Page 8 of Stuck in Christmas

“Bonnie.” Joe rushed to the woman’s side. “What are you doing up? The doctor told you to stay in bed.”

I shook my head. This must be a joke. They pull pranks on the holiday tourists who are too tired to object. “Okay. Okay. Do you guys do this bit every day?”

“What bit?” Joe looked genuinely confused.

“You ask her why she's out of bed, and she tells you it’s because Eli's making her famous peach pie, and she wants to make sure he does it right,” I explained.

“That’s true.” Bonnie’s eyebrows shot up as her eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

I shrugged, the corners of my mouth twitching in amusement. “Because we already had this conversation yesterday before I tried to leave town and couldn’t.”

“Was it Joe’s directions?” Bonnie queried, her hard-earned wisdom evident in her eyes.

“I couldn’t say, exactly,” I admitted.

“Well, no matter,” Bonnie said, dismissing the topic with a wave of her hand. “You need to warm up.” She leaned toward the kitchen and yelled, “Eli! Bring out some peach pie and hot chocolate.”

“Heard.” Eli's voice echoed back from the depths of the kitchen.

“I think Miss Renee might have bumped her head when she fell into the snowbank out front.” Joe cast a sidelong glance at me.

“Eli!” Bonnie yelled as he emerged. “I told you to shovel that walk this afternoon. Why didn’t you do it?”

“Yes, ma’am. I was getting around to it, but,” Eli’s voice trailed off under Bonnie’s stern gaze.

“But ifs and buts were candy and nuts, it’d be Christmas every day,” Bonnie interrupted. “Go grab some towels for our guest.”

Eli scurried off, and the absurdity of my situation hit me. “This is surreal,” I muttered to myself. If this was a bit to prank tired tourists, they were top-notch at remembering their lines and where they stood every time. I’ve seen Broadway musicals with less precision.

“What is, Miss Renee?” Joe asked.

“This—this conversation. We had it yesterday, don’t you remember? You told me about the ice storm and all the weird weather that happens every year. Then you said you think smartphones are making us all dumber.”

“Well, they are,” he replied matter-of-factly, puffing up his chest as if defending a mighty argument.

“Riiiiight,” I drew out the word.

“He still has a flip phone.” Bonnie winked at me.

“And you talked about your superhero,” I paused as goosebumps popped up. Something different appeared, and different was telling,right? Different means they missed something. “That’s quite the pin you have there, Ms. Bonnie.”

She caressed the side of the painted enamel and metal pin that showed two turtle doves wrapped around each other. “Isn’t it lovely?” Bonnie beamed. “Joe gave that to me on our second Christmas as a married couple. Probably ain’t worth more than a quarter, but it has sentimental value.”

As much as I enjoyed Bonnie’s hospitality, I felt I couldn’t get warm. I was so cold from the inside out. No amount of hot chocolate would fix this, but maybe a hot shower and a warm bed would. “I think I need to lie down. Is the Mistletoe Suite still available?”

“It’s the only room available,” Eli called from the kitchen, returning with a plate of pie and mugs of steaming hot chocolate.

“Great.” I grabbed my bags, headed toward the door between the diner and the inn, and pushed through. I was halfway up the stairs when Eli caught up with me.

“Are you feeling alright, Miss…?”

“Renee. Renee Douglas.”

“That name sounds familiar,” he mused, then reached for my bags.

I let him take the luggage the rest of the way up the stairs. “It should. I told it to you yesterday,” I laughed.

“I feel like I know your name from somewhere,” Eli continued, a frown surfacing on his brow.

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