Snowed In At Snowflake B&B: The perfect heartwarming Christmas romance to curl up with in 2020!

by Kellie Hailes

  ‘Every Christmas that I’ve spent here. Snowflake B&B is glorious on Christmas Day with all the guests buzzing about happily. We put on a feast that lasts all day. At breakfast we gorge on bacon and eggs, pancakes and stewed fruit, homemade croissants and crumpets, you name it, it’s there. Then we move on to a traditional Christmas lunch – roast turkey, chicken, lamb and ham with all the trimmings as you’d expect. Then come dinner we do a cheeseboard and a grazing platter of desserts.’ She let out a long, satisfied sigh. ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

  ‘You mean, you wouldn’t want to be at home?’ Flo tucked her legs under her and snuggled up closer to Stefan whose head had lolled back. His open mouth and soft snores indicated he’d dozed off.

  ‘Oh, I don’t need to go home. Mum was always invited to join in the festivities, and my brothers go to their wives’ families’ homes.’

  ‘And your dad?’ Flo’s eyes narrowed.

  Reuben glanced at Sam. The smile was there, but there was a brittleness to it that suggested if Flo continued to press she might snap.

  ‘He passed away a while ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Flo offered a sympathetic smile then shook her head at her sleeping boyfriend. ‘Sorry about him. It was a big drive, and he was up late gaming with his friends. Would you mind if I took him up to bed before that nose of his starts trumpeting?’

  Harry stood to help her and Flo motioned for him to sit down.

  ‘I’m fine. He’s a lightweight. Besides…’ She stretched her arms and yawned. ‘It’s time for me to catch some winks as well.’

  Her yawn set off a chain reaction and minutes later the room was clear, bar for Sam who was picking up the bowls and placing them on the trays.

  Reuben shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forward, unsure what to do next.

  ‘Go.’ Sam flicked her hand in his direction. ‘I’ll finish up here. You probably have words to write, right?’

  He nodded, even though deep down he doubted he’d squeeze a word out. ‘Well, ah, thank you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Absolutely, and, Reuben?’

  Reuben paused at the door and twisted to face Sam.

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s just a bit of snow. We’ll be fine.’

  Sam turned back to packing up the dishes, dismissing him again with an action rather than a word. A strange sense of comfort descended upon him as he made his way up to his study. It was similar to the way he felt when he was younger and would dive into a book to escape the world around him, except different because the comfort came from the last person in the world he thought he’d call comforting.

  Sam picked up one of the trays and walked it to the kitchen, marvelling at Reuben’s quick departure. She’d half-expected him to hang around and help her, even if helping was only bringing the other tray to the kitchen, but when it became clear he was ready to leave she’d done the only thing she could think to do – let him off the hook in order to keep him happy.

  She dumped the tray and went back for the other. She was her own worst enemy at times, but what else could she do? If she’d prompted him to help he might have become annoyed with her and thus ended what small chance she had of being asked to return in busy times. Or he could have helped her, but resented her asking, and in doing so once again left her out in the cold in the future.

  She placed the tray next to its twin, and stifled a yawn. Glancing at the clock she saw it was nearly nine. Early enough for a pre-bed catch-up with her mum.

  Lifting the kitchen phone from its cradle she dialled the number, then smiled, half in sadness and half in fondness, as her mother picked up on the second ring, her hello holding a touch of urgency as it always did – a hangover from living with a man who didn’t like to be kept waiting, who was quick to criticise, and quick to anger if the conditions – which changed like the wind – were right.

  ‘Hi Mum, it’s Sam. Just wanted to check in and see how you are.’

  ‘Evening, sweets. Lovely to hear from you! I’m good – busy. I’ve just had a load of orders come in and I’ll be baking and cooking all night. Keep your fingers crossed for me that the power stays on?’

  ‘Fingers and toes, Mum.’ Sam smiled into the phone. ‘Ours is out. Hopefully it’ll be on by the morning but I’m not holding out hope, what with this snow looking like its setting in for a bit.’

