They moved upstairs. The sisters followed like anxious students waiting for grades. I stayed back a moment, studying the sunlight sliding through the window, touching the hardwood floors. It wasn't my project, not technically, but I felt the same tight pull of anticipation in my chest that the others did.
There was so much more work still to do. We had only been able to complete the public rooms downstairs. Guest roomsneeded refurbishment, personal quarters would be last, and the roof needed attention. We had taken off the haphazard shudders which would have to be properly rehung sometime in the future.
Mostly, this inspection was to deem the inn safe for guests.
When they returned, Mercer flipped his clipboard closed. The silence stretched. Lydia, unable to bear it, whispered, “This is more suspenseful than an episode ofThe Gorgeous and the Botoxed.”
“Miss Bennet, to my surprise, you have corrected every violation on my list,” Mercer grudgingly admitted.
For a second no one moved. Then Helen let out a squeal, grabbing William’s arm as his laugh filled the hall. Jane hugged a bouncing Kitty. Lucy pressed a hand to her chest, her face a mix of disbelief and relief so pure it made something twist inside me.
Mercer handed over a copy of his report. “You are officially cleared to open. There is still a lot you need to do but you may have guests. Also, remember to pull your permits first in the future.”
“Thank you,” Lucy replied as she took the sheet.
The instant his car pulled away, chaos erupted. All of the Bennet’s seemed to talk at once, the majority of the group heading to the kitchen to celebrate.
I stayed near the doorway, watching Lucy. She stood by the window, sunlight giving her a halo around her hair. The exhaustion hadn't left her, but pride had replaced it. When she turned, our eyes met.
“We did it,” she said softly.
“You did,” I corrected.
Her smile deepened as she corrected me. “We. You helped.”
“I tightened a railing,” I dryly remarked.
“And offered a minimum of twelve unwanted suggestions while tearing down panelling," she teased.
I hesitated. “You should rest.”
“Later." She brushed past me toward the kitchen, already fielding questions from her sisters. Her energy seemed limitless, but I could see the faint tremor in her hands. Pride and worry tangled somewhere between my ribs.
Braxton joined me, balancing his glass. “You know, you might as well admit you are impressed.”
“I am evaluating,” I dismissively replied.
He grinned. “Sure. Evaluating. That's what I call it when I can't stop staring either.”
Before I could answer, Helen called everyone to the table. The room filled with laughter, overlapping voices, and the smell of coffee and cinnamon buns. I took the last seat, still half in observer mode, half drawn into their orbit. The Bennets didn't make sense. They were messy, impulsive, and loud, yet somehow the sum of them worked. The house felt alive because of them.
I found myself tuning out the chatter. Lucy leaned her head against Jane’s shoulder, eyes half-closed, content at last. I finished my coffee slowly, watching snow drift past the window. Somewhere inside that relentless drive and chaos was a kind of beauty I hadn't realized I was missing.
And for the first time, I thought that maybe, just maybe, Maple Ridge and the SnowDrop Inn were beginning to feel less like a project and more like a place I wanted to stay, which was absurd because I had a business and a life elsewhere.
Chapter Nine: The Honeymooners
Lucy.
There was no time to celebrate properly. Kitty popped into the foyer with a squeal and her phone. “Honeymooners! The arrival window says one to three. Which means they will be here at noon.”
I ignored my tired body. “All right. We have work to do.”
We attacked the second-floor suite like a pit crew, cleaning it and doing the last finishing touches. Thankfully, a lot of the hard work had been done yesterday since we knew these guests were coming. The wainscotting looked clean, the wallpaper with faded blue birds, and the furniture was polished. Removing the drop ceiling had revealed impressive molding that just needed cleaning. The shag rug had met the dumpster and scarred wooden floors greeted us.
It was too bad there wasn’t time for sanding and polishing the floors but we could do that later.
Jane carried in a basket with tiny jars of her blackberry jam and two lemon shortbreads tied with red twine, setting them on the small round table by the window which had just been scrubbed. “I know we are not a five-star hotel, but we can make them welcome.”
