Their First Noel

by Annie Jones

  Corrie’s performance was less than graceful. She stomped on the brake. She yelled at the top of her lungs for the car to stop. She looked to the still-closed door of the inn willing Andy to appear. If he did, she didn’t know because seconds later she couldn’t see the building anymore.

  Once, twice, three loops then back end first off the lot and into the shallow ditch she went. Her heart pounded. She could hardly breathe. She made a quick mental survey. No pains. No injury but to her pride. She laid her head on the steering wheel.

  A sharp rapping on the window startled her into looking up and finding Andy and Greer peering in at her.

  “The Chinese judge gives you a…” Andy looked down at Greer.

  She held up all of her fingers, spread wide. “Ten!”

  Corrie could have just cried. She could have crawled down deep into her car and told them to leave her there to freeze and put them all out of their misery. Instead, she laughed. It was the ultimate example of rolling with the punches. As Andy assisted her out of the car, she looked him right in the face and said, “I’ve decided not to drive myself home tonight.”

  “Yeah! Corrie is staying!” Greer took the purse from Andy’s hand and headed for the door of the inn. “Us girls can have a slumber party in the lobby by the Christmas tree and watch it snow all night long.”

  “I’ll still take you to the Maple Leaf if you want,” Andy said as he slung her car door shut and followed her making her way back to the parking lot. “But you’re welcome to spend the night here. You know, like Greer said, you and she having a slumber party. Me tucked safely away upstairs.”

  “You mean you’d trust me, after that wild kiss I gave you?” Making light of the situation had worked a minute ago, Corrie decided to try it again. And if she got to hear Andy ask her to stay, even for just this one night, or tell her that he trusted her, even in good-natured jest, well, that wouldn’t be so bad, either.

  “I have Greer as a chaperone. She’s so watchful in fear of something getting into the inn, she won’t let you get out of her sight all night.”

  Another really crummy answer, she thought. But a truthful one. She smiled and gave a half shrug. “Okay. At least if I’m out here I can keep working on my contest entry until the roads are cleared.”

  But the only reason she went into the kitchen again that night was to make a snack that Greer had insisted they needed. Only by the time she brought the tray with hot chocolate—heavy on the milk, light on the chocolate to help with sleep—and cookies out, the eight year old had drifted off.

  Corrie settled the tray down on the floor between the two mattresses Andy had brought down for them to cushion against the hard concrete. She arranged the triple thickness of golden bedspreads, layered on for warmth, to cover the child then bent to give her a kiss on the head.

  “Thank you.”

  It should have startled her to hear Andy’s hushed voice in the large room lit only by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. But it didn’t.

  She looked up from where she knelt on the floor. “Thank me?”

  “It occurred to me that you’ve thanked me several times. For my opinions. My expertise. My tallness. My kitchen. My ability to find my way around my own church.” He came to her and offered a hand up.

  She slipped her fingers into his and stood before him with Greer at their feet, the tree and the two-story windows to one side.

  “You even thanked me for things I have no control over, like this snow.” He turned his head toward the scene outside. The flakes whirled in the wind like millions of bits of down falling, dancing against the near-black sky. It had begun to collect on the limbs of the tall pines and blanket the ground to reduce the rocks and bushes to bumps and suggestions of shapes. “I just thought it was time I made it clear that it’s me who should be thanking you.”

  She cast her eyes down and for once she didn’t blush. She didn’t feel ill at ease or embarrassed by her own misplaced or reckless feelings. He hadn’t said any of the things she had so wanted him to say and yet, she had such peace about his nearness and her own place in his world, even if that place was only temporary. “I haven’t done anything.”

  “You’ve done plenty and you know it,” he whispered. “And now that it looks like the inn is going to get finished on schedule and you’re going to find your father, maybe we’ll both have some time soon to—”

  He moved in close.

  She tipped her head up.

  He put his arms around her.

