“Maple Sugar Inn, how may I help you?”
“I’d like to book three rooms for the middle of December. My friends and I meet every year in a different hotel for our book club so three rooms close together would be appreciated if that’s possible.” The woman’s voice was crisp and professional and Hattie felt a stab of envy. What wouldn’t she give to be spending a week with friends, talking about books? Before she’d met Brent she’d worked briefly in a bookshop. She loved reading, but these days the only books she read were children’s books with Delphi. So far this week she’d read about dinosaurs, sharks and a walrus who hated his tusks.
She was too busy to read any of the novels waiting on her nightstand, and then there was her concentration, which, since Brent had died, had been shot to pieces.
She checked her computer screen. “You’re in luck. We have three rooms left for those dates so I can reserve those for you now. My name is Hattie, by the way. I should have said that right away.” There was no response and Hattie frowned. “Hello? Are you still there?”
The woman cleared her throat. “Yes.”
“Oh, good. I thought for a moment that I’d managed to cut you off.”
“You’re Hattie.”
“That’s right.” There was something strange about this conversation. “And I have three rooms, if you’d like them.”
There was a pause. “What’s your cancellation policy?”
Hattie was confused. The woman hadn’t even booked yet, and she was thinking of canceling? “We always try to find you an alternative date. If we can rebook the rooms then we just charge a small admin fee.” It was all on the website. Was this conversation weird or was she tired? “Would you like to go ahead?”
There was another long pause. “Yes. Let’s do it.”
Hattie blocked the dates in her system. Maybe the woman was stressed about Christmas. The season did strange things to people. “A book club, you say? In that case, you’ll need somewhere to sit and chat. Your rooms are lovely, but the seating area is a little tight for three. Would you like me to reserve the library for you and your friends? It’s the perfect place.”
“You have a library?”
“Yes. It’s small, but it has comfortable sofas, a log fire, and its very comfortable. I’m a book lover myself, and my late husband turned one of our rooms into a library so that I had somewhere to store all my books.” And in the beginning she’d had big plans for that room. Let’s host book club weekends, she’d said to Brent. Like a spa mini break, only with books. She’d imagined small groups of women—because book clubs so often seemed to be women—descending on them from around the country, ready to be nurtured by bed, breakfast and books. She’d thought it was a brilliant plan, but Brent hadn’t been enthusiastic. He hadn’t thought it was a commercially strong idea. And maybe he was right. What did she know? Just because it had seemed like a dream vacation for her, didn’t mean anyone else would see it that way. “Most guests prefer to be in one of our two living rooms or outdoors enjoying winter activities, so it would be no problem to reserve that room for you if you let me know which evenings. You can talk to your friends and let me know when you check in.”
“Thank you—Hattie.”
There was definitely something odd about this conversation.
“You’re welcome.” Hattie took the details. Erica Chapman, Anna Walker and Claudia Price.
So now they were going to be full for the whole of December. Which was good, providing none of her staff left. If any of the staff left, she’d be in big trouble.
As she ended the call she heard Delphi’s infectious giggle coming from the office and the sound of a deep male voice.
Noah Peterson. Here. In person. There was no more avoiding him.
Her stomach lurched.
She’d known this moment would come of course, but she hadn’t been prepared for it to be today. She was pleased now that she’d washed her hair. Not that it mattered how she looked, but still—it was easier to handle awkward situations if you were looking your best.
And this was most definitely going to be an awkward situation.
She would have welcomed a large glass of that witches’ brew that she’d downed on Halloween to get her through the next few minutes.
She took a quick glance around the empty reception area of the inn and ducked into the back room.
She’d pretend nothing had happened, and hopefully he would do the same.
Noah was crouched down next to her daughter and both of them were peering into a basket. Rufus padded across to investigate but Delphi pushed him away gently.
“Sit, Rufus. You’ll scare her.” She reached into the basket. “Will it bite?”
“It won’t bite.”
For a moment Hattie just watched the two of them, man and child, heads close together, dark and light. She felt a pang because Brent had been a great dad but Delphi would never remember that. She’d never remember the first time he’d pulled her on a sled, or the first snowman they’d built together. She’d never experience that special close relationship Hattie had enjoyed with her own father. Hattie was careful to talk about Brent all the time and she displayed photographs everywhere, but it wasn’t the same. Sometimes she thought about all the missed moments, all the fun they would never have and all the memories they would never make, but it broke her heart so she tried to discipline herself not to do it. What was the point? She had to stay in the present. She had to live her life forward. That was the example her father had set for her, and the example she wanted to set for her daughter. Stand up. Keep walking. Deal with what was, not with what might have been.
She needed to get on with things, including difficult things.
And talking of difficult things…
“Hi, Noah.” She made her best effort to sound casual. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I dropped off the fruit and veg to the kitchen.” He rose to his feet. Wearing jeans and a thick rib sweater, he radiated healthy outdoor vitality. “You were busy with guests. In fact, you’ve been very busy lately. My mother keeps complaining that she never sees you.” His easy smile flustered her. That smile of his had been her downfall. Did he know she’d been avoiding him? Yes, probably, but he’d been avoiding her, too.
Still, he was here now, which presumably was his way of signaling that they should both develop a convenient bout of amnesia and move on.
“I see Delphi has been taking care of you. What’s in the basket?”
“Panther had kittens,” Delphi said, her head almost wedged in the basket. “This one is going to Mrs. Michaels in the bookstore. She looks like Panther, except for the smudge on her ear. Noah has more kittens at home. Can we have one?”
She so badly wanted to say yes. The intense desire to do anything and everything she could to make her child happy and compensate for the lack of a father was a difficult thing to manage. But manage it, she would. She was barely coping with the inn, a dog and a child, and they were heading into her busiest time of year. She knew better than to add more responsibility or chaos. She could make an excuse, or she could tell the truth. She preferred her daughter to always hear the truth.