“Could have fooled me.” Sterling’s hand rested over his cranberry-colored sweater vest, the other grasping the empty mug. “You’re the very picture of collected calm, my dear.”
“It’s good to hear I can put on a good front,” she teased. “You can’t tell I was up until two in the morning going over last-minute logistics? The purple bags under my eyes don’t give it away?”
“Not one bit. You look very fresh and well-rested.” He placed the mug back onto the tray with the others. “If it’s any comfort, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. It’smyjob to make sure the guests are taken care of and happy. It’syourjob to have fun and enjoy yourself.”
While half of that was true—Sterling’s responsibility to care for the guests—the success of the retreat ultimately rested upon her shoulders. If she wanted to plan future retreats for readers and writers alike, she needed to ensure a positive experience for everyone involved, Sterling included. The last thing she wanted was for the retreat to end up a disappointment or a source of frustration for anyone.
By the time the first author arrived and Sarah smoothly navigated through introductions, as well as the agenda, she found herself in a focused zone. More authors trickled in upon the heels of the first, and before she knew it, all twelve had found their way up the mountain and settled into the Snowdrift Inn.
Just before eleven, Sarah’s phone pulsed with a text from Lance.
I just want you to know that I’m thinking about you and said a little prayer that everything goes well with check-in. I’m so proud of you, Sarah. You amaze me.
She felt the smile grow on her face and bit her bottom lip to keep from beaming completely. She was proud of herself, too. It had been a lot of work, but dreams didn’t happen without a little hustle.
Another text buzzed with her phone still in her palm.
Just wanted to remind you that I’m here if you need anything, too. I can swing by at a moment’s notice.
Sarah texted a quick reply:Thank you. I appreciate that. And you.
She slid her phone into her back pocket and joined the authors in the common area where she planned to kick off a meet-and-greet session in just a few minutes. But she quickly realized that it was already well underway, the authors needing no prompting or icebreakers to get talking. The group mingled over coffee and snacks, chatting about their current works-in-progress and the challenges and triumphs in the publishing industry.
Sarah stood at the periphery, observing the animated conversations between the authors, surprised by some of the unexpected combinations of literary genres that appeared to click and connect. Ralph Steinstorm, a renowned sci-fi author, was engaged in a particularly lively conversation with young adult romance writer, Poppy Rivers, near the old stone fireplace. In any other scenario, Sarah would never imagine the two hitting it off, but she loved that this setting provided a unique platform for unlikely camaraderie.
Around noon she cleared her throat, mustered her confidence, and addressed the room in her best public speaking voice.
“If I could have everyone’s attention for a brief moment.” She waited for the discussions to die down before continuing, the hum of chatter trailing off into polite quiet. “Hi, everyone.” She smiled, breathing deep. “I hate to interrupt all of the engaging conversations I’m hearing, but I’d like to go over a few items before we break for the afternoon. I promise only to take a minute of your time.”
With every head in attendance turned her way, Sarah momentarily forgot her words. She wasn’t one for speaking in front of groups, yet the friendly eyes and happy faces that reflected at her dulled those nerves and calmed the butterflies. She took another steadying breath.
“I introduced Sterling to you all when you arrived, but Sterling,”—she raised her voice so he could hear her from the other room—“if you wouldn’t mind popping your head in here for a minute.”
The innkeeper did just that, leaning his upper half into the common area but not fully entering. He gave a quick wave with a flick of his wrist.
Sarah turned back to the authors. “Can we take a moment to show Sterling our appreciation for not only letting us use the Inn for our first-ever Snowdrift writer’s retreat, but for also going above and beyond when it comes to the accommodations and service?” She started with the first rallying clap, and the others quickly joined in. “In a few moments, we will break for the afternoon so you can all do what you came here to do…write.” She let out a light, encouraging laugh. “Sterling has put together bagged lunches that you are welcome to collect from the kitchen. Ham and brie sandwiches, with a side walnut and spinach salad, right?”
Sterling stepped fully into the room, nodding. “Yes, that’s correct. And a vegetarian option of quinoa and roasted vegetable wraps.”
“You’re more than welcome to grab one of those lunches to take back to your room, or if you’d rather set out and partake in the charm of Snowdrift, I highly recommend the Cornerstone Café. Best pastrami sandwiches around. And for a caffeinated pick me up, our go-to is Bitter Cold Coffee Bar.”
Sarah could see a few authors jotting down notes on their phone.
“You’ll have until five-thirty when we’ll gather here in the dining room and enjoy a dinner catered by Timber Creek. After that, for those who signed up ahead of time, we’ll head over to Joyful Blooms to work on our floral arrangements.” Half of the group had opted for the evening activity, a number Sarah was pleased with. She knew not everyone would participate but she wanted to provide a fun option for those who chose to join the festivities. “And like Sterling, I’ll also be accessible twenty-four-seven. I won’t be staying overnight at the Inn as I have a two-year-old daughter I need to tend to, but our cabin is a short drive away and I can be here within fifteen minutes or so. Twenty, max.”
Sterling suddenly stepped up, eclipsing Sarah to take center stage. “I think we can all agree that Sarah has put in so much time and effort into making this retreat happen. As the innkeeper, I’m going to officially override her last statement and tell you to contact me first before you try to get ahold of her. She’s already done far enough.”
Tawnya Brenning, a woman with a beautiful, sleek brunette bob and stylish cat-eye glasses lifted a hand. “As a mother, I second Sterling’s statement. Sarah, you take care of your little one and don’t worry about us for one minute. We’ll all be immersed in our own worlds, anyway.”
Agreeable chatter emanated around the room, and even though her gut wanted to object to Sterling’s offer, Sarah decided to let it be. It was a good exercise in learning to accept help when offered.
She heard the faint creak of the front door to the Inn swinging open on its hinges as a rumble of chatter began to spread across the room again. Evidently, Sterling also sensed the activity in the foyer because he quietly dismissed himself from the room to check on the entrance.
“Does anyone have any questions I might be able to answer before we split up?” she asked the crowd.
Poppy lifted her chin. “Not a question, but I just wanted to add that I’m so glad you planned this retreat, Sarah. I’ve had a major case of writer’s block these last few months and I think this change of scenery is exactly what I need to get my characters cooperating and the storyline flowing. I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m super excited and can’t wait to dive in.”
“I second that. I’ve already got a plot for a new novel brewing, and I’ve only been here a couple of short hours. The creative juices are definitely flowing,” Phil Daughtry, a western author chimed in. He certainly fit the part with his wide brim, whiteStetson and deep blue Wranglers. Sarah made a mental note to chat with him later about Nana Jo’s ranch to see if he might like to visit during his stay. It seemed like a setting that could be pulled straight out of one of his books.