  She drew in a breath, thinking she should say something. But no words could express what she felt to be here by the Christmas tree in the Snowy Eaves Inn with a real snowfall outside with Andy.

  He kissed her softly on the lips, then on the cheek then finally on the forehead. “We’d better say good night now.”

  She nodded, still unable to speak.

  “Sweet dreams,” he said as he backed away.

  “I plan on it,” she said softly. Though she couldn’t imagine any dream as sweet as this evening’s reality. Tomorrow, everything would look different, she knew. The snow, the condition of her car, even the dining room when the painters got the new blue color on the wall. She had no idea how she and Andy would view their relationship by the light of day and the harshness of her realities. But for this night, Corrie could have peace and love and—

  “Did you hear that?” Lying low on her own mattress, with the bedspreads thrown over her head and clasped tight under her chin, Greer’s expression seemed even more anxious than her hurried whisper sounded.

  “Greer, I didn’t hear anything.” Corrie lifted her head slightly to look out the window. “But if you did, it was probably just an animal moving around in the snow.”

  “Yeah, a bear moving around in the snow looking for something to eat, and when it can’t find anything it could come in here.”

  Corrie yawned. “Bears hibernate in the winter.”

  “Great. If it’s not a bear then it’s probably a bad guy.”

  “Why would a bad guy come all the way out here in a snowstorm?” Corrie shifted her weight to try to get more comfortable on the thin mattress so she could get a little bit of sleep and have a shot at those dreams before daylight reordered her world. “It’s nothing. Go back to—”

  A muffled clunk cut Corrie off midsentence.

  “You heard it, too, that time, didn’t you?”

  A crunching noise followed, then a low guttural sound.

  “We should yell for Andy,” Greer whispered, then took a deep breath.

  “No!” They had said good night on such a perfect note of mutual appreciation. It could well be the basis for a whole new way of looking at each other. Corrie couldn’t bear the thought of him rushing in to rescue her from something she could easily have avoided with a little forethought—again. “Don’t yell! I can—”

  Corrie lunged across to the other mattress. The mugs of once hot chocolate crashed against the hard floor.

  Greer yelped once quietly then louder when the front door of the inn went banging open and a darkened figure stood framed against the hushed background of the snowy night.

  “Get in the kitchen,” Corrie commanded Greer in a raspy whisper. “It’s probably a lost traveler like I was, looking for shelter from the storm but just in case… Andy left his ax by the tree over there. I’m going to get that.”

  “Should I—”

  “Go!” The concrete stung against Corrie’s bare feet as she stumbled and staggered over to the wall where Andy had leaned the ax yesterday. Her fingers found the handle and gripped it but she wasn’t strong enough to raise it more than a few inches off the ground.

  The intruder seemed completely unaware of her in the inky corners of the room. It crossed the threshold, stomping snow from its boots.

  A thief or someone with evil intent wouldn’t care whether they tracked snow inside, would they?

  Their unexpected guest pushed the door shut, quietly.

  Sneaky, Corrie thought. Whoever this is do
esn’t want to wake anyone. A traveler would be calling out to alert people, to ask for assistance. Her stomach knotted. She wished Andy were here to help but since he wasn’t, she’d have to improvise.

  “Stay right there and tell me who you are.”

  The figure raised its arms but said nothing.

  Gathering all her strength, Corrie dragged the ax a few steps and tried again to lift it.

  Just then the figure found the light switch, flipped it, yanked back the hood on her coat and the knit scarf from her face to reveal the red-headed woman Corrie had seen in the photo in Andy’s office and said, “I’m Hannah McFarland. Who are you?”

  “I’m…” Corrie released her grasp on the ax handle. The heavy-bladed tool went skidding and spinning over the smooth concrete floor, right toward the sawhorse holding the paint cans.

  “Oh, no!” Corrie ran after it but couldn’t get there in time.

