. “We booked the View. We’re staying at the View.”

  “God, you’re turning into Daddy!” murmured Jane, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Elizabeth darted a glance to her sister, narrowing her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I think you can figure it out,” mumbled Jane.

  Elizabeth shrugged off her sister’s comment and turned back to Tom, her patience about to snap. “Tom, if you don’t give me the keys to Butternut Cottage right now—”

  “That’s two people in Butternut Cottage for the long weekend, correct?” asked a chipper voice beside Tom.

  Elizabeth’s eyes slid like a greased puck to the hotel clerk standing directly to Tom’s right. The man checking in beside her nodded. “That’s correct. Thank you.”

  Putting her hands on her hips and shifting her body to face the man, Elizabeth said, “Excuse me. Did I just hear you say that you’re staying in Butternut Cottage?”

  “That’s right,” said the man. His gorgeous lips tilted up in a smile, though his eyes were unsympathetic. Elizabeth knew that look and realized he’d heard everything going on beside him—he was laughing at her. Jerk.

  “I think there’s been a mistake,” she said, adding a little steel to her tone as she’d heard her father do so effortlessly a million times. “We’ve booked Butternut Cottage—my sister and me.”

  “Doesn’t look like it,” said the jerk, turning back to the desk clerk as he slid his credit card across the counter to cover resort incidentals.

  “Wait just a minute!” said Elizabeth, reaching out to snatch his card from the receptionist’s fingers. “Butternut Cottage is ours.”

  “Ha!” chortled the man, yanking the card from Elizabeth and slapping it against the marble. “First you steal my parking space, now you’re trying to steal my cottage? Listen, baby, I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but—”

  “Baby? Your parking space? Who the hell do you think—”

  “You’re going to deny it?” he demanded. “You swooped in with your white Merce—”

  “Are you craz—”

  “Jane? Jane Story?”

  “Amity? Oh, my God! Amity Atwell!” exclaimed Jane as she stepped up next to Elizabeth, her attention focused on the man standing beside the jerk. “Whoa! Hi!”

  Elizabeth slid a glance to Jane’s bright eyes and even brighter smile before looking back and forth between the two men, quickly deciding—from their similar height and coloring—that they must be brothers.

  Wait…oh, crap!

  Brothers. Atwell. The Atwell brothers.

  A sinking feeling made Elizabeth’s stomach knot as she lifted her eyes to Amity’s brother, the jerk, recognition creeping into her consciousness and making her fists clench slowly by her sides.

  Meanwhile, Amity and Jane continued their joyful reunion.

  “Holy crow!” cried Amity, running a hand through his dirty-blond hair, his blue eyes twinkling with excitement. “It’s so good to see you, Jane. What’s it been…?”

  “Four years?” asked Jane, edging in front of Elizabeth to step closer to Amity.

  “Yeah,” he chuckled. “About that. How are you? You look…wow, you look great, Jane.”

  “Thanks. You too.”

  “Oh!” said Tom the desk clerk, his wild eyes darting back and forth between Jane and Amity before resting on Elizabeth with barely restrained hope. “You know each other? Perhaps you could share the—”

&
nbsp; “No!” yelled the jerk.

  “No!” cried Elizabeth.

  She was absolutely, positively not sharing a cottage with these two. No. Not happening. She couldn’t think of a single reason that would induce her to agree to share anything with the Atwell brothers…especially Merit Atwell, the biggest jerk that ever was.

  “A little,” said Jane softly, grinning at Amity as she answered Tom’s question.

  “More than a little,” Amity amended, unable to take his eyes off Jane. “We could definitely share.”

  Enough was enough.

  Elizabeth grabbed her sister’s sweater sleeve and whipped her around. “Are you nuts? I don’t know them!”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Jane, quickly remembering her manners. She turned to Amity. “Amity, this is my sister, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is Amity Atwell. We, um, well, we knew each other at Harvard.”

  Amity shifted his glance to Elizabeth and extended his hand. “Good to meet you. Jane and Elizabeth, this is my older brother, Merit.”

  “Hi, Merit,” said Jane, shaking his hand with an easy grin.

  “Right,” said Elizabeth tightly, meeting his cool blue eyes as goose bumps sprang up on her arms. She dropped Amity’s hand but didn’t reach for Merit’s, eyeing him cautiously.

  The jerk nodded, his eyes registering no initial recollection of her. But suddenly they narrowed and he tilted his head to the side. “Wait…have we met?”

  “No,” said Elizabeth quickly, averting her gaze.

  “Hmm,” he hummed. “Sure? You look a little familiar. Are you friends with Madel—”

  “No,” she said again, her voice sharp as she mustered her courage and looked into his eyes. “I don’t know you.”

  “Huh. Okay.”

  “Ladies,” said Amity, still grinning like a puppy at Jane, “let’s share the cottage! We stay at Butternut every year! It’s got two bedrooms—one upstairs and one down, and—”

  Elizabeth turned back to Tom. “The Mount at Lake Placid. That room’s still available?”

  Tom dropped his glance to his computer screen. “Yes, umm—”