“Grandma, you didn’t tell me we booked a guest. How long is she staying?”
“Till Christmas!” Delia piped in, following my grandmother into the common room. “Grandma Jean, this place is lovely.”
My brow creased. Were we seeing the same room? The hearth was filled with soot, sitting beneath a mantel bare of decorations. A lone pine tree sat in the corner, slightly bent—unsurprising since it came from out back—and lacking ornaments. This room was devoid of joy on purpose.
“Ah, it could use a little cheer. I keep begging my grandson to pull down the decorations from the attic. But he’s so busy. Running a farm like this is exhausting, and we’ve had trouble finding help this year.”
“Well, your grandson definitely knows how to brandish a saw. It wasn't menacing at all,” Delia said with a suppressed grin. “But don’t do anything extra on my account. You won’t even know I’m here.”
I clenched my jaw.Unlikely. But it won’t matter, you’re not staying.
Grandma Jean clapped her hands together. “Let me show you upstairs and get you settled. Here's your key.” She handed Delia a long brass key with a red tassel hanging from the end.
I watched Delia head for the stairs, realizing I still had her suitcase. I was not a bellboy, but then again, she'd probably topple down the staircase in those heels if she tried to bring it up to her room.
With a heavy sigh and an internal pep talk that I would be loading said suitcase into the back of a taxi in no time, I delivered the luggage to her door.
Delia popped her head out of the room as my grandmother droned on about the tricky hot water in the bathroom and the perks of fresh cookies in the afternoon.News to me, I’ve never seen any cookies.
She grabbed her suitcase and sent me a wink. “Catch ya later, killer. Don't forget that road salt.”
The door closed in my face, and I blinked at her dismissal. Three weeks till Christmas.
Three. Long. Weeks.
There was no way I was sharing this house with that woman. Meals were out of the question.
My grandmother and I had already decided to sell the inn at the start of the new year, and she'd also agreed to no guests. I had a farm to run—into the ground—and a dreaded holiday to hibernate through. If I wanted peace and quiet till the end, that was my business. I didn't need any distractions or temptations.
What I needed was a plan.
A sly grin spread across my face. Delia Frost wouldn’t last the night.
Chapter 3
Delia
Grandma Jean pressed her ear against the bedroom door and waited until Jack’s footsteps faded down the stairs. “I think he's gone. We can talk freely now. I'm grateful the agency sent someone so quickly. I heard there was a waiting list.”
I hefted my suitcase onto the bed and placed my plant on the nightstand, before turning to the older woman. Her fine gray hair was trimmed short with soft layers, and she wore a cozy green cable-knit sweater with loose slacks. Around her neck hung an amethyst on a chain; the occult symbol for calmness and serenity. It suited her. While her grandson seemed consumed by a dark cloud, Grandma Jean was pure light.
“I'm happy to be here. We have a stellar record at the agency, and our division tries to handle as many cases as we can each holiday. Though, I have to ask since often we work undercover, how did you hear about us?”
Grandma Jean pressed her fingers around the amethyst and gave me a knowing look. “I’m the founder of the town’s Spells and Brews Ladies' Club. It’s a small group, and none of us have actual magical powers, but we do craft a mean Winter’s Moon spiced cider. It’s wonderful for stomach upsets and pleasant dreams.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“It is! Anyway, as I was saying, nothing has seemed to help my grandson’s disposition. He’s had such a difficult time after a broken engagement, and a falling out with his father. I don’t know the things that were said, but Jack walked away from everything and didn’t return to Wood Pine until after his father’s death last year—at Christmastime, of course. It’s been downhill ever since. Drastic measures were needed, so I put out some feelers, and through word of mouth, I received a business card. After I sent in my letter, I crossed my fingers.”
“Well, it’s nice to have an ally. This is my first official Scrooge case.” It was my first case altogether, but she didn’t need to know that.
Grandma Jean laughed. “It’s that bad, isn't it? Jack could give Ebenezer a run for his money. He hates this holiday through and through. If he even suspects you’re trying to change his mind, he’ll revolt and make your life miserable. I wasn't supposed to allow any guests this season, so there's already a mark against you.”
I waved her away with an eye roll and tapped the top of my suitcase containing my mystical bag of tricks. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle anything Jack throws my way. Plus, I have a game plan. Your grandson won’t even know what hit him. When we’re through, he'll be a Christmas convert. It’s our agency guarantee.”
“You’ll have your hands full for sure. But if you need anything, let me know. I’ll let you settle in. Dinner’s at six. I hope you like meatloaf.”
“I do, and if you’re up to it, I’d love to try a little of that spiced cider.”
