From Hope Lake, With Love: A Novella (Hopeless Romantics Book 4)

by Nina Bocci

  Just as Marjorie promised, it was simply decorated for the holidays with tiny accents throughout the room.

  If I weren’t so tired and hungry, I would sit in the chair by the window with the santa pillow and wait for the sun to come up.

  A soft rap at the door halted my plan to crawl into bed with my pot pie and sleep until morning.

  “Coming,” I called, padding into the main room and setting down the pot pie.

  I opened the door to find a tired-looking Max waiting with all of my things. “I’m sorry you had to carry all of this. I would have come back down.”

  “May I?” he asked, expectantly looking behind me.

  “Oh, yes, sorry,” I rambled and stepped aside.

  Much like he had downstairs on the bench, he arranged all of my bags neatly on the floor near the couch.

  “Everything okay?”

  I nodded. “More than. You didn’t need to give me a suite.”

  “Why not? You’re the only one here,” he said plainly.

  “Good point. Either way, I’m grateful.”

  “Need anything else?”

  “No, I’m good,” I answered, realizing that even though I was tired, and he too was clearly exhausted, I wanted to continue talking to him. Though, it seemed, I’d be doing most of the talking.

  “Thanks, Max. You’ve been very helpful.”

  He smiled. “I appreciate that. Make sure you tell Marjorie; I can use the brownie points.”

  “Oh, yeah? For what?” I said eagerly, jumping on the smidge of openness.

  “Actual brownies,” he quipped. “She makes the best peanut butter chocolate brownies that you’ll ever eat. Promise.”

  My eyes widened. “They sound sinful. I’ll give you a glowing review tomorrow. The packet she gave me mentioned light breakfast and tea in the sunroom at nine. Will you be around for that?” I said, knowing that I could get some information out of him. “I know the ladies mentioned dropping by if the weather lets up.”

  “They probably won’t make it tomorrow. Perhaps the next day, though. They never miss Thursday tea with Marjorie. The snow is supposed to come down all night and tomorrow.”

  “So, morning tea?” I asked again, hoping that I didn’t sound eager.

  He grinned. “Afraid not. I have to be in town at ten tomorrow, and it’ll probably take me an hour to just get out of the driveway and the main roads. I’ll see about getting your rental moved, though. My office is near where you parked it.”

  “Ah, your office. I heard you have another job, too. I mean, besides driving little old ladies around town, of course. You’re not very forthcoming with information, Dr. Reese.”

  His brows furrowed. “It’s not intentional. I’m not used to talking about myself and you were chatting with Gigi, I assumed she mentioned that I run the medical practice in town with her son, the other Dr. Bishop.”

  “A man with many hats,” I said, stifling a yawn. “You must be pulled in every direction.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”

  Max lingered and I wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue talking, or if he was just looking for an non-awkward way to escape.

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I came to Hope Lake expecting a lot and so far, this place has delivered. You’ve done a great job.”

  He smiled, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t let Marjorie fool you, my mother mostly runs this place.”

  “Your mother?”

  He tipped his head to the side. “Yes, Marjorie. I sometimes people don’t naturally know that and I suppose no one mentioned that either.”

  I laughed. “No, but I get the impression that people assume that everyone knows everything around here.”

  “You’d assume correctly,” he said, smiling.

  I stifled a yawn.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, backing toward the door.

  “Thanks, Max. I hope to see you soon.”

  In lieu of a verbal response, he smiled, and gave a little bow.

  Strong and silent types were not who I usually found myself drawn to. There was something interesting about Max that made me eager to research more than just Hope Lake.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, I woke up later than I anticipated, even with the sun streaming through the thin curtains. While I was well rested, I wanted nothing more than to curl up with the warm blankets and sleep an extra hour.

  My stomach was not on board with that.

  Suitcases were left packed, stacked in the other room, which meant my charger never made it into the bedroom. I tapped the iPhone screen, as if that would magically wake it up.

  Tossing it back onto the bed among the pillows, I padded into the other room to find something to wear downstairs for breakfast. My laptop greeted me like a shiny gray beacon.

  “I’ll get to you, promise,” I said to the empty room.

  I pulled on fitted jeans, a thick cable knit turtleneck sweater, and a pair of Sorel boots that I threw in my suitcase last minute.

  Glancing in the full-length mirror on the back of the door, I looked ready. For what, I didn’t know but at least I was warm.

  The hallway was empty, as were the stairs and the lower level near the fireplace. A young man was at the reception counter on the phone, but when he saw me, I got a wave. An actual wave, side-to-side motion, excited and happy. Not just an extended hand in the air in acknowledgement.

  I followed the heavenly smells of baked goods and bacon. Most importantly, though, coffee. “Thank goodness,” I said, making a beeline toward the coffee station. I poured a cup and added my sugar and cream.

  If it weren’t for the sounds of the snowblower outside, I would think that it was just me and the one employee in the entire building.

  The sunroom at the back of the home that they used as a breakfast area was just as stunning as the rest of the building. The room contained tall, framed out windows that appeared they would open up in warmer weather to overlook the expansive area of gardens below. Not that I could see anything other than snow-covered bushes, but the idea of what they could look like had my imagination running wild.

