by Jenny Hale
Cappy looked thoughtful. “Actually…” He stood up and went behind the bar where he grabbed a small white card, bringing it back over to them. He slid it across the table to Blue. “This guy came in about eight months ago. His name was Charles Bryant. Do you remember him at all?”
“That name sounds a bit familiar,” Blue said, clearly searching his memory but coming up short of the connection.
“You might have heard of him. He’s the one who built Croft Ridge Resort and Suites down the road.”
“The big one with the water slides?”
Cappy sighed. “Yep.” He pulled the towel from his shoulder and set it on the table, leaning on the chair again. “But he has quite a story. He came in to drop his card off, and I didn’t think anything of it. He went on his way. But last week, he showed up again and dropped a bombshell.”
“What was it?” Scarlett asked.
“He asked if I remembered him from his last visit, and, of course, I did. He also told me he was Amos’s son.”
Scarlett had childhood memories of Amos Bryant. He’d often dance into the farmers’ market, whistling, and when June the owner of the market greeted him, he took her hands and twirled her around, making her laugh before heading over to the dairy section or the vegetables. He seemed to always be cooking something back at his cottage, his shopping list full. But what no one knew until his final days was that he was lonely—he’d admitted it to Gran once. His wife had passed away well before her time, and he’d spent the rest of his days alone, except for his visits to Gran and Pappy’s and the mornings he spent at the coffee shop with his book and his favorite mug that he brought with him every day. He’d said that he’d bought his cottage in Silver Falls with the idea that he’d have a family in it one day. But he never did. The story had always stayed with Scarlett. But the thing that she hadn’t heard in all those years was that Amos had a son.
“Amos had a child?” Blue asked.
“Apparently. Odd that we never saw him, right?”
“Now that I think of it, I remember seeing Amos with a boy once,” Blue said. “He was about thirteen. Amos got him ice cream. But it was only the one time. I just figured he was a nephew or something.”
“Weird, isn’t it? But I digress,” Cappy said. “What I wanted to tell you was that the first time Mr. Bryant came in, he said he was specifically looking for a plot of land in Silver Falls to open one of his resorts.” This information pulled Scarlett out of her thoughts about Amos. “He wants to do something completely different, thank God—something more traditional. As he said, he wants ‘to represent the fabric of Silver Falls.’”
Scarlett lit up at that news. “If we have to sell, he sounds like a potentially great buyer,” she said, taking Charles Bryant’s business card off the table and looking it over.
She’d seen the profiles of a few of the people her father had contacted regarding their interest in buying the inn, and none of them had felt right. Their other properties were either too showy or downright tacky. If she could have a conversation with Charles Bryant, she might be able to convince him to keep the integrity of White Oaks Inn—if he was, in fact, Amos’s son. Amos was a family friend and a long-time resident of Silver Falls—he’d passed away the same way he’d lived: quietly. Amos’s cabin on the hillside, now vacant, was understated, nearly blending in with the terrain. He’d never been ostentatious in any way. So, even though Charles Bryant clearly hadn’t grown up in Silver Falls, he must at least be familiar with Amos’s way of life.
Blue nodded, clearly considering the prospect as well.
“May I keep this?” Scarlett asked, still holding the card in her hand.
“Absolutely. Y’all want a beer?” Cappy asked.
“Maybe later,” Blue said, patting Cappy on the shoulder as he stood up. “We just wanted to stop in on our way to White Oaks to say hello.”
“Yeah, you’d better go help Joe with the tree. He just left with the biggest one ol’ Farmer Jax had.” Cappy nodded toward the view through the window of the Berry Farms Christmas lot, the place where Jax Henderson set up trees from his farm every year. He personally toted each one to the lot himself in his fully restored 1958 pale blue Ford pickup. “Glad you stopped in!” Cappy continued happily. “Jess is home today. She’ll be so sorry she missed you. She’s already baking for the Christmas party.”
