by Jenny Hale
“Gran, that’s incredible. I’ve been coming here my whole life and I haven’t heard those stories. Why?”
Gran looked thoughtful, her eyes on the Christmas tree, the reflection of the lights dancing in the glass of a nearby window. “The stories are buried within this house where they belong. I’ve let them rest here peacefully without stirring them up, to keep them the way they were meant to be—in the hearts of those who lived them.”
“But Gran, people would love to know these things when they stay here. The inn could offer a tour; it might bring in more guests.”
Gran’s chest rose with a slow, irritated breath. “I will not capitalize on nor exploit the histories of those who came before me, for monetary gain. It is my duty to maintain this home and to use it how I see fit as the owner. I couldn’t live with myself if I made a profit on the hardships of others.”
Sometimes Gran could be so frustrating. Scarlett felt that her grandmother’s kindness could occasionally have a negative effect on things. She missed important opportunities because she was stubborn in her beliefs.
“Hello, you two!” Aunt Beth said as she walked in. “What were we talking about?” she asked, happily oblivious to the conversation at hand. She gingerly lowered herself down onto the sofa so as not to spill the brimming cup of hot apple cider in her hand that wobbled with her movements.
“We were talking about Loretta,” Gran said, effectively shutting down the conversation they’d been having.
“Oh.” Aunt Beth rolled her eyes in jest. “I didn’t even get in the door of Love and Coffee in town without Loretta dashing over to me to find out if I’m still single. Yes. For God’s sake, I’m single. Of course I am. It’s a holiday, and we all know that I somehow manage to spend every holiday alone.” She huffed as Aunt Alice entered the room and plopped down beside her.
Aunt Alice put her arm around Beth. “You’re not alone! You have us,” she said, having caught the tail end of the conversation.
“I’m getting too old for dating anyway,” Beth said. “I’m over sixty! The word ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t even sound right coming off my lips. And the whole thing is exhausting.”
“There’s nothing wrong with dating at any time in your life. Anyway, you’re young at heart,” Alice said with a grin.
“You’re all young to me,” Gran interjected, picking her crossword back up and setting it in her lap. “So I don’t know what you’re going on about. Beth, you ought to let Loretta set you up with someone. She wouldn’t have been in business for all these years if she weren’t any good at finding people who fit with each other. She’s surprisingly amazing at it.”
Beth was fashionable and sophisticated, and Scarlett always thought she was perfectly capable of having a solid, wonderful relationship with someone; she just hadn’t found that special someone yet. “I don’t know…” Beth said, running her hand through her graying hair, the style bouncing back to perfection.
“Why not?” Alice asked.
“It seems so… forced,” she answered before sipping from her mug.
Scarlett caught the scent of Aunt Beth’s cider all the way across the room; it smelled of nutmeg and cinnamon. That particular fragrance took her back to her childhood when this room was closed to guests and the family was all gathered together on Christmas morning, opening gifts in their bathrobes and slippers, the fire going in the fireplace, the sun barely peeking over the mountaintops, bits of ribbon and wrapping paper strewn around the room. She would miss those times. What about the twins, Riley and Mason? They’d grow up with only fuzzy memories of this place. She wouldn’t think about it right now, or she’d start to tear up.
“I could mention something to Loretta in passing when I see her again, and just feel out the situation to see what she might think…” Scarlett offered.
“No,” Aunt Beth said kindly, “if I’m meant to find Mr. Right, it will happen.”
“Would you date a friend of a friend?” Scarlett challenged. “Say I introduced you to someone I knew?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t see where it’s much different from Loretta then. She’d be introducing you to someone new. Same thing.”
Aunt Beth sipped her cider thoughtfully. Then she wriggled her back straighter, the way she always did before she made a point. “Being by myself doesn’t bother me on a daily basis. Besides, I don’t want to waste my Christmas running around with a stranger. I’d much rather spend it here. My dating life isn’t our number one concern.” She gazed meaningfully at Scarlett, and Scarlett knew that Beth was referring to Gran. But when Gran eyed her, Beth added, “Our number one concern is to have an amazing Christmas at White Oaks, am I right?”
