That earned a small laugh.
As the meeting wrapped, Marjorie flipped through her binder. “We have a new entry from the Snowdrop Inn. The Bennets, you know. They are reopening.”
“I saw their application,” I said.
“Oh, wonderful,” she replied. “Isn’t it exciting? Lydia is doing it.”
I kept my expression neutral. “I will need some additional details from her.”
Marjorie nodded enthusiastically. “She’s such a lovely young woman and so enthusiastic. We all adore her.”
When I left the station at the end of the day, the sky was already dimming. Maple Ridge lights glowed softly along storefronts. The cold was sharper, the kind that made your lungs feel like they had been scrubbed clean with winter air.
I drove past the Snowdrop Inn on my route home. Warm light spilled through the windows. Shadows moved inside. The inn was full of life and noise, even from the street.
It looked like the opposite of my house.
I didn’t dislike my house. It was practical. It was quiet and it was mine. Yet as I pulled into my driveway, the silence felt heavier than usual, and the cold hit harder.
The furnace had been temperamental all month. It had made noises that suggested protest. It had clicked at odd hours. I had told myself I would replace it after the holidays, when schedules were easier and expenses less concentrated. I had hoped it would make it one more winter.
Hope was not a strategy.
Inside, the air was cold enough to see my breath. I turned on the lights and headed for the thermostat. The display was blank.
I stared at it for a moment, then pressed the button again. Nothing.
I exhaled slowly and walked to the utility closet, kneeling to check the unit itself. The pilot light was out. I tried restarting it the way I had done before. The flame caught briefly, then died as if it resented the effort.
I straightened, already calculating. It was after business hours. Emergency service would be expensive. I could use a space heater for the night. The pipes were insulated, mostly. The forecast was cold, but not impossible.
I turned the taps on to drip in the kitchen and bathroom. I left the cabinets under the sink cracked open to let warmer air circulate, then set the space heater near the most vulnerable section of plumbing.
This was temporary.
I called the repair service and left a message asking for an appointment as soon as they could fit me in. I gave my address,my phone number, and a brief summary. Then I hung up and stood in the kitchen, listening to the space heater whir.
My phone buzzed with a reminder about parade inspections. I dismissed it and set the phone face-down on the counter.
I made a simple dinner, ate standing up, and washed the plate immediately. Living alone, it was easier. Small tasks done correctly to keep bigger ones from expanding.
As I got ready for bed, I thought briefly of the Snowdrop Inn again. Tomorrow I would call Lydia Bennet and schedule a conversation that would be professional and brief.
I turned off the light and lay in the cold-dark quiet, listening for the sound of the furnace that did not come.
Chapter Three: An Uninvited Guest
Lydia
The Snowdrop Inn was quiet this morning. There were no new arrivals or departures scheduled for today. Guests had their morning breakfast and coffee. Some were chatting quietly in the reception room, but most were either on their way to do something exciting in Maple Ridge or had returned to their rooms.
I stood near the front desk with my clipboard braced against the counter, trying to look like a woman who could solve problems through neat lists and steady decisions. The lobby smelled like cinnamon and sawdust. Jane had baked something that smelled of chocolate, which meant she was either feeling generous or trying to prevent the rest of us from snapping at each other. Both were possible.
I hoped it was her double fudge brownies.
Light from the front windows fell across the floorboards in pale rectangles, catching dust that never fully settled. Somewhere upstairs, my father was shifting something heavy with the careful patience of a man who refused to acknowledge his age. I could hear it scraping across the floorboards. My mother’s voice floated from the hallway, soft and purposeful, giving instructions to someone I couldn’t see.
I looked at my CHRISTMAS PARADE list that I had written. I needed a theme, signage, lights, garland, a trailer, and a vehicle.
