Chapter Seventeen A Full House
Lucy.
Braxton headed with Mom to the reception room to deposit whatever he had brought with him to the items we had scoured the inn for earlier.
“We thought you could use a few things,” Dex explained. Holding two duffle bags. “Extra blankets, batteries, and a few lanterns. There’s even a hand crank radio.”
“That’s very kind of you. Though we have everything under control,” I coolly replied.
He looked at me, then at the windows rattling from a gust of wind. “Of course you do.”
The tone made me bristle. “We’ve handled storms before.”
“Good,” he said mildly, shaking snow from his gloves. “Then this one should be easy.”
Braxton grinned as he came back to the foyer. “The roads are already bad. There are a few more items in the car so I’ll go get them.”
“You’ll stay for the storm. We still have your guest rooms available,” Mom mentioned.
“That’s not necessary,” I said quickly.
“Of course it is. We can’t send them off into a blizzard, Lucy. Plus, they are good company,” Mom admonished me.
“We’ll try to stay out of your way,” Dex dryly replied before heading outside.
As he left, Braxton returned with a large box. “The radio said people might be snowed in for a day after the storm so I may have over prepared with a few things.”
“That’s fine dear." Mom smiled, patting his arm. “Lucy, help Dex bring in the rest from the car. Braxton, find William and see if he needs help securing the shutters upstairs.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Mom had followed Braxton to deposit the supplies.
Growling, I shoved my feet into my boots and pulled on my coat, zipping it up as I stepped outside.
The wind hit me, punishing me with icy snow that stung my face.
I should have brought my hat and mittens, but I hadn’t been thinking.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I approached Dex as he grabbed the remaining bags from the car.
Dex handed me a blanket bundle from the back seat.
I tucked it under one arm and followed him back in silence.
The snow was starting to drift, hilling up near the buildings so it was higher than my boots.
I almost stumbled but Dex caught my elbow, righting me as we reached the porch.
When he let go, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.
Inside, we brought the items to the reception room.
I put the blankets with the extras we had washed earlier today in anticipation of the storm.
Each guest room would get extra for the night since the temperature was still dipping.
The good news was the boiler had been recently inspected and should continue to carry on as long as we had power.
The inn might be old and drafty, but it was still warm enough.
Dex began pulling items out of a box. “Where do you want the lanterns?”
“On the table is fine,” I said without looking up.
He set them down and lingered a moment. “The wind’s coming in from the west. The shutters on that side could be shut. It will help retain some heat in the house and prevent any damage if a branch breaks from the nearby trees.”
“I know.”
“William and Braxton appear to be checking the upstairs windows. I’ll handle the porch side downstairs.”
“I said I can do it,” I snapped, then winced at how sharp it sounded.
He nodded once, the way people do when they decide a conversation isn’t worth continuing, and left. The door banged behind him. I closed my eyes, counted to three, and reminded myself that pride was a poor companion. This time I grabbed my mittens, hat, and scarf before following Dex into the snow.
It took both of us to get the shutters safely fastened closed. With the gusts of wind, I was nearly knocked off my feet a couple of times as a shutter suddenly flew out of my hands, slamming against the frame of the window. Dex was there each time to steady me.
It was infuriating.
My face and my fingers were frozen by the time we made it back inside. We brushed off the snow and took off our outerwear. I childishly refused to look or talk to Dex, instead going to distribute some emergency items to the guest rooms so they would be prepared if the power did go out.
By late afternoon, the storm was in full force.
The sky was hidden by a wall of white. Snow piled fast along the porch rails and over the cars in the lot.
We gathered in the dining room, shutters closed, with the fire lit for added warmth and ambiance.
Jane had outdone herself with a stew, fresh bread, and enough apple crisp with homemade ice cream to feed a small army.
The guests joined us, grateful and slightly giddy.
Storms had a way of turning strangers into companions which was a good thing.
The inn was to create a family atmosphere where everyone created new friendships.
The table filled quickly and we all had to squeeze in together.
Chairs scraped, dishes passed, while conversation came easy waves.
Mom told the story of the time Dad tried to fry a turkey indoors.
Lydia laughed so hard she nearly dropped her fork. For a while, it felt almost festive.
Dex sat across from me. His sleeves were rolled, his hair still damp from the snow.
He said little, eating in quiet, but his eyes kept finding mine through the candlelight.
It wasn't deliberate, but it wasn’t accidental either.
Each glance felt like the beginning of a conversation neither of us was ready to have.
“Lucy, pass the butter,” Mom said.
I reached for it just as Dex did. Our hands brushed, a small, stupid contact that shouldn’t have meant anything. I drew back first.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“No harm done,” he said. The words were ordinary, but the tone wasn’t. Braxton’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Kitty caught the exchange and smiled like she was collecting gossip for later.