Gran settled back in her chair with a smile and resumed her crossword puzzle. Just then, Scarlett realized that she’d been holding her breath during the exchange. Truck or no truck, first thing tomorrow she was heading over to Charlie’s, and this time she was going to make sure she didn’t leave until she’d talked about the sale of White Oaks.
Seven
Scarlett was finally close enough to make out Charlie’s features, as he stood on the small porch at Amos’s house. He was in the same coat as yesterday and what looked like pajama bottoms and boots, his hair disheveled in an amazingly attractive way, that guarded look on his face as she trudged toward him. She’d used her dad’s phone to get Charlie’s number to text this morning, telling him she’d like to stop by, but when Charlie hadn’t responded she’d decided to come anyway, worried about his wellbeing out here on the edge of the mountain.
“Good morning,” she said, when she reached him across the side yard by foot.
He stared at her. Yesterday’s irritation was replaced by a quiet indifference, that wall of his built strong today. A new pile of wood sat next to the door.
“I did text…” she said, trying not to let his gaze rob her of her purpose. She didn’t want to admit that, even though they’d shared a nice moment together over their peppermint lattes, she was just as cautious about him as he seemed to be about her. She worried that he didn’t trust her after her exchange in front of him with her father yesterday, and she wondered how obvious it was, now, that she had something on her mind that she had yet to say.
But then a slight crack formed in his stoic demeanor, a hint of an upward turn of his lips, and a sense of relief washed over her. Until he cleared it with a breath of icy air. “Can I help you?” he asked, looking over her shoulder at her dad’s truck, which was still stuck in the snow. He didn’t let her answer, his curiosity clearly getting the better of him. “How did you get here?”
Scarlett pointed to Pappy’s tractor, which sat at the end of a side road that had been completely hidden by the storm, the plow on the front of the machine full of snow. She’d taken it through the field and along the lane that had been impassable until she’d cleared it just now.
“You drove a tractor?” He allowed a grin then, those eyes glittering with interest before he could turn away. He opened the door. “I suppose we should go inside.”
He pushed the door open further, allowing her to enter, and then he followed her in and shut them into the damp, warm space of Amos’s little house. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit her the moment she got inside. It was mixed with the unique scent of Charlie and the age of the house. She inhaled it, appreciating the complexity of it.
“Did you just get up?” she asked. She’d left the house at ten o’clock, so it was probably close to ten thirty by now, and by the look of him as he shrugged off his coat, he hadn’t done much to improve his appearance this morning.
He poured her a cup of coffee as she sat on the hearth, their little moment becoming a ritual of sorts. He handed the mug to her just like he had yesterday. “I was up late,” he said.
Right as he said it, she noticed the ceiling above the spot where the bucket had been before. A tarp was nailed to it, the bottom bulging slightly with water from melted snow. “Oh my gosh!” she said, standing up and walking
over to it.
“I think the old wood’s giving out,” he said, filling himself a cup and joining her. “The weight of the snow was too much for it and bits of the ceiling were falling into the room.” He took a sip from his mug and swallowed. “It was quite a project to get the tarp up and keep the place heated last night. Kept me awake until after two in the morning.”
Scarlett felt the sting of guilt, concerned now that she’d imposed on his sleep. She should’ve thought better of coming when he hadn’t texted back. “May I ask you something?” She turned to him, allowing his moment of candidness to give her an opening for a personal question, as she tried to make sense of why he was devoting all his time to this house when there was no one there but him, and when there were plenty of better accommodation options in town. “What brought you here?”
He closed up right in front of her, the tension shooting back into his shoulders, the dark eyes as he looked at her returning, and she wasn’t sure what she’d asked, but clearly it wasn’t something he was ready to answer. He went to the counter and slowly placed his mug down, his gaze not leaving his still hands as they continued to grip his mug.
