“It’s perfect,” I told her, fluffing the quilt at the foot of the bed. We had found it in the linen closet, hand-stitched and so soft. The old brass headboard gleamed after Dad polished it to within an inch of its life. The room smelled faintly of cinnamon and fresh soap.
Helen swept in with a stack of folded notecards and a floral pen. “Personalized welcome cards.”
“Mom, are you sure that’s necessary?” I asked, but my protest was weak.
She was already writing in her looping script. “‘Welcome to your first chapter. From our family to yours, we wish you joy.’ Signed with a little heart.”
“They are cute,” Jane noted.
Meri trailed in, arms full of glossy pamphlets, putting them on the desk. “Information packets. An area map, ski hill schedule, urgent care location, restaurant list, and a sheet on snow safety that I definitely wrote too frankly but I stand by it.”
“That’s incredible. Thank you,” I said, genuinely grateful.
She adjusted her glasses. “Someone needs to run the information desk in this experiment."
“I love you,” I told her, and she flushed pink in a way that made me want to hug her but I knew she wouldn’t appreciate it.
Dex appeared in the bathroom doorway with a small toolbox and the face of a man who preferred predictability and was learning to live without it. “I tightened the hinges on the bathroom door so no one gets an accidental lock-in. Also, your radiators can get very warm. You might need to talk to a plumber about it. I noted this on your clipboard.”
“You made notes on my clipboard?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him. “Is nothing sacred?”
“Not when guests can sue,” he replied, entirely deadpan.
Jane made a small sound that might have been amusement. She smoothed the bedspread again, then nudged the welcome tray a quarter inch to the left. Her hands were steady, but when Braxton’s voice drifted up from the garden, they became still as her head tilted to listen.
“Step is fixed. There’s no more ankle death traps,” he called from outside.
Jane pretended to check the curtains. She had no reason to be facing the window that long. I bit back a smile.
“All right,” I said. “Linens, jam, safety packets, welcome card, and a heater warning. Am I missing anything?”
“Flowers,” Helen trilled, reappearing like a magician with a tiny jar of evergreen and white carnations. “There. It looks perfect.”
It did look perfect. Even if it was a little worn, it was beautiful and warm. I had to admit, I was falling in love with the place.
Downstairs, the foyer looked charming in a way that took all night to achieve. The exit sign glowed discreetly. Kitty had arranged a bowl of wrapped chocolates for guests. Meri had placed a small, tasteful frame on the counter with the Wi-Fi password written in her tidy print.
A car turned in the drive. Kitty squeaked. “Places!”
Helen spread her arms like a general. “Smile but not too much. William, no stories unless asked. Lydia, don't film! And Meri, don't discuss anything negative. No one wants to hear how dangerous the world can be. Jane, remember to breathe.”
Jane inhaled obediently then fled to the kitchen. Dex leaned a shoulder against the archway and folded his arms, expression mild. He wasn't smiling, and somehow I thought he was amused.
The door opened to reveal two people bundled in matching scarves. A tall man with cheeks pink from the cold and a woman whose eyes shone. “Hi. We have a reservation. We’re the Honeymooners.”
The bride had a laugh. “He’s Ed and I’m Kelsy. The funny part is that our last name is Honeymooners.”
“Welcome to the SnowDrop Inn,” I said, stepping forward. My voice didn't tremble. I was proud of that. “I am Lucy. We are so happy you are here.”
We filled out the registration card, and the pen chose this moment to leak silently across the signature line. I turned the blot into a heart with two deft strokes and smiled. “My sister Jane has prepared a small welcome treat to enjoy in your room. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Let me get your bags,” Dad offered but Dex had already moved forward, grabbing the luggage.
We led the honeymooners up the stairs. At the suite, I showed them the bathroom, the heater, the extra blankets, and the view. The groom stood behind his bride and wrapped his arms around her shoulders while she looked out at the pines, and I had to look away from how sweet that was.