“I can’t wait to see her,” Scarlett said, standing up and pushing her chair back under the table, Charles Bryant’s card secured tightly within her fist.
Scarlett was already plotting how to steal a moment away from the rest of the family as soon as she got to the inn, so she could make the call to Mr. Bryant to get a read on him. It would be such a relief to go through Christmas knowing that she had a solid plan that even Gran might approve of. Although, with a new owner, Gran would have to leave the inn, it could lighten the blow if she knew it would be in good hands. This might be Scarlett’s chance to save White Oaks. But with Christmas just a few days away, she’d have to work fast.
Two
The snowfall drifted to the ground like feathers, light and airy, settling on the Christmas garland that was draped along the length of both the upper and lower lacquered railings of the main house of White Oaks Inn. When Scarlett and her father arrived, the ten-foot spruce on the front grounds sparkled in white lights, and wreaths of fresh greenery were already hung from every window by wide ribbons the color of red wine. The local firefighter Wes Warren helped Gran hang them every year. He used his truck ladder to put them up for her.
Blue greeted Uncle Joe, who was standing on the porch again in Pappy’s absence, and then gingerly pulled the truck through the unplowed private drive that overlooked the valley below at the back of the main house. The snow clearly wasn’t enough to deter Scarlett’s seventeen-year-old cousin Heidi from her yearly quest for phone service. She was pacing outside in the cold, alternating between waving her phone in the air and peering down at the screen.
Wi-Fi was one of the amenities that guests needed to have consistently, but Gran just couldn’t understand it. Gran had said that there was no need to upgrade the service because her guests were here for the views and the family time. They needed a break from their phones, and she was just giving them permission to do so.
Blue maneuvered the truck to the side of Heidi and put it in park. She stopped momentarily to offer a distracted wave to them when Scarlett got out.
“You’d think I’d have learned from all the times I’ve been here that there’s no service on this mountain,” Heidi said to Scarlett without even a greeting, with that brooding teenage version of affection, her annoyance stated in a friendly way to show their camaraderie. White flakes peppered her shiny dark hair as she shook her phone and wiped the screen with her sleeve to clear the water droplets caused by melting snow. “I told Michael I’d call him. Things haven’t been great lately.”
Scarlett stepped up beside her and Heidi offered a side-hug.
“Your boyfriend?” Scarlett asked.
“Yeah. I’m trying to make things work…” She wiggled her phone again as if the signal could somehow be jostled free. “I’m going away to college next year. I’ve been accepted to Johns Hopkins.”
“That’s wonderful,” Scarlett told her.
They’d been waiting for that acceptance letter for a while. Uncle Joe had graduated from Johns Hopkins, and he’d dreamed of Heidi following in his footsteps at the university. He’d had lunches with the alumni association, taken her on tours of the campus, and even bought her a T-shirt with the university logo on the front.
Having been Daddy’s little girl as a child, Heidi had spent long hours bandaging his arms to see if she could wrap the bandage just right, listening to his heart with a stethoscope, dropping candies in a little paper cup the way he had when giving out meds to patients. As she grew older, her math and science grades soared and a path in medicine could be a real possibility for her. But she was extremely creative as well. Uncle Joe had said her creativity woul
d be her edge when she was under pressure. She’d begun an honors pre-med track this year—her senior year in high school—and she was doing very well.
“I know your dad will be thrilled to bits,” Scarlett said.
“Dad’s really excited, but Michael’s not tickled about the drive he’ll have to make to see me.”
If only Heidi knew how young she was, how much time she had in front of her. At seventeen, she really didn’t need to have to try to make things work with someone. Scarlett had been down that road. The situation with Heidi opened up the fresh wounds of her own recent breakup, and only added to Scarlett’s conclusion that this Christmas wouldn’t be one of the highlights of her existence. Tonight, Scarlett’s ex-boyfriend Daniel would be attending their Christmas work party at Electra, the media company where they’d met, sporting the suit Scarlett had picked out for him. And Bethany from accounts receivable would probably be wearing the heels that Scarlett had urged her to buy when they’d been out shopping on their lunch break a few weeks ago.
