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“Sorry, I was a mile away there. Let’s do this tour!”
Climbing into the old truck, I settle in my seat, and we begin driving down Main Street. I’m surprised when he leaves the Christmas music on this time. We drive past the town bookstore, the corner market, an antique shop, a music store, the gazebo, and an adorable bakery with a black-and-white awning above the door. The sidewalk is full of people carrying bags, walking with friends, and saying hi to each other as they pass.
“This is my law firm where I work when I have big cases that need my focus,” Brent says as we pass a stout, red brick building with a huge sign out front that reads Harrison Law. “I fell in love with the old-time vibe the office has when I first saw it.”
I frown when I notice his firm’s windows sitting empty, without any stickers, lights, or tinsel like the neighboring shops.
“Why do you have the only windows in this entire town not decorated for Christmas?” I ask.
“Nora makes me decorate every inch of our house, but here I can get away with no Christmas cheer thankfully,” he says stubbornly.
I sneak a peek at him and notice that his knuckles are practically white from gripping the steering wheel. His jaw is tight, and I decide not to push the matter any further. “How often do you work in the office?”
“It depends on what kind of case I’m working on. I try to work from home as often as I can and help Mom and Dad with whatever they need at the inn. What about you? Where do you work in the city?”
I hesitate while I decide if I should tell him the truth. I don’t know him at all, and yes he’s been so kind and patient while I take up most of his day, but I have a habit of not opening up easily. This is no exception.
“I do freelance work,” I say vaguely. “I get to travel a lot, so I’m lucky.”
He quickly looks over at me before turning his head back to the road. “That sounds interesting. Were you on your way somewhere for work when you broke down?”
Oh God.
I try not to fidget under his gaze. “Yeah, that’s a long story I don’t think we have the time for.”
“I’m assuming your phone is also a long story?” he asks with a small smirk that disappears much too quickly.
“You’d be right about that.”
“Fair enough,” he says, sounding resigned.
He checks his watch, continuing down the road and it hits me that we have been driving around the town for hours now. I’ve been enjoying this ride so much, I completely lost track of time.
“Time to get the rugrat from school. Let’s call Ben and see what’s going on with your car. Hopefully you can be on your way back home to that long story.”
He hits the buttons on the dashboard and Ben’s gravelly voice fills the truck before the phone can even ring.
“I wish I had good news for you Brent,” Ben says. “Is Penelope with you?”
“She’s here in the truck, Ben. I have you on speaker.”
“Hi Ben,” I chime in. “Lay it on me, I can take it.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this but your transmission is completely shot and definitely needs to be rebuilt. I don’t have the parts I need in the shop so I’m going to have to order them which could be a few days. Do you have anywhere you can stay while you wait?”
Silence fills the truck as my palms start to sweat. This was a mistake, and it just keeps getting worse.
“She can stay at the inn,” Brent says, cutting through the awkward silence. “I’m sure Mom and Dad will have a room available for her. How long do you think it will take?”
Brent doesn’t glance my way once.
“At least a few days. There’s a snowstorm rolling in and I’m being told it’s going to hold up deliveries. I’ll do whatever I can to have the car fixed soon for you, Penelope. I’m sorry about this.”
“Not your fault at all. Thank you for all you’re doing, Ben, I really appreciate it,” I whisper.
I feel like I’m intruding on Brent’s life and I’m not sure what to say. He doesn’t even know my real name and I’m going to stay at his parent’s inn? I feel so guilty. But I still don’t feel comfortable enough to open up.
“I’ll keep you updated,” Ben says. “Brent, can I call you or the inn to reach Penelope?”