  ‘Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you too. The manor’s beautiful, but with minimal heating, brrrr. So, are we done with the pleasantries?’ Her mother’s voice was warm, despite the bluntness of her words. ‘How’s the new owner? Are the village gossips right? Is the business on its last legs?’

  ‘Oh, Mum, you have no idea.’ Sam placed her elbows on the bench and leaned forward, taking the weight off her aching lower back. ‘I’m ninety-nine per cent sure he’s not running from some scandal like some say, but the reviews? The way he’s managing the place? The man has no idea what he’s doing. I’m going to do my best to help him, because the last thing I want is to see this place fall apart.’

  ‘Or to fall into the hands of people who wouldn’t need you.’

  ‘You know me too well.’

  ‘I’m your mother, it’s my job to know you.’

  Sam’s smile fell away, and she was glad there was miles of telephone line between her and her mother rather than a mobile screen. Her mother thought she knew her daughter well, but Sam hadn’t just learned to hide her emotions from her father, she’d gained experience in keeping the parts that hurt the most from her mother too. The idea that Snowflake B&B could be ripped from her life? Her gut twisted at the mere thought.

  She forced the smile back into her voice. ‘That you do, Mum. So I figure going above and beyond, working with him as much as he’ll let me, is for the greater good.’

  ‘And how is he with you?’ An edge had crept into her mother’s voice, as it always did when a new man entered Sam’s life.

  Her mother, already protective of Sam and her brothers after what their father’s wrath had put the family through, had become even more so after the hell Sam had endured by the one man – a boy, really – she’d dared let close when she was younger, innocent, and ready and willing to fall for sweet words and a pretty face.

  ‘If he…’

  ‘If he hurts me you’ll boot him up the bum so hard he won’t be able to sit down for a century. I know, Mum.’ Sam twirled the cord around her fingers, released it, then curled it again and tugged at it, watching it stretch out. ‘Outside of not being much good at his job, he’s okay. Insular. Very in his own head. But, I don’t think he’s a bad man by any stretch of the imagination.’

  ‘He’s just not a people person?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘He’s going to love having you around. Try not to talk his ear off.’

  Sam stuck her tongue out at the phone’s mouthpiece, then laughed. ‘Oh, shush. I’m not that bad.’

  Her mother laughed along with her. ‘No, you’re not. You’re wonderful, and I know you’re going to make a real difference there.’

  A stifled yawn met Sam’s ears. ‘I’ll let you get back to work. I’d better start prepping food for tomorrow.’

  ‘Take care of yourself okay, pet?’

  Sam shook her head. Her mother worried too much. She wasn’t a young girl anymore; she’d long learned how to take care of herself. There was no way anyone could cause her pain. She wouldn’t give them the chance.

  ‘You too, Mum. Love you.’

  She set the phone back in its cradle and sighed as she took in the pile of washing that needed to be done, on top of food prep for the next day, and just once she wished she knew how to put her foot down.

  How to ask for help.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Reuben hefted the axe from one shoulder to the other as he and Harry trudged towards the woods in search of Christmas trees. Dread settled in his gut at the thought of having to chop them down. It was one thing to split wood from a pile of bigger pieces
but another thing entirely to take down a whole tree. Was it as simple as putting all your might into each swing? Was there a method to it? Surely it would be as easy as aiming and hitting the right spot?

  He glanced surreptitiously at Harry whose breath barely plumed out in front of him as he strode across the snow-laden field like it was no bother at all. Unlike Reuben, who was having to put great effort into breathing in and out in order to look as relaxed as Harry. The man may have twenty-odd years on him, but it was clear he was in much better physical condition, and he had that air of confidence of a person who had downed a tree before and knew what he was doing.

  ‘What about those ones over there?’ Harry pointed to a copse just off to their left. ‘They’re not too big, not too small either.’

  ‘Goldilocks would love them.’ Reuben nodded as he veered off in their direction.

