by Ciara Knight
“I guess we’ll find out.”
“Get upstairs and clean up. You’re dripping sludgy brown stuff all over my floors,” Sunny cried with dismay.
Mason waited for the sound of her steps on the stairs before he pulled the back door open to grab his duffle and beg for a towel, although he wasn’t sure they’d let him inside. It was never pleasant being on their naughty list. One thing was certain though. They weren’t giving him his keys until they got what they wanted. For Aunt Birdie’s sake, he’d hang around for a minute or two, get cleaned up and check out the place, even if just to show he cared. Then he’d try to convince her to move to Chicago with him. She always wanted to move to the big city, and he could keep an eye on her. He had plenty of room in his apartment, so she’d be safe and protected there.
The bitter cold penetrated his wet clothes and nipped at his body until he gave in and opened the door to the sunroom. Sunny stood on the other side, mopping slop around the floor. He tiptoed around her and grabbed his duffle.
“Guess she did win that fight.” Cookie shook her head and walked past him without another glance, only mumbled words. “Good for her.”
Aunt Birdie entered with towel in hand. “Heard you might need this. You two still find trouble wherever you go.” She smiled faintly, sadness creeping at the edges. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll even try to get your keys back while you’re in the shower, but you better call the airlines before you head to the airport. It’s only a couple days until Christmas. I doubt there’ll be many seats available. They might even have some cancellations with all this snow.”
The grand staircase he’d seen earlier led to a long hallway of bedrooms.
“I know it don’t look like much now, but imagine it beyond all the construction,” Aunt Birdie said, the excitement in her voice obvious. “All the suites have those large picture windows looking out over the river or mountains. Sunny’s sewing curtains and large fluffy comforters for the four-poster beds.”
“It sounds nice, but who wants to drive all the way out here just to stay the night? I mean, it’s pretty and all, but this mountain is remote. There isn’t much to do besides hiking or fishing.”
“That’s the charm of it. And we’re already booked up for opening week.”
“You are?” He eyed the detailed crown molding and plaster work the men were painstakingly reviving to its former glory.
“Actually, we’re at sixty percent capacity for the month of January. And we haven’t even advertised much. Oh, and Valentine’s weekend, and two weeks in June we are full. We have reservations almost every weekend in between, too. Weddings mostly. We even got one of those uppity travel-agents-to-the-stars booked for a stay. He’s gonna check out the place for some famous Hollywood couple.” Aunt Birdie’s face beamed with excitement. He had missed the floaty, happy way she had about her. Of course, it had always been a battle keeping her out of trouble when he was a kid.
“Let me get cleaned up, and we’ll talk, okay? But I’m leaving tonight.” He couldn’t handle staying the night on the mountain. Not with all the haunting memories. Not with the knowledge he’d never have the one woman he’d loved his entire life. Not then, not now, not ever. “I’ll make you a deal. If I keep an open mind about this place, will you keep an open mind about moving to Chicago with me?”
Aunt Birdie’s lips puckered like a parrot, and her gaze grew distant. “Okay, you get cleaned up then we’ll talk, and you can catch a flight out later tonight,” Aunt Birdie agreed a little too easily. She touched his hand despite the dirt crusting on his skin. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have brought you here against your will.” She took a long breath. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted for you is happiness. I believe that’s with Savannah, but I’d never betray you. I thought when you asked for my ring… Were you coming back for Savannah, or telling her you were choosing someone else?”
He didn’t answer. What did it matter now?
“You know I love you.” Her voice cracked, stabbing him in the heart.
“I missed you, too,” he said. “And I know you wouldn’t betray me. You’ve never done anything to get in the way of my life.”
“No, but I do confess that I wished you were a little less like your daddy. I’m tired of the men I care about running off. You and my brother are definitely family.”
Resentment curdled in his gut. “I didn’t run off and leave my son for some woman,” he said, his tone harsher than he’d intended.
“No, you ran off to avoid a woman.” Aunt Birdie fluttered away before he could refute her words, leaving him in a bathroom with a crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling and no drywall.
