Chapter 4 Under Northern Skies #4
Julia moved to one end, Walker to the other, and Claire took the middle. Emma supervised like a choreographer until they glared her into helping.
“Okay,” Claire instructed. “Slow. Even. Count of three.”
“One… two… three.”
The chest rose without complaint, though its weight demanded attention. They carried it down the hallway carefully, each step a reminder of the memories it held inside. When they reached the living room, Claire motioned toward the wall between the fireplace and the front windows.
“There,” she said. “So it catches the afternoon light.”
They lowered it with the same reverence they’d picked it up. Once it was in place, Claire stepped back, brushing her hands off on her jeans.
The old chest looked instantly at home.
The grain of the wood caught the room’s glow; tiny flecks of dust floated through the air, settling around it like a soft curtain.
Paired with the newly rearranged furniture and the quiet view of the bay, it felt like the beginning of something cohesive—another piece of the inn deciding who it wanted to be.
Emma pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “It looks right. Like Mamma would approve.”
Julia nodded. “It feels like the inn has a center again.”
Walker rested a hand briefly on the lid. “You should put a small sign beside it,” he said. “Something that invites people to leave a wish.”
Claire had already sketched a rough idea. “I have a design in mind. A simple card, framed and sitting next to a basket of notecards. Nothing flashy.”
“Nothing glittery?” Julia asked.
“That’s negotiable,” Emma said.
Claire shook her head. “No glitter. Just paper. And maybe a small carved star.”
Her sisters softened at that. Mamma had kept a wooden star on her nightstand for more than twenty years, a talisman she believed brought clarity and courage.
Claire wasn’t sure she believed that exact thing—but she believed in symbols, in gestures, in the way small objects carried weight when people needed them to.
“It’s going to be a long night,” Julia said, pulling out her tablet again. “We still need to finalize festival tasks, call contractors, and update the emergency repairs budget.”
“And dinner,” Emma added. “We need dinner plans.”
“We can order from Maple & Pine,” Claire said. “They’ve still got the fall soup special.”
“That place is a lifesaver,” Walker said. “But I can cook too, you know.”
Emma’s eyebrows shot up. “You can? Since when do you cook?”
“I’ve always cooked,” he said. “You just never paid attention.”
“We thought you lived on granola bars,” Julia said.
Walker looked offended. “I have an entire spice shelf.”
Claire smiled, the edges of her heart softening more than she wanted them to. “What can you make?”
“A few things,” he said. “Chili. Roast chicken. And a salmon dish that might change your life.”
Emma slapped the table dramatically. “We are eating here tonight.”
Julia winced. “We have so much to do.”
“Walker’s salmon outweighs spreadsheets,” Emma insisted.
Claire glanced at the time. They’d earned a pause. A meal. A moment to feel like people, not project managers.
She looked at Walker. “If you’re offering, we’ll accept.”
His smile deepened. “Then I’ll start dinner in an hour. Gives you all the time to wrap up your planning.”
Emma squealed. Julia exhaled in defeat. Claire felt a spark of something warm flicker in her chest again, quickly tucked beneath practicality.
“Okay,” Claire said, forcing her voice into steady territory. “Let’s finish what we can, then take a break.”
For the next hour, the sisters gathered around the dining room table, working through festival tasks and repair priorities.
The rain slowed, the sky gradually shifting from gray to deepening blue as dusk approached.
The bay outside darkened into a glassy sheet reflecting the pocket of light housed within the inn.
Claire could feel the inn settling around them—less like a burden, more like a space waking up after a long winter.
By the time Walker brought out a cutting board and began prepping vegetables for dinner, she felt an unfamiliar sensation tug at her—something like anticipation, something like belonging, something that made her pause in the doorway as she watched him move with easy confidence.
Emma nudged Julia. “Someone’s about to develop a crush.”
Julia replied without looking up, “Someone already has.”
Claire scowled at both of them. “I can hear you.”
“We know,” Emma said sweetly.
Claire shook her head and walked into the kitchen, choosing to focus on the meal rather than their teasing. Walker glanced up with a small smile.
“Ready for dinner?” he asked.
She nodded. “Ready for everything.”
But that wasn’t entirely true.
Some things still scared her—the inn, the future, the sense that something new was forming in the spaces she thought had already settled.
Yet as Walker cooked and her sisters laughed, and the Starfall Chest waited in the nearby room, Claire felt the first gentle tug of possibility.
Not the kind that terrified.
The kind that slowly reshaped everything.
The kind that would lead them forward, even into what came next.