  The handle took out one set of table legs, causing the can of paint on that side to fall, roll and knock over the pyramid of cans of gray paint. The top one toppled and globbed its contents all over the floor and lower part of the wall. If Corrie had spent hours calculating all the angles, placing every stage just so and set it all up to cause a fantastic cascade of catastrophe, it could not have wreaked more havoc.

  The sudden drop of one side of the sawhorse created a catapult effect, flinging a second can of paint, this one the new light blue color, on to the wall…and the floor…and ceiling…and windows…and a little bit on Andy’s mom.

  “Andy is going to blow up when he sees what I’ve done.”

  “I had a hand in this mess… Corrie? You’re Corrie, aren’t you?” She held out her hand.

  “You know my name?” Corrie slid her own hand into the other woman’s, gave it a shake then pulled it away, paint smearing her palm and fingernails. She looked around for a place to clean it off. “How do you know my name?”

  “Andy mentioned you in his emails.”

  “He…he did?” Corrie’s breath snagged in her chest.

  “Greer told me all about you on the phone. Neither one of them mentioned you staying here, though.”

  “Oh. I…I’m stuck because of the snow. Andy’s upstairs with his door shut. He said something about keeping the radio on so he couldn’t hear us downstairs. Greer and I are having a slumber party.” She motioned toward the mattresses on the floor then toward the kitchen door. “She’s in the kitchen now.”

  “Wonderful! I can’t wait to see my girl.” Andy’s mother wiped her hand on the wall.

  Corrie gasped. “Shouldn’t we clean this all up?”

  The woman took a long, sweeping gaze then sighed and shook her head. “I am too bushed to bother with this tonight. It’s only paint. Andy won’t be happy but it’s fixable. He’s a fixer, my Andy.”

  “But all his plans—” Corrie’s stomach knotted. This would throw a real monkey wrench into Andy’s schedule and it was all her fault.

  Mrs. McFarland didn’t seem the least bit concerned, though, as she headed off to see her daughter.

  This whole trip had just been one disaster after another. Or, if you looked at it another way, one learning opportunity after another. Why should tonight be any different? She sighed and left her own handprint on the wall then followed after Andy’s mother, thinking she’d figure out what to do about all this in the morning.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Andy slept until almost nine that morning. He’d slept with the door shut for propriety’s sake, and because he thought Greer might wake up and start giggling and keep him awake, he’d left the radio on to an all-night talk station. Since no one had bothered to wake him and when he listened at the top of the stairs he heard only silence, he worried that the girls had overslept as well.

  He came downstairs, on high alert, not wanting to startle anyone, but definitely concerned. A whomp and a splat made him practically jump out of his sweatpants. A big, lightly packed snowball exploded against the lobby window.

  Greer’s laughter reached his ears first. Then Corrie’s. He hurried on down the stairs toward the sound, trying to decide between making a face at the windows for the girls to use as target practice and going to the front door, scooping up a mound of snow and throwing it at the first person brave enough to try to get back inside.

  His bare feet slapped down on the icy concrete and that made up his mind for him. “Face,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Definitely face. If the floor is this cold inside, I don’t even want to know how bad—”

  If he had been the kind to curse, he’d have let out a doozy just then. Instead he stood, transfixed. Frozen. Sucker-punched by the sight that welcomed him when he rounded the end of the stairs and looked into the dining room.

  “Hey, sleepyhead, we thought we’d let you catch up on your beauty sleep so you’d be rested before you saw what went on here last night.” Corrie came hustling into the lobby and began taking off the pair of gloves he had loaned her by tugging at the fingertips with her teeth.

  “Uh, I don’t suppose you could—”

  “Andy! We got a snow day!” Greer chose to stomp the snow off her boots all across the lobby floor rather than slip out of them by the door as she should have.

  “Why are you—”

  “Good morning, sunshine!” Out of seemingly nowhere, his mom came in, bringing up the rear.

