Chapter Eleven What I Thought I Saw
Braxton
The basement of the Snowdrop Inn was colder than the courtyard and quieter than the lobby.
I preferred it for both reasons. The noise from the wedding guests didn't reach this far, and the thin winter light came through the basement windows in calm, steady lines.
It made it easier to focus. Or it should have. Today, even the quiet felt loud.
William had us shoring up the joists before the damaged ones were replaced later in the week.
He had chalked lines along the beams with careful precision, and Dex was measuring out the length of the temporary bracing.
I held each board steady as William secured the ends.
The rhythm of work usually settled my mind, but every few minutes I found my thoughts drifting back to the kitchen that morning.
The basement smelled like sawdust and cold earth. It reminded me of the older historic building renovations I had worked on in the city, the ones that required patience and attention instead of speed. Normally that kind of work centered me. Today, it barely held my thoughts together.
We had been down there for almost an hour when Dex finally broke the silence.
“You look terrible,” he said as he tightened a screw with a drill.
“I look normal,” I replied, hoping he would drop the subject.
“You look like someone stole your lunch,” he persisted.
William didn't comment, but he glanced at me over the edge of his glasses before marking the next board. He had that expression fathers used when waiting for one of their children to confess something.
“I’m fine,” I resolutely told them.
“You are absolutely not,” Dex replied. “You sighed eight times on the way down the stairs. You aren’t concentrating and you’ve only been good for basic tasks.”
“I didn't count the sighs, but it was more than usual.” William continued to use his measuring tape, not even looking up.
I adjusted the brace I held. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”
Dex scoffed. “Right. And I am training for a ballet recital.”
I kept my focus on the board, hoping if I ignored him long enough he would move on. But Dex could out-wait a statue when he wanted information.
“This is about Jane,” he decided.
I tightened the clamp. “No.”
“Yes,” he said in the most confident tone a human being had ever used. Sometimes my friend was absolutely infuriating.
William tapped his pencil against the length of wood he was measuring. “You may as well tell us. Dex isn’t going to stop discussing the subject.”
“I could stop,” Dex offered. “But I will not.”
I sighed. Loudly. This one even echoed off the stone walls. “There was something this morning, in the kitchen.”
Dex immediately set down his drill as though this required his full attention. He was listening fully now.
William paused mid-measurement, the pencil hovering.
I continued slowly. “James was talking to Jane. He was standing close to her and she was standing close to him.”
Dex frowned. “Just how close?”
I steadied the brace again. “Too close. Definitely within each others’ personal space.”
He waited.
“She wasn't pushing him away,” I finally said the part that was bothering me the most. “Not that I could see.”
“Because she is polite,” Dex remarked, giving me an excuse. “Maybe she just didn’t want to be rude to the guy.”
“He was flirting with her. He had his hand on her cheek,” I revealed.
Dex made a quiet noise that suggested he would enjoy pushing James into the nearest snowbank.
“And what bothered me was that she didn't look unhappy with it.” The hollow feeling I had earlier returned in full force. The fact that she hadn’t seemed to want to reject James’ advances at all had sat like a stone in my stomach all morning.
I had replayed the scene more times than I wanted to admit.
The stillness. The way she stood near the counter.
The way she didn't step back. The private moment between the pair that I had obviously intruded on.
Dex wiped his hands on his jeans. “Jane not pushing someone away is not evidence of interest. Maybe something else happened. Maybe you should ask her.”
“I was there and she could have said something, anything to indicate that she didn’t want him touching her, but she didn’t,” I replied woodenly. I lifted the next brace, but my hands were not quite steady. “That’s not the only thing. Yesterday, James told me about their past.”
William straightened at that.
“What did he say?” Dex asked.
“He said when Jane used to work for him she had feelings for him. He made it seem that it was all one sided, and that she thought they were in a relationship. He laughed about it. Told me that she believed he would propose.” I placed the brace where it needed to be, waiting for Dex to drill the hole then screw it securely.
“He said that?” Dex frowned, not even bothering to drill.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
William’s expression tightened as though someone had scraped something across glass.
“James told me he fired her because she got too attached,” I added.
“He said she was in love with him. So when I saw her with him today, I thought… maybe she still has feelings for him. However, I’m completely confused as to why he was making advances on her.
He made it sound like he didn’t like her at all. I must have misunderstood.”
“That man is unbelievable.” Dex drilled the hole, then switched out the bit.
