The White Christmas Inn

by Colleen Wright

  “I never thought I’d see those two names side by side,” Tim said, squeezing Jeanne’s shoulder.

  But when Jeanne hit enter to get the results, they saw those two names side by side in hit after hit, all the way down the search page.

  “It looks like . . .” Jeanne said, sifting through them. “It looks like he just posted his year-end list last night.”

  “And people are already making reservations?” Tim said.

  Jeanne glanced back at him. “When he puts a place on a year-end list, it can sell out for years in advance,” she said. “Do you remember how we wanted to book that tree house inn we saw in upstate New York?”

  “But getting a reservation was going to take two years?” Tim said, disbelief in his voice. “Is that what’s happening to us?”

  Jeanne switched back to the calendar mode, just in time to see the last empty room in January turn red for reserved.

  “These are all genuine reservations,” she said, flipping from one to the next. “Credit cards, deposits, everything.”

  “Jeanne,” Tim said quietly as she raised her hand to touch his hand on her shoulder. “This means . . .”

  “What does it say?” Iris broke in. “What does he say in the article?”

  Jeanne had to pause for a minute before she could bring herself to click on one of the links that led to the actual article.

  When she did, all three of them gasped.

  There, under the headline “World’s Best Inns of the Year,” was a photograph of Evergreen Inn, beside a prominent “#1.” And although the headline promised a further list, Jeanne had to scroll for what seemed like pages before she came to entries two and three. And each of those only involved a paragraph-long blurb and small picture, nothing as long as the full article that Peterson had devoted to Evergreen Inn.

  “The Inn at Sand Beach,” Jeanne read in wonder. It was her favorite boutique inn anywhere in the country, so exclusive, and expensive that she and Tim had only been there once. But that trip had given her years of inspiration, and she still measured everything she did at Evergreen Inn against the standards of creative hospitality she had experienced at Sand Beach. “He rated the Inn at Sand Beach number three. And us number one.”

  “Scroll up,” Tim said. “Read the article.”

  So Jeanne scrolled up and did, reading aloud, even though by now both Tim and Iris were huddled close, looking over her shoulder, because she could barely believe it was true if she didn’t hear the words coming out of her own mouth.

  It was all there: from the first bite of the brownies that had been laid out on the hall table when he came in, to descriptions of Jeanne’s holiday decorations and the appointments of his room, to a lush litany describing Jeanne’s Christmas Eve spread, and the nighttime sleigh ride the owners of the business had gone on to provision the guests, expected and unexpected, with homegrown, inventive fare, even in the middle of a major blizzard.

  As Jeanne read, she felt her eyes filling with tears. It wasn’t just that the flood of reservations the article had prompted had changed the whole prospects for their beloved home and business overnight. Even more than that, she was touched by the fact that, at last, her inn had been visited by the perfect guest, the guest she’d been preparing for since she dreamed up her first meal and envisioned the unique, welcoming elements of their first guest room.

  Peterson wasn’t the perfect guest because of his big name, or his wide audience. And definitely not because he was a model of agreeable manners himself. He was the perfect guest because he noticed everything, absolutely everything, every tiny detail that she had spent her time and thought on but secretly believed no one else might ever even see: the dried flowers mixed into the juniper swag, the playful burst of red paint she’d added to the underbelly of the blue shelves in Peterson’s room, the three cheeses she blended together before she grilled her grilled cheese sandwiches, every single one of which Peterson had been able to recognize and identify.

  Other guests loved Evergreen Inn, and Jeanne loved having them there, whether they had a sophisticated eye, and a sophisticated palate, or not. And she never did anything she did to show off.

  But reading Peterson’s article, there was something incredibly wonderful about feeling so thoroughly seen and understood. And the fact that Peterson wasn’t just any guest, but someone who had seen so much of everything else the world had to offer, someone she had looked up to herself, made it hard to even take in.

  “Well, he certainly seemed to enjoy your company, Iris,” Tim commented. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him spend so many words on the check-in process.”

