8. Claire
Claire
T he tree-lighting ceremony arrived with a chill in the air that promised snow by evening.
I stood in front of my closet, pondering the choices before me.
It felt silly to worry about an outfit when I’d be bundled up in a snow jacket and boots, but tonight felt special.
Maybe it was because Christian hadn't exactly said he would attend, adding an extra layer of curiosity to the event.
I pulled out a deep green sweater, its softness reminding me of pine needles. Holding it up against me in the mirror, I smiled. It brought out the color in my eyes and seemed festive enough without being over-the-top. But then again, who would see it under my jacket?
Next came a pair of jeans, comfortably worn in from countless nights spent by the inn’s fireplace.
They hugged my legs just right, but they weren’t exactly warm.
I tossed them aside and dug deeper into the closet, finding a pair of thick wool leggings.
Perfect for staying cozy while still looking presentable if I decided to shed my outer layers once inside.
I glanced at the mirror again, adjusting my hair absentmindedly. It was silly to be so meticulous; after all, everyone else would be focused on the tree and the lights. Still, there was a part of me that hoped maybe Christian would change his mind and show up.
My fingers grazed over a simple silver cross necklace hanging by the mirror. It had been a gift from my mother years ago and always brought me comfort when I wore it. I clasped it around my neck, feeling its familiar weight settle against my skin.
Boots were next—sturdy enough to handle the snow yet stylish enough not to feel clunky. As I slipped them on, I couldn’t help but chuckle at myself for this level of preparation. It was just a small-town ceremony, nothing fancy or extravagant.
With one last look in the mirror, I pulled on my snow jacket—a bright red one that contrasted nicely with my green sweater—and wrapped a knitted scarf around my neck. I grabbed my gloves and hat from the dresser and headed downstairs.
The inn buzzed with quiet anticipation for the evening’s festivities. Guests milled about, sipping hot cocoa and chatting about holiday plans. The atmosphere was warm and inviting despite the cold creeping in from outside.
“Ready for tonight?” one of the regulars asked as I passed by.
“Absolutely,” I replied with a smile that reached my eyes.
The lobby had thinned out considerably. The guests had bundled up and headed to the town square for the tree-lighting ceremony. I leaned against the counter, my eyes drifting to the hallway more often than I’d like to admit.
Christian hadn’t given any indication that he would join us, yet I found myself hoping to catch a glimpse of him making his way out. The man was a puzzle, and puzzles were meant to be solved.
I shook my head, trying to focus on something else. The inn needed tidying, but my heart wasn’t in it. My grandmother’s absence weighed on me more than I cared to admit. She never missed the tree lighting; it was one of her favorite traditions.
The grandfather clock in the corner ticked steadily, its sound filling the silence left by the departing guests. My thoughts kept wandering back to Christian and my grandmother. One was a mystery, the other a comfort. Both seemed out of reach tonight.
With a sigh, I pushed away from the counter and walked down the hall toward my grandmother’s room. Maybe she had dozed off and lost track of time.
“Gran?” I called softly as I knocked on her door.
No answer. I opened the door gently and peeked inside. The room was empty, bed neatly made, her favorite shawl draped over the chair by the window. It wasn’t like her to be this late.
I headed back to the lobby, trying not to let worry creep in. The town square was just a short walk away; she might have gone ahead without telling me.
I slipped my gloves on and stepped outside into the crisp evening air. Snowflakes began to fall softly, adding a layer of magic to the night. The path to the town square was lit by lanterns, casting a warm glow on the snow-covered ground.
As I walked, my thoughts returned to Christian. Was he really going to stay cooped up in his room all night? The town’s curiosity about him mirrored my own; there was something about his guarded demeanor that drew me in.
Reaching the square, I saw families gathered around the enormous tree, laughter and chatter filling the air. Children ran around with rosy cheeks, their excitement palpable.
But still no sign of either Christian or Gran.
I mingled with familiar faces, exchanging holiday greetings and small talk while keeping an eye out for them both.
This year’s tree looked more beautiful than ever with its twinkling lights and carefully placed ornaments. A sense of pride swelled in me; our little town always did Christmas right.
I couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at my gut, so I decided to head back to the inn. The tree-lighting ceremony could wait; finding Gran was more important. The path seemed longer on the way back, each step weighed down by growing concern.
Snow crunched under my boots as I walked briskly, the festive sounds from the town square fading into the distance.
Pushing through the front door, I scanned the lobby again. No sign of Gran. My mind raced through possible places she might be. I started with the kitchen, hoping maybe she had been preparing one of her famous hot chocolates and lost track of time.
The kitchen was empty, save for the lingering scent of cinnamon and nutmeg from earlier preparations. Pots and pans sat neatly in their places, untouched since morning. I moved on, my heart rate picking up a notch.
