Chapter Eighteen A Snow Globe
Dex.
The morning after the storm carried that stillness that comes when the world hasn’t decided if it wants to wake up yet.
The power had come back overnight, and the generator had automatically switched off as it was programmed to do.
I stood by the upstairs window with a mug of coffee and watched the sun gleam across the white expanse of snow.
The yard below looked almost orderly with smooth lines across the porch rail, even piles on the hedges and the generator shed.
It was the kind of symmetry I could appreciate.
The smell of breakfast was in the hallway before I even reached the stairs.
Helen was already in motion in the kitchen, talking to everyone at once.
Jane was sliding trays of french toast out of the oven while Meri poured maple syrup into tiny serving pitchers.
William and Braxton came in from outside from the back door with shovels in hand, stamping their boots.
“The driveway is now passable,” William proudly stated.
“Breakfast in the dining room in ten minutes,” Jane quietly commented.
Helen shoved a stack of plates into my hands. “Here. Would you be a dear and help set the table?”
“Of course,” I politely murmured, heading for the dining room.
Guests trickled in, cheerful, wrapped in sweaters, acting as though a night without power had been an adventure rather than an inconvenience.
A few more trips between myself and the Bennets had breakfast served. We all complimented Jane on the food which had her retreating to the kitchen once again. Afterward, I helped to clear the table as well, until Helen shooed me away.
Lucy was at the counter drying dishes as Meri washed.
Kitty would grab the clean dishes and put them away.
Lucy didn’t look up when I came in. That was fine.
I hadn’t earned her attention yet. I poured a mug of coffee, nodded to Helen’s questions about the storm, and caught Lucy’s eye only once when she happened to glance my way.
After breakfast the guests wanted to go outside. The snow had stopped but hadn’t started to melt, the temperature holding steady at just enough below freezing to make staying outside for an extended period comfortable enough. Someone threw the first snowball, and that was it.
I stood on the porch, watching the chaos build.
The Bennets were apparently competitive by nature.
Kitty declared teams as if it were an Olympic event.
Braxton joined immediately, laughing, while Lydia ran color commentary for her camera.
Helen insisted she wasn’t participating then hit William square in the shoulder thirty seconds later. I couldn’t help but smile.
Lucy stood at the bottom of the steps, hair loose under her hat, laughing as one of the guests from room five attempted a sneak attack and fell short.
I didn’t realize I was moving until I had stepped off the porch and packed a handful of snow.
The throw was automatic. A clean arc with decent follow-through so it hit its mark.
The guest yelped. Lucy turned at the sound, eyes wide, and then narrowed when she saw me.
“Really?” she called.
I shrugged.
She grinned, shook her head, and started forming her own ammunition.
Soon we were all in. Kitty and Lydia organized sides with reckless enthusiasm.
I ended up beside Lucy, Meri, and two of the younger guests.
Braxton was on the opposing team, which meant this would escalate quickly.
We were given five minutes to reinforce our position before the snow war was to commence.
“Any strategy?” Lucy asked dryly.
“The rise by the birch gives us height and a wind break. The snowpack’s better there. If we build a short wall and control the high ground, they’ll have to cross open space,” I said as I scanned the yard.
She gave me a look that hovered between amusement and disbelief. “You’re serious.”
“Braxton was Hastings Academy’s snow fight king three years running. I might have learned a thing or two from him,” I dryly replied.
“Then let’s follow your plan,” Lucy graciously agreed.
We did exactly that. Meri built fast, the guests followed orders, and we held the hill within minutes. Across the yard, Braxton rallied the others shouting orders and returning fire.
It worked longer than it should have. Snow flew in all directions while laughter carried louder than the wind. Somewhere in the middle of it Lucy hit me in the shoulder with a perfect shot and pretended she hadn’t meant to. I called it deliberate. She called it karma.
We fought until everyone was out of breath. Kitty declared the result a draw, which was probably true. William slipped during a final charge and called for a truce before anyone got hurt. The entire group retreated inside for cocoa and towels, wet and half frozen but unwilling to stop smiling.
In the foyer, boots made puddles in neat rows.
Helen herded everyone toward warmth, promising more cinnamon rolls.
I stood by the radiator, hands thawing, watching Lucy talk to one of the guests.
Her cheeks were flushed, hair damp at the edges, the kind of glow that doesn’t come from lights or cosmetics.
She caught me watching and tilted her head.
I drew my gaze away and pretended to inspect the radiator valve.
“That was more dangerous than expected,” I said when she passed.
“Your pride will recover,” she said.
“Mostly.”
She smiled, quick and unguarded, and for a moment the kitchen noise fell away. She didn’t say anything else, and neither did I. I hoped that perhaps her heart was thawing a little towards me.
The rest of the day eased into comfort. Jane and Braxton started a card game with the guests. Lydia filmed everything again. William and I set about to open all the shutters to let the light in.
I took the chance to walk the perimeter and check for damage.
The inn had handled the storm well, with only one window on the north side showing a bad seal.
I made a mental note to repair it. On my way back to the reception room, I noticed a small stack of books on the desk.
There were novels, a local history, and something about architecture from the 1950s.
They looked out of place sitting on the paperwork basket.
Lucy came through with a clipboard and stopped when she saw me. “Guests leave them everywhere. We were going to put up shelves somewhere but haven’t had time.”
“You should,” I said, picking one up and looking it over. “You have the space.”
“Not really. Most of the area is taken up with storage or needed for the guests. I suppose we can put a small shelf in the reception room.”
