Sterling and Sarah shared a pot of chamomile tea as she recapped the day for the innkeeper. He’d held down the fort while she’d been at the library, but noted that it had been quiet, with most of the guests tucked into their rooms and their stories.
By ten, she was back at the cabin, tucked into bed as the next day called for another early morning.
But she couldn’t shut her brain off.
Maybe it was the high of a successful first day of the retreat. Maybe it was the tea, although she thought Sterling had said it was decaffeinated. Maybe it was the to-do list that she’d etched in her mind like a roadmap. Whatever the reason, around eleven she found herself poking her head into Laney’s room across the hall. She could hear her precious angel breathing deeply in her convertible crib, and when she moved closer and rested her hand upon her daughter’s back, she could feel the rise and fall of her steady breaths. The soft glow of the nightlight revealed Laney’s hair as a halo of golden curls around her head, with her favorite stuffed teddy bear tucked up under her arm and a cocoon of blankets keeping her comforted.
Sarah tiptoed back, her heart swelling at the scene.
What would she do if she didn’t have her parents to help shoulder the weight of single motherhood? She didn’t even wantto think about it, couldn’t imagine anyone loving her little one quite as much as her mother and father did.
Sarah came back to Snowdrift laden down with guilt, worried that she was putting them out. She was the one to accept the position at the library, after all. She was the one to relocate. And yet, they took on this new routine with open and eager arms.
Sarah could not be more thankful.
She silently shut the door behind her and padded down the hall and the stairs to the kitchen. Her mother always had sweets on hand, and tonight was no different, a batch of butterscotch cookies stacked under a glass dome on the counter. As she lifted it, the aroma of caramelized sugar met her nose, and the memories of helping her mom stir the batter and shape the balls of dough as a young girl came rushing back. How sweet it was to have the comfort of a loving childhood to go back to whenever the demands of adulthood felt challenging.
“Was hoping you’d get to taste-test one while they were still fresh.” Jill Hart stepped into the kitchen, belting her fluffy pink robe around her middle. “I forgot to leave you a note and tell you to grab one before you headed to bed. I had a little burst of late-night baking energy.”
“The best kind.” Sarah hiked a leg onto a barstool and watched her mother open an upper cabinet to pull down two glasses. Milk with cookies was a requirement in the Hart household.
“Trouble sleeping?” Jill filled her daughter’s glass and slid the cool drink her way.
“Can’t shut my brain off. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Not at all. I was still up,” Jill answered. “I get like that some nights, too. Not worrying over work anymore but thinking about you and your brother. And now little Laney, too.”
Sarah took a long swallow of milk before biting into the edge of the gooey cookie. “You don’t need to worry about us anymore. We’re all grown.”
“Oh, sweet Sarah. It’s a mother’s job to worry about her children, no matter their age. You know that.”
Of course, her mother was right. Sarah spent many hours preoccupied with thoughts of her daughter, wondering if she was doing a good enough job, hoping she was raising her right, and praying that Laney would grow up to know just how loved and adored she truly was.
Jill took a seat at a barstool immediately next to Sarah. “Everything going good with the retreat?” She nudged her chin toward the cookies. “Pass me one. I might have eaten half the batter, but believe it or not, I haven’t had an actual cookie yet.”
Sarah handed off the treat, then said with a contented sigh, “The retreat’s going better than I could have ever hoped. I’m genuinely excited for tomorrow. Would you believe we issued fifty-seven new library cards today? All teenagers, too.”
“That, in and of itself, is a huge win.”
“I know, right?” Sarah broke off another section of cookie and popped it into her mouth. “If that’s all that we get from this entire event, it will be worth it.”
“And the authors? How’s the writing going?”
“As far as I can tell, everyone’s inspired. There’s something about that Inn, you know. The history and the hospitality. It’s peaceful and relaxing, two ingredients I hear are necessary when penning the next great novel.”
“I’ve always thought it was the perfect spot for something like what you’re doing, but it’s usually so booked up with Holden’s customers.”
Sarah’s brows knit. “Holden’s customers typically stay at the Inn?”
Jill shrugged. “It’s really the only lodging up here.”
“I hadn’t realized people that booked their excursions stayed overnight.” Sarah frowned. She rarely talked shop with her brother—or Lance, for that matter—and suddenly that felt a bit selfish on her end.
“They usually stay for at least one night. Sometimes more. Snowdrift really could use more accommodations if you ask me. But I suppose lodges and inns aren’t built overnight.” Jill said it all so casually that Sarah almost didn’t detect the true seriousness in it at first.
“Where are their customers staying this week?”
“From what Holden is saying, they don’t have much on the books this week. It’s been really light.”
