AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She started reading the accompanying text.
At first glance, the Bluebell Inn, in the tiny hamlet of Llandrigg, in South Wales, looks as if it has seen better days.
Ouch. Ellie winced, her stomach cramping. That was definitely not the opening she’d been hoping for.
She forced herself to keep reading.
Upon stepping over the threshold, however, I realized I’d come across something truly special. Warm, welcoming, and just a touch shabby, walking into the inn feels like coming home—except you don’t have to cook, clean, or do any work. Inn owner and resident baker Gwen Davies puts you instantly at ease, and her scones are melt-in-the-mouth delicious. Meanwhile, her son Matthew and wife Ellie work hard to make guests feel welcome, and their Christmas week looks sure to be full of thoughtful touches as well as homely comforts.
Okay, that was better. A lot better. Ellie could have done without the shabby remark, but she supposed it was more or less fair, and overall, the tone of the article was positive, focusing on the warmth of the place, the homegrown comforts and the sense of welcome.
She continued reading, trying not to take the occasional slightly barbed comment to heart.
While the inn retains a slight datedness, there can be no doubt that it could be a wonderful place to spend your Christmas, free from the concerns and cares that often burden this holiday season, if you stay at home. While you won’t be receiving five-star hotel treatment, you just might be getting something better.
Well, it could be worse, Ellie told herself bracingly, and ultimately the article was recommending the inn. She could certainly take encouragement from that, and yet it wasn’t—there could be no denying it, she knew—the glowing review she’d been hoping for. But maybe it had been foolish to hope for such a thing, just as it had been to try to turn the Bluebell Inn into some sort of luxury hotel experience when it so obviously wasn’t, and never would be, just as Matthew had said. Just as she had said, once.
Ellie sighed and shook her head. Why did she have to keep learning the same thing, over and over again? And would anyone in the world book to stay here, based on that positive—yet less than effusive—review? It was hard not to feel dispirited, just as it was hard not to hope. She was caught between the two, unsure whether to jack it all in or keep on trying.
“Cup of tea?” Gwen asked, popping her head around the doorway. “I was just about to put the kettle on.” Her gaze narrowed as she took in the computer screen, the photo of the sitting room on display. “Is that—”
“Yes, the article. Susannah sent it ahead of the weekend.”
Gwen frowned. “You don’t sound entirely pleased about it.”
“I don’t know what to be,” Ellie admitted. She angled the screen toward Gwen, and then pushed back from the desk to give her room to read. “Have a look.”
“Okay…” Gwen stepped closer, slipping on the spectacles she wore on a chain around her neck to read the text. Her forehead furrowed as she scanned the lines, muttering under her breath, which, despite everything, made Ellie smile. “Better days… shabby… datedness!” She glanced at Ellie, looking affronted. “I don’t think the inn is dated. Not anymore.”
“Well, we didn’t change that much in the end, with the renovations, did we?” Ellie replied, trying to be pragmatic. “Some new linens and another bathroom, but the carpet runner in the hall, for example, is still the same.”
Gwen drew herself up. “Yes, and that’s an antique! But antiques aren’tdated.”
Her mother-in-law looked so put out that, improbably, Ellie found her lips twitching and she gave a sudden, surprising guffaw of laughter.
Gwen’s eyebrows rose, and for a second she looked as icily imperious as a queen, only to suddenly collapse into giggles, which made Ellie laugh again, even harder this time.
Soon, they were both laughing, tears streaming from their eyes, hands wrapped around their middles. Ellie wasn’t even sure what they were laughing about, or if there was anything to laugh about in the first place. All she knew was it felt good to laugh, like a muscle that had needed to be stretched—it hurt, just a little, but it also brought relief.
“Goodness,” Gwen said, wiping her eyes, when they finally started to subside. “I think I needed that.”
“I think I did, too,” Ellie admitted.
“Ultimately, it’s positive,” Gwen stated, sounding as if she were trying to convince herself. She glanced at Ellie. “Really.”
Another bubble of laughter escaped her, and Ellie found herself again collapsing into giggles—or maybe hysteria—a distinct possibility. She pulled herself back from the brink just in time. “Yes, it is,” she agreed. “And that’s the important thing. Whether it brings in any more bookings…”
A sudden ping from her computer had them both turning back to the screen. Ellie clicked back on the inbox, a ripple of incredulous hope rippling through at the sight of a new email with the subject headerBooking Inquiry.
“That was fast,” she murmured dazedly, as she clicked on the link. “Maybe…?”
Gwen leaned forward. “What does it say?”
Ellie scanned the few lines, hardly able to believe it. “It says they’re interested in booking for the Christmas week… a family of four! How…? The article hasn’t even been published yet.”
“Maybe from one of your brochures?” Gwen suggested, just as another email pinged into the inbox, this time with the subject headerReservation Requested.
“I don’t believe this!” Ellie exclaimed. She clicked on the message. “It’s a request for a family with a baby—for Christmas! At this rate, we’ll be full in the next five minutes!” And she almost started laughing again.