  Iris gave a coy smile. “Yes,” she said. “We were actually thinking of doing a bit of traveling together.”

  At this, Jeanne’s and Tim’s eyes met, both trying not to laugh out loud with the glee of it.

  Then Jeanne stood up and threw her arms around Tim, who hugged her so hard that he pulled her feet up off the ground.

  “This changes everything,” she said. “Everything.”

  From the lounge, where the girls were opening presents, they could hear a squeal of joy, followed by a low roar of laughter from the gathered guests.

  “Except for the way I feel about you,” Tim said, and kissed her. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Jeanne said, and kissed him back.

  “HE DID WHAT?” AUDREY said.

  “Is he still here?” Jared said, glancing out the windows at the blue-and-white world beyond.

  Hannah, seated on the bench in the front hall where she’d taken a seat after Trevor left, shook her head. “He’s gone,” she said, but as she did, her mind flashed not on Trevor’s petulant stomp out of the house, but on what Luke’s back had looked like as he strode out the door.

  Audrey sank down on the seat beside her and put her arm around Hannah.

  “Honey,” she said. “I can’t believe it. How are you doing?”

  To her own surprise, when Hannah looked at Audrey, she broke out in a grin.

  “I feel . . . great,” she said.

  “Yeah?” Jared said, obviously confused.

  Hannah couldn’t blame him. She was having some trouble keeping up herself. “I don’t even understand it. I mean, I knew Trevor couldn’t be the one for me after he dumped me the day before the wedding. But this time—it was my choice. It’s not just something that happened to me anymore. That feels different.” As she said it, she could feel her grin widening. “A lot different,” she said.

  “I still wish I’d seen that guy,” Jared said in a dark tone.

  As they were talking, Santa Claus had come into the lobby from the lounge, where they could still hear the voices of the girls as they played with the toys and books and other presents they’d opened earlier that morning. He was followed by his wife, Eileen, who did have the neat white bob of a Mrs. Santa Claus, but wore an outfit that was significantly toned down to his red velvet and white fur: jeans and a soft red sweater.

  “Ho, ho, ho!” Santa said, glancing around the lobby. “How are you kids doing this morning?”

  “Merry Christmas,” Audrey said with a smile.

  “I can’t believe you’ve spent all morning in that monkey suit,” Jared said, shaking his head. “That’s above and beyond the call of duty.”

  “Are you kidding?” Eileen said. “The problem I’m going to have is getting him to take it off.”

  “I think I should drive home in it,” Frank said, pulling off his fake beard. “It’s nice and warm. And if we get stopped by the police, they’ll have to let me off with just a warning. After all, I’m Santa Claus.”

  “Is that how it works?” Eileen said with a smile.

  “Now,” Audrey said with a perplexed look, “do you always travel with a Santa suit?”

  “That’s a good idea,” Frank said, turning to his wife. “Now, honey, why haven’t we thought of that?”

  “No,” Eileen said firmly. “No, he does not. He managed to root this one out of the
wardrobe in our room. Unfortunately, it fit like a glove.”

  “But the kids love it,” Frank said.

  “That I can’t argue with,” Eileen said. “The kids do.”

  “My kids don’t get that excited about Santa anymore,” Frank said with a wistful look.

  “It was nice to see that,” Eileen agreed. “We were thinking this year that Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without the kids.”

  “But then we figured out we could borrow someone else’s!” Frank said with a grin. Then he tugged at the furry collar of his suit. “Much as I hate to, I’m going to go upstairs and get some regular clothes. This thing does get old after a while, even for me.”

  “I’ll see you up there,” Eileen said as he climbed the stairs. “You kids getting ready to head out?”

  “Soon,” Jared said. “I’ve got another few days with this beautiful woman, and I’m going to take her down to Boston to show her the lights of the big city.”

  “That sounds lovely,” Eileen said. Then she looked at Hannah. “It was so nice to meet you and your family,” she said. “We were very grateful to find room here, I can tell you. And very grateful to meet you. Even though the circumstances weren’t ideal.”

