AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We got it at Castle Howard, in Yorkshire, when we went on a holiday there,” he reminisced. “I think I was about twelve. Dad had got his first digital camera and took about a thousand photos of the place—pictures of plants and dusty corners of the castle that we’d never want to look at again.” He gave a soft laugh as he shook his head in remembrance. “There’s an Anne Boleyn one too, somewhere, and we always joked we couldn’t hang them near each other.”
Ellie smiled at the thought, even as she felt a twinge of exasperation. Why couldn’t Matthew understand what she meant? They couldn’t hang all these tatty ornaments about and expect guests to feel impressed or even touched. The guests wouldn’t have the same memories Matthew did—of that trip to Castle Howard, or whatever he regarded with such sweet sentimentality now. They’d only see what Ellie saw—homemade tat. It felt far too mean a thing to say, though, and so she stayed silent, watching as Matthew unpacked a few more decorations—a miniature LED Christmas tree in garish, neon colors, and a felt Santa and Mrs. Claus that were decidedly worse for wear, Santa listing drunkenly to one side.
“What?” he said, when Ellie still hadn’t spoken after he’d laid out a few such items. “They’re fun, Ellie. They’resweet—”
“To you,” she replied as gently as she could, “because you have all those memories, and they’re meaningful toyou. But our guests won’t have those memories, and they won’t be meaningful. They’ll want something different.”
Matthew frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. “And what,” he asked, “is it that you think these mythical guests want?”
“I hope they’re not mythical,” she joked, but Matthew didn’t even crack a smile. Ellie sighed, hardly able to believe they seemed poised on the precipice of an argument—and over what? Christmas decorations? Tatty ones? “Look,” she said in as conciliatory a tone as she could manage. “I understand that these decorations are special to you. They mean something, I get that. I really do.” She smiled in appeal, even though Matthew hadn’t dropped his frown. If anything, it had deepened into a positive scowl. Ellie decided to try a different tack. “What is your vision for the inn at Christmas, Matt?” she asked. “What do you see working?”
“Are you asking that question seriously?” her husband asked, and Ellie let out a laughing huff of protest.
“Yes!”
“Because I feel like you’ve already got this vision, and you just want to prove to me how mine is wrong.”
Ouch. Ellie blinked. Perhaps the hardest part about what Matthew had said was that it hadn’t been in anger or even frustration. He’d spoken completely calmly and levelly, which meant he really believed what he said. Well, if he was going to be that honest, then so was she.
“I do have a vision,” she told him. “I shared it during our family meeting. I see us creating something special, something high quality for families, but with a difference.”
“How?”
“Well, with all the things I mentioned before—”
“I mean,” Matthew cut her off, “how are we going to be any different from any upscale hotel or B&B that’s offering the same thing, Ellie? I’ll tell you how. We’ll be worse.”
Ellie blinked. “Matt—”
“Look, I get that you don’t want to hang my stupid glittery pinecone on the Christmas tree. I really do. And I’m not mad about that or anything, far from it. You’re right, the guests won’t have the memories I do, and some of these decorations do look decidedly worse for wear. But, Ellie…” Matthew hesitated, and Ellie tensed. “I get the feeling that you want to create some sort of boutique experience,” he continued after a moment, his tone turning gentle, “and we just don’t have the resources for that. If we want to succeed, we need to do something different from all the other places, the hotels and inns that have more money, more staff, more space. That was your point from the start, when I was absurdly obsessing about infinity showers and fitness centers.Youwere the one who showed me how I’d got off track.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but I’m not talking about infinity showers and fitness centers,” Ellie stated after a second, when she’d absorbed Matthew’s words, their implied criticism.
“I know you’re not, but isn’t that still the gist of the thing? The Bluebell Inn is never going to compete with all those highbrow establishments—not in decorations, or food, or anything we offer. We shouldn’t even try.”
Ellie tried not to let this hurt. She knew he was right, at least in part, but that didn’t mean they had to resort to twenty-year-old Christmas decorations! Surely there was a happy medium somewhere. “So, what do you suggest instead?” she asked, and Matthew shrugged, smiling.
“I admit, I don’t have a vision the way you do. You’ve always been so brilliant at pulling things together, making them work. I’m not trying to step on your toes here—I’m just trying to remind you of what your original vision for this place was, and to be true to it with this Christmas week, as well, whatever that means.”
And a fat lot of help that was, Ellie thought ruefully, although she kept from saying it out loud. She’dhada vision already. She really didn’t think she was trying to create something highbrow, just nice. But, right now, the last thing she needed was an argument, even a kindly meant one. She was already exhausted and feeling fragile, and she really didn’t want to fight with her husband.
“Okay,” she said, summoning a smile and slapping it on her face. “Let’s see what we can salvage from all this.”
“Salvage?” Matthew repeated, an eyebrow raised, and Ellie couldn’t keep from letting out a groan.
“Come on, Matt! Give me a break. I am not putting a miniature LED Christmas tree that Gwen bought from Asda for five pounds twenty years ago up on the mantel! I’m willing to be reasonable, but you need to be, as well.”
“Fine.” He grinned, and Ellie felt the tension that had been knotting her shoulder blades start to loosen, just a little. So much was riding on this week, on its success, and yet being tense and cross about it all wouldn’t help matters. She needed to adopt a little of her husband’s easy insouciance, even if the pressure to succeed sometimes felt like a thousand-pound weight on her shoulders. Matthew picked up the garish tree, admiring its neon colors. “Tell you what? I’ll put it in our bedroom instead.”
Ellie managed a laugh. “Deal,” she said, smiling at him, and he smiled back. She was glad they’d managed to avoid an argument, at least.
CHAPTER8
SARAH
Sarah was doing her best to stay upbeat. It was the first Saturday of half-term, and Nathan had informed her last night that he couldn’t take any time off the way he normally did. He’d said he was too busy, pulling together this big pitch. She accepted the news—which had been given more like a warning than an apology, although he had said sorry—with what she hoped passed as equanimity.
“We’ll probably be over at the inn for most of the week, anyway,” she’d told him. “Mairi is running crafts every afternoon and Owen is helping with the outdoor assault course. I’m going to try to help Ellie with this big Christmas push.”
