Chapter 25
The Laurel Cove Bed and Breakfast was unusually quiet that evening, the kind of stillness that made Helen acutely aware of every creak of the old floorboards. Somehow the snow seemed to quiet the outside world so every noise inside seemed amplified.
The guests all went to bed early that night and were tucked away in their rooms. The scent of cinnamon, orange, and cloves hung in the living room from the simmer pot she’d heated earlier in the day.
She sat at the office desk, laptop open, papers scattered around like fallen leaves.
Her pen tapped a restless rhythm against the ledger.
She looked around at the different numbers that didn’t seem to get smaller despite her being on time with her payments.
The lingering legal fees and the debt she was responsible for was a sharp reminder of Carl’s gambling debt that had followed her like a dark shadow.
She rubbed her neck, and her chest tightened. How was it fair that she was left with someone else’s mess? How long would it take her to dig herself out?
She rubbed her temples, willing away the sting of tears.
Finally, she closed the laptop with a quiet snap.
Enough.
Rising from her seat, she grabbed her apron, slipped it on, and moved into the kitchen.
She opened the cabinet and began pulling out items for baking.
The familiar sound of mixing bowls and measuring spoons filled the room.
Sugar and butter creamed together under the whir of the mixer, and slowly the tension in her shoulders loosened.
The scent of orange zest and cloves began to bloom in the warm air as she shaped dough into small wreath-shaped cookies.
By the time the first tray came out, golden and fragrant, Helen was humming softly to herself. She carried a plate to the parlor and set it beside a half-finished garland, weaving more crimson ribbon through green boughs as the fire popped and cracked.
The debt wasn’t gone, but neither was she. She’d keep showing up. Keep making payments. Keep making something beautiful, even out of a difficult time.