  In reply, Hannah grinned at her. “I’m not sure I’d say that,” she said. “It wasn’t what I expected. But it might have been all right.”

  As she said it, she thought of Luke again, but pushed the thought out of her head. Enough had happened for one weekend. For a lot more than one weekend, actually.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that,” Eileen said. “Of course, I hoped you’d feel that way eventually. But it’s nice to see you smiling today. It is Christmas, after all.”

  “That’s right!” Audrey said, giving Eileen a hug. “Merry Christmas!”

  “Merry Christmas,” Eileen said. “And the happiest of new years to all of you,” she said before she headed up the stairs.

  “Well, babe,” Jared said to Audrey when the three of them were left alone in the lobby. “What do you say? You want to run away with me?”

  “Always,” Audrey said. “But can I grab my bag first?”

  “Nope,” Jared said, slipping past her as she started up the stairs after Eileen. “I’m going to get it for you.”

  Left alone in the lobby, Hannah leaned her head back on the wall behind the bench and looked around.

  In the months leading up to this day, she’d imagined it dozens of times, filled with ribbons and white flowers to give a wedding accent to the juniper swags, Trevor’s family, her family, the minister, the carefully chosen drinks and canapés.

  But looking around now, she realized she loved it the most just as it had always been, not dressed up, but with the simple beauty that had drawn her and her family back there, year after year.

  Instead of Trevor and his family, she’d met Frank and Eileen, and Marcus and the girls still playing happily in the lounge where she had planned to have her wedding ceremony.

  And from where she sat right now, that seemed like a pretty good trade.

  “Hey, Hannah,” said Jeanne, coming out of the kitchen with a basket of steaming cinnamon rolls, dripping with thick white frosting. “You want to taste-test these for me?”

  She held out a blue-and-white cloth napkin with a roll nestled in the folds.

  “Oh, yes,” Hannah said. “These definitely seem like they need taste-testing. You wouldn’t want to put out anything that’s not absolutely top quality.”

  When she took a bite, she closed her eyes, to get the fullest possible experience of the buttery, doughy, spicy, sweet, warm confection.

  “You know what,” she said. “I’m not sure if these are any good or not. I may need to try another one.”

  Jeanne laughed, but as she did, a blast of cold air blew into the lobby from the front door.

  When Hannah opened her eyes, Luke was standing there, clapping his bare hands to get some warmth back into them.

  “Luke!” Jeanne said. “What are you doing back? Is everything okay?”

  But Luke didn’t break eye contact with Hannah, who he’d locked eyes with the instant he came through the door. “Um, yeah,” he said, still looking at Hannah. “Everything’s fine. I just—forgot something.”

  It didn’t take long for Jeanne to take in the situation. Out of the corner of Hannah’s eye, she saw Jeanne suppress a smile. Then she skirted around behind Hannah, carrying the basket of cinnamon rolls into the lounge, where they were met by peals of childish rejoicing.

  “Hey,” Hannah said. “I’m glad you came back.”

  “I just . . .” Luke said, then broke off. “I didn’t want to leave that way,” he finally finished.

  Hannah smiled. “I didn’t want you to leave that way, either,” she said. “I went out after you, but you were already gone.”

  “You did?” Luke said, the urgency and worry on his face replaced by the dawn of a smile.

  As he said it, he stepped closer. “What would you have said if you caught me?”

  Now Hannah felt bashful, looking down at the coils of the cinnamon roll in her hand. “I don’t know,” she said. “I hadn’t gotten that far. I just didn’t want you to leave.”

  “Well,” Luke said, taking another step closer, so that they stood almost perfectly face-to-face, “I’m here now.”

  Hannah stood there frozen. Part of her wanted to wrap her arms around him. Part of her couldn’t believe she could feel that way so soon after the end of things with Trevor. And part of her wished that Luke would make the first move, so that she wouldn’t have to.

  But when she didn’t answer, Luke stepped back, deflated.

