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“Trixie and I were talking at Norah’s wedding about how we wish we could see each other more often than weddings and funerals. That trip was the first time we’d had any in person time in eight years. Eight years. That’s too long. So, I made the decision to make some changes right then and there.”
“Congratulations,” I tell her as she squeezes me again.
“And who do we have here?” she asks over my shoulder.
We release our hold, and I turn to see Bran standing behind me.
“Mom, this is Keller’s friend, Brannigan.”
He smiles and extends his good hand. “You can call me Bran.”
“Hello, Bran. I’m Trudy, Hannah’s mother and Trixie’s much younger sister.”
“Fourteen months to the day younger,” Trixie corrects as she comes over to greet Mom.
“The point is, you’ll always be older than me,” Mom teases.
“Where are your bags?” Trixie asks.
“The driver left them by the front desk,” Mom replies.
“Oh, um, the inn is full, but you can share with me,” I suggest.
“Oh, thank you, sweetheart, but Bob and Trixie are putting me up at their house for the next few weeks. But don’t worry. I’ll be coming in with her every morning, and we’ll get to spend all kinds of time together.”
“Come on in and say hello to Donna and the kids,” Trixie prompts.
Mom removes her coat and hands it off to Bob and follows Trixie.
“Looks like you’re going to be making some new holiday memories of your own this year,” Bran says as we watch them fuss over the children.
“Yeah, looks like it,” I mutter.
We spend the rest of the evening enjoying each other’s company. A few guests make their way downstairs to mingle with us.
I’m awed to find out that many of them have been spending their holidays at the inn for decades. They return for Christmas with their children and their children’s children and have become dear friends of my aunt and uncle. They even visit one another and vacation together outside of the month of December.
I sit with the ladies by the fire and listen as they recount stories of Christmases past. Willa’s grandmother was quite the character, and she and Aunt Trixie had many adventures here in Lake Mistletoe—from raising their families together to entertaining legions of visitors. It’s obvious that this inn has been filled with love and happiness since the beginning.
I don’t have a single close friend. Not since high school anyway. I have plenty of acquaintances. A couple of coworkers with whom I can enjoy an occasional after-hours cocktail, but for the most part, I don’t have time to socialize. No, that’s not entirely true. I’ve never made the time to get to know anyone on anything other than a superficial level. My days are filled with clients and meetings, and my weekends are consumed by day-long wedding festivities and crisis management. The schedule isn’t exactly conducive to building relationships outside of business.
I doubt a soul from my life will even notice that I’m not around for the next few weeks, and yet these people from all over the country know each other intimately. Somehow, Aunt Trixie and Willa have found a way to blend their work and personal lives so intricately that it’s hard to tell one from the other.
Impressive.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Norah asks as she sits beside me on the couch.
“I’m just thinking that I need a better work-life balance,” I admit.
She looks me over. “I agree. You’re young. You should be enjoying the fruits of your labor more.”
“Perhaps if I finally get the promotion I’ve been after, I’ll be able to delegate some of my responsibilities, and then I can pencil in more time for myself next year.”
She frowns. “You’re going to pencil time into your schedule for fun? I’m not sure it works that way.”
“I’ll make it work,” I insist.
“Oh, Hannah, you’re supposed to work to live, not live to work. What’s the point of it all if you don’t have anything to come home to?”
