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Gwen had wanted to be reassured by his confidence, but Ellie had seemed less convinced, and she was determined to drum up more business. She’d been posting all over social media, Gwen knew, on various tourist and community sites and pages, mentioning the inn. They hadn’t had any further bookings, though, as far as she was aware.
“I wondered if you wanted a cuppa,” Ellie said, smiling back. She looked tired but determined, her dark blond hair pulled up in a ponytail, her hands planted on her hips. “And I had a few ideas to run by you.”
“A cup of tea would be lovely.” She needed a few more moments to absorb John’s email, and then to think about how to reply. She didn’t know why it had got her in such a tizzy; he was only asking to meet up, after all.
She followed Ellie into the kitchen and sat at the table of scrubbed oak, while Daisy, the springer spaniel puppy Matthew had got the children last Christmas, trotted over to curl at her feet. Poor old Toby, who had been with her for fourteen years, had passed away peacefully last spring. Gwen still missed him. Daisy was a lovely little bundle of pure joy, but she wasn’therdog, that old, faithful friend, trotting by her side, resting his grizzled head on her knee.
“So, I’ve gone a bit crazy and absolutely plastered social media with posts advertising the inn,” Ellie announced with wry briskness as she boiled the kettle and began making the tea. “Maybe a bit too much. You can put people off, I know, if you keep spamming them with advertisements, but I did my best to make it more organic and interesting.” She gave a small sigh. “We’ll see.” She smiled ruefully as she handed Gwen a cup and then sat at the table opposite her with her own.
“Any luck with the magazines and newspapers you were hoping to try?” Gwen asked as she took a sip of her tea, and Ellie grimaced.
“Unfortunately, no. It seems there’s no incentive for them to do some kind of feature or spread on Bluebell, because nothing has really changed. If we were offering something new or different, they said they might be interested. But, right now, we don’t have an ‘angle,’ and we need one, if we want to be featured in the press.”
“That’s too bad,” Gwen murmured. “But understandable, I suppose.”
“Yes…” Ellie frowned. “I don’t want to just leave it, though. I know there’ssomethingwe can do.”
“Yes…” Gwen knew she sounded dubious. She understood Ellie’s frustration—of course she did—but she was honest enough to acknowledge to herself that she didn’t actually share it, at least not completely. Ever since Matthew and Ellie had moved to Llandrigg, Gwen had been easing away from the bed and breakfast, gratefully handing it on to the next generation. Admittedly, she’d been a little alarmed at her son’s original plans for the business—marble ensuite bathrooms, infinity showers, and a fitness center in the barn—but he’d backed off those, and then Ellie had suggested turning it into a family-style farmhouse instead, warm and welcoming, cozy and casual. Gwen had been entirely on board with that idea, but she’d also been on board with her son and his wife managing the lion’s share of the work. As long as she could bake her Welsh cakes and keep her chickens, she was happy.
And she could do that, guests or not. Besides, she would be seventy next year. Did she really want to be helping to manage a business at that age? It was a question she had started to ask herself, if only in the quiet of her own mind. Still, she didn’t want to say as much now, especially when she felt the need to be supportive of Ellie. She knew how much keeping the inn going meant to her.
“Some of the magazines did say if we were doing something unique, offering some kind of deal, they might be interested in doing a feature,” Ellie continued. “Maybe we could even offer a giveaway—a three-night stay or something, to one lucky winner?”
Gwen frowned thoughtfully. “That wouldn’t exactly fill the coffers, though, would it?”
“No, but the publicity could be amazing.” Ellie leaned her elbows on the table, her expression now positively alight. “And then I was thinking… what about Christmas? If we get cracking with an idea now, and ring the magazines ASAP, it could work…”
“Christmas?” Gwen repeated uncertainly. They usually closed for the week of Christmas, assuming families wanted to be at home for the holidays, or away visiting their own family. And, by then, they were all usually ready for some downtime, anyway.
“Yes, Christmas. I know we usually close that week, but what if we didn’t? What if we offered a week-long holiday to order, the kind of Christmas everyone dreams about but doesn’t want to have to make happen themselves?”
“What would that look like?” Gwen asked, genuinely curious.
“Well, I haven’t worked out all the details,” Ellie admitted, ducking her head, “more just a vague plan. We could go with a sort of DickensChristmas Caroltheme… old-fashioned parlor games, the massive roast dinner with all the trimmings, Christmas crackers, a huge tree in the sitting room…” She shrugged, spreading her hands. “I’m sure there are a million ways we could make it magical.”
It sounded wonderful, Gwen thought, but like an awful lot of work, although she knew Ellie and Matthew would probably do most of it. And yet… atChristmas. Already she could imagine the stress and strain of pulling off a huge event at that time of year, especially when it was usually the only opportunity they all got to relax. Still, it might be worth it, especially if Ellie were so determined.
“It does sound magical,” Gwen told Ellie. ‘But I don’t want you to have to take on a load of work that could put you under enormous stress, especially at that time of year—”
“Therealstress,” Ellie replied, “is thinking this place might go under. Making a splash at Christmas seems like a good way to get noticed—and it might actually be fun.” Ellie’s mouth tilted up at the corners again as the sparkle returned to her eyes. “We can create the kind of Christmas we all really want, the kind you see in magazine spreads and Disney films, something really wondrous and magical, with loads of decorations, and food, and presents and games. It will be amazing!”
The kind of Christmas Gwen usually had wouldn’t be found in either magazines or films, she thought ruefully. Generally, she was content with her family all around her, a somewhat chaotic opening of presents and a meal that was rushed onto the table despite military-level planning and then consumed in just a few minutes, amidst the detritus of dirty dishes, congealed gravy and turkey bones. She traditionally ended the evening with her feet up and the telly on, a large tin of Cadbury Roses, and maybe a small sherry nearby. Presumably their guests would want a slightly different experience, but if Ellie had some ideas…
“Why don’t we have a family meeting?” Gwen suggested. “Get everyone involved with the idea. Figure out how to make it work. Even if the inn is going under, one last big push is surely worth it?”
“Exactly what I was thinking!” Ellie beamed at her. “I wanted to check with you, though, because it will mean a busy Christmas for all of us, getting the place ready, doing everything in style…”
Style? That had never really part of the Bluebell Inn’s appeal, but Gwen could appreciate why Ellie wanted to go for it now. If people were going to book for Christmas, they’d want something special. That was certainly understandable.
“All right, then,” she agreed. Ellie was already getting out her phone.
“I’ll put a message on the family WhatsApp group,” she said. “A call to arms! We can meet next Saturday afternoon, hammer out all the details, get everyone’s input. I’m sure the kids will have some good ideas, especially to appeal to the younger generation. Maybe Jess can make some TikTok videos for advertising or something.”
TikTok? Gwen had no idea what that was, but she decided now was the time to be enthusiastic. “Sounds wonderful,” she told Ellie warmly. She was glad her daughter-in-law had far more get-up-and-go than she did, certainly. “Thank you, Ellie, for thinking of all this. I am very grateful for your determination.”
“Well… let’s hope it pays off.” For a second, Ellie’s smile wobbled, and underneath her determined enthusiasm, she looked uncertain and afraid.
So much was riding on this for her, Gwen reflected with sympathy. Her daughter-in-law had poured her heart and soul into this inn over the last two years, so it was understandable why she’d feel so strongly about saving it, more strongly than anyone else, perhaps.