“You could line one of the walls with shelves but it would take up some of the space,” I said, thinking of its shape. “But it’s warm enough and the light is decent.”
She laughed softly. “You make it sound simple.”
“It is. Two bookcases, one corner chair, and a reading lamp. It would work.”
“Maybe someday,” Lucy said wistfully.
I set the book back on the pile. “You might want to measure the wall before someday.”
She gave me that cautious look again. The one that meant she wasn’t sure whether to be amused or annoyed. “You think of everything in measurements, don’t you?”
“Mostly. Measurements don’t lie,” I murmured.
“People do?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Sometimes.”
She smiled faintly. “Good thing you’re not a people person then.”
“Good thing,” I echoed, although I wondered if I understood people more I might not have messed things up with her.
Dinner was crowded and loud, every chair taken.
The guests shared travel stories, Helen told family ones, and for a while it was difficult to tell which category was louder.
I sat near the end of the table beside Braxton and across from Lucy.
Every time she laughed, something eased that I hadn’t realized was tight.
Halfway through dessert, Lydia cleared her throat. That sound already meant trouble. She stood with her phone in hand and smiled like someone about to announce a miracle.
“I did a thing! We’re hosting a Christmas dance next weekend,” Lydia announced grandly, a sparkle in her eyes.
The room went still with forks frozen halfway to their mouths.
Lucy stared at her. “You’re joking.”
“Nope, I sold tickets online. One hundred and twelve of them. It’s going to be huge for the inn! Great advertising, some revenue, and potential guests,” Lydia gushed in enthusiasm.
Helen clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”
“It’s insane. We don’t have decorations or food or staff,” Lucy began ticking items off her fingers.
“We can make it happen,” Lydia said cheerfully.
Lucy sighed. “And very little time.”
“That’s manageable,” I mused and every head turned toward me. I shrugged. “I’m sure parties have been coordinated in less time. If we divide the workload, it won’t be quite so daunting.”
Lucy’s expression was unreadable. “You’re volunteering?”
“Yes. You’ll need a plan if that many people are coming. I would also advise against inviting more so that you don’t break the fire code,” I dryly mentioned.
Helen immediately started assigning tasks, which somehow meant everyone agreed before realizing what they had agreed to.
Lucy grabbed paper and pen to record who was doing what, while Jane grabbed her recipe book.
It was chaos, but productive chaos. The kind that builds something rather than tears it down.
When the dishes were cleared, I slipped away to the small parlor behind the hall.
It was a small room that was currently being used for storage.
The room was quiet and full of old boxes that had been there before the Bennets had bought the inn.
Who knew what was inside them. The pale green wallpaper had faded and the old window would need new putty and a latch, but the layout was good.
I took out my phone, opened the measurement app, and started noting lengths.
The wall could take built-in shelving without compromising the framing.
Two reading chairs would fit if arranged right.
The existing radiator would handle the heat.
It was, as far as I could tell, perfect for what she didn’t believe she needed.
I heard footsteps behind me and turned. Lucy stood in the doorway, clipboard still in hand. “You’re casing the room now?”
“I was thinking there might be something in these boxes,” I lied.
“For what?”
“For Christmas. They must have decorated the inn during the holiday. Perhaps there are lights or ornaments,” I said, opening a box and then sneezing as the dust clouded the air.
Her brow furrowed slightly. “You’re relentless.”
“I like good projects.”
She stepped closer, looking into the box and pulled out a hunting magazine. “I don’t think this box is what we are looking for.”
“I can look at the rest and get this room cleared out. If nothing else, it’s one job out of the way,” I offered.
“Are you sure you want to add this to your list of things to do? The dance is a big project,” Lucy warned, handing me a piece of paper.
Her neat handwriting had a large number of tasks written down. “Is this mine?”
“Yes. You volunteered, remember?” she prompted with a smile.
I cleared my throat. “Well, I’m sure I will fit it in somewhere. If I find antique ornaments, I think it will be worth it.”
“We’ll see." Lucy shook her head as she left the room.
I stood there a moment longer, running my hand along the wall where the first shelf would go. The idea had settled in the way good plans do. I didn’t know if it would matter to her, but it mattered to me. It was something I could give without speech or explanation.
Three hours later, I had thrown away countless magazines, retirement party supplies, and hundreds of pens which no longer worked. I did find two boxes of ornaments, which was a bonus.
When I finally turned off the light and closed the door, the house was silent from everyone gone to their rooms.
Upstairs, Braxton was sprawled across his bed scrolling through his phone.
“You look like you fought dust bunnies and barely survived,” he observed with a grin when I walked in.
“I have two boxes of old glass ornaments,” I said with satisfaction as I leaned against the wall. “I also ordered some items online and scheduled deliveries.”
He grinned. “You and Lucy stopped snapping at each other for an entire meal. That’s some progress.”
“Temporary truce,” I said.
“Whatever you say.”
“What did you get done?” I asked.
Braxton pulled out his list, showing me his progress like a report card. “I am in good shape and have decided to help Jane tomorrow.”
“Good idea.”
I went back to my room, showered and got to work with my laptop.
I should have been working on Lucy’s Christmas List, but I found myself sketching rough plans for shelving in the little used parlor.
I would need William’s help for lumber and a good reason to keep Lucy away from that side of the hall for a day or two.
It would be a small miracle if no one spoiled the surprise, but I had learned by now that this family enjoyed a good secret.
When the plan looked solid, I shut the laptop. The vision of Lucy sitting in the room, enjoying her small library wouldn’t leave my mind.