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Maren was forced to return to the garage, as that larger fridge was where she’d placed the fifteen pounds of beef tenderloin she’d brought home from the butcher two days ago. She was almost pleased that Alec had gone up to his room after the cellar tour, not wanting him to again have to brave the storm to go to the garage, wanting to help, as she was sure he would have offered to do.
She agreed with Dan’s earlier assessment: though the wind still blew, it was definitely less gusty than even this morning. Sadly, what remained of the wind still had the power to create blinding conditions and had filled in so many of the areas that had been shoveled and plowed. The tree still lay across the driveway, but Alec and Hal’s minimal clearing of that had wisely and thankfully been right across the middle of the trunk so that a nice path was carved out between the back of the house and the garage. Sawdust and smaller limbs lay all around the opening created as Maren passed by.
She didn’t know what she was going to do with so much meat, but was determined that at the price per pound, she wasn’t about to let it go to waste. Heading back to the house, she carried that heavy, white-papered package along with a few other things that had been purchased and stored for the rehearsal dinner, including the goat cheese, parmesan cheese, and bacon, and the vegetables needed for tonight, fresh green beans and carrots.
Back inside the kitchen, she plopped everything on the island and divested herself of her coat and boots in the back hall before going to the small kitchen desk and the laptop there. She was thinking that a good way to use more of the beef was to serve some of it as an appetizer and recalled that last fall she’d made beef tenderloin crostini with horseradish cream, which had beena huge hit. The recipe was easily recovered in a folder she kept on the laptop and after perusing the ingredients, she figured she could make it happen. She had fresh chives but not parsley, but she wasn’t sure the lack of parsley would affect the end product so much. She didn’t have baguette loaves but supposed she could run next door to the Coffee Loft and buy some of their ciabatta rolls that they used for sandwiches and make do with those, slicing them very thin.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Maren decided she better do that sooner rather than later, before Aiden shut down for the day.
She blew out a resigned sigh and returned to the back hall to once again don her coat, hat, and boots.
The few challenges faced in her first year as owner of the Morning Glory—maintenance issues, unexpected cancellations, difficult guests—had only been warm-up exercises compared to this, not only being trapped in a house with seven strangers, but being responsible for their well-being, their meals, and to some degree, their entertainment, all the while pretending she wasn’t the least bit frazzled and apprehensive,andworried about Jasmine and Liam, who had been so looking forward to this day.
Though she’d not admit it to another living soul—except maybe Hal—she couldn’t help but wonder if the blizzard was the universe’s way of making Liam and Jasmine hit the pause button to consider how big a step this was.
Anyway, though Maren did find some satisfaction in navigating the complexities of this weekend—she embraced challenges—she was pretty sure she would sleep like the dead when the weekend was done, and the Morning Glory Inn was once again vacant.
She was just stuffing her feet back into her boots when Alec popped his head around the door and into the back hall.
“I’ll go out to the garage if you need anything,” he said.
He looked like he had just showered. His dark hair was tousled and still held a bit of shiny dampness, a stark contrast to the frosty ambience outside.
Maren grinned with some satisfaction for his timing. “I already went to the garage again,” she told him proudly. “I’m going around the corner to the Coffee Loft to get some bread.”
“I can do that so you don’t have to go out,” he offered. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do here.”
“You’re either super solicitous and love helping people,” Maren guessed, “or you’re already going stir crazy and want to get out.”
Alec chuckled, admitting, “A little bit of both. I can’t sit idle too long. And since it’s Saturday, there’s hardly any work to keep me busy.”
Maren straightened after tying her boots and put her hands on her knees. “Your hair will freeze,” she cautioned lightly, discovering she wouldn’t mind having his company.
Flashing a wider grin, evidently unfazed by the warning, Alec took his coat off the hook and shoved his feet into his boots. “I’ll risk it for the sake of bread-fetching. I’m going to guess that whatever your plans are for bread, I won’t be disappointed.”
“I’ve never met a guy who didn’t like beef tenderloin crostini with horseradish cream sauce,” she tried to entice him, pulling on her gloves.
His eyes widened and he moved forward, waving his hand at her with a feigned urgency. “Enough said,” he urged, grinning. “Hurry up, let’s go before the café closes.”
Once outside the back door, Maren flipped her hood up over her head and hat. She squinted against the snow blowing at her. “Normally I would cut through behind the garage,” she told Alec, “But I’m going to guess it’s a mess back there. We’ll have to go down the driveway and out on the road.”
“Probably a wiser course,” Alec acknowledged.
Despite the wind, it was quiet outside, as if a hush had descended with the snow. Though the driving ban allowed for emergency services to operate and essential workers to be on the road, there wasn’t a car around. The driveway was mostly plowed, except for drifts that had been blown back onto the asphalt, but mostly they were not forced to navigate any great depths of snow. The expansive front lawn, where two old maple trees and a small row of pine along the left side, whose boughs swept the ground, was picturesque for how pristine and undisturbed was the glistening snow.
“It’s very pretty, at any rate,” remarked Maren.
“On a postcard or Christmas card, maybe,” Alec allowed.
“So you don’t miss it? The snow?” She asked.
“I do and I don’t,” he answered. “I love to ski and yes, there is some charm to freshly fallen snow, if you will, but I don’t miss driving bans and mounds or drifts of snow taller than me, or the grayness of Western New York winters.”
“But this...hasn’t been awful,” she commented, admittedly fishing a little.
“Not at all.”
At the end of the long driveway, they turned right into the street. Alec walked on the traffic side and took hold of Maren’s arm as they paraded along the slushy edge between the slick roads still covered with a few inches of snow and the huge pile of snow to their right, where the plows had been pushing the mass of white stuff.
