Page 18 of Cooped Up for Christmas

“Thank you,” I said. “And, Ben, can we make sure the hot tub is at 102°?”

“Will do.”

We all split up then to get back to work. Well, my team. Cooper and his people had work to do preparing for tomorrow’s events. I had no idea what they were doing, I just hoped all the guests went with him—or with Ken—because the house was so nice with no one there.

I was in the great room with Ben, trying to get the big screen TV to play YouTube, as Farley had requested, when Wren came into the room with a rumpled brow.

“Excuse me, Victoria?”

“Yes, Wren?”

“I’m going through the bar and I can’t find the Don Julio tequila. The 1942? Jamison’s mother specifically asked for it.”

I frowned. That particular bottle was over a hundred dollars a pop. Had one of the staff helped themselves? That was a huge no-no. “I thought we had two bottles in the bar?”

She nodded. “We did.”

Yikes. “Can you do another search? Just to make sure it hasn’t been mislaid?”

“Sure. Uh…”

I looked at her. “Yes?”

“Should we search the guests’ rooms?”

“Why don’t you go up now and help Olivia with turndowns. Have a look around.” Honestly, the liquor was for the guests. If they wanted it, it was here for them. What I didn’t want was to have a guest ask for something specific, and not have it on hand. It wasn’t like there was a liquor store around the block out here in the boonies.

A short while later, Wren returned with our two bottles of Don Julio 1942—both bone dry. Her brows arched into her dark bangs. “I found these in Jamison’s room. I guess he drank all of it.”

Awesome.

What on earth could we do about this? Ah… “Okay. Double check in the storage shed. It’s a popular vintage. We might have a bottle or two in there.”

She grimaced. “The storage shed? It’s creepy.” Gosh. And here I thought all Goths liked creepy stuff. Kids. I’ll never understand them.

“Take someone with you.”

My mind spun. How could I get my hands on more Don Julio 1942 by the time Carmella came back from dinner? I knew she was going to ask for it. Did Amazon deliver tequila by drone? “Do we have other tequila?”

Wren snorted a laugh. “Loads. Just not that one.”

Okay. There was that. If push came to shove, at least we had tequila.

I’ll admit, it flashed through my mind to refill the bottles with a different tequila. I mean, I would never do that to a guest—lie or make up facts—unless the alternative was worse. In this case, the alternative was worse: Not having something in a Don Julio bottle when it had been specifically requested.

My only other option was telling Carmella her son drank all her tequila—and I really didn’t want to ruin that poor boy’s Christmas.

I never wanted to ruin anybody’s Christmas. It was kind of my rule of thumb.

Only, every day is Christmas in my biz.

But especially Christmas, Christmas.

Thank God Wren found another bottle of Don Julio 1942 in the (creepy) storage shed. I was so relieved because, frankly, I was well aware of what could happen, should Carmella have a sophisticated tequila palate and call us on our little ploy.

Please God, no. That’s the stuff of which nightmares are made.

“All right.” I stiffened my spine. “We have tequila. Let’s keep that bottle under lock and key from now on. Oh, and when you serve this, treat it as though this is the most expensive tequila you’ve ever poured. Right?”