  “Look,” he said. “I know this is crazy. It’s way too soon to be thinking of anything like this. But I can’t stop thinking about us, about what it could be like . . .”

  At this, Hannah looked up, and Luke broke off, looking into her eyes.

  “It’s too soon,” he said. “Isn’t it? Of course it’s too soon. I should have waited. I should—”

  But before he could finish, Hannah took his hand.

  “I waited a long time for Trevor to decide how he felt about me,” she said. “A long time. And in the end it turned out he never really knew for sure.”

  “Maybe he never really knew you,” Luke said.

  “Could be,” Hannah said. “But Trevor isn’t what I’m interested in right now.”

  “What are you interested in?” Luke said softly.

  “I’m interested in how you feel about me,” Hannah said.

  “I’m crazy about you,” Luke said. “I think I always have been.”

  “What caught your attention first?” Hannah asked. “My terrible haircut or my braces?”

  “You,” Luke said. “I’ve always known how I felt about you.”

  “Well, we’ve known each other for years,” Hannah said. “How could it be too soon?”

  In answer, Luke kissed her.

  Then he pulled back for a moment, laughing, to look at her.

  And kissed her again.

  “UM,” MOLLY SAID, LOOKING down at the perfect mess Bailey was attempting to stuff into her small blue suitcase covered with its silver stars. “Would you like to . . . ?”

  Bailey looked up at her with a beatific smile, as if nothing in the world could make her happier than to do whatever Molly was about to suggest.

  But when Molly surveyed the jumble of books, crayons, socks, wrapping paper, and tulle, along with what seemed to be an entire menagerie of stuffed creatures, including a giraffe and a brightly colored fish, she couldn’t think of a way to finish the sentence.

  “You know what?” she said, bending down to try to create some order amidst the chaos herself. “Why don’t I just . . . ?”

  And she began to tuck the corners of the tulle in so the skirt of the dress Bailey had worn to bed the day before wouldn’t get torn up in the teeth of the zipper, stack the books, and try to settle the stuffed animals together in their own corner.

  As Molly
did, Bailey clung to her arm with a blissfully self-satisfied expression on her face, as if immobilizing Molly’s arm was the most helpful thing Bailey could think of to do, after exploring all of her other options.

  Nonetheless, Molly managed to tuck the most egregious outliers into the suitcase, tamp them down, and get the zipper closed.

  When she turned back, Addison was already standing by the door of the office, her own suitcase neatly zipped, her boots already on.

  “Okay, ladies,” Molly said, scooping up both suitcases.

  The girls trailed her out of the room and through Molly’s own suite, until they got to the door where, to Molly’s surprise, Addison balked.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Molly said, turning back on the stairs. “What’s up?”

  “Where’s your suitcase?” Addison asked.

  “Oh,” Molly said. “It’s up there. I haven’t packed it up quite yet.”

  “You should pack,” Addison said. “We’re about to go.”

  Molly, who was painfully aware of this herself, tried to smile.

  “Well,” she said, to distract Addison from the question she was clearly interested in, which was getting Molly to come with them, “let’s get these bags downstairs first.”

  Downstairs, the lobby was a bustle of activity.

  Jeanne was pressing a package of brownies wrapped in wax paper into the hands of Stacy, Hannah’s mother.

  “Those are brownies,” Addison identified with an eagle eye. For emphasis, she pulled insistently on the hem of Molly’s shirt.

  Stacy stashed the sweet treats carefully in her purse, then gave Jeanne a long, warm hug.

  “I know this wasn’t exactly the weekend we planned,” Jeanne said when Stacy released her.

  “But no matter what happened, it’s always good to be here,” Stacy said. “I’ll see you in July?”

  “You were one of the first reservations we had this year,” Jeanne told her. “I can’t wait to see you all then.”

  Molly skirted the two of them to set the girls’ bags neatly beside the door. But as she did, she lost track of Bailey.

  Finding her, however, didn’t prove to be much of a problem, because of the volume at which she asked, “Where are our brownies?”