Page 10 of The Inn at Evergreen Hollow

She bit her lip as she stepped into the shower, trying not to think about Rob. She hadn’t cried over it since she’d boarded the plane to Vermont, and she told herself not to start crying over him again now. There was no point. It wouldn’t change anything, and he wouldn’t know or care. He didn’t deserve her tears, and she knew both Melanie and her mother would say thesame thing, if they saw her in the shower fighting back the wave of sadness that washed over her.

Getting ready for the day felt strange. She rummaged under the sink for a blow-dryer, finding one of the small hotel-sized ones that would take ages to dry all of her thick, long hair. She set about the task anyway, clipping up most of it atop her head and going section by section, spraying heat protectant and detangler until her hair was smooth and straight and glossy.

At home, she would have had a half-dozen more products scattered across her counter, along with makeup, but she’d decided to make an effort to tone things down a little back home. She knew exactly the sorts of looks she would get if she hung out in Evergreen Hollow with perfectly straightened hair and a full face of makeup, but there was only so much she could do. Even with her hair just blow-dried, her face bare except for her thorough skin-care routine, and her skinny jeans and cashmere sweater, she looked out of place.

She looked too polished, too perfect. It was a look she’d spent years cultivating, with expensive skin care and designer clothes and a hairdresser that she trusted with her life to keep her grays covered and her hair perfectly cut and colored, but here it stuck out. The sweater was obviously expensive, the jeans an even dark wash that screamed designer, the tiny diamond studs in her ears that she had thought were subtle when she packed them shouting that she no longer belonged here.

Nora bit her lip, walking back out to the bedroom and sinking back down onto the bed to pull on her black velvet ankle boots—shoes that, she realized now, were entirely out of place in the heavy Vermont snow. The town did their best to keep paths cleared, but it wouldn’t be as efficiently done as it was in Boston.

She’d brought Hunter boots, and although designer snow boots seemed to once again scream that she no longer belonged here, she swapped her velvet booties out for those instead.

At least she’d look as if she tried.

She headed down the stairs, the scent of breakfast wafting up as she walked into the living room. The dining room was just past that—a room bordering the kitchen with a long, well-loved wooden table covered in a holiday runner and set with the China that the inn had been using for as long as Nora could remember. A gingerbread-scented candle was burning on the sideboard, and a large window took up most of one side of the room, looking out to the property beyond. It was a vista of pristine snow, dotted with more maples, a winding stone path leading out through them for anyone who might want to take a post-breakfast walk.

There were only three other guests at the table, Nora noticed. An older couple sitting side by side, sipping coffee and talking quietly as they looked out at the view, and a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, typing away at a laptop with a mug next to her. Someone on a writing retreat, Nora thought, as she walked quickly through the dining room before anyone could say anything to her, and into the kitchen.

Rhonda was at the stove, pulling what Nora saw was a pan of mini quiches out of the oven. She set them on the counter, beaming at her daughter as Nora walked in.

“So that’s what I smelled. They look delicious.”

“I made your favorite. Ham and cheese. Here, I’ll get you one. No, sit down. You don’t need to do anything.” Rhonda waved a hand as she reached for one of the China plates, scooping a quiche onto it and walking to the smaller table that Nora had sat down at with the plate and a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. “I’ll get you some coffee. Creamer?” Ever the caretaker, she was quick to get breakfast together before Nora could protest that she could serve it herself, and not put her mother out.

“Whatever you have is fine.” Nora picked up her fork, cutting off a piece of the quiche. It was soft and smelled incredible, andshe could remember what it would taste like before she even took a bite. The ham and eggs and cheese would have come from a local farm, and Rhonda had perfected the recipe over years. “I’m not picky.”

Rhonda laughed, taking a bottle of creamer out of the fridge and pouring a little into a mug of coffee. “We both know that’s not true. But there’s nothing wrong with it.” She poured herself a cup too, coming to sit down for a moment next to Nora.

“The guests must either eat early or late these days,” Nora remarked, taking another bite of the quiche. “There was hardly anyone in the dining room. Oh wow, I forgot how good this was.”