  “Good morning,” a familiar voice said from behind me.

  Marjorie walked in, albeit slowly, carrying a plate of scones and a small silver bowl of clotted cream.

  “Good morning! You’re here early,” I said, walking over to take the plate from her. I placed it next to the coffee urn.

  “I do live here,” she said with a smile.

  “I just figured since you were up so late, you wouldn’t be working this early.” I pulled out a chair for her.

  “Now, don’t fuss over me. I’m okay. Just golden,” she said with a laugh, but took the seat anyway. “Now get your breakfast while the scones are warm. The cream just melts right over them.”

  I grabbed one of the scones and cream, my mouth watering.

  “What are you writing? Can I ask that, or is it a surprise?” she asked, fussing with the edge of the tablecloth.

  “Not a secret. My boss, the editor of the magazine I write for, is familiar with Hope Lake. She spent a summer here when she was younger. The way she spoke of it, I always wanted to visit.”

  “It is a great place in the summer. Hopefully you’ll have the opportunity to return.”

  I smiled. “I would like that. The article is on the town. A feature describing the town, the formative years through modern times. I’ve heard this place has really come into its own.”

  She nodded proudly. “We are transplants, but it’s been a lot of fun to see the praise heaped upon the local government for all the hard work.”

  “Tell me about that.”

  She stayed quiet a moment. “When Max first bought the B&B, no one thought that it was a worthwhile investment, including him. Emma Peroni from the town office, she’s—well, I don’t actually know what she does, if I’m being honest. She’s one of those people who has her hands in everything. I think she’s a driving force behind all of the progres
s.

  “My point is, she had a vision for the B&B and Max, well, he wanted something. She matched him up with this place about two years ago now. Needless to say, it was the best thing he’s done since acing medical school.”

  I stood, eager for another delicious scone. “Coffee?”

  “Now, now, this is my job,” she said, smiling but not saying no.

  “Let me, I’m up already.”

  Joining her, she said thank you. and wrapped her hands around the mug I set down in front of her. “Go on, I like hearing about, well, everything you want to tell me.”

  Marjorie smiled proudly. “You must find this boring.”

  “Not at all,” I said, honestly. “I like getting a full picture of everything for a story. That includes the people, the town, the businesses. The whole nine yards.”

  Her face softened, eyes watering a bit as if she was excited to talk about her son. I couldn’t blame her, you could see the pride she had for Max. “He poured so much time and energy into the process. A lot of the work he did himself or taught himself. Business is business he said, and it’s run like a ship. When he brought me here to help out, I was skeptical until he brought Ross back too. He was one of the originals from back in the day when the old owners had it. Over the last year, he’s hired some of the others, or I did, and it all sort of came together.”

  I smiled. “I can tell you’re so proud of him,” I began before taking a sip of coffee. “You didn’t mention last night that Max was your son.”

  She smiled. “I thought you knew. Lord knows Mancini and Gigi don’t let anyone forget it. Maxwell is a bit of a project for them. He’s single, handsome, a doctor. They’re practically swallowing their tongues trying to get him involved with someone.”

  Marjorie looked at me expectantly.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” I teased, wagging my finger at her.

  “You don’t think my boy is handsome?” she said with a frown, but there wasn’t anything genuine about it.

  Of course I do, I thought. I’ve got eyes and he is very easy on them. Regardless of her baiting, I felt my cheeks warm under her scrutiny. “He seems like a catch, but he also seems firmly rooted here in Hope Lake.”

  “I hope.” She looked down at her hands and twisted the thin, gold band on her ring finger. “When Maxwell’s father passed away a six years ago, I didn’t think he would settle in one place for longer than a few weeks.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Marjorie sighed. “He’s always had a wild streak. You’d never guess it by looking at, or talking to him now, all tailored and sharp, but he was a hellion back in the day. Loved to travel and explore. When he was in med school, a mentor gave him the idea for Doctors Without Borders, and he jumped on it the first chance he had.”

  “Really?” I said around a mouthful of scone.

  She nodded. “Yes. When his father was sick, I didn’t see him for almost a year. I think the travel helped him cope with the illness but then when he—” She paused and looked out at the falling snow covering more of the garden area out back. “I should probably let him talk to you. It’s his story.”

  I admired her restraint and her deep love of her son. It was evident in how she spoke about him. “How about a change of subject?” I suggested, picking up my plate. “Oh, where does this go?”

  Ross popped in as if he were waiting for the exact moment I was finished. “I’ll take it.”

  “Thank you, I would have handled it though.”

  He smiled. “Nonsense. You’re our guest.”

  I turned back to Marjorie. “What’s your schedule like today?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing until later although judging by the way it’s coming down, I won’t be going anywhere for the book club.”

  “Oh, there’s a book club in town? I’d love to join one or is it just once a month?” I asked, pulling out my phone and choosing the calendar. “Maybe December’s will be early enough for me to catch.”

  Marjorie laughed lightly. “Let’s see, Henry, he owns the bookstore and runs something like six book clubs a month. But I’m only in three.”

  “Only?” I said, exasperated. “I barely keep up with one at home and they meet every other month.”

