“Oh.” She forced herself to relax. “Yes. I scribbled it down somewhere. It’s on my desk.” She grabbed her notebook, ripped out the relevant page and thrust it toward him. “Here—”
“Thanks.” He glanced at it and tucked it into his pocket.
“It’s mostly the same as last year, except that this year I’d like to put a tree in the library.”
“Sounds good. Size?”
Size? Over six foot, she thought, because she’d had to lift herself onto her toes to kiss him.
She was so flustered by the direction of her own thoughts that her brain had stopped working. “I don’t know.”
“Show me the space and I’ll find something suitable.” He walked through the door toward the reception area and Hattie checked Delphi.
“Don’t move. You’re in charge. You’re basically running the whole show.”
“I won’t move.” Delphi crossed her legs and sat firm, taking her new responsibilities seriously.
She followed Noah through to reception. For once everything was quiet, so she crossed the hallway to the room that she and Brent had turned into a library. “That child is five going on twenty-five. I swear I’m going to wake up one morning and discover she’s already off to college.”
“She’s growing up fast.”
“She is. A little too fast. I can’t keep up.” Thank goodness for Delphi, who was always a safe topic of conversation.
Hattie pushed open the door and instantly felt some of the stress leave her. Books did that to her, and this room was full of books. The shelves were walnut and reached up to the ceiling. A fire flickered in the hearth. Two deep, comfortable sofas faced each other across a low table, which was stacked with more books. What wouldn’t she give to curl up on one of those sofas and read for the rest of the day?
“I love this room.” Noah reached up and pulled a book from the shelf. His sweater emphasized the width of his shoulders, and a flash of sensation rippled down her spine and settled somewhere deep inside her.
“Me, too.” It was a struggle to sound normal and she wasn’t sure she managed it.
“I currently have eight books on my nightstand, and with the amount of work on the farm I’m not likely to cut that down to seven anytime soon. Not that I don’t love reading, but since Dad hurt his shoulder there’s not much time to do anything except work and sleep. I’m guessing you know how that feels.” He put the book back and turned. “So we should probably do this so that you can get back to Delphi and the inn.”
Her mouth was dry. “Do this?”
“We should talk about this. Figure out what it is you want.”
If she knew that, she wouldn’t be in this quandary. She knew she had to move on one day, whatever that was supposed to mean, but how would she know when that day came?
“We don’t need to talk about it.”
There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes followed by understanding. “The tree,” he said slowly. “We should figure out what you want this tree to look like.”
The tree. Of course he was talking about the tree.
And now she wanted to die.
Tactfully ignoring her embarrassment, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a couple of photos. “You’ll probably want to put the tree by the window, so that it doesn’t dry out by the fire.” He glanced from floor to ceiling and then made a few notes on his phone. “You don’t want it to dominate, and you don’t want it too wide. Do you have any preferences? Any thoughts?”
She had no thoughts, only feelings. All of them confusing.
“Nothing. But I want it to smell like a Christmas tree.”
His gaze lingered on her face for a moment. “Right.” He dragged his gaze away. “In that case, I suggest we go with the balsam fir. Good needle retention, rich color, great shape. And firs tend to last longer than spruces.”
“Great.”
This wasn’t awkward, it was excruciating. They were both dancing around what had happened, pretending it wasn’t there. Which made it seem bigger.
Maybe she should say something. On the other hand, why draw attention to something he was obviously trying hard to ignore? If he’d wanted to mention it, he’d had plenty of opportunity. “We’d better let you go. I know how busy you are. It’s Christmas tree season!”
Noah slipped his phone back into his pocket. “You look tired.” His tone was blunt but caring. “Have you been working too hard?”
“Probably. This place is pretty demanding and stressful.” She was trying so hard to keep everything the way Brent had wanted but the pressure was keeping her awake at night. She was constantly asking herself what Brent would have done, but seeing as they’d often felt differently on things to do with running the inn, that wasn’t an easy question to answer.
He nodded. “How are the staff?”
“As of this morning they were all still here, so I’m grateful for that given that I’m so bad at managing them.”
His brows pulled together in a frown. “You’re not bad at managing them, Hattie.”
“Yes, I am.” She thought about Stephanie and then she thought about Chef Tucker. “Brent appointed most of them and he chose them carefully. He was great at the people stuff. He knew when to be firm, and when to encourage. But I’m not Brent. I’m not very…confrontational. Pathetic, I know.”
“It’s not pathetic. People have different management styles, and good managers have different styles for different people. I’m sure you’re an extremely effective manager.” Noah paused. “Maybe it’s time to stop trying to do things the way Brent would have done them, and do things the way you want to do them. This is your business, Hattie.”
It wasn’t her business though, was it? She still thought of it as their business; it was just that Brent was no longer around to share in it. She was caretaking his dreams.
For a brief moment she was tempted to tell Noah how she felt, but she couldn’t push the words past the barrier she’d built inside her. It would have felt disloyal to Brent, particularly given her confused relationship with Noah.
“I’ll be fine.”
He hesitated. “I know you’re trying to keep things the way they were, but you have to find a way that works for you. You have to make a life that works for you.”
Was he talking about the inn or something more personal?
And was she constantly going to look for alternate meanings in everything he said?
However much she tried to pretend differently, the kiss had changed everything. She was thinking things she shouldn’t be thinking. And wanting things she shouldn’t be wanting. And if she really thought they could move on as if nothing had happened, then she was kidding herself.
There were some things you couldn’t forget and some things that couldn’t be undone.
“I’m happy keeping things the way they are. Brent had great ideas.” Her words shattered the almost painful intimacy.
“Right. Of course.” He straightened his shoulders and gave a brief smile. “Apologies if I overstepped.”
She had to stop herself reaching out and assuring him that he hadn’t overstepped. That she was the one who was confused. But that would just muddle the situation even more.