“Tell your grandmother I say hello,” she calls out before I’m out of earshot.
Turning over my shoulder I shoot her a grin that I hope comes off more friendly than it feels. “I will!”
With my back to her I roll my eyes and pull my bag further up on my shoulder.I don’t need a husband, I think to myself.I do just fine on my own, thank you very much.My cheeks feel hot as I stomp towards the inn, continuing to bristle at what she said.
So what if my thirtieth birthday is in a few months? So what if I’ve been perpetually single after…nope. Do not thinkabout it. I mean, how do people expect me to date when the only men in this god forsaken town are the same boys I used to run around with on the playground? It’s not like people ever move to Evergreen Hollow and my current selection is slim at best. And besides, I’m dating. Okay, maybedatingisn’t the right word but I’ve definitelydatedin the past. Belle and I have gone into the city a few times to grab a drink andtalkedto men. Then there’s the one time I went to visit Eve in New York for the weekend and I hooked up with a guy we met at the bar. That has to count for something.
Rounding the corner, I feel the corners of my mouth lift when the inn comes into view. It’s old, faded paint makes me smile because I remember when we painted the inn these colors the first time. It used to be a plain cream but one day, Grams announced she was bored with the color and wanted something fun, something festive. So she chose three distinct colors and painted each floor a different one. A deep blueish teal for the bottom, a washed out pink for the center, and an eye-catching red for the top. When we pull out all the Christmas decorations and hang the wreaths from the windows, it looks like an old vintage Christmas card came to life. And when it snows? It’s pure magic.
Old evergreen trees stand guard around the inn as I approach, finally reaching the large front door and pushing it open. I love how it creaks as I step inside and take in the space. Old, mahogany floors that have been worn in and refinished half a dozen times give the front entrance a distinct homey smell. Vintage art and photos hang from the walls in brass and wooden frames leading upstairs. To my right is the library where a few guests are sitting and enjoying their morning coffee. I lower my bag and hold it in front of me as I approach them.
“Good morning, how’s your coffee?” I ask. They smile up at me and lifttheir glasses.
“This is the best coffee we’ve had in months,” the man replies. The woman next to him, his wife I’m assuming, nods and rests her hand on his leg.
“Truly, I need an entire pot of it and then some to take home with me,” she adds.
“Well, I’ll see if I can make that happen,” I joke, laughing with them. “If you need anything at all, please stop by the front desk. I’d be happy to direct you to any of our local businesses or attractions. The weather’s supposed to be beautiful today and there’s a lovely nature path behind the building if you’re up for a walk.”
“We might just take you up on that, thank you,” the man says, lifting his cup in my direction. The wife nods along with him before they return back to the photobook they’re looking through.
“Excuse me, Noelle?” I turn around to find Belle standing in the doorway looking at me with a concerned expression.
“Belle, hey, good morning.” I step away from the guests and move towards her. Being one of my closest friends still left in Evergreen, I pull her into a hug.
“Hey, good morning,” she replies before pulling away. When our eyes meet, I know something’s wrong.
“Belle?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even. I follow her back towards the front desk area where I set my bag down behind the desk. There’s a small office tucked away in the corner but we hardly use it.
“So when’s your breakfast with Grams? I’m excited for her to finally tell you you’re going to become the owner of this place. You deserve it, you work harder than anyone I know,” she says, trying to sound chipper. I know she’s trying to deflect but I won’t let her.
“Belle,” I repeat, leaning into her name a little further this time. “What’s going on?”
“Who says anything is going on?” She’s avoiding my gaze by opening the digital guestbook on the computer.
“Your face did, now spill it.”
“Damn my inability to hide my emotions,” she mutters to herself with a sigh. She turns to face me with her lips pressed together in a tight line. “Frank quit.”
“What? When?” My heart sinks hearing that our lead chef and one of the biggest draws for guests to come to the inn in the first place has quit. We’re known for our restaurant as well as our charm and many of the online reviews for the inn mention both. Without Frank, we’re screwed.
“Last night. He’s leaving Evergreen for some big gig in California. He told me after you left, little fink,” she mutters, pinching her nose up as she thinks about it. “For such a big dude, he really is a big baby. Six three and he’s too scared to quit to the boss’s face so he makes me do it? What a chump.”
My fingers tap the top of the check-in desk, trying to come up with a plan. October through the first of the year are our busiest months of the year and we’re already fully booked. If we don’t get a new chef in here as soon as possible, we’re going to lose bookings.I cannot let this happen right before I take over.
“When’s he leaving?” I ask, looking back at Belle who’s still muttering to herself about how Frank is nothing more than a pansy who’s afraid of his own shadow.
“The end of the week,” she says, sounding dejected.
I nod. “Okay, well at least we have him for the week. I’ll talk to him today and see if I can’t get him to stock pile meals in the freezer that we can heat up in case we can’t find someone in time.”
“And if we can’t find someone in the next seven days?” Belle asks.
I lick my lips and force a smile. “Don’t worry, I got this.” Igive her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and try to convince myself as much as I’m trying to convince her.
Where the hell am I going to find a Michelin Star level chef in less than a week? A chef, mind you, who doesn’t mind living and working in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere Vermont and wants to work at an inn?My brain starts to run away with my thoughts when the sound of Belle greeting someone snaps my attention to focus.
“Good morning, Ms. Mary. Aren’t you looking lovely this morning?”