The lobby remained quiet and still. No one had returned from the ceremony yet, leaving an eerie calm that made my footsteps sound louder than usual. I checked behind the front desk, peering into every nook and cranny. Nothing.
Next was the dining room. The tables were set for breakfast tomorrow morning, each place meticulously arranged. It was a habit Gran never broke; she always believed in being prepared well in advance… when she remembered. But I didn't want to think about that. There was no sign of her here either.
I felt a pang of frustration as I headed toward my office. It wasn’t a place she frequented often, but at this point, I needed to cover all bases. Pushing open the door, I scanned the small room quickly.
My desk sat cluttered with papers and invoices, a reminder of work still waiting for me. The chair in front of it remained empty, untouched. No Gran here either.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, trying to think of where else she might have gone. The housekeeper’s closet? Unlikely but worth checking next.
Each step echoed in the quiet inn as I made my way down the hall again. My mind raced through memories of past Christmases when Gran’s laughter filled every corner of this place.
Where could she be?
By the time I finished searching every nook and cranny of the inn, there were tears in my eyes. My breath hitched as I tried to hold back the flood of emotions. Worry twisted my stomach into knots, and my mind raced with a thousand awful scenarios.
“Ms. Bennett?” a familiar voice drawled, cutting through my spiraling thoughts.
I turned, and my eyes widened at the sight of Christian standing there with my grandmother. Relief washed over me, and I pulled Gran into a tight hug, feeling her frail frame against mine.
“I searched everywhere…” My voice trailed off as I looked over at Christian.
“He has no business being in your grandfather's room,” Gran said, her tone stern. “Your grandfather doesn't like surprises, and he'll be home soon. I wanted to prepare the room with a fire, just how he likes it.”
I gently placed my hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “Gran… Papa died,” I said softly. “Years ago. Complications from pneumonia, remember?”
Gran's expression faltered for a moment, confusion clouding her eyes before she looked down at her feet. “What? No, of course he didn't,” she said. "Kenny fixed that. He went to the doctor in time, and…" She let her voice trail off. "Oh."
“Let's get you back to your room,” I said to Gran, my voice steadying as I guided her down the hall.
I looked at Christian and forced a smile as I offered my grandmother my arm. “Thank you for finding her.”
Christian gave a curt nod, his eyes unreadable. “Just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
Gran clung to my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “But why would Kenny leave like that?” she asked as we walked down the hall.
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “I don’t think he wanted to, Gran,” I replied, blinking back tears.
We reached her room, and I gently helped her settle into her favorite chair by the window. The firelight danced across the room, casting a warm glow that contrasted sharply with the cold reality of our conversation.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She shook her head slowly, eyes glassy with fresh grief. It was as if she had remembered Papa’s death all over again, each realization a new wound. “No, dear,” she whispered.
“The tree lighting ceremony…”
“I think I’d like to rest,” she said softly, moving from her chair to crawl under the covers with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her soul.
I tucked the blankets around her snugly and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, Gran. I'll be just outside if you need me."
“Goodnight,” she murmured, closing her eyes as if willing sleep to take away the pain.
I stepped out of the room quietly and closed the door behind me. Leaning against it for a moment, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
Christian was still there in the hallway. He didn't say anything; he didn't need to. The look in his eyes spoke volumes—an understanding that needed no words.
"I'm so sorry," I said, forcing another smile. "Sometimes, she?—"
"You don't have to explain," Christian interrupted, his tone gentle but firm.
I nodded, grateful for his understanding, and headed behind the desk. My mind was a whirlwind of worry and exhaustion.
Christian cocked his head, watching me closely. "You aren't going to the tree lighting ceremony?"
I shook my head, glancing toward Gran's room. "Not with her like this. I don't want to leave her in case she needs me."
He nodded in understanding, his eyes reflecting a depth of empathy I hadn't expected.
"But you should still go," I urged him, turning back to face him. "It's really… it's magic. And I think we could all use some magic, especially at this time of year."
He looked at me for a moment, his gaze searching mine as if trying to decipher something unspoken. Then he nodded once and turned to head back to his room.
As he walked away, I felt a pang of gratitude mixed with an ache of loneliness. I appreciated the space he gave me; it was only when I was alone that I felt like I could cry.
The lobby's silence enveloped me as I leaned against the desk, tears finally breaking free and rolling down my cheeks. The weight of everything pressed down on me.
I wiped my tears quickly when the front door opened again, but it was just the wind howling outside. Taking a deep breath, I gathered myself and returned to my duties, finding solace in the routine tasks that kept my mind occupied.
For tonight, though, I would focus on taking care of Gran and making sure she felt safe and loved in our little corner of the world.