“Is everything all right, Number Nine?” GJ came out from behind the counter and pulled her red and white striped cardigan tight around her body, covering up the Bobcat logo beneath.
“Everything is fine.” What was I going to tell her? I hadn’tthought about GJ when I left Room 222. I lowered my voice. “I need to find a new place to stay. I think I snored last night. What was the place that you mentioned?”
“Oh.” GJ hurried behind the desk. “I’ll give Muriel a call. She wasn’t sure if their cabin would be free today or tomorrow.”
The hands of the grandfather clock glinted in the light of the brass fixture above it. It was only six thirty in the morning. “Isn’t it a little early to be bothering people?” I set my bag down on the floor.
“Pssshhaw.” GJ batted her hand. “These people are farmers, they’ve been up for hours already. Muriel works at the diner most days, she’s probably already there.” She flipped through a dog-eared address book and picked up the cordless phone. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling as she extended the long antenna.
GJ didn’t small talk. The person who answered the phone was met with GJ barking to see if the cabin was ready. She smiled and nodded at their answer. She finished the conversation with some pleasantries about lumberjacks and alpacas. She collapsed the antennae triumphantly with the heel of her hand and set the phone down on the desk. “You’re all set. The Lumbers have a little cabin. They sometimes do vacation rentals with it, but you’re in luck. The people who were supposed to come for the holidays crashed their car on the way here and canceled their vacation.
“Geez. Are they okay?” The glee at which GJ had relayed the crash information was a little disconcerting.
“They’re fine. I think.” She shrugged. “The good news is that the cabin is available to rent—long term.” She shook her fists like an excited toddler. “Muriel is going to draw up a lease for you. Now I know what you’re going to say, that you need to see it first. Trust me,” she put her hand on my arm, “it’s the cutest little cabin just outside of town, and if you’reso inclined, the Lumbers will give you a break on rent if you help with farm chores.
If I was going to stay in Chance Rapids it sounded perfect, but I wasn’t staying. Now it meant I was going to have to break a signed contract. “Thank you, GJ. I’ll check it out, but I want to make sure it’s the right fit before I sign anything.”
She nodded. “Of course, dear.”
I picked up my bag.
“Aren’t you staying for breakfast?” GJ checked her watch. “It will be starting in half an hour. Eugene is already in there baking the Saint Nicks.”
“The what?”
“Wait here.” GJ rushed past me and into the dining room. She returned with a cardboard box. “Yesterday Eugene came up with these haskap berry croissants. Now, you know that I don’t like change, but these…” she patted the box, “are something else.”
“Why are they called the—”
“Saint Nicholas?” GJ interrupted. “I have no idea. Evie started calling them the Saint Nick. I assume it has something to do with Christmas. She’s convinced me to add a breakfast special every day. You can come back and try whatever Eugene is experimenting with tomorrow. As long as it gets approved today.”
Yesterday when we were skiing, I’d asked Evie what she’d named the breakfast special. She’d changed the subject pretty quickly.
The Saint Nick. Had Evie named the breakfast after me? No, it had to be related to Santa, because I definitely was no Saint.
I opened the box and a waft of freshly baked butter and pastry filled the lobby. “How come you’re not wearing the badass jersey?” I asked.
GJ opened the cardigan and held out the hockey jersey. “Ionly wear the vintage one to the Christmas Classic. I’m saving it for your big day.”
It was all too much. I needed to get out of the inn. These people were far too nice and it was killing me. Why couldn’t they all be selfish assholes? I didn’t need to hate them, although that would’ve been helpful, but I needed to at least not give a shit. Liking the residents of Chance Rapids was only going to make letting that game-losing goal into the net even harder. I didn’t even want to picture GJ’s face when my stick would be too high for the shot. I didn’t want to hear the collective groan when the entire town realized that they were going one more year without winning the Classic. George was going to be heartbroken. I wondered if his mom would still bake that cake for him if the Bobcats lost.
Of course she wouldn’t. Growing up I had been taught that losing was…losing. There was nothing to celebrate, no participation trophies, no pizza parties. As a teen, if my team lost it meant the silent treatment for at least a couple of days.
“Thanks for the Saint Nicholas.” I raised the box.
“Wait.” GJ held up her hand like she was a traffic cop.
All I wanted to do was get out of there before Evie came down the stairs in her sexy milkmaid dress. “Yeah?”
“You’re going to need some directions.”
“If you give me the address I can put it in my phone.” My eyes tracked to the stairs and back to the clock.
“Nonsense.” GJ’s tongue stuck between her lips as she drew a map on the back of a piece of paper. I kept an eye on the ticking clock as she painstakingly named all the streets on her map. “The phones get a lot of stuff wrong up here. Follow this and you will get there.”
She folded the piece of paper and tucked it in the pocket of my jacket. “Don’t be a stranger, Nick.”
“I won’t.” I smiled, hoping that it looked real.
