by Liz Johnson
Hazel’s eyes widened. “You really want to know?”
“I do.” Though unease was now beginning to stir in her stomach. Why did Hazel speak as if she were about to divulge a secret of sorts?
“Tyler was on assignment when he spent that day with you. After he refused to release the story and the photographs, he lost his job. I guess you could say he was blacklisted among the other companies he might’ve transferred to because nobody wants to work with a feature writer who doesn’t have the boldness for research.” She shook her head, then reached out and touched Beatrix on the shoulder. The gesture brought a surprising warmth of comfort, and Beatrix tried to remember the last time someone had comforted her for kindness’ sake alone.
“But please don’t feel an ounce of guilt,” Hazel added. “It was only a matter of time before Tyler realized he’s too sensitive and too ethical for that line of work. He doesn’t have much of a poker face even when we play board games, let alone in life.”
Beatrix smiled. Yes, she could see that about him. But still, regret tugged her resolve to guard her emotions from tumbling further into hopeless admiration for the man.
“He loves running the inn and the quiet lifestyle it offers.” Hazel squeezed Beatrix’s shoulder before letting her hand fall. But the words quiet lifestyle skipped across her heart like a pebble among languid waters.
For, two years ago, Beatrix was the one with everything to lose should Tyler have published that story about her escaping monarchy for a day of normal life. But now, how things had changed. Tyler had a slow-paced life full of all the charm and enchantment a little white inn situated in the middle of a Christmas-obsessed town could offer. The place was a haven from the paparazzi, and if Beatrix was not careful, she could jeopardize it all.
Indeed, she had already come to love Tinsel and dreaded going back home. All the resplendent details of the palace could not compare to the cinnamon-scented feeling of belonging that hugged her within the inn’s walls.
“It really has been a delight meeting you, Beatrix. I mean, Your Highness?” Hazel started toward the door, then turned, clearly unsure which terminology to use.
Beatrix laughed. “My own name will do just fine.” She hesitated, doubting whether or not to add more of the truth. “Actually, between me and you, I quite enjoy pretending from time to time that my life is ordinary. It’s refreshing to be seen as a human being rather than a figure. I suppose that’s one of the things that drew me toward your brother.” Along with the sound of his laugh.
Hazel fiddled with the dainty diamond bracelet on her wrist. “I can see why that would be hard, with everybody always watching you.”
“Indeed.” Beatrix looked down at her hands and scanned her nail polish for chips. “Truthfully, this is the most candid conversation I’ve had with a peer in ages.”
Hazel frowned. “What about Charles?”
What about him? Beatrix started to say, then realized the woman’s intended meaning.
“Oh. Right.” Beatrix adjusted her chin to the proper level. “Yes, Charles. Of course.”
Hazel took a step closer, away from the door. “You don’t love him, do you?” She cleared her throat then pressed her cardigan as if ridding the wrinkles by hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so blunt. It’s just… do you still have feelings for my brother?”
Beatrix patted the twist of her bun, ensuring each hair was perfectly in place. “The unfortunate truth of the matter, my dear Hazel, is it wouldn’t matter if I did.”
Hazel nodded slowly. “Two different worlds.”
Beatrix wiggled her aching toes on the plush rug beside the bed. “The tiaras are striking,” she said. “But one simply doesn’t remove them when they get heavy. Besides, with all the fake stories about me the paparazzi has been publishing lately, the last thing I need to do is give them a real life romance abroad.”
“I understand. I’m sure he does too.” Hazel sighed. “But I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay here, however brief. Caroling will begin shortly after the sun sets. Perhaps you’d like to join us.”
“Caroling? As in, Christmas carols?” Beatrix was, of course, familiar with the popular tradition, though she hadn’t partaken herself.
“We are The Melody Inn, after all.” Hazel grinned. “We are known for our carols around here. Each night during Christmas season, Tyler and I lead a group of guests around the town square. It’s a nice way for our guests to see Tinsel, and of course it also scatters plenty of Christmas cheer.”
