NICK
By the time we left the room the next morning, the inn was half an hour into its breakfast service. We sat at a cozy table in front of the lit fireplace in the middle of a large room with high ceilings and crisscrossing exposed beams. The owner, Buddy, who had checked us in last night, poured our coffee and took our orders. While we waited for my eggs and sausage and Cara’s French toast with berries and cream, we checked our weather apps.
Cara frowned. “It doesn’t look good.”
“Problem?” the owner asked as he approached us with nearly overflowing plates.
“The weather,” I said. “We’re supposed to get on the road in a couple of hours.”
“Bad idea.” He set our breakfasts in front of us.
Cara’s eyes lit up. “Is that freshly whipped cream?”
“Absolutely. Only kind we serve.” Buddy wiped his hands on his apron. “Now, about that storm, it’s coming in earlier and harder than predicted. But it should stop sooner, too. Probably snow itself out by late afternoon.”
“What are the odds the roads will get plowed out in time for us to get in some driving time today?” I asked.
The owner sighed and laid one hand on his pot belly. “If I had to guess, I’d say slim to none, with not much chance of slim. You should be able to get out by midday tomorrow, though.” He glanced at our cups. “Fresh pot is brewing. I’ll be back in a bit to top you off.”
So, we were stuck here for another day, at least. Cara seemed to be only half listening as she poured warm syrup from a silver chalice over what was already a sugar-fest on a plate. If she ate all that, she’d need a nap by noon. But if we were going to be stuck here anyway, I could think of worse things than tucking Cara into bed in the middle of the day.
She looked up at me and smiled. “That’s quite a grin for a man who just heard he’s stranded for the next day plus.”
“Am I grinning?” I hadn’t realized it. I shrugged and picked up my silverware. “It’s not all bad, being stranded with a gorgeous woman who makes me laugh and can do this amazing trick with her?—”
“We’re in public,” she whisper-yelled, then added quietly, “but I’m glad you liked it.”
When Buddy came by with the coffee pot, we asked about our next pressing order of business, which was to find winter-storm-appropriate clothes so we could walk around the village to the locations Cara had identified for herMother Treephoto shoot. As she explained it to Buddy, he called over his wife, Sue, who’d been working the other side of the dining room. Within minutes, they’d involved half the diners, most of whom were locals, in the conversation.
Which was how we came to be dressed in a mishmash of borrowed snow gear, trudging through the inch of snow that was already on the ground, with a gaggle of townsfolk following us. Cara swore them to secrecy and true to everyone’s word, no one pulled out a cell phone to sneak a pic or video. Everyone, though, had an opinion about where Cara should take pictures ofMother Treenext. In the end, we’d spent half the day going to ten different locations.
“Sorry that took so long,” Cara said when we were back in her room, which was now officially our room, to drop offMother Tree.
“Don’t apologize.” I clicked through her phone, checking the images. “Care, these are stunning. I especially love the black and white ones. You know, you could make a mint selling photo prints of your art work.”
She bumped her shoulder into my arm. “I don’t need a mint.”
“I meant in case you ever need more money to pay your bills.” I pulled her into my arms. “Or to feed your cat.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
I kissed my way down the side of her neck. She squirmed against me in that way I loved, but then wiggled out of my arms. “You’re going to make us late for the snowman rolling contest.”
As we’d made our way around the village with the locals, we’d gotten ourselves invited to every Christmas-themed event they had scheduled that day. Since the kids were already out of school for the holiday and the majority of the town’s income came from tourism, every day was jam-packed with Christmas delight.
I should have hated it. But with Cara’s hand in mine as she led me across the town square to the snowman-filled park, I didn’t really mind. I actually enjoyed losing our snowman rolling heat to a pair of seven- and nine-year-old sisters. Next up, we had to choose between a snowmobile ride on a cleared trail in the woods and an afternoon caroling event. She chose the event where we were the youngest participants, me by twenty years and Cara by thirty-five.
“When I said I’d sing for you, I didn’t know this was what you had in mind,” I whispered as we walked toward our first stop, which was a nursing home.
After that, we sang for the toddlers at a daycare, and finally for the staff and patients of the town’s only hospital. I was amazed at how many of the hymns and carols I remembered from being in choirs in my youth. I didn’t even need the sheet music for some of them.
As we walked back to the church to hand in our music, Cara wrapped her arm around mine. “Nick, your voice is beautiful. Seriously, it brought me to tears a few times.”
I hugged her close. “I noticed you were pretty quiet.”
“I was busy listening.”
“Next time you want me to sing, you’ll have to do it with me,” I said.