Mom was completely oblivious to the tension. “Isn’t this cozy! Nothing like a full table in a storm.”
“Cozy is one word,” I murmured.
Dex’s mouth curved faintly. “Another might be unpredictable.”
“Depends on who’s doing the predicting,” I replied, earning a confused look from Kitty.
“Are you two speaking in riddles?” she asked.
“I enjoy a good puzzle. Does anyone know any riddles? It might be fun to solve a few,” Braxton said cheerfully, changing the subject.
That broke the tension for a while. Conversation moved on to lighter things as people came up with riddles and jokes, while others guessed at the answers. Laughter flowed around the table as easily as the wine did.
Then the lights flickered and everyone froze. The chandelier blinked twice, before the power gave out entirely. The room sank into half-light from the fire and the scattered candles.
“The generator should start at any moment. We have it for emergencies such as this one,” Dad confidently stated leaning back in his chair.
It didn’t start. The fire popped, and the wind outside howled like it was reminding us who was in charge. We all looked uneasily at each other.
“I suppose I will go check it,” Dad said as he got up.
“I’m coming with you,” I decided, quickly rising.
Dex stood as well. “I’ll go.”
“That’s not necessary,” I said quickly.
He met my eyes. “You don’t know engines.”
“I can learn.”
“I can fix it faster.”
Dad looked between us, amused. “Then both of you come. We’ll need hands anyway.”
The wind hit us hard the moment we stepped outside.
The cold bit through my mittens as we trudged toward the small shed that housed the generator.
Snow swirled in blinding sheets. Dex moved ahead, flashlight cutting through the white.
Inside the shed, the air smelled of fuel and metal.
Dad crouched beside the generator, muttering to himself.
“I should have looked at this before the storm but we were so busy getting ready with other important things, I plumb forgot . I see the problem. She’s got old oil in her.
We’ll have to bleed it out before putting in the new . ”
Dex rolled up his sleeves. “Show me the valve.”
They worked in near silence. I held the light while they drained the old oil, replaced it, and checked the gas line.
My fingers were stiff, my breath visible in the beam.
Dex’s movements were steady, efficient. When the new fuel was in, he pulled the cord twice.
Nothing. A third time. The machine coughed, sputtered, and went silent again.
“Try priming it,” Dad mentioned.
Dex adjusted a lever, pressed twice, then pulled again. The generator roared to life, loud and rough at first, then smoothing into rhythm. The shed filled with the hum of power. Relief spread through me like warmth.
Dad clapped Dex on the shoulder. “Good work.”
Dex nodded, rubbing his hands together. “She’s old but solid.”
“Like me,” Dad said with a grin. “Come on, let’s give her a minute to settle.”
We stood there, watching the steady pulse of the machine. The air was thick with exhaust. Dad shifted his weight and said casually, “You know, Lucy takes after me more than her mother. Proud as a mule sometimes.”
“Dad,” I warned.
He ignored me. “But underneath all that independence, she’s got a heart for quiet things. You put her in a room with a stack of books, and the world could end around her and she wouldn’t notice.”
“Dad,” I repeated, my cheeks heating. My dad and I loved to read. It wasn’t that the other people in our family didn’t occasionally pick up a book, but we each had personal libraries and could disappear for hours in a story. I had endured a lot of teasing about it as a child.
Dex smiled faintly. “Books?”
“Novels, mostly,” Dad said. “She will read mostly anything that’s fiction. I tried to get her into history but she doesn’t share my passion.”
I crossed my arms. “Are we done turning me into a character study?”
“Almost,” Dad said cheerfully. “If you ever want her attention, start with a good book and persistence. She appreciates people who show up.”
Dex’s expression softened. “I’ll remember that.”
I groaned and turned toward the door. “You two can stay here and chat about me all night if you want. I’m going inside.”
“She has the only flashlight so we had better follow,” Dad mildly mentioned.
I stalked back through the snow, muttering under my breath. The wind clawed at my scarf. Inside, the lights had come back on and the fire glowed brighter. Mom and Jane were passing out mugs of cocoa while Lydia checked if the wifi still worked.
“Now come warm up. There’s cocoa." Mom brought a mug to Dad, fussing over him.
Dex accepted a mug from Jane and glanced my way, a flicker of humor in his eyes. “You have a remarkable father.”
“I’m aware,” I said dryly. “He likes to meddle.”
“Maybe. But he pays attention and he does love you,” Dex observed.
I wasn’t sure what to do with that. I got myself a cup of cocoa instead, concentrating on something other than him.
The storm could rage as much as it wanted. Inside, we had light and laughter and cocoa.