The heating unit kicked on with fanfare from the corner of the room. Under regular circumstances, Beatrix would profusely deny the invitation. Parading around, singing at the top of her lungs was practically asking for poor publicity. Why, she might be photographed, and any number of stories could be drawn up, misconstrued of course from the real happenings.
But Tinsel was a little haven from all of that, wasn’t it? An opportunity for her to live her heart’s desire for a few days, or a few hours, at least. And when might she have another opportunity?
“Thank you for the invitation, Hazel.” Beatrix scratched just above her eyebrow, careful not to smudge her makeup. “Where does the tour begin?”
Chapter 4
She was actually here, standing on the porch of The Melody Inn. Next to her boyfriend. But the point being, Tyler hadn’t imagined her.
Beatrix looked up from the porch into the twilight sky. “My.” Wonder sparkled from her eyes. “I can’t make out the fairy lights from the snow.”
“Magical, isn’t it?” Mrs. Henderson held tight to her husband’s sweater. “Frank and I visit every year and never miss the Christmas caroling.” He nodded on cue, though Tyler imagined there was little Frank wouldn’t attend if Mary was involved. The two had just celebrated their fortieth anniversary with cake at the Inn a few months ago.
Tyler zipped his green field coat, then fastened all the metal clasps before Ollie hurried up with his beanie in hand.
“Uncle Ty, you almost forgot your hat.”
Tyler reached to pick up the little guy, who not-so-gracefully tugged the beanie over his head.
“Now we match.” Tyler murmured toward his nephew. Ollie’s grin was wide.
Hazel knit both of the hats several months ago in anticipation that Ollie, who usually detested hats, would want to look just like his Uncle Ty. Her mama trick worked, except now Ollie insisted Tyler wear the thing everywhere.
Tyler glanced around the porch, then clasped his hands together. In front of him stood Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, Hazel and Ollie, and Beatrix with Charles and Harry. A smaller crowd than usual, but still substantial enough to carry a nice tone.
“All right,” he said. “We’re going to go ahead and start caroling so we can make it to the businesses downtown before they close for the night.”
Beatrix rose up and down on the heels of her tennis shoes, which, on second thought, looked exactly like his sister’s. “Will you give us instructions?”
“Instructions?” Tyler tried to hide his grin. He held his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Sure. We’re going to make a loop around the town square, and as we enter businesses we’ll sing popular Christmas songs.”
“Is there an order?” Beatrix stilled, squaring her shoulders.
“I typically just sing whatever comes to mind.” Tyler shrugged. “Don’t worry, Bea…trix.” Her shoulders loosened with the slip of her nickname. Had Charles noticed? Panic froze through Tyler’s veins, and he tightened the red scarf around his neck. He still didn’t know why Beatrix was here, and he certainly didn’t know why she’d come with a boyfriend. So in the meantime, he needed to keep his obvious attraction to her… well, less obvious. Plenty of famous people had stayed in Tinsel before. He would just pretend she was one of them.
Though who was he kidding? He could never pretend she was one of them.
Charles looked up from his cell phone long enough to put his arm around Beatrix, and the gesture tugged Tyler’s composure more than he cared to admi
t. Seeing Beatrix with another man was bound to happen, but he always expected it would be on a tabloid cover rather than right in front of him.
The problem, however, was not simply that Beatrix was with someone else. The problem was the someone else. Charles was measurably… what was the word… preoccupied.
Under normal circumstances, Tyler would good-naturedly tease a guest so glued to a cell phone. But these were not normal circumstances, and he couldn’t imagine Beatrix would approve of that.
No, he would be on his best behavior and try to ignore the situation, much as he hated cell phones. He didn’t even own one himself. Just used the landline at the inn and a tablet anytime he needed the Internet.
Charles used his phone to take several photos of Beatrix, then himself. She swatted at him, clearly embarrassed. “Let’s enjoy the caroling without our mobiles, yes?” Tyler overheard her murmur.