Scarlett walked over to him, pulling his attention toward her. “I just wondered, that’s all,” she said gently. “I’m sure Amos would’ve been thrilled to know you were back.”
The comment seemed to slice through him, the pain evident.
All of a sudden there was a loud crack, and the tarp that had been holding the bits of ceiling and water came crashing down, along with part of the roofing, sending fragments of wood and snow sliding across the hardwood floor. Scarlett let out a yelp in surprise and fear, jumping backward. With what seemed to be an instinctive action, Charlie grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her and leaning over her body to protect her face from the falling debris. His embrace was comforting in a way, and made her feel safe, slowing her racing heart.
When all the commotion had settled, he slowly let go of her, and the two of them peered up at the gaping hole in the ceiling.
“Damn,” he said under his breath, as he stepped onto the crumpled tarp and over a chunk of wood on the floor to peer straight up to the gray sky that was now above them. “Well,” he said on an exhale, “that’s my day taken care of. Looks like I’ll be fixing this.” He ran his hand over the scruff on his tired face.
“How will you fix it in all this snow?” Scarlett said. “It needs to be repaired from the outside in. You’ll freeze out there. And how will you get the supplies you need? I doubt they’ll fit on the snowmobile.” Her worries tumbled out one after another, her distress getting the better of her.
Charlie seemed to process her questions, glancing toward the window.
Scarlett could see Pappy’s tractor through the glass.
“No way,” she said. “Even if we get what you need to repair the damage, you’re not climbing up on a rooftop in the dead of winter. I can’t allow you to be that ridiculously unsafe. It’s icy! And it would be nearly impossible to get medical help out here if you hurt yourself.” Even Uncle Joe didn’t have the kind of resources required for someone who fell off a house.
“What’s my other option?” he said, quietly exasperated. “I’ll freeze to death if I don’t fix it. I had to keep the fire going all night long just to battle the cold that seeped in through the break in the ceiling last night. I’ll never be able to properly secure it unless I repair that hole.” He went over and grabbed his coat, evidently planning to get started right then.
“I have another option,” she said, attempting to stop him.
He kept moving, sliding on his snow boots.
“My gran owns White Oaks Inn. We have plenty of rooms available. You can stay with us until the snow clears.”
She hadn’t planned for it, but the perfect opportunity might have just fallen into her lap. At the very least, it would give Scarlett an opportunity to get to know him more, to see if her hunch was correct about him, if he was the right fit to be their buyer. And if he was, she could show Charlie how gorgeous and wonderful the inn could be, get Gran to share more about its history, and really sell him on it. Then, when the time was right, she could ask him if he was interested. She’d talk to Gran about letting him stay, later. Once Gran had heard about his generous donations to charity, she’d certainly change her opinion of him. And maybe she’d even like him, which would make selling a whole lot easier on Gran.
“Tomorrow night’s the town Christmas party at our place. It might be fun,” she added, trying to sway him.
“I hadn’t planned on being anywhere but here…”
He trailed off in thought and scrutinized the giant hole in the ceiling, frustration flashing across his face. But then his expression softened when he looked back at Scarlett, making her wonder if he could read her silent encouragement. At the heart of her request was the basic need to get him somewhere safe, where she wouldn’t spend all night worrying about him being exposed to the elements.
“You can’t stay here,” she said gently.
Charlie deliberated only a moment more and then his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Thank you,” he said, offering a genuine smile. “I suppose I should try to get this hole secured and then pack. Mind giving me a lift in the tractor?”
“Not at all.”
Scarlett felt anticipation bubble up for the first time since she’d heard about selling the inn. Amos’s crumbling house might have just saved Christmas for her.
Scarlett’s father loped over to her happily as she came through the main door of the inn with Charlie. His arms were full of wood for the fire—something Gran’s staff usually took care of. Scarlett wondered how many people Gran had let go this year.