William walked to the support beam and rested both hands on it. He took a long breath. In the quiet that followed, a cold draft moved through the basement, rustling a plastic tarp near the stairs. The sound made the space feel even more isolated, like the inn itself was listening.
“Jane was confident before she left for the city,” he said quietly. “She was happy. She loved baking. She loved working in the kitchen and creating all sorts of food. She had a brightness to her.”
He nodded toward the ceiling, toward the kitchen above us.
“That brightness dimmed when she worked for James. Every time she came home, she was a little more tired. A little more unsure of herself. She talked less about her days. She smiled less,” William recalled with a heavy voice.
“I asked her to come home several times,” he continued. “She would not. She kept saying she could learn from James. That he saw potential in her. That he was going to help her grow.”
“But he didn’t,” I surmised. I closed my eyes for a moment. Something wasn’t adding up here. Jane had been hurt and James was at fault..
“No,” William said. “He did not.”
Dex secured the bracing. His movements were slower now, thoughtful rather than mechanical.
“She had feelings for him but that doesn't mean he deserved them. He built a version of himself she wanted to believe in,” Dex surmised thoughtfully.
William nodded. “I was relieved when she left that job. I had hoped it meant she finally saw him clearly. I hoped she would heal and regain some of her inner spark again.”
I looked toward the stairs. They seemed taller than before. The distance between the basement and the kitchen felt impossible.
“Then why do you let him near her now?” I asked quietly. “You must see how he affects her.”
William’s eyes softened. “Because she is an adult. If I interfere, it becomes a battle she never asked me to fight. Jane makes her own choices. My job is to support her when she needs it, not control her life.”
He studied me for a long moment. The basement light cast shadows across his face, making him look older, wiser, and somehow steadier than the beams he trusted us to reinforce.
“But she does still have a choice,” he gently told me.
I held his gaze.
“You care for her. Anyone with eyes can see that,” William stated the obvious.
Of course I cared for her. It was harder not to. Caring for Jane had become like breathing air, or drinking water. It was vital to my survival.
Dex leaned his shoulder against the bracing. “Lucy thinks Jane likes you too, by the way. She said it with the same tone she uses when pointing out that the sky is blue.”
A slow heat crept up my neck.
“I thought she did,” I said quietly. “Yesterday she looked at me in a way that felt… different.”
William gave a small, knowing smile. “I have seen that look.”
“But then I saw her with James this morning, and everything I thought I understood shifted.” I shrugged unhappily.
Dex shook his head. “You must have misread the situation.”
“Maybe,” I said, though the word caught in my throat.
“You did. Jane doesn’t get that soft look for James. She gets it when you walk into a room. She looks for you and always is happy you’re nearby,” he insisted. “You say she didn’t push James away in the kitchen, but did she look happy? Was she pleased he was standing close to her?”
The sentence stunned me as I recalled the memory. “No. She didn’t look happy at all. I thought it was because I was interrupting them.”
“Maybe it was because she didn’t want to be near him at all,” Dex suggested.
I steadied another brace and drilled it in place. My hands felt steadier now, not because I was sure of anything, but because I finally understood how wrong my assumptions might have been.
William walked to another beam and tapped it lightly. “If you want to be one of her choices, you had better make sure she knows it.”
Dex nodded. “You can’t let James be the only one talking to her. He is loud enough to drown out anyone else if you let him.”
I let out a slow breath. “I don't want to rush her. Or overwhelm her.”
“Then don’t,” William said. “Start small and be steady. Show her she can trust you. Show her she has more than one path open to her.”
Dex grinned. “And stop assuming you lost before you even started.”
I picked up another board. The wood felt solid beneath my hands. Unlike the thoughts that had been twisting through my head since the morning. The cold air no longer felt sharp. It felt clarifying.
William inspected our work, then stepped back with a nod. “Good. That will hold.”
Dex gathered tools to put them away and I helped.
William placed a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let James make you think he’s won. Until Jane makes the choice, you have a chance.”
“Thank you,” I said.
We climbed the stairs, one after the other, until the warm light of the lobby reached us again. The sound of guests echoed faintly through the hall. Somewhere upstairs, pans clattered and Jane’s voice blended with Lucy’s. The scent of cinnamon drifted through the air, soft and warm.
I didn't know what Jane felt, or what she feared, or how deeply James had damaged her. But I knew that I cared for her. She deserved to feel safe and loved. And I wanted to be her choice.