With the decision made that we’ll visit Cedar Creek Ranch tomorrow morning, my sisters and I get our luggage from the car and carry it up to our rooms. Sadie and I are sharing a room with a connecting door with Sienna’s room. Our parents are across the hall.
While Sadie freshens up, I open the curtains and look out at the street below. I hadn’t noticed at first, but every storefront on the street is decorated to the nines. It’s like they’re preparing to shoot a Hallmark movie here. It’s so charming and quaint and it suits Sienna’s personality perfectly.
I can imagine my sister living in this town and being happy with the monotony. There’s no way I’d ever fit in with these people. They are all probably so nice and kind, going out of their way to help people. I’m suspicious by nature so being nice and kind is like my third response when meeting someone.
It’s a good thing I’d never consider moving to a small town. I leave the curtains open as Sadie walks out of the washroom and it’s my turn to get ready for dinner.
TWO
SCARLETT
Ever since I was sixteen and started running track for my high school team, I’ve been waking up at six in the morning to go for a run. No matter where I am or what the weather is, my alarm goes off at six in the morning every day and I go for a run.
I’m moving around the room slowly, trying not to wake Sadie as I put on my shoes. She’s pulled the blanket over her head so the only thing visible of her is her dark hair. I’ve got on my winter running gear and I make sure to grab my headphones and the room key before stepping out into the hallway.
As soon as I do, the door across the hall opens and my dad steps out. He’s got his jacket and cap on, rubbing his hands together as he warms up.
“Daddy, you don’t have to do this,” I say. “I’m pretty sure Silverpine doesn’t even have a criminal history.”
You know how they say some men are just born to be girl dads? Well, my father is one of those men. He’s probably participated in everything his daughters have wanted to do, whether that’s running a marathon or hosting a princess tea party eight years in a row.
He wore the tiaras and the nail polish, picked out our prettiest dresses, and showed up for us in every way possible.Exhibit A, he’s been waking up with me at 6 AM since I started running. He’s not going to let his daughter run around the city unprotected.
“The day you get married, I’ll pass the baton to your husband,” he says.
“You’re going to be stuck doing this for a long time because I don’t trust any man enough to marry him.”
Been there, done that, never plan on doing it again.
I shake off the bitter thought as we walk down the hallway.
“I’ll be waking up with you as long as I live,” Dad says.
“I’ll take you up on that offer,” I say.
We climb the stairs down to the ground floor and find it empty, except for Marion standing behind the counter. It smells sugary and cinnamony, and I immediately find the source to be the cinnamon buns that Marion has set out on the table along the front windows. Three different thermoses are set up as well for coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. The Christmas tree is lit up as it was last night and so are all the Christmas lights.
It’s so warm and cozy, I almost falter on my way out the door.
Marion looks up as Dad and I walk into the lobby. She must be in her seventies, with hair that had gone white and kind brown eyes. Mom told me she was the owner of the Inn and that it had been in her family for generations. Her husband passed away two years ago and her step-grandsons helped her run the Inn, though she did the day-to-day work.
Mom would have gotten Marion’s whole life story if we hadn’t shown up and distracted her last night. She left her job ten years ago, but her investigative journalist skills were still strong.
“Good morning. Isn’t it a little early to be up?” Marion smiled brightly.
“It’s this one.” Dad tilts his head toward me. “She goes on a run every morning, unless the weather is so temperamental it’ssafer to be inside. I can’t have my daughter running around early in the morning.”
Marion looks at me, brown eyes widening in surprise. “You’re going running in this freezing weather? You know we have a small gym on site, maybe you should use it?”
It was zero degrees outside, so I wouldn’t say it’s freezing. The idea of a gym is tempting, especially since it will be warm, but I always grow restless on a treadmill. I need the open space, to breath fresh air, to feel like I’m running towards something rather than in place.
“Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer tomorrow,” I say. “I’m already dressed to go running outside.”
“Let me make you a thermos of coffee to take with you,” Marion says.
Getting out from behind the counter, she ambles to the kitchen and comes out a minute later with a big thermos of coffee and a bakery box of cinnamon rolls. Dad’s eyes brighten with delight as he takes the loot of Marion’s hands and thanks her profusely.
“You know you’re not supposed to eat that,” I say. His blood sugar was a little high during his last check-up and mom had put him on a strict diet. He’d lost like fifteen pounds since then.
