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I do repairs when needed, little odds and ends around the property, like the landscaping, and whenever it gets busy, I help at the front desk. I also opened a small law practice right in town. I’m usually there three days a week. For the other two, I work from the guesthouse so I’m more accessible to my parents.
In my other life, before coming back to Winterberry, I was a very sought-after lawyer who wore suits every day to the office and worked on high-power cases.
Today, I dress in jeans and a black hoodie with my black work boots. I make myself a black cup of coffee, and head across the lawn to grab Nora and take her to school.
The guesthouse came with the purchase of the inn and looks exactly like a dollhouse. It’s light blue on the outside, with a small front porch painted white and a little swing that Nora loves sitting on when she reads her books.
Inside the house, there are two small bedrooms and one bathroom, a kitchen, and a small living room. It may not be much, and it definitely has no manly character to it, but it’s home.
I trudge across the lawn, and as I get closer to the French doors that lead from the backyard into the mudroom at the inn, Mariah Carey’s famous hit “All I Want for Christmas Is You” grows louder, mingling with the distinct voice of my little girl belting out the tune.
Nora takes after Michelle in the Christmas department.
She’s all in, every year.
From traditions and music to every single event in town, Nora is about it.
There used to be a time in my life when I was the same way. Michelle and I would decorate the house from head to toe. And then when Nora came along, we spent every day of the Christmas season trying to make it as magical as possible for her.
Now, I grumble through the holiday season, trying to keep up with Nora. She counts down to the holidays, and I count down until they’re over.
Stepping inside the inn and out of the cold, I kick off my boots, take a very deep breath and walk into the Christmas hell that waits for me.
“Wow what a beautiful voice you have,” I say as I tickle Nora’s stomach. She almost spits out her orange juice.
“Geez Dad, it’s about time you got here. I thought I was going to have to walk to school.”
“Oh, come on kid, I’m not that slow.”
“Honey, if you were any slower, it would be Christmas before you got here,” my mom calls from the corner of the kitchen where she’s making pancakes for all the guests.
Just like Nora, my mom, Suzanne, is obsessed with Christmas. Decorations cover every empty surface at the inn. Outdoor lights went up the day before Thanksgiving, and a huge Douglas Fir sits in the front picture window. It’s overkill if you ask me.
The living room is off the entrance to the inn, and it’s where the reception desk sits for check-in.
In the summer months, you can find the guests spending time on the huge front porch in the rocking chairs, but in the winter, there’s another tree on the porch with Christmas decorations and twinkly lights.
I snag a chocolate-chip muffin from the reception desk and walk through the inn, passing the formal dining room and my mother’s massive library on the way to the kitchen, ensuring everything is good before taking Nora to school.
“Nora-Bean, you ready?” I yell as I make my way into the kitchen.
It’s a huge space where my mom cooks all of the meals for the guests and bakes most of the desserts.
“Dad please, I’m not a baby anymore,” Nora says as she rolls her eyes. “Let me get my backpack and then I’m ready to go.”
When did my little girl get so grown? Before I know it, she’ll be bringing boys home. I’m going to have to sit on the porch with my shotgun to scare them away.
“Heeeellllooooo! Earth to Dad!”
“Sorry, sorry, let’s go.” Traffic might be bad this morning with the setup for the Winter Festival starting.
She puts her coat on, grabs her backpack, and kisses my mom on the cheek before we head to my truck.
As old as dirt, Betty the truck has been with me for years and is one of my most prized possessions. Sure, the exhaust stinks and she rumbles through town but it gives her character.
We drive down Blueberry Lane and turn right onto Main Street. No matter which direction you go, it’s like Christmas threw up.
Wreaths hang on every lamp post. A gigantic Christmas tree sits in the middle of town. Blow-up characters line people’s yards, and the old-fashioned Christmas carolers come to our doors all season long.