  ‘Did you just make a joke, son?’ Harry’s brows rose high in bemusement. ‘Wasn’t sure you had it in you.’

  Reuben shrugged. ‘I’ll never be a comedian – wouldn’t want to be, to be honest. I imagine it would be brutal. All those people sitting right in front of you showing you exactly what they think, good or bad – but I’ve been known to have a laugh. On occasion. Maybe twice in my life.’

  ‘Two jokes in a row. Maybe you could be a comedian, should you ever want a change of career.’ Harry placed his hands on his hips as they reached the trees and sized them up. ‘I wish young Stefan had come out with us. It would’ve made dragging these back easier.’

  ‘Maybe he knows he’d be more of a hindrance than a help? Perhaps that’s what stopped him coming.’

  ‘You’re giving him too much credit. He’s just being a lazy sod.’ Harry shook his head and huffed out a long breath. ‘How that Flo puts up with him is beyond me. I’d have sent him on his way by now.’

  Though the words weren’t directed at him, they hit like hundreds of tiny arrows aimed at his heart as it occurred to him that he’d been a lazy sod, that he hadn’t dug in and taken care of his marriage. How he’d been too busy doing what made him happy to even stop and think that someone he was supposed to love was unhappy, that it was his job to help with their happiness, as they helped with his.

  Harry cast him a serious look. ‘Pardon my intrusion, son, but what’s going on in that head of yours? Whenever I look over at you, when you think no one’s looking, you’re gnawing your lip or staring off into the distance. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve the look of a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.’ Harry clapped his hand upon Reuben’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘You can tell me to bugger off, but if you feel like letting a little of that weight go I’ve a good ear.’

  Reuben gripped the axe’s handle and stepped up to the first tree, deciding it was better to pretend everything was okay on his end, and that Harry had been imagining things. ‘That’s kind of you to offer, but I’m fine. Honestly.’

  Ignoring Harry’s look of ‘yeah right’ Reuben squeezed one eye shut and brought the axe to the tree’s trunk, much like you would a golf club to a ball. Once, twice, and on the third pull back he swung at it with all his might. The reverberating pain through his hands sent his pride scarpering as he let out an unmanly yelp followed by a string of expletives. Dropping the axe, he began shaking out his hand, trying to ease the pain that had settled into his wrists.

  ‘Never cut down a tree before?’ Harry picked up the abandoned axe, and in one fluid swoop had a decent notch in its trunk. He followed it up with more notches in the same spot and in what felt like no time at all the tree had begun to lean towards them. ‘You’ve got to chop on an angle, not straight across, in a wedge shape. Once you get the hang of it, it’s easy.’ He paused to swipe the back of his hand over his brow, which was peppered with sweat, then walked around to the other side of the tree and created another smaller wedge a little above where the original one sat. ‘Stand back,’ ordered Harry as the tree made a cracking sound.

  Reuben watched in awe as it toppled onto the snow. Harry really had made it look easy. ‘Would you mind if I try again?’

  Harry strolled over and handed him the axe. ‘Go ahead. Just remember, angles, not straight ahead.’

  ‘I’ve never had reason to research tree chopping for a book.’ He eyeballed the tree once more, gripped the axe and swung at an angle, hoping as he did so that he was doing a decent job of imitating Harry and not looking like even more of a fool than he already felt. ‘At least now if ever need to write a scene in which a character has to do this I’ll be able to, thanks to you.’

  ‘It’d be more efficient – for both us and your future characters – if there was a saw we could use. Surely there’s one stored away?’

  The weight on his shoulders, that Harry had mentioned and Reuben had denied, grew. He took his frustration, his angst and aimed it at the tree, putting a decent notch into its trunk. ‘There is… probably.’

  Walking around to the other side of the tree, Reuben swung at it, again and again, before hearing a crack that signalled he’d done the job well. Something he ought to have been proud of. Instead he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache was brewing, and for once it wasn’t from spending too much time in front of a screen, but from getting himself into a situation he didn’t know how to claw his way out of. Not that he was willing to go into the nitty-gritty details of his failure as a B&B owner, but he had to say something, anything, to stop Harry looking at him in that concerned fashion.

