Chapter Seven Revelations
Kitty
I told myself the walk back to SnowDrop Inn was just cold, not personal.
The wind cut sharply down the street, slipping under my scarf and finding the one spot along my collarbone that was already sore from snowboarding.
I tucked my hands deeper into my pockets and kept walking, boots crunching against the packed snow.
Maple Ridge had twinkling lights and shop windows dressed up like they had something to prove. Everything was cheerful and contained.
Inside my head, nothing felt contained at all.
I replayed the guitar lesson again, the way my fingers had finally found the chord shape, the way Caleb had smiled when it sounded almost right. That part glowed softly, like a candle I wanted to protect.
Then the rest of it crept in.
I’m not performing.
The words had landed so abruptly that I still felt the echo of them. His voice wasn’t raised or angry. Just firm enough to close something I hadn’t realized was open.
I told myself I shouldn’t have brought the talent show up at all. That it was unprofessional. That I had blurred lines that did not need blurring. He had offered guitar lessons, not to help with my problems.
And yet Caleb had volunteered to help with sound. He had said yes to Marjorie without hesitation.
So why had he pulled away from me?
The question followed me into the inn and up the stairs, settling in my thoughts like something unfinished. I changed out of my coat slowly, aware of how stiff my arms felt, how tired my body was in a way that sleep would not fix. Downstairs, voices drifted up, familiar and overlapping.
Going into the small apartment I shared with Lydia and Meri, I sat at my desk and opened the talent show folder again, flipping through pages I already knew by heart.
There were lists and timelines with notes in my own careful handwriting, trying to impose order on something that resisted it.
Beside sound, I wrote down Caleb’s name.
Did that mean he would help with the sound during the talent show? Or just set up the equipment? Was he lending us equipment, or did I need to source that?
I exhaled and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.
I realized I was uncomfortable asking him those questions.
The shop had gone so quiet when Caleb misunderstood me, like the air itself had pulled away.
He had looked cornered and defensive. Like I had stepped too close to something he guarded carefully.
That reaction didn’t come from nowhere. Somewhere, at some point, Caleb had a bad experience with performing and refused to do it again.
I heard footsteps in the hallway and straightened automatically. Lydia appeared in the doorway, still buzzing with the energy she carried everywhere, even when the day should have worn her down.
“There you are,” she said. “I was wondering when you would get back.”
“Did you need something?” I asked, already bracing.
She leaned against the doorframe, studying me with an expression that suggested curiosity rather than concern. “How did your lesson go?”
“Fine,” I said, because it was easier than explaining the truth.
She hummed. “You don’t look fine.”
I didn’t respond immediately, which was answer enough .
After a beat, Lydia said, “You know he used to be a big deal, right?”
The words landed so casually that I almost missed them.
“What?” I asked.
She tilted her head. “Caleb. Caleb Green. You didn’t know?”
My stomach dropped. “Know what?”
She blinked. “Oh. You really didn’t.”
I sat up straighter. “Lydia, could you just explain instead of talking in circles?”
“He was huge,” she said. “Not, like, fill a stadium huge, but radio huge. He was a big up and coming country singer. Caleb had awards and was doing a country wide tour. He was everywhere for a while.”
I stared at her. “You’re joking.”
“I am absolutely not joking,” she said. “He had songs that people cried to. There was a whole phase. I even used some of his music in my videos under fair use.”
My mind raced backward, rearranging memories. His refusal to perform. His calm distance. The way he never talked about music like it was a goal anymore, only a craft.
“He never mentioned it,” I said quietly.
“Why would he?” Lydia replied. “He moved to a small town and opened a music store and repair shop. That’s not a man clinging to fame.”
I swallowed. “How do you know this?”
She shrugged. “People talk. Also, Jane listens to the radio like it’s still 2012.”
My cheeks warmed, embarrassment blooming too late to stop it. “I asked him for help with the talent show.”
Lydia winced. “Oh.”
“And he thought I was asking him to perform,” I continued, the pieces sliding into place with painful clarity.
“He disappeared out of nowhere so I’m assuming something happened,” Lydia said gently. “There were a lot of rumors but no one knows the story for sure. Well, I suppose Caleb knows.”
I closed my eyes. “I had no idea.”
“I don’t think he thought you did,” she said. “But I can see why he reacted.”
I let out a slow breath, pressing my fingers against my forehead. I had accidentally walked straight into a history I didn't know existed.
Later that night, when the inn finally quieted and I thought everyone had gone to bed, curiosity got the better of me.
I opened my laptop and stared at the search bar longer than necessary.
Caleb Green.
I hesitated, then typed his name and hit enter.
The results populated quickly with articles and images. Old interviews frozen in time. A younger version of him with longer hair and a guitar slung low across his body, smiling like the world had not yet taught him caution.
I clicked one.
The headline talked about a sold-out tour. Another mentioned an abrupt hiatus. None of them explained why.