Scarlett hadn’t wanted to break up with Daniel only weeks before Christmas, but he was moving too fast, and she knew that he wasn’t the one for her. Scarlett had a habit of falling for the same types of men: the ones who had baggage or something they were “working on.” She wanted to help them all, to make them better in some way, and every time the relationship progressed, she realized that her determination to make things work was more out of her need to support them rather than passion. But this would be the last time she made that mistake. It was time to find someone strong who could take care of her for a change. However, any update to Scarlett’s relationship status would have to wait, because she had more pressing family matters pulling on her attention.
Heidi lifted the hand that was holding up her phone to greet Scarlett’s father as he rounded the truck. He’d been organizing the gifts into bags to get them all inside the house. “Hi, Uncle Blue,” she said.
Blue attempted to return the gesture, his arms full of presents, and shut the door of the truck with his foot. Scarlett shuffled up beside him and offered to help, but he shooed her away and told her to go enjoy herself.
She considered offering Heidi her own phone, so she pulled it out of her pocket to see if it worked any better, but hers, too, was struggling to find a connection. The snow must be making the usual spotty service even worse. It reminded her of the business card in her pocket and made her question whether she’d have a working phone to call Mr. Bryant.
“Don’t catch pneumonia out here,” Blue said, tightening his scarf with his only free finger as he grabbed their bags and headed inside, a suitcase in each hand and the packages wedged against his body with his arms.
“Wanna come inside?” she asked Heidi. “It’s freezing.”
“Might as well,” Heidi said, the words sailing in on a sigh, her phone lowered by her side in defeat.
“You could use the landline,” Scarlett offered, holding the door for her. The heat from the fire wafted toward her, instantly warming her.
“And have to talk to Michael while the entire family is in the room with me? No way.” Heidi came in and shut the door behind them both. They walked together down the hallway and into the living room. “It’s okay. I’ll try to text him later. Glad you’re here!”
“Me too,” Scarlett said.
While the snow fell outside, the main living area that Gran shared with the guests was toasty and warm. And it was beginning to look festive. The central house was original, and included a parlor, a living room, a kitchen, a very large dining room where Gran hosted many wedding receptions every summer—until they’d dwindled as the décor had started to date—and the living quarters for Gran and the family. The living room, parlor, and dining room were open to the public most of the year.
The cedar staircase in the entryway had already been draped in cascading garlands and red ribbons; the small table outside the living room and the accent tables inside were dotted with peppermint candles and poinsettia arrangements sitting on runners that were hand-embroidered by Gran with holly leaves and berries; the grand piano in the corner had its own ring of pine and balsam branches. Scarlett took this moment to commit to memory the rich aroma of pumpkin pie and cranberry sauce that danced its way under the mistletoe from the kitchen into the room, where a roaring fire popped and sizzled for the family and guests.
“Scarlett!” Uncle Joe called her lovingly from the highest rungs of a ladder, while he wobbled an angel onto the top of Jax’s enormous Christmas tree. He’d clearly come in and gotten right to work. The lights and garland were in place already, the baubles and ornaments still wrapped in tissue and tucked away in their boxes on the floor. “How’s my favorite niece?”
He always said that. And what made it chuckle-worthy was that Scarlett was his only niece. “Wonderful,” she said, locking eyes with him, their unspoken words giving away their concern over the weeks to come once Christmas was over. But there was also a sense of unity in his look that gave her strength—the whole family would work together to do the best they could for Gran. She just hoped they could make Gran see their need to move her out of White Oaks. Her grandmother had already been without so much over the last two years since she lost Pappy.
Scarlett stepped over a strand of lights on the floor to get nearer to the tree. Only then did she notice Archie, Gran’s hound dog, curled up on the tree skirt between a few presents. “Need any help?” She reached under the tree and scratched the dog’s brown and black spotted head.
