Chapter Seven
Feeding off all the extra Christmas energy in the air, Robin was up early the next morning.
So early that when Amy took him downstairs for breakfast, Jo wasn’t even there yet.
Amy let him play with his toys while she prepared hot oat bran cereal and chopped some leftover chicken cranberry sausages.
When she glanced out the window, all she saw was her reflection.
Hair scooped up in a messy bun, face pale, eyes tired.
She hadn’t slept well last night. Too much was riding on today going well.
A little sunshine would help. But the sun wouldn’t even rise for another two hours. Much as she loved Christmas, she disliked the short winter days in Montana. Maybe they should all take their cues from the bears and hibernate until spring.
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
Chet’s upbeat voice was an instant mood lifter. He entered the room in his usual outfit of jeans and a Western-styled shirt, and she instantly moved into his arms for a reassuring hug. With him by her side, she could handle anything.
He moved a strand of hair off her cheek, then kissed her. “Want coffee or a latte this morning?”
“I think I need a stiff Americano.”
“One of those days, huh?” He checked the machine to make sure it was loaded with the correct beans, then turned it on to warm up.
“I’m just feeling a lot of pressure. There have been too many missteps lately. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m cut out for this B & B business after all.”
“Hey. None of the problems were your fault. And they weren’t even big problems. Just minor inconveniences.”
“I’m the manager. Ultimately, I am responsible, Chet. And you know the standards at Bramble House are high.” She scooped up Robin and strapped him in for his breakfast. The toddler immediately grabbed a piece of sausage and stuffed it into his mouth.
“What I know is that Bramble House is a success and it’s down to you, and your staff, and how you all work together. The tea was a big hit last year and it’s going to be another success today.”
Amy loved that her husband had so much faith in her. She just hoped he was right to do so. She offered a spoonful of oat cereal to Robin, and, like a baby bird, he opened his mouth wide.
Chet set her Americano on the island, where she could reach it, but Robin could not. They both turned at the sound of the back door opening. Was this Jo? But instead her brother entered the kitchen.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “You’re all up early.”
“You can thank Robin for that,” Amy said.
“And here I thought you wanted to get an early start on the day. Any coffee?”
“I’ve just put on the first pot,” Chet said. “Amy and I are having Americanos. Want one?”
“Nah, I’ll wait for the brewed stuff.”
“How was the chocolate workshop last night?” Amy asked.
“Not bad. Larkin did all the heavy lifting. I just sat back and looked pretty.”
Amy studied his eyes, looking for clues on how things were going with Larkin. “You really like her.”
“I do. And I hope the feeling is mutual. But there are some things from the past to sort through.”
“I hope it works out for you.” She liked Larkin and admired her. She could tell there was a tough streak behind the journalist’s pleasant demeanor. But Carson, for all his good-natured teasing, was tough too. They would be a good match that way.
“Oh, interesting observation,” Carson said. “Gibson was there acting like a normal human being for a change.”
Amy glanced through the connecting door. It would be just her luck for Gibson to come down early and overhear them talking about him. But the dining room was still empty. She closed the door, just in case. “How do you mean?”
“He seemed to enjoy himself. I even heard him laugh a few times.”
“Get out,” Chet said. “Are we talking about the same guy?”
“He told Sage he’d worked as a pastry chef. He did seem to know what he was doing.”
“Really?” Amy asked. “Where did he train?”
Carson shrugged. “No idea. This is just what I managed to overhear.”
“I wish he would let me get to know him,” Amy said, feeling frustrated. “Whenever I try to draw him out, he gives me nothing.”
“The guy’s hard to figure out,” Carson agreed. “Why did he even book to stay at a bed and breakfast if he wasn’t interested in socializing with folks?”
That’s what Amy wondered too. It wasn’t often she wished one of her guests had booked someplace else, but she sure could have done without Gibson Adlington this Christmas.
“Coffee’s ready,” Chet said. “Want me to pour you some?”
“I’m on it.” Carson grabbed a mug from the open shelving above the coffeepot.
“Today’s going to be a big day for you guys with the Christmas tea and everything.
I need to put in some time at Ethel’s house this morning, but how about I handle Robin after his nap?
I’ll feed him his snack and take him outside to play so he won’t accidentally knock over any teapots or break the fine china. ”
“That would be super helpful,” Chet said.