He cranked the faucet handle to hot, stripped off his suit and tossed it in a sludgy heap in the old cast iron sink. The furnace kicked on and the shower curtain waved from the burst of warm air. He hopped into the tub into an icy rain and jumped back, slipping and sliding on the slick surface. “Oooooh! Ehhh! Woooo!”
Knock. Knock.
“Forgot to tell ya the hot water don’t work right now!” Cookie shouted through the door.
He slipped and slid in the old claw foot tub, kicking at the faucet to make it shut off. His body was nearly frozen, but one look at the brownish liquid spiraling around the drain and he knew he had to man up and at least take a camp shower.
By the time he turned off the torturously icy water, his lips and toenails were tinged blue. His body shivered so much he could barely towel off. He quickly put on a clean pair of pants and button-up, collared shirt. Not the warmest option, but it was the best he had. Still, he longed for a flannel shirt, beanie hat, and some wool socks.
Still shivering, he decided to deal with his suit later and went in search of a blanket or coat. No way was he sticking his hands under cold water to rinse out the once navy pinstriped power suit. It was most likely ruined anyway. He seriously doubted even the best dry cleaner could save it now. He snagged his duffle and headed downstairs.
Saws continued to grind throughout the rooms as hammers added the occasional beat and music drifted from the back of the house. He dropped his duffle next to a saw horse and followed the music past the reception desk to the sunroom.
Steaming mugs rested on a small table and the aroma of hot chocolate drew him closer. Fluffy, white peaks of marshmallows floated on the surface, promising perfection. He sat and wrapped his hands around the warm mug, savoring the heat.
Savannah strutted into the room, wearing fur-topped boots, jeans, and a flannel button-up. Her hair was still wet but braided neatly down her back, the way she used to wear it when they went camping together. Best of all, she looked warm. She stopped and quirked an eyebrow at him. “You look cold. Didn’t you take a shower?”
He nodded stiffly. “No hot water.”
Savannah huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Cookie?” She stomped to the hallway and yelled toward the kitchen. “What happened to the hot water in the upstairs hall bathroom?”
“Figured a cold heart deserved a cold shower!” Cookie hollered back before a blender revved at full speed, cutting off any chance for further comment. That woman sure knew how to win arguments.
Savannah huffed again and headed upstairs. He watched the sway of her hips, the swish of the long braid down her back and realized he missed it. Missed all of her.
She returned a moment later with a man’s flannel shirt and wool socks. “Put these on. Your city duds aren’t going to keep you warm. I’ll light a fire once the inspector’s done with the chimney.”
His hands shook, sloshing hot chocolate over the sides of the cup. “Sounds great.” He took a sip, enjoying the warmth as it traveled down his throat and into his chest.
She took the cup from his hands and set it back on the side table. “Come on, before you freeze to death.”
When she started unbuttoning his shirt, his breath hitched. His pulse hammered as his heart pumped blood through his body with adrenaline-filled speed. One button then two, three, and four. The shirt slid down
his shoulders. No, he shouldn’t be feeling this way. Savannah and he weren’t meant to be together. What she said couldn’t be true. If he really had left out of some misguided sense of guilt, then it was his fault they’d been apart for the last seven years. His entire adult life had been a lie. No. It wasn’t true.
He grabbed her hands, stopping her from pulling the shirt from his body. “Don’t. I need to go. I’ll warm up in the car.”
Pain flashed in Savannah’s eyes, drilling into his soul. She dropped her hands and backed away. “Go. If you belong in Chicago, then go home. I’ll figure out how to keep this place going. We survived you abandoning us once. We’ll survive again.”
He stepped toward her, but she shook her head.
“Guess you’ll need these,” Cookie said, suddenly appearing at his side. She held the keys up and dropped them in his hand.
“You’re letting me go? The GGs never give in to anyone.”
“You heard Savannah. We don’t need you. We’ll be fine on our own. We always have.” Cookie put her hands on her hips and marched toward the doorway.
He buttoned his shirt back up and lifted his chin. This was the right thing to do―get out and not look back. He’d send them money for the inn and work on convincing Aunt Birdie to move to Chicago with him in the meantime.
