Nolan wanted to scream. Instead, he counted to five in his head, stroked the top of Snowball’s head, and said evenly, “She is not. She is here at Ida’s behest, and she’s not staying. I’ve seen proof.”
“Then Ida is trying to cause trouble. She doesn’t want to go through with the sale.”
Nolan wasn’t really convinced they needed that property anyway. It would be more to take care of, and they had all they could handle at the lodge. But when Gramps got an idea in his head, it was hard to persuade him otherwise.
“Why not just let Julie cut down one tree? We have plenty on either side of the stream. It’s not like she’s going to cut down the whole forest.”
Gramps turned away with a harrumph. “You can’t let those Green women get away with anything.” He stomped out of the room, the decoration still in his hands.
Nolan was at his wits’ end. He understood his father’s and grandfather’s need to grieve his mother, but years had gone by. They were poisoning the very memory of her. And it was turning them sour. The old Gramps would have been much more neighborly to Julie. Something had to change for all their sakes. If it didn’t, Nolan was afraid he might end up bitter and grouchy like his grandfather.
Maybe he could start with one simple thing. He could do something to make up for his grandfather’s Grinch-like reaction to the tree. He could extend the proverbial olive branch.
Chapter 21
Julie and Ivy had sipped just enough wine to keep them warm when they moved from the kitchen, where the ornaments with their painted words and numbers were drying, to the porch to string up lights along the banister. Malcolm put up the last string of lights along the rooftop before carefully climbing down the ladder and wrapping his arm around his wife. He looked indulgent, happy. It was a quiet moment that Julie felt strangely on the outside of, despite being on her family’s property. The one place, as a kid, where she’d always felt truly at home away from home.
It was so weird to feel envious of another couple. Her friends cycled through boyfriends, some even staying for over a year and becoming more permanent fixtures, but those couples never looked like this. Certainly, Julie herself had never had a relationship that put such a satisfied smile on her face. Maybe it was the country air, so fresh and still. This didn’t feel like some quick gesture of affection before rushing to the next item on the schedule. This felt like the bedrock of a relationship.
Maybe Julie had had too much wine. She was feeling overly sentimental.
Ivy looked away from her husband long enough to smirk. “I think that’s our cue to leave.”
“You don’t have to—” Julie started. The inn wasn’t equipped for entertaining guests right now, but she didn’t want to chase Ivy and her husband away, especially when they’d been so helpful.
Her friend didn’t lose that sly look. Instead, she pointed over Julie’s shoulder and said to her husband, “Come on, honey. Let’s go home.”
Julie turned to see a figure emerging from the woods, dragging a pine tree on a sled. It was Nolan.
* * *
Nolan hadn’t realizedthat this proverbial olive branch would be so heavy. It had been a few years since he had chopped down a tree for the house. And, come to think of it, hadn’t they often used the sleigh to transport it? He paused at the edge of the tree line and took in the inn standing guard over the clearing.
Julie wasn’t alone. There was another truck in the parking lot, and two people on the porch. From the size of one and the riotously curly hair the other sported, he was pretty sure it was Ivy and her husband. Ivy spotted him first and, after hugging Julie, gave him a wave and then tugged her husband toward their vehicle.
Well. That made this a little less awkward. A little, but not much. Nolan took a breath and squared his shoulders.
And almost fell flat on his face when Snowball tackled him. She barked and swerved, coming back for another try, her paws kicking up tufts of snow. He fended her off, laughing, with one forearm.
“I should have kept you in the cone.”
She might not understand English, but she knew the wordcone. Her ears flattened to her skull, and she slinked away warily.
He sighed and held out his hand. “It was an empty threat, and you should know it. If I didn’t make you wear it last night, when you were still scratching at the bandage, you know you’re safe from it now.”
He’d taken the bandage off sometime this morning, showing the pink but healing flesh beneath. The scratch hadn’t been too deep, and under his watchful eye, Snowball hadn’t made it any worse. Now that she was outside, she didn’t even seem to notice the injury.
Nor did she seem the least bit wary of the area where she’d been hurt. She probably would have gone full tilt at the cat too. Luckily, they hadn’t spotted any such animals on the way here.
The truck rumbled to life and pulled out of the long drive. Nolan resumed pulling the sled. It was a lot easier once the darn thing was already in motion.
He kept his eyes locked on the inn as he approached. More specifically, on the woman standing on the porch. She was dressed in a thick sweater reaching to mid-thigh over leggings, not a jacket or hat in sight. At least she was wearing boots—and, to his surprise, boots of more sturdy make than the stylish suede ones she’d been wearing when they first met. Her arms were crossed over her chest, not a welcoming sign.
But as he neared the edge of the wraparound porch, she tucked her hair behind her ear and dropped her arms. Maybe she wouldn’t condemn him for the way his family had treated her.
He stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Snowball bounce in and out of snowdrifts, collecting clumps of ice in her fur. He let her play.
He called up to Julie, “I’ve brought an olive branch.”
