Chapter 14
Erin
I pushed open the back door with my hip, arms laden with bags from my shopping trip.
The door swung inward, creaking on its hinges as I maneuvered through.
One by one, I set the bags on the kitchen counter, the contents spilling out slightly as I released them from my grasp.
There was a rhythm to unloading groceries that felt both mundane and comforting.
Jar by jar, box by box, I transferred my purchases to their rightful places.
After several trips back and forth, everything found its home in the pantry or the fridge, and I wiped my brow with the back of my hand. It was one of those small victories. Stepping back, I took a moment to appreciate the orderliness before remembering the final touch for today's errands.
I had picked up a new flower for the front window box, a vibrant purple bloom that had caught my eye at the grocery store.
It would add a splash of color to the porch which, up until now, had been a little bare.
The porch stretched across the front of the Inn, wide and inviting, already home to two sturdy wooden rocking chairs that begged for long, lazy afternoons.
And, hopefully, draw a smile from any passerby or guest. I sat for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the quiet hum of the town, watching the light shift, letting the peace soak into me.
Then, eager to nestle the plant into its new home, I finally rose.
Grabbing my gardening gloves and trowel from the shed, I headed toward the front of the house.
The sharp scent of soil and greenery filled the air as I rounded the corner, but the sight that greeted me on the front porch stole my attention.
There, nestled among the weathered wood planks, was a teddy bear.
Its fur was matted, and as I set the flowers down to pick it up, the head lolled backward alarmingly, hanging by a mere thread.
"Oh, no." I turned the bear over in my hands.
The tear was worse than I'd initially thought; stuffing peeked through the gash like tufts of cloud through a torn sky.
This little bear had seen better days, and it tugged at something maternal inside me.
For a second, I wondered, whose could it be?
How did it end up here, so battered and alone on my porch?
A chill skittered down my spine as I cradled the broken teddy bear. For a heartbeat, that ugly encounter flashed in my mind's eye. The man Ashton had killed, his face twisted in anger and threat. The torn fabric in my hands felt like a message, a warning.
"Get a grip," I said to myself. His chapter was closed, ended by his own dark dealings. It couldn't be him. He was dead. This was over.
Reassurance settled over me, pushing the memory away. "Aw, poor teddy," I said softly, looking down at the sad little toy in my arms. It was just a toy, after all, not a harbinger of doom.
I left the flowers on the porch and went inside, heading straight for the sewing kit nestled in the top drawer of the hallway table. The teddy bear needed mending, and I was going to piece it back together, stitch by careful stitch.
I was threading the needle when I heard the hurried thump of feet on the stairs. By the time Ashton descended the stairs, I had several stitches in the little bear's neck.
"Are you okay?" he asked, scanning me for any sign of distress.
"Fine," I said, giving him a funny look as I put in a few more stitches. "Just found this bear on the porch. It's seen better days." I held up the teddy, its head still pretty wobbly.
"Looks like it's been through a lot," Ashton said, his worry shifting to curiosity as he leaned closer to inspect my handiwork.
"Seems that way," I chuckled dryly, my fingers deftly working on the frayed seam. "I have a family staying in room 2 right now, their little boy must have dropped it. He probably misses it already."
"Are they here?" he asked, glancing toward the window.
"No, their car's gone. They're probably out exploring Stock Creek." With one last tug, I secured the last stitch and tied off, then snipped the thread. "There."
"Good as new," Ashton said with a nod of approval.
"Almost," I said, smoothing down the bear's fur.
"I'll just leave it here for them to find when they get back.
" I placed the mended teddy bear on the coffee table, ensuring it was visible from the entrance.
Any returning eyes would catch sight of it immediately, a lost friend waiting patiently for its owner.
Tucking the sewing kit under my arm, I turned to Ashton.
"Is there anything you need?" His voice was tinged with an earnest concern that made his eyes seem larger, more attentive.
I smiled and shook my head, the corners of my mouth tugging up further at the genuine offer. "No, I'm okay, thanks." A giggle escaped my lips, soft and light, as I thought about the irony of it all.