  ‘I’m sorry for swearing just now. It was inappropriate of me. It’s been a…’ He opened his eyes and exhaled, wishing the air he breathed out could carry away his tiredness, his frustration, his angst. ‘Before I bought the B&B I went through a marriage break-up.’ It wasn’t much of an explanation, but it would have to do. It was better than admitting he was in danger of losing everything.

  Harry grabbed the top of the tree and dragged it to the side. ‘Can’t have been an easy time. I imagine it still isn’t.’ He reached for the axe and Reuben gladly gave it to him.

  As satisfying as it was to cut a tree down, he preferred Harry finished the job off. The last thing he needed on top of a book that wouldn’t be written and a failing business was too hurt himself, rendering him unable to do either. Speeding up the inevitable loss of all he had left.

  ‘I guess writing’s a solitary job? Must be tough. Not being able to spend the kind of time you’d like with the people you love in order to meet deadlines and whatnot.’

  Reuben shoved his hands into his coat, turned his attention to the last tree, and thought back to all the times Elise had tried to get him to take a break, to have coffee on the patio, to go for a walk around the block, to go to the cinema to see a movie, and he’d knocked her back time and time again, promising ‘one day’, when a deadline wasn’t near. Except there was always a deadline, whether invented by him to keep his latest project on track or given to him by his publisher.

  ‘I guess it takes a special kind of person to deal with the likes of me and my job.’

  Harry nodded then chopped away at the tree, stopping when it was time to tackle the other side.

  ‘I was a workaholic once.’ He turned the axe one way, then the other, his gaze on its blade. ‘It nearly spelled the end for Matilda and I. She was left holding the babies, running the household, dealing with both our families. I didn’t see what was happening until it was nearly too late.’

  Reuben didn’t bother to hide his shock. ‘But you two get on so well. You’re so happy. At least you seem to be.’

  ‘Indeed we are, but that’s because I cut down the work I took on, began to share the load, most importantly I made time for us. A dinner out here, a stroll through the park without the little ones running circles around us there. I did small things for her like bought flowers just because, picked up her favourite chocolate bar when I popped down to the newsagent. It all added up to us being much happier.’

  ‘But it sounds like by doing all of that you were the
one doing all the work? Putting in all the effort. Working and taking care of your family, the housework and making time for your wife.’

  ‘And what do you call getting up in the middle of the night to a crying baby so your husband can get enough sleep so he’s fresh for work the next day? Or ensuring there’s a meal on the table? That his lunch is packed so he doesn’t have to waste time going out to buy it? Matilda more than pulled her weight. I’d have been lost without her. Something I nearly had the horror of experiencing. The second-best thing I did was stop taking Matilda for granted. The best thing I did was start seeing what made her so special. Not just to me, but to the people around me. Once you start seeing what makes a person special it’s hard to think of them any other way. That’s when you treasure who you have in your life.’

  Reuben nodded, unsure what to say. Discomfort squirmed in his belly as he considered his marriage from Elise’s perspective. She’d spent all her time making sure he was happy, giving him the time and space he needed to write his books, and he’d presumed that made her happy, that him bringing in a more than respectable income and giving her a comfortable life made her happy. He’d never once thought that it made her special, that her looking after him was because she was a caring person, a kind and giving person.

  Or that she did it because she hoped by taking care of him he’d treasure her, and give her what she needed – time. With him.

  Instead she’d been forced to find it elsewhere.

  ‘I’m guessing you two are well and truly done?’ Harry swung once more at the tree and with a creak and multiple little cracks it fell over with a whoosh and thump to the ground.

  ‘As done as done can be.’ Reuben pulled the tree over to the other two.

  ‘Well, I guess that’s why second chances were invented.’

  ‘Oh, she’s not going to give me a second chance.’ A harsh laugh left his lips at the preposterous idea of he and Elise making a go of things again.