  “Mom? When did you get here? I thought your flight was delayed.” He rubbed his eyes again then jerked his thumb to the disastrous mix of paint and broken equipment and trimwork littering the dining room. “You don’t happen to know anything about this.”

  “I know it was an accident and in the end, it’s just a little paint and a few splinters. That’s why we decided not to wake you last night about it.” His mom came up and kissed him on the cheek, then dealt with the smear left by her lip balm by licking her thumb and rubbing it off his face.

  “Stop it.” He jerked away then looked at the three of them staring at him as if he were acting badly. Corrie had known about this and kept it from him? Greer didn’t seem to even care how she treated his inn? His mom had flown all the way from China to mock his work? “Stop it, all of you. Doesn’t anyone here have any respect for my property? My face? My feelings?”

  They all stopped.

  “What has you in such a sour mood this morning?” His mother began unwinding the muffler from around her neck.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Call me cranky but having all my hard work to finish my inn before I lose it forever destroyed while I slept will do that to a guy.”

  “It was just a little…” Corrie strode purposefully into the dining room but came to a quick halt. Her eyes grew wide and her face went ashen. “Whoa. It looks a lot worse in the daylight.”

  He came to stand beside her. “Did you not see it this morning?”

  “I woke up before dawn and decided to finish up the gingerbread inn before the kitchen got crowded. When your mom and Greer came in and wanted to go out to play in the snow—you know I couldn’t resist that invitation. We went out the back way to keep Greer from running upstairs and waking you up.”

  “I am so sorry, son.” His mom joined them. She took a quick look around then folded her arms and faced him with a smile. “But it’s just paint, after all. It’s nothing that can’t be taken care of.”

  “Yeah, with a little time and money—two things I have very little of right now.” Andy sank down to sit on the last step of the stairway and hung his head. A slow ache began to work from his tense neck muscles upward. “The painters aren’t coming out today, or probably tomorrow because they don’t drive in bad weather. If the snow doesn’t let up, or if it affects the highways east of here, the floors won’t be here on time and even if they are, if the dining room isn’t ready, I can’t install them. And clearly, the dining room won’t be ready.”

  He felt as if he were literally watching his dreams crumble. Again. Last night he had told himself that he had done the right thing, making it clear to Corrie that ther
e was no future for them. He had taken small consolation that his future rested in the completion of the Snowy Eaves Inn, and that was going to go smoothly from this point on.

  Andy’s shoulders slumped. He looked at Corrie then at his mother. “What happened?”

  His mom came to his side and sat on the stair above his. “I came in in the middle of the night—”

  Greer hung on the newel post. “I thought she was a bear—”

  Corrie stood off by herself. “I only wanted to protect Greer and the inn from an intruder—”

  All three of the most important females in his life spoke at once, saying nothing, really, but painting the total picture for him. He put his head in his hands. “I get it. It was an accident.”

  “I think it was a consequence.” Greer took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I should have believed you when you said nothing was going to get us out here and that God would watch over us.”

  “No, Greer, you can’t take responsibility.” His mother put her hand on Greer’s shoulder and Andy’s arm. “I showed up unannounced and barged right in.”

  Andy nodded. He could accept their part in this as his own failing. He should have considered the possibilities and had a contingency for them. At least Corrie hadn’t…

  “I actually threw the ax.”

  “You threw an ax?” He stood up. He hadn’t planned on standing up but Corrie’s confession drew him right out of his mellowing mood. “At my dining room?”

  “At your mother, actually.” She winced and bit her lower lip.

  He didn’t know how to respond to that. He’d welcomed her into his home, cared about her and made it very clear how much this project meant to him, how much was at stake if it got off track again. Now to hear she had done something so…thoughtless? “Are you kidding me? That’s what your spur-of-the-moment, go-with-the-flow, change-plans-on-a-whim thinking led you to do? Endanger my mother? Ruin my life’s work?”

  “Andy, really?” His mom rose slowly, using the banister for support. “It’s not ruined. It’s all fixable.”