I closed the laptop slowly with more questions than answers.
Caleb had not pushed me away because I asked too much.
He had pushed me away because I had unknowingly asked him to step back into something he had very deliberately left behind.
Downstairs, a door opened with unnecessary force.
“Kitty,” Lydia’s voice rang out. “Do not panic.”
I panicked immediately.
She appeared in the doorway a moment later, eyes bright, hair still perfect in a way that suggested she had been late night scrolling rather than sleeping. “She’s here.”
“Who?” I asked, completely bewildered.
“Our great aunt,” she said, like this explained everything. “Cathy DeBurg.”
The last of my calm evaporated.
“She said she was coming after Christmas,” I protested weakly.
“She says a lot of things,” Lydia replied. “She also brought luggage. A lot of luggage.”
I stood too quickly and regretted it as my sore knees reminded me they existed. By the time I reached the stairs, I could already hear Great Aunt Cathy’s voice carrying through the inn, crisp and commanding, like the building itself had been called to attention.
“Oh no,” she was saying. “This simply will not do.”
I stepped into the lobby just in time to see her surveying the space like a general assessing a battlefield. She wore an expensive coat with a collar that brushed her jaw, her posture impeccable, her expression sharpened by expectation.
“Kitty,” she said, spotting me immediately. “There you are.”
She kissed my cheek briskly, her perfume overwhelming, then stepped back and looked me over from head to toe. “You look tired.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“That was not a compliment,” she replied.
Lucy hovered nearby, jaw tight. Jane smiled with practiced warmth. Lydia looked thrilled, which told me this was about to be worse.
Meri, lucky girl, was nowhere to be seen.
Mom was in her nightgown, trying to take Great Aunt Cathy’s coat but the old bird wasn’t taking it off, while Dad trudged up the stairs with another suitcase.
“And what are you doing these days,” Great Aunt Cathy asked, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Besides running around this crumbling inn?”
I swallowed. “I’m helping organize the Maple Ridge talent show.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Helping.”
“Yes,” I said, before I could stop myself. “Leading.”
Lydia grinned.
Great Aunt Cathy’s interest sharpened immediately. “A leadership role. How… unexpected.”
I braced myself.
She asked questions rapidly. Timeline. Budget. Performers. Audience size. Each one landed like a small test, and I answered them as honestly as I could, even when the answers were not impressive.
“We’re still finalizing details,” I said. “The flyers are out, but—”
“The flyers are out before the structure is finalized,” she interrupted. “Bold.”
I bit back a sigh. “Optimistic.”
She studied me for a long moment, then nodded once. “Well. You will need strong execution.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I’m aware.”
Her gaze flicked to Lydia. “And you?”
Lydia straightened. “I bring enthusiasm.”
“Enthusiasm doesn’t get things done.” Great Aunt Cathy sniffed. She turned back to me. “And the music?”
“Yes,” I said, grateful for the pivot. “We have sound support.”
“Who?” she asked.
I hesitated. “Caleb Green.”
Recognition flickered across her face instantly.
“Ah,” she said. “That Caleb Green?”
My stomach tightened. “You know him?”
“Anne listened to his music nonstop for a year.” She tilted her head, studying me with new interest. “And he agreed to help?”
“With sound,” I clarified quickly.
“Mmm,” she said, noncommittal. “Interesting.”
The weight of her scrutiny made it difficult to breathe. She didn’t say anything outright, but I could feel the comparison between us sisters humming beneath her silence.
“Grandmama, it’s getting late,” Anne said as she grabbed another piece of luggage to take upstairs.
“You shouldn’t be carrying that. You’re too delicate,” Great Aunt Cathy ordered. “You three can bring up the luggage while Kitty tells us more about Caleb Green.”
Lucy, Jane, and Lydia all exchanged looks before going to the pile of luggage to help.
“Can I take your coat?” Mom ventured to ask.
“I don’t know why you haven’t done so already.” Great Aunt Cathy rolled her eyes, finally shedding the heavy fur.
Later, after Great Aunt Cathy and her granddaughter Anne had been shown to their rooms, and Lydia had bounced off to find snacks, I retreated to the quiet of my bedroom. My hands were shaking slightly, the adrenaline finally catching up with me.
I had been interrogated and Great Aunt Cathy wasn’t entirely satisfied with my answers.
The thought startled me.
She was a bit of a horrid old woman, but we all behaved around her because she had money. Great Aunt Cathy might be a tightwad, but she could spend when it suited her.
That night, as I lay in bed listening to the inn settle around me, my thoughts returned to Caleb. The regret I thought I had seen in his eyes before I left. The way his voice had softened when he realized I hadn’t meant what he heard.
Misunderstandings happened. Silence happened too.
The difference was whether you let them calcify.
I turned onto my side and stared at the wall, heart steadying around a decision I had not fully formed yet. I wouldn’t avoid him. I couldn’t since he was going to help with the talent show.
I just didn’t know what to say.