Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Whitney
I manage to find my way back to the Charming Inn—my home for the next two weeks—with only one wrong turn. And it’s hard to miss, being a massive, historical home overlooking the lake.
There aren’t any other vehicles in the guest parking, so my fellow visitors must be out and about. I haven’t met them, since I’m adept at avoiding the social areas during peak chatting time, but I know there’s a young child who loves to sing in one of the rooms, and a couple that doesn’t seem to like each other very much in another. Neither says relaxing vacation to me, but it’s irrelevant. I’m here to work.
I sling my computer bag over my shoulder and then, being very careful not to drop any of the papers stuck haphazardly between the covers, I grab the binder from the passenger seat. Once it’s tucked securely in my arm, I grab the fresh coffee I bought from the cupholder and go inside. Penny steps into the room when she hears the door. According to Donovan, whose in-laws own this place, Penny—who looks to be in her fifties, with pale blonde hair and curves for days—was hired to run the inn after Donovan swept Natalie off her feet and she wanted to travel with him more than she wanted to mind the family business.
“Welcome back, Miss Forrester,” Penny says. I tried to get her to call me by my first name when I checked in yesterday, but apparently that’s not her thing.
“Thank you. I’m probably going to spend the rest of the day working in my room.” I step out of my heels and, mindful of the binder and my coffee, crouch to hook my fingers in the backs of them.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she says before going back to whatever she’d been doing.
I make my way through the inn to the staircase. It’s lovely, as inns go, I guess. A nice balance of class and comfort without being too fussy. There are four rooms on the second floor, and an ADA accessible room on the first floor. And Penny’s space is on the third floor. I usually stay in hotels when I travel because nobody expects you to make small talk with strangers, but the Charming Inn is…well, it’s actually quite charming.
Once I’m behind my closed door, I place the binder on the bed, drop my shoes, and set the coffee and my bag on the small table I’m using as a desk. I sigh in relief as I unzip the skirt and step out of it. The blazer and shirt get tossed over the arm of the chair, and then I pop my earphones in.
In my camisole and briefs, I crank up the music and dance it out. Not wildly, of course. I don’t want Penny to wonder what I’m up to, but I move my body to two high energy songs before I take a really deep breath and slowly exhale.
It’s a habit I discovered during my first internship in college, when I had trouble transitioning from work time to not-working time. Not that there was a lot of time off then—or now , to be honest—but the only way I could not burn out was to be more deliberate about relaxing. Stripping off the business armor and a few minutes of dancing lets my body know we’re done with the serious stuff and now we can chill.
I stick my earphones back in their case and make a quick trip to the (thankfully) ensuite bathroom before grabbing my coffee and notebook from the desk. The cup I set on the nightstand to keep it away from the binder, but the notebook I toss next to it. Then I sit cross-legged on the bed and open the cover.
Rob wasn’t lying. The collection of papers, photos, invoices, and clippings is more a history of the event than an instruction manual. Bits of newspaper that are yellowed and crisp. Pages with torn holes that can’t be fastened in place.
I’m pretty sure the notes on the thin paper I’m holding right now were written with a fountain pen.
It doesn’t take long for my hyperfocus to kick in—my brain loves a challenging task—and I sort everything into categories first. There are lists and instructions and other papers relevant to the organization and running of the event. Then there are newspaper clippings and photographs that serve more like a chronicle of the Christmas Fair over the years. I do my best to sort the former by priority and the latter by date.
I need plastic sleeves to hold some of these in the binder, I think. And also some of those adhesive reinforcements for the punched holes that have torn.
My phone rings—or more accurately, my smartwatch vibrates to let me know my phone is silently ringing—and I snatch up my earphones when I see Donovan Wilson’s name on the screen.
I pop in an earphone as I slide the screen to accept the call. “Hello, Mr. Wilson.”
“How did everything go today?”
“I think it went well. Mr. Byrne gave me the information he had regarding the fair and I just finished going through it. I’m currently organizing my thoughts—” Or a hundred years’ worth of the random thoughts of strangers, anyway. “—and I’ll be ready to go when we reconvene tomorrow.”
Did he just chuckle? It sounded like a chuckle. What did his brother-in-law tell him? “I’m glad to hear it. I’m sure Rob will appreciate the help.”
I’m still not sure about that, but I don’t make it a habit of contradicting the guy who signs my checks—or employs the department that triggers the automatic deposit of my salary, I guess.
“I’m glad to be of assistance,” is all I say.
“Let me know if you need anything at all from me, and I’ll touch base with you soon.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wilson. Goodnight.”
Now that my boss has yanked me away from the task I’ve been immersed in—and those stray thoughts about his wife’s brother—I realize I’m hungry.
And when I open my favorite food delivery app, hoping to arrange for a bag of food to appear magically on the inn’s front porch, I’m thankful there’s no laughter sound effect to go with the nope the app gives me.
I’m going to have to venture out to get food, and if I’m going out, I may as well hit up the nearest office supply store. I always carry an extra charging cord for my laptop, but I haven’t dealt with an analog workflow since high school.
After a search on my phone, I’m not surprised there aren’t any office supply box stores in Charming Lake. I doubt the general store will have what I need, so it looks like I’m taking a field trip to the closest city.