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“Morning,” I say. “Sorry, I wanted to get out here before the town woke up and enjoy the silence.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me sweetheart, I just didn’t hear you open the door. Have you been out here long?”
“Not too long. It’s cold so I’m not sure I’ll last much longer to be honest,” I say with a laugh, pulling the blanket tighter around myself so she can’t see what I’m wearing.
If she does, I don’t know what I’ll say.
But if she notices I’m lying, she doesn’t let on.
“Well, come in when you’re ready, there’s coffee brewing and I have cinnamon buns in the oven.”
“Yum, that sounds amazing. Thank you, Suzanne. I’ll be in in a few minutes.”
She closes the door, leaving me alone again. I take deep breaths to calm my racing heart. I don’t like lying to her, but Brent doesn’t want anyone to know, and that’s the price to pay.
My mind wanders. What are me and Brent going to do when I go back home? Will he still want to see me? Is he interested in a relationship with me?
So many thoughts crowd my mind, stirring up my anxiety, so I decide to head inside. Once I’m in the cozy warmth of the inn, I rush upstairs to change.
I put Brent’s blanket on my bed, burying my face in it and taking in the lingering scent. I know it sounds pathetic, but I’m probably going to sleep with the blanket tonight.
Quickly, I change, use the bathroom, brush my hair and teeth, and take in my reflection in the mirror. There’s a light in my eyes that I haven’t seen in a really long time and I know it’s from my time spent with Brent.
Practically skipping down the stairs, I make my way to the kitchen. The freshly brewed coffee smells fantastic, and even though I ate with Brent this morning, my mouth waters at the sight of Suzanne’s cinnamon buns.
“Suzanne, these look to die for,” I say. This woman sure can bake. If they ever sell the inn, she should open up her own bakery.
“Thank you, Penelope. These are an old family recipe. I can give it to you if you’d like so you can bake them yourself when you get home.”
Home.
That word doesn’t feel the same anymore. Not since being here in Winterberry. I was hesitant about the small town when I first arrived, but now I feel like I belong.
“I’d love that,” I say with a mouth full of the delicious pastry.
“What do you have planned today?” she asks as she sets the table.
Each and every morning, she puts out plates, silverware, napkins, cups, orange juice in a container, and fresh coffee for the guests.
She’s a remarkable woman.
I hope one day I can be the type of mom, grandma, and person that she is.
“I think I’m going to walk down to the diner to have lunch with Sally and then stop in the boutique. I haven’t gone shopping since I’ve been here and I want to see what I can find.”
“That sounds like a great day. Will you be back for dinner, do you think?”
“I definitely plan to be. My car is going to be fixed soon and I want to soak in the time with everyone as much as I can,” I say, trying to hold back my emotions.
She reaches across, giving me a big hug, and whispers in my ear. “You may go back to the city but this inn, this town, these people, we aren’t going anywhere. And your room will be ready for you whenever you want to come and visit.” She pauses. “You never know, maybe the parts won’t come in and you’ll still be here for the Christmas Eve Ball. Even if they do come in, you’re more than welcome to stay. Just saying.”
She laughs and I can’t help but laugh with her.
If I had it my way, I’d make those parts disappear forever and stay here in Winterberry for good. Unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way. And at some point, I need to return to my old life and my career.
When you’re someone like me, you have to stay relevant if you want to stay in the game. No one cares about you if you aren’t seen. With social media and tabloids, I learned a long time ago that if I didn’t stay relevant, someone new would come and take my place.
And being here in Winterberry, celebrating the beautiful Christmas season, I’m not staying relevant.