“Where have you been?” he asked, lumping the logs onto the small cart they used to carry wood around to the various fireplaces in the inn. He grabbed one of Gran’s Christmas table runners that she always spread along the sideboard for the holiday.
Scarlett had spent the last few hours working together with Charlie to shield the interior from the elements as best they could before leaving. She couldn’t just sit back and not help. They’d nailed three tarps to the ceiling and lined the floor underneath with any dishpan or bucket they could find, then scooted the furniture out of the way so it wouldn’t get damaged.
It was strange to be working so close to him, but she didn’t mind at all. In fact, it felt very natural to be by his side. Perhaps it was because of their one memorable day together so long ago, but she enjoyed helping him, and she realized that if she hadn’t, she truly would’ve worried about how he’d get along with the repairs.
Charlie’s head swiveled slowly as he took in the interior of the inn. “This structure is incredible,” he said, running his finger along the woodwork that encased the door. “This wood is as old as the house—I can tell by the craftsmanship. Is that the original staircase?”
“Probably,” Scarlett said, excitement welling up. He liked what he saw. “My gran would know.”
“The main building seems like it’s in great shape considering its age. Is it part of a historical preservation program?”
“You’d have to ask Gran.”
Charlie and Gran would have so much to talk about; she could hardly wait. What if Gran fell in love with Charlie’s vision for running the inn and retired happily without a care in the world? With Charlie running it, they could probably visit any time they liked. As he was single like Gran, all but the main bedroom in the private quarters would be empty, just like it was now when all the family visited. This could be the perfect scenario… Scarlett knew she was getting carried away with her daydreams, but she could hope.
“Hello again,” Blue said, offering a warm handshake, but then he shot a questioning look over to Scarlett after noticing Charlie’s suitcase.
“Charlie will be staying at White Oaks,” she explained. “The snow damaged the roof of his house.”
“Oh no,” Blue said, his face creasing in concern. His serious expression didn’t fit with the
rest of him, given what he was wearing. He was still holding Gran’s Christmas table runner, and he had his Santa hat on, as well as the Christmas sweater that Scarlett had bought him last year.
“I’ll have it looked at by a professional once the snow clears a bit more,” Charlie said. “We got it as secure as we could for now.”
“Glad to hear that.” Blue turned to Scarlett. “Why don’t you check him into room 1B? That way he won’t have to walk too far in the cold every day to get to the main house. You’ll have to grab the key from reception since Esther’s gone. I’ll let Gran know the room will be occupied.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Scarlett said.
“You two should get rested up so you can come with us! We’re all going to watch Preston at The Bar tonight. It’s Christmas carol night…” His eagerness was evident in the wide grin that spread across his face.
“Christmas carol night is tonight?” Scarlett said, knowing exactly why her father was so excited.
“You can’t miss it,” Blue said as he headed toward the kitchen. “Everyone’s getting ready now. We’re all leaving at six o’clock.”
“What’s Christmas carol night?” Charlie asked, picking up his suitcase and following Scarlett to the reception desk.
“It’s a super fun night at The Bar,” she said, going behind the desk and rummaging on the wall of keys for 1B. “It happens once a year, and Cappy keeps it a secret until the very day. He changes out all the taps to locally brewed Christmas ales and lagers, and he has a scavenger hunt that’s a little like a grown-up Easter egg hunt, except he uses Christmas carols.” Scarlett took the key to 1B off the hook.
“Sounds like fun,” he said.
“It’s a blast. All year, people donate things as prizes, and the prizes can be pretty substantial. Gran’s giving away a free one-week stay at White Oaks. The merchants in town have donated things like boating trips, spa days, a year’s worth of free cakes, and even a pair of diamond earrings once.” She opened the door leading outside to the west wing where Charlie would be staying. He tipped his head up toward the ceilings, paying attention to the summer paddle fans that were stilled in the winter weather.