“I’m sure it can’t live up to some of those fancy brunch places in the city, but I do my best.” A shadow briefly passed over Rhonda’s face. “Business has been a bit slow lately.”

Nora looked up at her mother, surprised. She had no idea that things had slowed down at the inn, and she felt a sharp stab of concern. The holiday season was usually one of the busiest. Evergreen Hollow had made itself into something of a Christmas destination, the perfect picturesque Vermont town, and Nora had been expecting to come downstairs to a full table. But now that she thought about it, it had been odd that the living room had been so empty the night before too—no guests sitting by the fire and playing chess or checkers or reading, no one sipping cocoa or a glass of mulled wine.

She took another sip of her coffee, on the verge of asking how long things had been that way, when the back door opened and Nora saw her eldest sister kicking snow off of her boots.

The moment Caroline stepped into the kitchen and saw Nora, Nora could feel the tension starting to thicken in the air.

All of it came rushing back in an instant, tightening Nora’s chest—all of the reasons for their estrangement and why she’d been so hesitant to come home and deal with her sister on top of the hurt from her breakup. It had been more than a decadesince their falling-out, since Caroline had called Nora selfish and thoughtless for taking off for Boston with Rob instead of staying home and helping with the inn after their mother’s surgery, but it still stung as if the argument had happened yesterday.

There had been times when Nora had wanted to reach out. ButCarolinenever had, and Nora couldn’t make herself be the first one to do so. Like so many other things dealing with ‘back home’, she’d told herself that she would deal with it later, put it off for another day. Days turned into weeks, months, and years—and now she was sitting at the small family table in the kitchen, looking at her sister’s blue-eyed glare from across the room.

Caroline’s gaze swept over Nora, and Nora felt her cheeks burn. It was exactly the look she’d been imagining when she got ready. Caroline looked the same as she always had, if a bit older—no nonsense, with her slightly graying brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail and not a speck of makeup highlighting her narrowed blue-gray eyes. She was the tallest in the family, nearly as tall as their father, and it made Nora feel even smaller than usual, even from a distance. She was wearing the same faded, worn jeans that she always had, a flannel with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows despite the cold, and a pair of duck boots that had hints of chicken feed still clinging to the laces.

She had always been the most casual of the sisters, but Nora felt the difference more glaringly than ever with that one sweeping look.

Caroline had never made any secret of what she thought about Nora and her preferences, or the life she chose—but it had all come out more bluntly than ever in that final argument.

All you want is glamor and money. It’s all superficial, and you can’t even see it. Clothes that cost too much and hours spent on things that don’t matter, a job throwing parties that could be done for a fraction of the cost with a lot more love. You’re leaving people who love you for a soulless city, to work at thebeck and call of people who don’t care a thing about you. Here, at least your work is appreciated. Everything you do matters. It matters to your family most of all. But you don’t care about that. You just care about looking like you walked out of one of those magazines you spent all your allowance on when we were kids.

Nora could still hear it all, ringing in her ears. Caroline had always thought she was silly and superficial. That the hard work that Caroline had done since they were teenagers, caring for the animals and learning how to do maintenance around the place from their father and always being the one to take responsibility meant that she was the one who knew what was right. That Nora running off to Boston meant that she was shirking her duty to her family—and that her eagerness to get away was a fundamental flaw.

They’d gotten into another fight, that one visit home. Nora had come back, in her designer clothes and with stories about her job in Boston, and Caroline had scoffed at all of it.

I work hard at my job. It’s not my fault I like to look good while I do it.Nora had sniped at her sister, tired of being torn down. And Caroline had been just as quick to bite back.

It doesn’t matter how much varnish you put on particle board, it’s still not real wood. Nothing about your life is real. Everything here is.

Caroline let out a long breath, bringing Nora back to the here and now. “I’m surprised you came back tolowlyEvergreen Hollow for the holidays,” she said finally, the words flat and toneless. “Bostonmustbe more exciting this time of year, right?”

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