“But don’t you want to attend the tea?” Amy asked. “I’ve reserved tickets for all our guests.”
“Uh, no thanks,” Carson said. He exchanged a glance with Chet. “Beer, chicken wings, and football are more my style for afternoon shindigs.”
Chet shrugged. “I hear you. But the proceeds help underprivileged youth. And the event draws an interesting crowd.”
“Fair,” Carson conceded. “But you don’t really eat those little sandwiches with the crusts cut off, do you? I mean, a man has to have limits.”
They were all smiling over that when Jo arrived and immediately took over the kitchen. “Amy, would you preheat the oven, please? Chet, you have coffee under control? Carson, please move, I need to get into the fridge.”
She pulled out two large casseroles and set them on the six-burner stovetop. Amy peeked under the foil topping. “Is this your creamy raspberry French toast?” she asked hopefully.
“Your favorite. I know it’s been a tough few days.”
Amy forced the bustling woman to pause so she could give her a hug. “Thanks, Jo.” Not only did she love the breakfast dish, but it was a real favorite with guests. Hopefully this would earn them some points with the crotchety Gibson Adlington.
*
Larkin woke early, well before any hint of daylight.
Her first thought was of Carson and the evening they’d spent together.
He was the first person, other than her therapist, she’d told about the date rape, and it amazed her that she was able to be so open with him.
Then again, the two of them had always had that kind of relationship.
Maybe if she hadn’t run away to Denver so quickly, they would have talked through their misunderstandings a lot sooner. But she couldn’t change the past.
And right now, she didn’t want to worry about the future. She was happy to take each day as it came and see how things went. Also, she had to be careful not to let Carson distract her from her main purpose in being here—taking care of her grandmother.
A delicious aroma almost lured her into the dining room as she came down the stairs, but she resisted. She knocked quietly on the Mable Bramble door and was pleased to hear her grandmother’s cheery “Come in!” which meant she hadn’t woken her.
Her gran was sitting up on the side of her bed. She’d already brushed her hair and was wearing her glasses. “I’ve completed my morning stretches,” she said proudly.
“Awesome. Want some help with your walker?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
Larkin watched as her grandmother managed the transfer to her walker, then headed for the bathroom. “They’re cooking something really good in the kitchen today.”
“I know, I can smell it from here.”
“You’re getting to be a pro with that walker.”
“All the same, I’m going to be so happy when I don’t need it anymore.” Gran went through her morning routine efficiently, making Larkin optimistic that she’d soon be capable of living on her own again.
As her grandmother added a scarf to her outfit, she said, “Now tell me—how was the chocolate-making workshop last night?”
“Really fun. You’ll have to sample the chocolates we brought home. They turned out well.”
“Never mind the chocolates. Did you and Carson have a nice time together?”
“We did,” she said cautiously, not sure how much she should encourage her grandmother’s matchmaking efforts.
“I always liked that boy and so did your parents.”
“That’s true. But we haven’t seen each other for about nine years. A lot has changed.”
“He looks at you the same way now as he did when he was eighteen. Now how about we head over to the dining room and find out what’s smelling so good?”
*
The source of the enticing aromas turned out to be a breakfast casserole—a bubbling concoction of brioche bread, tart raspberries, and melted cream cheese, sprinkled with cinnamon and slivered almonds. It was a big hit with all the guests, even Gibson, who ate every morsel on his plate.
Larkin, however, barely tasted it. She was too focused on Carson, who had taken the chair to her right.
She was very aware of his long, muscular thigh, just six inches from hers.
She noticed every time he raised his coffee mug or picked up his fork.
This hyperawareness was something she remembered coming over her during adolescence.
Suddenly the boy, who had just been her pal, had started to fascinate her in every way.
“You sleep okay?” he asked in his deep, rumbling voice. One of his large work-roughened hands was wrapped around his coffee mug, and she thought about how gently he had stroked her hair last night in that moment when she’d thought he might kiss her.
“Better than I thought I would.”
“I’m working on the bathroom all morning and then I’m spending time with Robin in the afternoon so his parents can concentrate on the Christmas tea.
Once everything has settled down, would you like to go to Rocco’s for dinner?
” He leaned forward with this last sentence, so the invitation included Ethel.