by Bridget Snow
“And I’d remember you. Every morning that I woke up alone, I’d remember that I left you to sleep in an empty bed. I couldn’t bear that. The thought of you being alone makes me the saddest of all.
“I can’t just come back for occasional weekends. Not when my heart is here.”
“So I convinced you to stay?” he asked.
“Of course you did,” she said. “About five minutes ago. I was just about to hail a cab home to Pine Corner when you came rushing in.”
Mason’s face stretched into a wide smile. “Come in here.” He opened his coat like a superhero’s cape. Mel dropped her bag at his feet and reached inside that coat, coiling her arms around his back and resting her face against his bare chest. He wrapped the coat closed again, enveloping them both.
“You’re freezing,” she said.
“I know,” he replied. “I need you to warm me up before I go back out there. The truck’s acting a little fussy in all this cold.”
They held each other for what felt like eternity, and like no time at all. When they finally separated, Mel glanced back at the couple behind her. The woman was slumped in her seat crying, and the man failed to console her out of it.
“What’s going on there?” Mason asked.
“Button your coat and come with me,” she said. Mel walked toward the couple and Mason followed, carrying Mel’s duffel by his side.
“Excuse me,” Mel said. “I couldn’t help but overhear. You’ve had your flight cancelled?”
“There’s nothing for days,” the woman said, her voice creaking through tears.
“It was supposed to be our honeymoon,” the man said. “It’s an early morning flight, but the storms have been grounding planes all night. Every hotel is booked up.”
“That’s awful,” Mel said. She looked over at Mason. He seemed sympathetic to the young couple’s bad luck.
“Look,” Mel continued. “I hate to see you stranded here when we have seven extra beds at Hansen House. You’re welcome to stay with us until you can figure out your travel plans.”
“Are you… sure?” The man raised an eyebrow at Mel’s pajama pants before his gaze drifted toward a pants-less Mason.
“Please don’t mind our attire,” Mel said. “We’ve had a very strange morning.”
“Car trouble,” Mason added. The man nodded as if that made sense of things.
“The house is over a century old,” Mel said, “recently restored, and we have quite a breakfast planned in the morning. Which is just a few hours away, now that I think about it.”
The woman wiped tears away from her face and looked up at Mel. “So you run a bed and breakfast?”
An overwhelming sense of possibility washed over Mel, leaving her weightless and tingling. It was like she had been dancing around that solution for weeks now without seeing it, letting the house take the lead as it guided her in its own revival. Every late night and early morning, every effort she had exerted, had all prepared her inheritance to blossom into something that could — if she kept at it hard enough — sustain her and Pine Corner for years to come.
“Yes,” she said. “A bed and breakfast. That’s exactly right.”
“It’s a longish drive to Pine Corner,” Mason said, “but we can all squeeze into the truck. Consider it a shuttle service.”
Mel sat in the passenger’s seat, her hand on Mason’s thigh the entire ride. She’d have to tell Craig the bad news, and Lorna the good news. She’d have to find out what rates made sense, and how to set up a hospitality business. She’d have… a thrilling list of responsibilities ahead of her. Hansen House had always been a refuge, and now it would stay that way.
When the truck pulled up, the sun was just starting to brighten the horizon, and morning’s first light spilled into the open roads and snuck its way through the trees. Before Mel’s foot touched the curb, her eye caught something special.
The sign outside the house had been replaced with a new one, expertly crafted from planks of fresh pine. Its words were etched in a fine bevel and painted in gold:
Hansen House
Est. 1912
Our Cocoa Will Melt Your Heart
“Mason,” she said. “It’s perfect.”
“Merry Christmas, Mel. And here’s to many more.”
About the Author
Bridget Snow was born in late September, but she’s pretty sure she was conceived on Christmas Eve. And she’s a firm believer that every yuletide should be hot hot hot, with a roaring fire on one side and a strong muscled man on the other. If you’re a fan of happily-ever-holidays, insta-love stories, and mixing your naughty in with your nice, then take a little trip to Pine Corner and join in the fun!
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