“I should be asking you that,” he said, coming down and then peering up at the angel. “We’re all settled in.”
Gran’s three children, Joe, Beth, and Blue, had grown up at White Oaks, and Gran adored the fact that they still brought their families to visit every Christmas and summer. Joe, his wife Alice, and their three children—Heidi and the twins, Riley and Mason—had a competition with Blue to see which family would arrive the soonest each year. Joe usually won. He always made sure to point out playfully to Blue that, even though he and Alice had quite a few more people to get in the car, they still managed to beat him. Beth had never married, but she was right there with them, mothering her nieces and nephews as if they were her own.
Joe repositioned an ornament, squinting one eye to inspect its new placement. “Aunt Alice and the kids are putting the Christmas welcome baskets in all the guest rooms, and Aunt Beth just ran out to get us some more wine.”
“Doesn’t Esther usually do the baskets?” Esther had been working at the inn since Scarlett was a little girl—she was like family. She lived on the premises and she was the one Gran trusted with the tasks of the highest security.
“Gran had to let her go a few months back. Not enough money to pay her.” He bit the inside of his lip while telling her silently that this was exactly why they’d had their family meeting. “She took a general manager position at a hotel in Knoxville, making nearly double the pay, so even if we wanted her back, we can’t have her.”
This loss hit Scarlett hard. Esther had been like a mother to Scarlett, growing up. She was so kind, and whenever Scarlett stayed as a girl, she always made sure to have something waiting for her. Sometimes it was a patchwork doll she’d made of old clothes or a book she’d found at the secondhand store. Esther, Gran, and Aunt Alice, the cooks of the family, would sing together in the kitchen when they prepared their big dinners.
“Esther did everything here,” Scarlett said. “Who’s doing it all now?”
“Gran.”
She couldn’t imagine the burden Gran was faced with, having Esther gone. Everything from paperwork to guest relations was now on Gran’s shoulders. At eighty-two years old, taking on that amount of work wasn’t healthy for her.
“Do you or your dad need help with anything?” Joe nodded hello to a couple of wandering guests—an elderly woman with silver hair and ruby earrings, and her husband, both clearly excited to get an early peek at the decorations.
“We’re fine, thanks. We only brough
t a suitcase each,” she answered, giving a friendly wave to the couple. “Where’s Gran?”
“Cooking,” he said happily.
That was a good sign. When Gran was excited, she expended her extra energy by cooking and baking. The family often said that they could guess the productivity of the New Year by how many hours Gran spent in the kitchen that Christmas. The year after Pappy died, she’d hardly cooked a thing that Christmas; she’d only made a light Christmas dinner and baked a cake. So things were looking up; judging by the smells wafting in from the kitchen, she was in good spirits this season.
“How’s the tree looking?” Uncle Joe asked. He hung a bauble and then tweaked a few more ornaments, stepping back to view his work.
“It’s gorgeous,” Scarlett said.
“Jax outdid himself this year,” he said after removing another bauble from the box. He carried on decorating the tree quietly.
As Scarlett’s Uncle Joe was a doctor, and with the nearest hospital a good twenty-five-minute drive away, Joe was known to make house calls whenever he was visiting. He always said he didn’t mind because he loved helping people. One night Jax’s neighbor came running across the field along the edge of the mountain, distraught, telling Uncle Joe that she thought Jax was having a heart attack. Joe had rushed straight over, stabilizing him until the ambulance could reach them. Not having a whole lot of extra money, Jax had to think long and hard about how to repay him. Finally, he came up with a way: every year he offered to give Uncle Joe his best Christmas tree free of charge. And now it was the Bailey family tradition to put it up in the grand living room at White Oaks.
“Call me if you need me,” Scarlett said to Uncle Joe. “I’m going to head to the kitchen to say hello to Gran, and then I’ll see if I should work the desk for guest checkout so she can keep cooking.” She followed the buttery, sugary smells, excited to see her grandmother.
