Page 7 of Merry Mended Hearts

The stool Junie sat on squeaked as she rose to her feet and circled around the reception desk. She tiptoed to look at something out the large windows behind me. I pivoted, watching her.

What was she doing? Was there room in the barn after all?

I’d take anything at this point.

“I think he’s gone for the night,” she mumbled, drumming her fingers on her thighs.

“Who’s gone?” I asked.

“No one.” She perked up, beaming at me with the slightest hint of reserve. “I just…I have an idea, but I can’t have Boone freaking out at me for doing this. My mom is gone, so she won’t care, but my cousin?”

“For doingwhat?” What was she talking about?

“Shh. You can stay here.” She offered both hands to me and lowered them again with an exhale. “But you can’t tell anyone I’m doing this. I’ll make up an NDA or something because I’m reallynotsupposed to do this.”

“Anything,” I said with buckets of relief pouring fresh intervals of oxygen over my head. Every breath I took felt like a gasp after being submerged under water.

What was she talking about? What was she not supposed to do? Kick out other guests? Bunk them into the same rooms to clear one for me?

Junie peered in one direction, then another, before tilting in. Her eyes had flecks of gold around the irises and the freckles spraying across her nose were adorable.

“There’s an old family wing here,” she whispered, “one we don’t let outsiders know about. There’s a room there that you can stay in.”

The heaven’s opened. Angelic choruses began to sing.

“Oh, my gosh. Seriously?”

“Shh!”

Oh, right. I lowered my voice, peering right, then left, before tilting in. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. I mean that. Not a word to anyone.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not a blogger, are you?”

Chagrined, I shook my head. “No. I’m not affiliated with anything like that. I’m just a writer.”

Those narrowed eyes thinned to slits. “Writer?”

“An author. Books. I write books.”

Junie nodded once as if in slow motion. “And you won’t…document this or anything?”

“If you want me to sign something, I will,” I said. “I won’t say a word. Not even to my mom. My lips are sealed. I promise. This means so much.”

Junie lingered and said nothing for so long that I worried she’d retract her offer. But moments passed, and she nodded her head again.

“This way,” she said, waving for me to follow her.

We passed a long staircase whose banisters were woven with garlands. The scent of cinnamon was pervasive with every step. More garlands were strewn along an opening into the hall where an elevator was situated. Ahead, double doors whose glass looked into the dining area. To the right, there was a single door with the wordsEmployees Onlyon it.

My heart climbed into my throat. Junie turned the knob and waved me on.

This part of the inn was nowhere near as nice or branded as the rest of it was. While the carpets out there were red and gold, this carpet was old, worn, and a shade of blue. The walls here didn’t have classy wallpaper but were a simple tan color. There was, however, a garland and Christmas lights twinkling around one of the three doors in sight.

“This used to be a house before my grandparents added onto it, and this is where my cousin and I grew up,” Junie explained.

I remembered the cowboy mentioning something about his grandparents, about how he’d worked here when Junie’s grandparents turned this place into an inn. Was he the cousin she was talking about?

She’d called him Boone.

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