CHAPTER ONE #4
Harry rummaged under the driver’s seat, produced a handmade business card on heavy paper, and passed it to Ariel, who checked it out, showed it to her aunt, then pocketed it. “I could have made them on my Chromebook, but Grandpa thinks people like this better.”
“He’s right.” Aunt Dahlia turned to Ariel, brows raised. “It’s settled then? We’ll spend the month at Island House?”
Island House Inn. For a split second, Ariel could smell logs burning in the parlor fireplace and fresh pine wreaths and trees, hear Christmas carols piping from antiquated speakers.
Feel warmth seeping through her soaked ski pants and heavy coat.
Taste sweetened hot milk Mrs. Cara Kennedy had given her after the children’s traditional tromp in the state forest during the season’s first snow.
Ariel’s family home had held similar scents and aromas, and they’d sung the same old carols there too.
But that one evening at Island House, those little comforts had felt different.
To this day, she believed Mrs. Kennedy—and her kind, older son, Caleb—understood her more than her family or her classmates had.
Classmates who considered Ariel an oddity, since she’d spent two months traveling and singing at Aunt Dahlia’s Christmas concert tour the previous year.
And because she’d soon become a country music star herself.
Mrs. Kennedy might also have paid extra attention to Ariel because she knew the Sullivans had expected Aunt Dahlia to arrive later that night.
Arrive to take her away.
Away to Nashville. To stardom.
Leaving her family and their farm far behind.
She took in the quiet little airport, the tangle of trees beyond. Could an old historic inn on a tiny island hold more than just lodging? Give her back that sense of home she missed, fill the emptiness of life on the road six months every year?
Maybe even inspire her to prove herself in the crazy industry she hadn’t chosen?
Ariel lifted her gaze to the bright blue, seemingly endless sky. “Yes. Harry, please take our things to Island House Inn.”