He adjusted Ollie on his hip and looked at the crowd. “First we’ll go toward the bakery. If you have a particular song you’d like to sing, feel free to start it up yourself. Otherwise, I’ll begin a new song after each one ends. Everyone ready?”
“Yeah!” Ollie threw his little hands in the air like a rocket.
Tyler patted his chest. “Good to see the enthusiasm, buddy.” He looked toward the group. “Can the rest of you match that?”
“You know we can.” Mrs. Henderson playfully punched her husband’s shoulder. “We’ve got a four-year-old grandson, and we’re up to the challenge. Isn’t that right, Frank?”
“Hmm?” Franklin’s attention seemed to have drifted off. He startled, turning to his wife. “Oh. Yes, dear.”
Tyler tapped Ollie and pointed toward the couple. “See that, Ollie? That’s a smart man.”
Ollie started laughing, though the joke no doubt went beyond his current understanding of relationships.
Tyler started down the porch steps and gestured for the group to follow. Snowflake by snowflake floated slowly toward the sidewalk, blanketing hats and coats and gloves under the canopy of white lights that had taken him a lifetime to hang in the trees above.
Now that Beatrix was standing on this sidewalk, though, Tyler was glad he’d invested the time with the lights. In fact, he kind of wished he’d invested even more.
He snuck a glance at her under the pretense of taking a final tally of the group. She smiled back at him, and snowflakes fell to the tip of her nose.
The corners of her red lips turned upward toward the strands of lights in the trees until a snowflake fell against them, and she licked off the snow as if it were a dust of sugar rather than ice.
Tyler blinked.
He needed to get the tour started.
He recited his favorite Scripture about Christmas—he always felt a little like Linus during that part—then led the group in their first round of Christmas carols, wishing several couples a Merry Christmas as they walked past.
Moments later, they had reached the town square, at the center of which was a large gazebo covered in snow. Christmas lights hung down from the gazebo like icicles, and more lights of every color lined the trees and storefronts around the square.
Tyler sighed. This part of town always felt like the set of a made-for-television movie, especially with a fresh dusting of snow. His mother always said anything could happen with a fresh dusting of snow.
Mrs. Henderson was already clinging to her husband’s arm tighter than ice on a windshield. That was Tyler’s cue he needed to get to the bakery quickly. But as he turned the group to the sidewalk on the right, he noticed Beatrix clutch the neck of her coat with her hand. She seemed entranced by downtown Tinsel, and even from several feet away, he could see her eyes dance with merriment.
He turned his back to the group to lead them toward the bakery, but also to hide his grin. Beatrix, Princess of Ferryridge, fit into Tinsel so naturally that under completely different circumstances, he might’ve believed she could be a resident.
And not just anyone could be a resident, for Tinsel was no ordinary town. Most people never slowed down enough to notice the old-fashioned streetlamps, or the taffy machines you could watch from the window of the candy shop. Most people grew frustrated by the absence of coffee chains and the spotty Wi-Fi.
Clearly, as he’d always suspected, Beatrix wasn’t most people.
Charles, on the other hand… but there Tyler went, thinking about that situation again. He would be more positive from here on out. Okay, so he would try. Trying was something, right?
By the time Tyler reached for the door handle of the bakery and helped shuffle everyone inside, the whole group save Ollie were rubbing their hands together. Mrs. Henderson unlatched herself from her husband and blew into her closed palms.
Tyler set Ollie down. The child immediately rushed toward the pastry counter and began begging Hazel for cookies. She placated the begging by stalling—always a good move.
Tyler recognized the barista as his old friend Meg. “Would you mind if we sang a Christmas carol?” He asked.
She tugged the hem of her cardigan with a smile. “Please do! We could use some Christmas cheer around here.”
A couple sharing a large cinnamon roll looked up toward the group, watching.
That sort of reaction used to make Tyler nervous, back whenever he first bought the inn and took over the caroling tradition. But now he didn’t mind leading at all. Even liked it, actually.