  “Well, there’s not much going on in the winter months. He does as much as he can, but he teaches at the high school and at the college one town over. Plus, he’s trying to plan a wedding, which can’t be easy when him and his fiancée are both so busy.”

  “Charlotte is the florist. I remember Gigi mentioning her last night and I saw Henry when he came to drive Gigi, Sophia and Mancini home.”

  Marjorie looked appreciatively at a stunning arrangement in the center of the dining table. “One of hers,” I asked, admiring the overflowing vase myself.

  She nodded. “She’s very talented. My Maxwell liked her for a minute.”

  That got my attention. “Really?”

  Marjorie sighed. “Yes, but her heart was always with Henry. From the way Gigi says it. Childhood sweethearts.”

  Admittedly, and not even knowing them from Adam, I swooned. “I love stories like that.”

  “You should read the romance that’s coming up for discussion next week. If it’s still snowing, we’ll do a Zoom.”

  Impressed, I made another mental note. “That’s pretty serious for a book club, isn’t it? Ours just skips a month if we’re being lazy.”

  “There’s one thing that I’ve learned about Hope Lake.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They take everything seriously.”

  Chapter Five

  I tucked the blanket under my legs. “Why did I think writing outside, in the snow, was the answer?”

  After breakfast, Marjorie left to cover for the young man that was at the desk. I found out he was an accounting major at the local college and Max gave him the B&B books to practice.

  I sought out a quiet, inspirational spot to try and get a little work done. The key to that was leaving my now-charged phone upstairs. Ignoring it wasn’t difficult.

  Curling up on the soft yellow outdoor sofa seemed like a great idea. A Christmas blanket on my lap and the brisk air to keep me laser focused, I settled in. The lightly falling snow added to the ambiance, except… the eighteen-degree wind had me high-tailing it back inside.

  In the grand entrance adjacent to the check in counter, the entire area was open and it was peaceful. I beelined right for the massive fireplace that was roaring to life thanks to some poking from Ross. He took one look at me and insisted on bringing me tea.

  I settled in on the love seat, pulling the tufted ottoman over to me so I could stretch out. The jeans had been tossed back in the suitcase, and I had switched to soft cotton joggers for warmth and comfort after breakfast.

  Cracking my knuckles, I placed the laptop on Santa’s face that smiled up at me from the blanket I had on my legs and stared at the blank document and blinking cursor.

  “Riveting,” Max said from over my shoulder.

  “What?” I asked, feeling the eagerness to cover the screen but there wasn’t a thing to keep secret.

  He pointed at the blinking cursor and blank document. “I particularly like your use of metaphor and the pacing is spot on.”

  I looked up at him, thinking that was the most he had said to me that I didn’t need to pull from him. “Hardy har har,” I quipped, and closed the laptop with a click. “I’m struggling. I’ve been staring at that same page for a week. I thought you had patients?”

  “I did. Some cancelled because of the storm. It’s good too because it’s getting pretty sketchy out there. I came to plow out the driveways.”

  “Why?” I asked as he came around to sit opposite me in the opposing Queen Anne chair. He filled all of the it with his large body. He crossed one long leg over the other and leaned his head against his fist. He looked relaxed, casual, and . . . what did Marjorie say, “Don’t you think my boy is handsome?”

  Yes, I dare say he is.

  I shifte
d on the couch and kept my head down knowing that my cheeks were lighting up. I could easily blame the fire in the hearth.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, either unaware of my blushing or helping me out so I wouldn’t be embarrassed further.

  “Yep, fine. Just warm by the fire,” I lied, pulling the blanket off of me.

  “Stanford, nice,” he said, motioning to my very ratty, well-loved sweatshirt.

  I smiled. “It was nice. I loved it there. Where did you go to school? Your mom said you guys weren’t from Hope Lake originally.”

  “No, I was born and raised in West Chester, near Philly. College was Cheyney and medical school, well, let’s just say we would have been rivals.”

  “Harvard?” I asked, immediately knowing his answer.

  He nodded. “Harvard.”

  I shook my head. “I won’t hold that against you. I hear it’s a decent school.”

  He threw his head back. “A rival is a rival. I admit, though,” he whispered, leaning in closer, “I contemplated Stanford for a minute, but I didn’t want to leave the East Coast.”

  I leaned my head back against the couch and closed my eyes. “Oh, you would have loved the California weather.”

  He snorted. “I probably would have but five hours away was far enough for my parents.”

  When I looked at him, his eyes held so much sadness. “Your mom mentioned your father passed away. I’m sorry.”

  He swallowed hard, as if a lump were in his throat. “He did. She hasn’t been the same. It’s why I brought her here. Her family is all spread out and her friends from back home come to visit in the summer. She shows the place off.”

  “How did you end up here?” I asked, and I hoped my line of questioning came off as intended. Eager to get to know Max Reese, not just as part of a potential story.

  “Is this for your article, or personal knowledge?”

  “Both, either? Neither? Your call. I told your mom the same thing. I know my editor called someone in the tourism office to let them know I was coming to do this piece. I don’t want anyone to feel like they can’t be honest with me or that everything that is said will end up in the article.”