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“Of course, Miss Maxwell. And if you ask me, Mr. Henry never deserved you.” He winks and tears threaten to spill over again.
He gingerly takes the bags and loads them onto the cart, and we make our way into the elevator to go downstairs. When we reach the underground parking garage, we load everything into the trunk of my white Porsche Cayenne Coupe. Frank gives me a nod goodbye, and I buckle into the driver’s seat.
Freezing, I realize that in the time it took me to decide I was leaving and pack my things, I never actually picked anywhere to go.
“Really, Penelope,” I say. “How are you going away when you have no idea where you are going to go?”
Then it hits me.
I’ll drive north until I get tired or feel like stopping. Wherever I wind up, that’s where I’ll stay. Maybe I’ll even see some snow. It’s well before rush hour, so hopefully not many people will be on the road yet.
As ridiculous as the plan sounds, I’m happy with it. I start my car and edge out of my spot, exiting the garage. Glancing at the swarm of paparazzi waiting on the street, I barely pay them attention as I head into traffic.
Here goes nothing.
Chapter Three
Brent
“Dad.Dad.DAAAAAAAAAD!”Smallfists thump my chest as Nora screams in my face. “Dad, if you don’t wake up and get your grumpy butt out of bed, I’m gonna be late for school!” She’s a little terror who doesn’t want me to sleep.
“Okay, okay I’m awake,” I say through a sleepy haze.
Slowly, I open my right eye to peek at her. She stands next to the bed, hands on her hips, staring daggers into my soul. Grunting, I open my other eye, so she knows I’m awake.
“Dad, you’re killing me,” she says like a thirty-year-old who’s trapped in a seven-year-old body.
With her bright green eyes and headful of blonde curls, my little girl is so beautiful that sometimes it hurts when I look at her. Oftentimes, I find myself staring until she gets annoyed and tells me to stop.
Yep, she gets her spunk from me.
As soon as she’s convinced I’m awake enough, she stomps out of the room, calling over her shoulder that I have ten minutes before we have to leave.
“Crap,” I mutter as I rub my hand over my face, willing myself to wake up.
I’m not a morning person. Not even a little bit. But the last thing I want is to make Nora late for school, so I pry myself out of bed and proceed to the bathroom before heading downstairs.
Christmas tunes blare from the inn’s speakers, invading the guesthouse Nora and I call home. There should really be a limit on how early Christmas music can be played.
If it were up to me, Christmas music wouldn’t be played at all.
I used to play Christmas music all the time with my wife Michelle before she passed away from breast cancer when Nora was three. We’d been married six years when Michelle got sick, and six short months later, she was gone. It’s been me and Nora against the world ever since.
It was one of the hardest times in my life and I’m not sure I’ve truly recovered yet. Or if I ever will. Michelle was my best friend and losing her gutted me.
A little over a year ago, Nora and I moved back to my hometown in Winterberry, Vermont. We were in our little shore town in New Jersey, in the same house we loved and lost Michelle, when my parents called me out of the blue one day and told me they needed help at the inn. It was in trouble and they were struggling. Nora and I made the move.
Was it my first choice to move back to my hometown and live with my parents at the age of forty-two? Hell no.
Do I regret the decision? Not for a second.
They’ve always been there for me, and to be honest, it’s nice to have help with Nora.
The Butterfly Inn is situated not far from Main Street in Winterberry. It was my parent’s dream for as long as I can remember to own a bed and breakfast in this quaint, quirky little town. When old Mrs. Weatherby passed away ten years ago, and the inn was for sale, my parents took all the money they had and purchased it.
It needed some repairs, but it’s a cozy and welcoming spot where tourists and families come to spend time together. It’s a popular place to take in all Winterberry has to offer, especially for the holidays. And there’s alotto take in.
Unfortunately, with the amount of money it has taken to fix up the inn, it hasn’t been an easy time the past couple of years for my parents, but things are turning around.
