She appeared in the doorway a moment later, eyes bright, hair still perfect in a way that suggested she had been late night scrolling rather than sleeping. “She’s here.”
“Who?” I asked, completely bewildered.
“Our great aunt,” she said, like this explained everything. “Cathy DeBurg.”
The last of my calm evaporated.
“She said she was coming after Christmas,” I protested weakly.
“She says a lot of things,” Lydia replied. “She also brought luggage. A lot of luggage.”
I stood too quickly and regretted it as my sore knees reminded me they existed. By the time I reached the stairs, I could already hear Great Aunt Cathy’s voice carrying through the inn, crisp and commanding, like the building itself had been called to attention.
“Oh no,” she was saying. “This simply will not do.”
I stepped into the lobby just in time to see her surveying the space like a general assessing a battlefield. She wore an expensive coat with a collar that brushed her jaw, her posture impeccable, her expression sharpened by expectation.
“Kitty,” she said, spotting me immediately. “There you are.”
She kissed my cheek briskly, her perfume overwhelming, then stepped back and looked me over from head to toe. “You look tired.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“That was not a compliment,” she replied.
Lucy hovered nearby, jaw tight. Jane smiled with practiced warmth. Lydia looked thrilled, which told me this was about to be worse.
Meri, lucky girl, was nowhere to be seen.
Mom was in her nightgown, trying to take Great Aunt Cathy’s coat but the old bird wasn’t taking it off, while Dad trudged up the stairs with another suitcase.
“And what are you doing these days,” Great Aunt Cathy asked, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Besides running around this crumbling inn?”
I swallowed. “I’m helping organize the Maple Ridge talent show.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Helping.”
“Yes,” I said, before I could stop myself. “Leading.”
Lydia grinned.
Great Aunt Cathy’s interest sharpened immediately. “A leadership role. How… unexpected.”
I braced myself.
She asked questions rapidly. Timeline. Budget. Performers. Audience size. Each one landed like a small test, and I answered them as honestly as I could, even when the answers were not impressive.
“We’re still finalizing details,” I said. “The flyers are out, but—”
“The flyers are out before the structure is finalized,” she interrupted. “Bold.”
I bit back a sigh. “Optimistic.”
She studied me for a long moment, then nodded once. “Well. You will need strong execution.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I’m aware.”
Her gaze flicked to Lydia. “And you?”
