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But Charlie was already at the door. The bell jangled as he re-entered the darkness, and he slipped back into the night toward the woods. He couldn’t believe he’d revealed himself like this. Before long, Rudy would probably spread his secret across town— and Charlie would be forced to find a cabin elsewhere. He couldn’t take being known.
ChapterSeventeen
Very late on the night after Charlie had fled the inn, Charlotte got up the nerve to text him.
CHARLOTTE: Thank you again for your help today! Little Ethan is happy and sleeping.
CHARLOTTE: Would you like to come over this week to help decorate? We found boxes upon boxes of decorations in the attic. Most of them belonged to my Grandma Dee— and even Grandma Dee’s mother.
CHARLOTTE: You’d be paid handsomely with Christmas cookies, of course.
It took Charlie more than an hour to answer back. Throughout, Charlotte drank tea and checked her phone anxiously. The house around her felt very still, with Van, Ethan, and Grandpa Hank sleeping deeply.
CHARLIE: I have a few work responsibilities to take care of this week.
CHARLIE: I’ll probably go back to the city right after Christmas.
CHARLIE: Maybe we can grab a coffee before I go.
CHARLIE: Glad to hear about Ethan.
The tone was stunted and strained. It took Charlotte’s breath away. Just to make sure, she scrolled up to their previous texting conversations, where she found them bantering playfully. Dare she say it, they’d been flirting! And now, Charlie acted as though they’d met once, briefly, and owed one another nothing.
Where was the romance they’d been building? Why had it suddenly died?
Charlotte lay like a starfish on her bed, which was the same mattress her mother had slept on as a teenager. It needed to be updated, and it had begun to give Charlotte a backache.
There had been no sign of her and Charlie’s “flirtation” dying— until the moment Charlie had taken Ethan in his arms and stopped him from crying. He’d handled the baby expertly, so much so that it was clear he was a father. But why hadn’t he ever mentioned his children?
Charlotte was broken-hearted and confused. The night was sleepless, and she eventually gave up around four-thirty to feed Ethan and clean the kitchen. By six, she was in the inn, building a fire in the fireplace, grateful for its warmth and its friendly crackling. The Christmas tree she and Charlie had picked out was in the corner, just as thick and tall as she remembered it being as a child. Aloud, she said, “It’s perfect.” But after that, it felt as though there were stones in her stomach. She’d wanted to share the decorating with Charlie. She’d wanted to show him the Cherry Inn’s Christmas magic.
Suddenly, the door between the apartment and the inn opened. Van appeared with little Ethan strapped to her chest.
“There you are!” Van smiled and entered, leading Louise in after her.
“What’s all this?” Louise asked her hands on her hips. “When did you get a tree?” She looked like she wasn’t sure if she was angry or happy about it.
“I’d love your help decorating,” Charlotte said softly. “Some of the cousins will be here as early as the 20th. Collin is flying in on the 21st if you can believe it.”
“Collin’s leaving California for Christmas?” Louise touched her chest.
“I couldn’t believe it, either,” Charlotte said. “But it means we’ve got our work cut out for us.”
It was time to put their heads down and focus. Van set up a Bluetooth speaker to play Christmas classics— “White Christmas,” “Silver Bells,” and “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” as Charlotte and Louise opened the first Christmas boxes. Immediately, Louise’s face was illuminated with memories of her mother, Grandma Dee. She handled each ornament with care, telling Charlotte stories about each one. “This one broke when I was ten or eleven,” Louise said of a tiny wooden sled, a snowman riding it. “But Dad glued it back together for us.” Another ornament was a framed photograph of Louise, her siblings, and her mother and father. Louise was eight or nine in the photo, sporting a bob haircut that made her face look like the moon. “What a horrible picture of me!” Louise said with a laugh. Charlotte’s eyes were misty.
Yes, she’d wanted Charlie’s help decorating. She’d wanted to feel his strong arms around her again, to steal kisses throughout the morning. But decorating with Louise and Van was much, much better. It was the tender care the inn needed.
Around noon, the three of them took a break and returned to the apartment to make tomato soup and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. Grandpa Hank was awake and rosy-cheeked, and he ate with them at the kitchen table before admitting he wanted to take a crack at decorating the Cherry Inn, too.
“I can’t let you three do this all by yourselves,” he said.
Charlotte was euphoric. As she placed Christmas decorations around the main room, she watched as her grandfather and mother pawed through the remaining decorations, reciting memories to one another. If Charlotte tricked her mind, she could half-imagine Grandma Dee in the next room, baking Christmas cookies.
The next few days found a similar rhythm. Now that so many cousins were returning to the Cherry Inn for Christmas festivities, every single guest suite in the Victorian house needed to be prepared. Charlotte delegated tasks and made frequent trips to the nearest store, purchasing new sheets, lamps, robes, soap, and lotions. After the first room was finished— the one with the green wallpaper— she and Van assessed it from the doorway and said, “It doesn’t look half-bad.” It definitely needed new wallpaper, and the floors needed to be polished. But all in all, it would do.
“I hate to admit it,” Charlotte whispered, “but doing all this makes me believe in the inn again. Maybe we could open it ourselves, after all.”
Van’s smile was crooked. “And never go back to the city?”
