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I could have killed him.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out.
He doesn’t look my way. He just raises his hand in a dismissive wave as he proceeds to the truck and climbs in.
Keller kisses Willa’s cheek. “It’s okay. He’s going to be okay. You guys get inside. It’s cold out here. We’ll be back soon,” he says before following his friend.
Aunt Trixie herds us all into the foyer, where some curious guests have gathered to see what the ruckus is all about.
“Sorry, folks. We just had a little mishap out on the lawn. Everything is fine. Please make your way into the dining room. Dinner is ready to be served,” Aunt Trixie calls out.
I stand there in my robe with my hair in a towel, still shaking. Willa comes over and places her hands on my shoulders.
“Come on. Let’s get you dressed and the glass cleaned up from your room, so you don’t hurt yourself,” she says as she urges me toward the stairs.
I don’t move.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“I could have killed him,” I whisper.
“But you didn’t. Bran’s tough. He’ll be fine.”
“I thought he was breaking in.”
She sighs. “That’s my fault. I’m so sorry. All the guests were told earlier today that the guys would be working at the windows, and Annette and I pulled all their curtains closed when we refreshed the beds this morning. Neither of us thought to tell you when you arrived. Plus, the guys were told the third floor was vacant until Saturday.”
“I could have killed him,” I repeat.
“It was just an accident. Come on now,” she insists.
I follow her up the stairs to my room. She walks over to the broken window to have a look at the damage.
“At least most of the glass ended up outside. Just a few shards fell in this direction. I’ll get Annette to bring in the vacuum and make sure everything is cleaned up,” she says as she collects the larger pieces.
I limp over to the bed and clean the shards from my feet.
“Are you hurt?” Willa asks.
“No. It’s just a few tiny glass pieces. I was so caught up in the drama I didn’t even feel them,” I reply, before standing and walking to the closet to grab a comfy sweater and leggings and making my way into the bathroom to get dressed.
I pull the towel from my head and run a brush through my damp locks as the tears run down my face.
Willa appears in the doorway. “Hey, stop that. No crying at the Gingerbread Inn. It’s a rule.”
I smile at her through the mirror. “What a way to start my vacation. I’ll pay to have the window replaced,” I tell her.
She waves me off. “That’s what insurance is for. Now, let’s go eat. A good, hot meal will make you feel better,” she assures me.
“You’re all set,” Uncle Bob says as he enters the living room, where Willa, Aunt Trixie, and I are settled in after dinner.
“Window’s all boarded up, and the glass has been cleared. It should hold up fine until the hardware store gets the new window in.”
“Thanks, Bob,” Willa says.
Aunt Trixie lets out a yawn.
“I do believe that is a sign that I need to take my bride home,” he says as he stretches his hand to her.