“Good luck getting your car out, city boy,” Cookie said in an accusatory tone.
He halted. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you’re no longer the Tennessee boy Birdie raised. You don’t have any mountain sense anymore. If ya did, ya wouldn’t have forgot to put your parking brake on. Good thing it’s a rental.” Cookie disappeared into her kitchen.
He took a long breath. He knew it’d been too easy.
He headed to the front door and spotted his rental car at the bottom of the hill, in a ditch. Aside from the hassle he now had to deal with, not to mention the cost in damages, he didn’t mind this new obstacle that would keep him from leaving. At that moment, he realized something, something that scared him more than the thought of Aunt Birdie being in an old folks’ home.
He didn’t want to leave. He’d missed Savannah. He’d missed Aunt Birdie. He’d missed Sunny. He’d even missed Cookie. This was home.
Chapter 7
Muted morning sunlight seeped through the dark clouds, the sparse golden rays inciting songs from the few birds still braving the cold. Savannah sipped her coffee and rocked back and forth in one of the old rocking chairs on the front porch, eyeing the abandoned rental car in the ditch.
The front door creaked open then slammed shut as someone came over to stand behind her. The scent of expensive cologne gave him away. If she had to admit the truth, it did entice a whiff or two. “I forgot how beautiful and pure the snow looks here.”
She didn’t say anything, just took another long draw of rich, warm goodness with a hint of caramel.
“How can you drink that? It’s put-hair-on-your-chest bitter.”
Savannah laughed. “She must have pulled the day-old-instant-coffee trick on you. It’s her way of showing how angry she is with you.”
Mason sighed and walked past her to another rocking chair. “What did I do to her?”
Savannah glanced at the hip-hugging jeans he wore. “Not what she wanted.”
“May I?” Mason pointed to the chair.
Savannah shrugged but kept her eyes on the white hillside, not on his jean-clad butt. “Last I heard, we’re still a free state.”
“Savie—”
Her teeth clenched as her insides bashed together with nerves. “Don’t call me that.”
“I always used to call you Savie.”
“Used to. When we were together. When we were supposed to be together for the rest of our lives.” She slipped her booted feet from the chair rung and rested them on the porch, ready to bolt if he continued to push.
Mason put his hand over hers. “Don’t leave. Please.”
She froze, not knowing what to say. Not knowing what she wanted him to say. She stared down at her coffee cup for a moment then passed it to him. “Here. Take some of mine. You can’t drink that. I think I see spit swirling in it.”
His nose scrunched, and he immediately abandoned his coffee mug on the side table and took hers. “Great. I guess I shouldn’t eat or drink anything while I’m here, along with checking the water heater before I shower.”
Savannah eyed his hand, still resting on hers. She resisted the urge to pull away, even as her treacherous heart hammered against her chest faster than a woodpecker. “How long is that going to be?”
“I don’t know.”
Her fingers twitched. “Don’t know what? How long it’s going to take to pull your rental car out?”
He hesitated, and she held her breath. His chest seemed to stop moving beneath his jacket and flannel-covered chest. She wasn’t sure where he got the clothes from, but they looked good on him. Except for the ugly, mud-stained dress shoes. “If I want to go yet.”
Faint hope flickered at his words, and her fingers twitched again.
Mason leaned closer, his gaze on her fingers. “If what you said is true, that you don’t hate me―that I’m not a constant reminder of what happened―then I’d like to stay at least a few days. Help get this place finished in time. I don’t know what it is about this mountain, but it has always inspired me. At least, it used to…before…”
Her finger lifted and covered his. Heat rippled up her arm to the back of her neck. “It’s a special place. That’s why I think this inn will work. Customers will want to keep coming back here, to experience the magic of this place.” She freed a second finger, curling it around his hand. “I’m surprised that you can take time off from your fancy job, though.”
He turned his hand and curled his fingers around hers then lifted it to his lips. His breath brushed her skin before his lips pressed against her flesh. Goosebumps erupted along her arms, legs, neck, heart. “I have vacation time. Lots of it. Never really take any.”