He turned toward the carolers and reached into his pocket to pull out a harmonica. Then he gave the group their starting note. They all fell into an easy tune, and Beatrix surprised Tyler by singing loudly enough for him to hear. And of course it was beautiful. Just like everything else about Beatrix.
As they finished the song, the couple sitting at a nearby table stood to clap, and Mrs. Henderson beamed with pride. The Hendersons had become like extended family to him, and people like them were the reason he loved running the inn. Even if his lifestyle didn’t allow for much travel anymore. One couldn’t have everything, right?
“Thanks, Tyler,” Meg said, then addressed the group. “Thank you all.”
“You bet.” He looked toward the carolers. “Feel free to purchase a coffee or tea before we head to the gazebo. I can tell some of you are nearly frozen.”
Mrs. Henderson chuckled. “And by some of you, he means me.” She stepped closer to the counter. “I would love a decaf Earl Grey if you have it.”
“Sure do.” Meg reached for a to-go cup. “And it’s on the house tonight.”
“Oh, darlin’. What a sweetheart. Thank you.”
Meg winked. She set a teabag into the cup and poured boiling water over it, then turned to Tyler. “Hey! Are you entering the gingerbread festival this weekend or what?”
“About the gingerbread festival…” Tyler raked his hand through his hair. He was well past time for a haircut, and his mother always told him if he didn’t get it trimmed for Christmas dinner, his only gift would be coal as black as his hair. He wanted a lawn weeder this Christmas, so he definitely couldn’t risk it.
“You mean the gingerbread scones your inn is famous for?” Meg handed the cup to Mrs. Henderson. “Be careful, now, it’s super hot,” she warned.
“Yes, those famous scones.” Tyler rubbed his jaw with his hand. “See, the thing is—”
“You don’t have the recipe.” Her eyes widened.
Tyler leaned closer. “You don’t have to announce it to the world, Meg. I’m still trying to come up with something.”
“Between now and the festival? But it’s two days away. What could you possibly come up with before then?”
Tyler slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I have… ideas.”
She turned her back to the counter and pointed toward her shelf full of trophies. “That’s all right, Tyler. I wouldn’t mind another festival win.”
“Oh, don’t be so cocky.” Tyler rolled his eyes. “You never know what might happen.”
Meg reached for a coffee pot and stepped out from behind
the counter to offer the customers refills. “No, I suppose I don’t. Though if recent history is any indication…”
Tyler laughed and started toward the door now that Mrs. Henderson had her warm beverage. Beatrix surprised him by stepping to his side. “You may not know this,” she said. “But I’m actually quite adept at baking. Perhaps I could be of assistance in crafting a new recipe for the inn.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Tyler opened the door, and she slid comfortably under his arm as if in a dance. He grinned at her, trying to forget that in a few blinks, she would be gone.
Chapter 5
Later that evening, Beatrix, Charles, and Harry enjoyed a charming dinner of kale salad, eggplant risotto, and butter-poached lobster at the inn. Well, Charles and Harry enjoyed the lobster. Beatrix stuck with risotto. She gave the local lobster a try at Tyler’s urging, but she definitively disliked any food that once possessed claws.
They dined on the covered porch, frequently looking through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the snowy field of fir trees behind the inn. But postcard-perfect though the scene may be, Beatrix’s mind was in another place. She would be leaving Tinsel far too soon and still hadn’t found a chance to speak with Tyler alone.
She was both terrified and elated and could hardly string coherent thoughts together every time she imagined pulling him aside. But doing so was easier said than done with Charles flittering around. He would be sure to ask questions, and she didn’t exactly want to share details about what the press called her “mystery day.” He would wonder why she left and where she went and with whom. He would most definitely not understand.
Tyler, on the other hand, always did understand. But Tyler lived in this tiny Christmas-obsessed town, and pining after him was quite like grasping at a rainbow.
Still, Tyler aside, Beatrix did not want anyone knowing about the assortment of perfectly ordinary, perfectly beautiful moments they shared two years ago. The day she lived away from cameras and glances and judgment. The day she simply lived.