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“I have some interesting news to share.” I skipped the last step and met George in the foyer.
Izzy followed, curious.
George leaned against the entryway table already decorated for Valentine’s Day, complete with a chalkboard sign with one of my favorite quotes by Judy Garland: “For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.” I could have said those exact words to Drake. Along with the chalkboard sign there were pink and red rustic wooden hearts and strings of pearls and paper hearts. I was quite proud of it.
I stood next to George, in case I needed to hold him up.
Izzy stood nearby, flecks of sawdust in her gorgeous tresses.
“What’s your news, girlie?” George wheezed out.
I gave Izzy a tentative glance before spilling the beans. “Well . . . I just talked to Calvin Foster.”
Izzy groaned.
“I know, I know. He wasn’t all that thrilled with it either, but . . .” I paused for dramatic effect. “He let it slip that he stayed at the inn once with Drake’s mom. Can you believe it?” I practically shouted.
Izzy’s eyes widened like she was mildly interested in this news. But George, he flashed me his mischievous grin.
“Did you know that, George?” I had to ask, given his smile.
“It doesn’t surprise me,” was all he offered.
“Why not?” I had to know.
“This place calls to people.” He wagged his bushy white brows.
“Do you know when they stayed here?”
“Hmmm,” he thought. “Let’s look in the old guest books.”
I took note that he hadn’t said no. Did he really know or was he pulling my leg, as he liked to say? And if he knew, why hadn’t he said anything before? Regardless, we all set off for the attic. Izzy and I helped George up both sets of stairs. It was slow going, which made the excitement build in me until I could almost burst. The thought of Drake’s parents staying here felt meaningful. Like there was a reason Drake and I got snowed in and created a beautiful human being in this place. And why Drake felt the need to come back here, not even knowing I owned it. There was something magical about it all.
By the time we made it to the attic, George needed to rest. Izzy and I deposited him in Daisy’s old rocking chair. It was sweet to watch him glide his wrinkled and crinkled hands over the arms, like he was trying to recapture how it felt to touch his beloved wife.
I gave him a moment before I asked, “Where should we look?”
He thought for a second before pointing to a stack of boxes against the back wall. “Check in those.”
Izzy and I went to work, each grabbing a box. I opened mine to find a bunch of old receipts, but Izzy struck gold. Several leather-bound guest books were neatly stacked in hers. The only problem was, I didn’t know when they’d stayed here. I had a rough estimate of how long they had been married, but I had no idea at what point in their relationship they had visited.
“I guess let’s start in the late seventies,” I suggested. That was before George and Daisy owned the inn. And it might have even been before his parents were married . . . after all, that hadn’t stopped Drake and me from staying here.
“I don’t know,” George said. “I would start in the mid-nineties.” He flashed me his denture grin. That’s when George and Daisy had bought the place.
I narrowed my eyes. “Listen, old man, if you remember them, you need to confess right now,” I playfully admonished him.
He held up his hands. “I’m innocent here.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. Regardless, Izzy and I began flipping through the books that smelled like days gone by, looking for dates in the nineties. We both sat cross-legged and ran a finger down each page, looking for Calvin and Nora Foster. Minute after minute we searched the yellowing pages. I noticed an oddity next to a few of the names I had come across.
I held up the book I was looking at and pointed. “What does the heart mean?” I asked George.
George, with that enigmatic smile of his, answered, “Those were the special ones.”
“Special?” I questioned.
“Special like you and Drake,” he clarified.
“Soul mates,” I whispered.
Izzy scoffed.
George wagged his finger at Izzy. “You wait, dear one, yours is coming.” He’d dubbed Izzy dear one because of her heart of gold and her love for me and Jameson.
Izzy rolled her eyes. “I love you, George, but I’m not holding my breath.”
George chuckled, but I knew he was sincere—which gave me hope for Izzy, even if she didn’t believe. More and more I was learning not to doubt George or this place. I would believe for her.