“Why not?”
Mason squeezed her hand then lowered it to his lap and drew distracting circles on her wrist with his thump. “Guess I never wanted to vacation alone.”
She fought a smile, but it broke through her resolve. “I figured you’d be married with kids by now.”
He coughed and sputtered. “Ah, don’t think so.”
“Why not?” As much as his leaving had hurt her, she still wondered about his life in Chicago..
“Because…there has never been a woman who turned me inside out…”
Savannah breathed out a puff of cold air.
“Not since you.”
She continued to exhale, even after her lungs had emptied. Nearly choking, it took a second to work air into her chest again.
Mason angled toward her. “And you? Have you been able to forget about me?”
No. You consumed my dreams, my thoughts, my prayers, my everything since you left. No other man has touched me, kissed me, held me. Not that she was willing to admit it. “I don’t have time for kids. I’m trying to run a business.” She pulled her hand away and shoved from the chair. “Well, birdie would love for you to stay until New Year’s. I’m sure you’ll have to get back to work after that. And we’d appreciate any additional funds you can spare as well.” Savannah walked to the edge of the porch where Herbie had already fixed the broken floor board. “I better get to work.”
“Wait. I’ll help you.” Mason stood and moved to her side with a boyish grin, one that could have convinced her once that the world was flat and animals could talk.
“You can’t.”
Mason puffed out his chest. “I can swing a hammer. I haven’t been fully city-broken yet.”
“I’m sure you can, but you can’t muck out a stall in those shoes even if they are already covered in dried mud.” She bolted down the stairs and hiked along the small path toward the barn, leaving Mason, with his expensive cologne and life-altering smile, behind. There was no time for this. She had work to do.
To her shock, she found Birdie inside the barn stringing Christmas lights. “What are you doing?”
“It’s almost Christmas, isn’t it?” Birdie said, as if it was obvious what she was doing.
“Yes, but this is the inside of the barn. It doesn’t need decorations. Who’s going to see it?”
Birdie quirked her head to the side and huffed. “Well, the horses, of course.”
If there was one thing Savannah had learned over the years, it was that you didn’t question Birdie’s logic. It only went in circles until you got dizzy. “Ooookay.” Savannah opened a stall and began scooping up old hay and horse poop with a shovel. “When do the horses arrive?”
“They should be here December thirty-first. We’ll do sleigh rides during opening week.”
“I’m sure the guests will love it. Since the snow stopped,, I’ll work in here today. Herbie will patch the roof, and I’ll muck the stalls and move the bales of hay into the corner.”
Birdie untangled two strands of lights. “That’s not part of your job description.”
Savannah chuckled. “Since when have I ever not helped the GGs with something.”
Birdie smiled and gave a nod before returning to untangling the lights. “You know, my nephew is an idiot,” Birdie announced in the most casual tone.
Savannah dug her shovel in again. “You shouldn’t say that. You’re all he has in this world. He’s a good man. You can’t judge him based on how he feels about me. That’s not fair.”
Birdie tacked the last light to the wall and spun with her Aubrey Hepburn-looking coat flailing about her. “No. He’s an idiot. I found out why the GGs chose now to bring him here. I couldn’t figure out why they’d do that after all these years.”
Savannah could tell by Birdie’s puckered lips that she didn’t want to know why. “I don’t—”
“Because he asked for my ring.”
A sharp pain, like a pitch fork impaling her chest, took her breath away.
“I told Sunny about it, and she told Cookie. They decided no white trash city girl was gettin’ this ring.” She took it off her finger and placed it on the stall post. “And I agree with them. It’s your ring. He might not have chosen you for his wife, but I chose you to be my niece near a decade ago. No other woman is ever going to wear that ring. A royal presented it to me in my youth. I’d been quite beautiful back then, you know.” She quirked a smile and her gazes faded into the world of her memories. Memories Savannah could only imagine were filled with excitement and adventure. Birdie shook her head. “I got it from a royal, and it only belongs on royal hands.” Birdie marched away, leaving the emerald and diamond princess-cut ring behind.
