“Canceled by whom?” Though I had a sinking suspicion I knew who, and I was going to have words with him about this.
“By Mr. Kringle.”
Gritting my teeth, I enunciated each word sharply, “Which one?”
“Your brother.”
Yep, Keegan and I were definitely going to have some words when I saw him. “Well, I’m not sure why he would do that. He knows I always stay at the inn, because with the kids, and the parents, it’s just…a lot.” Why was I explaining why I chose to stay at the inn instead of with my brother’s family? It was really no one’s business but mine. “I’ll just take another room, please.”
“I’m afraid we won’t be able to accommodate you.” Sherman didn’t look one bit sorry, and if I wasn’t mistaken the general noise of the inn’s lobby had dimmed considerably since this entire interaction had started. Like all the elf ears–and a few non-elf ears–were hanging onto every word being said.
“Why not?” Trying to keep my voice low, I took a long, slow breath, reining in my temper. My anger should be directed at my brother and not the inn’s staff.
“We are completely booked,” Sherman gestured behind me, and I slowly turned to look over my shoulder at a startling long line of people, waiting to check in. “The gingerbread house contest draws in people from all over the neighboring villages and close realms. It’s become quite a popular attraction.”
Turning back to face him, I slumped a little, feeling defeated. Damn Keegan! What had he been thinking?
“You don’t have anything?” There was a slight desperation to my question.
“I’m afraid we don’t,” Sherman did look apologetic.
“I don’t know why my brother canceled my reservation, but I really need a room. The holidays and…please, could you look once more?” Or again, because the elf hadn’t made an effort to even consult his computer after the first time. Did he just have bookings in his head?
Camilla, who had been silent up to this point, content to hide behind her boss, peeked around his shoulder. Hand raised like one of my students, she gave me a small smile.
“Yes?” I nodded at her, giving her permission to speak, or ask her questions, or magically poof a room into existence for me.
“I believe Mr. Kringle was under the impression you no longer needed the room,” she said softly. “Because of you and Balfour dating.”
The implication that I would be staying with Balfour–and wouldn't need a room–hung heavy in the air.
I was going to throttle my brother when I saw him!
“Because when you made the reservation,” she continued, moving around her boss and leaning across the counter at me, “no one knew you were dating. But then at Thanksgiving everyone found out, so it was no longer a secret. And you wouldn’t need the room anymore. And with all the people here for the gingerbread contest…I think he thought he was doing a good thing.”
Did everyone know about Balfour and me?
She leaned even closer, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. “I think you two make a cute couple. And he’s been a lot nicer since you started dating.”
“Camilla,” Sherman issued a soft warning, and she straightened back up. “We do not gossip.”
“Yes, sir.” She sounded contrite.
And what did she mean that Bal had been nicer since we’d been dating? No, nope, not dating. Fake dating. That was all. None of this was real.
There was some shuffling and grumbling starting behind me, and I thanked them for their help, grabbed my suitcase, and hurried out of the lobby. Yanking my suitcase behind me over the hard packed snow, I headed down the hill towards the red and green workshop.
My seething anger kept me warm, but the rapid pace I’d set had me huffing slightly when I finally reached the warmth of thebuilding. I stopped to scan the area, looking for the extra-tall figure of my seven foot elf.
Dammit! Notmyelf!
He was across the shop, his head bent over some papers in his hand, while another elf gestured wildly. As if sensing me, Bal’s silver head shot up, and his eyes locked with mine.
Was that a hint of a smile I saw caress his lips?
Surely I was imagining things, since there was no way I could even make out his features that clearly from this distance.
Rolling my bag behind me, I marched across the shop, ignoring the stares and whispering going on around me from the elves working.