"Ah," he said, his shoulders lifting in a casual shrug.
"I've been feeling a bit out of sorts myself, to be honest. I'm a little bored.
I'm not used to having so much free time on my hands.
When I lived here before, I had a routine, you know?
Since I've been back, I haven't quite figured out how to fill my days. "
His confession caught me off guard, reminding me that there was still so much I didn't know about him. "I feel silly for not asking before, but what is it that you do?"
He half-smiled, a sort of sheepishness crossing his features. "I'm a veterinarian," he said, and something akin to pride resonated in his tone.
"A vet?" Interest piqued, I found myself genuinely intrigued. "That's really wonderful."
"Thanks. It's been my passion for as long as I can remember." The way his face lit up when he spoke about his work, I could tell he meant every word.
I leaned back as I watched Ashton talk about his work. "You know, I've always loved animals myself," I said, a hint of wistfulness in my voice.
"Really? So why don't you have any pets here at the inn?" Ashton's brows furrowed in curiosity, and he tilted his head slightly, waiting for my answer.
"Ah, well..." I hesitated, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "The thing is, I never know if one of my guests might have allergies. The last thing I want is to turn someone away because of that."
He nodded understanding but then offered a different angle. "If you had an animal, you could market this place as pet friendly. People love that sort of thing, especially animal lovers who travel with their fur babies."
A pet-friendly inn... The idea sparked something in me, and I found myself nodding slowly. "Now you're onto something there. That could actually work." The corners of my lips curved into a smile at the thought.
He paused, his gaze falling on the unplanted flower, the waiting trowel, where I’d dropped them by the door.
"Looks like the teddy emergency put you behind on your gardening," he commented, bending effortlessly and gathering the plant, the trowel, and the gloves into one hand.
"I've got a bit of time on my hands. I could finish these up for you. "
"Are you sure?" I asked, a slight hesitation in my voice. "I was just about to plant them in the front window boxes."
"Sure, it's no problem," he said, already moving towards the edge of the porch, the purple bloom cradled gently in his palm as if the offer itself was already a done deal.
"Thank you, Ashton," I called out, watching him go. My gaze lingered for a moment on the way his jeans covered his ass as he moved, and a flush of heat rose to my cheeks.
It wasn't often, if ever, that someone just offered to take a chore off my hands, and a quiet warmth spread through me as I went inside to the front desk, where my to-do list lay waiting. It was a long scroll of tasks that never seemed to get any shorter, no matter how many I checked off.
"Let's see what's next," I said, scanning the list with a small groan.
My eyes fell upon 'clean gutters'—a chore I'd rescheduled more times than I cared to admit.
Today, the sun was shining, the sky a clear blue, and it felt like a waste to spend such a beautiful day indoors.
Plus, it was several hours until I had to worry about dinner.
"Right then, gutters, you're not escaping me today," I whispered to myself, a determined set to my jaw. With a chuckle at my procrastination, I pushed away from the desk, ready to face the task head-on. It was time to roll up my sleeves and get to work.
I eyed the weather-beaten shed at the back of the property with a blend of resignation and determination.
Pulling open the creaky door, I reached for the ladder, its metal cool and unwelcoming to the touch.
The bucket and scraper were next, old friends in this seasonal battle against the debris that the weather had so generously given upon my inn's gutters.
"Right," I said under my breath as I hoisted the ladder against the side of the building.
"Let's get this over with." I hated heights, always had, but my practical nature wouldn't allow me to fork out hundreds of dollars for something I was capable of handling myself.
Besides, the inn was mine, my responsibility, and I took pride in keeping it in top condition, even if it meant facing my less-than-pleasant fears.
One rung at a time, I ascended, the ground falling away with each step.
By the time I reached the roofline, the quaint charm of Stock Creek had transformed into a distant, toy-like landscape.
Swallowing hard, I shifted my grip on the bucket handle, now slick with perspiration, and started the tedious task of scooping out leaves and muck from the gutters.