Page 53 of Second Chance Christmas

She eyed her planner and her attention traveled a little further until it landed on her gran’s open planner next to hers on the countertop. December twenty-sixth wasn’t too full. Baking, ice skating with the guests and preparing a large menu for New Year’s. A new set of guests was due to arrive that day too. She had to pray she found someone to take her place or pray Gran returned before Christmas. Maybe she could rope in her sister, Juniper to help out. The second half of the tornado twins lived for planning parties and would be dynamite.

“Hello? Ms. Winters.”

Oh. “Yes. Yes. I was just checking over my calendar. The day after Christmas is fine. Thank you and Mrs. Langley for such confidence.”

Even as the words came out unease took root.

“Your work speaks for itself. It came down to you and one other. You are our top pick seeing as you also know a lot about small inns and bed and breakfasts. We hope we are not taking you away from your family, but we simply cannot wait any longer. My wife and I are planning to give the inn to our son for his wedding gift this spring, as you know, and it’s high time we get on with our retirement.”

“Yes, I remember. It will make a lovely present. I promise to do my best.”

He chuckled lightly. “The wife and I are much too old to care for it ourselves anymore. We have to make the last of our years really count. We want to travel, enjoy ourselves before it is too late and let the younger, spunkier generation take on the workload of the small inn.” For the briefest of moments, Ivy had to wonder if he’d spoken with Gran.

During her meeting Ivy had learned Mrs. Langley didn’t care for the big city—a sentiment Ivy understood all too well the longer she lived in Seattle—and left the family business to Mr. Langley while she worked a small inn in upstate New York.

“I understand.” She briefly wondered if Langley Jr. knew what he was in for with his wedding ‘gift’ or if he would run from inheriting such a grand responsibility.

With that thought came another. Gran wasn’t getting younger and the tiredness she heard and saw in the Langleys tugged at a deeper thought. Was Gran in the same boat? Was she getting tired of running the B&B?

Ivy felt something shift in her mind. As though a deeper voice wanted her to see a larger picture but she couldn’t make out the blurred lines or jagged edges. She brushed it away along with another fanciful thought—what would she do with a place like this? Maybe Langley Jr. wasn’t so bad off after all. And Aspen? Being so close to him again was as though no time had passed between them at all.

She squirmed in place and cleared her throat along with her mind.

Get a grip, Ivy.

She had no business thinking like that. She tossed the idea like an unwanted Christmas present and to make sure it stayed gone she added, “I’ll reserve my flight now and email my schedule to your assistant, Mr. Langley.”

“Excellent, dear. The wife and I look forward to seeing the rest of the plans you have in mind for the inn. Now I’m being summoned to do my part in the Christmas festivities.”

She knew she had to take this job as much for her future as for her bank account. Adding Mr. Langley’s family name to her portfolio would secure client after client for the foreseeable future if she wanted to stay in this business too. Realistically, if she didn’t, where else would she go? What other options did she have? A small-scale B&B suddenly had its appeal.

“Have a good time, Mr. Langley. I’ll see you both then.”

With a flick of her thumb, she disconnected and set about booking her flight. With that done, she emailed Mr. Langley’s secretary as promised. Finished, she poured another cup of coffee and gazed out the kitchen window.

He’d taken the time to clear the ice of snow and she knew those skates didn’t magically appear by the bench. Aspen had placed them there. Soft sunshine glistened its good morning across the frozen expanse of the lake.

What was it about a fireman on ice that made her world grind to a halt and take notice? “Million-dollar question, Ivy Winters. Million-dollar question.”

And now she talked to herself. Great.

Work awaited her and time ticked away while she drank coffee and daydreamed.

She sighed when a cold nose nudged her leg. “Life used to be easier, Max. Why did we ever grow up?” Her phone buzzed and she snatched it up, hoping to see Gran’s number but found Lewis’s instead. “Ugh. What did I ever see in him?” she asked Max as she ruffled his ear and planted a kiss atop his head. She flipped the cell phone over and looked around the kitchen instead. Large glass jars filled with flour, sugar and other baking ingredients sat atop polished cherry wood shelves along the back wall. She ran a hand over the polished wood and the feel of the smooth surface beneath her palms. Something she used to do as a kid.

On summer days as teenagers, Aspen and she would sit here after a long day’s work of helping clean the extensive grounds. Her Gran loved to reward with cookies and their efforts had earned them several batches of fresh sugar cookies and lemonade. Their favorite.

Shuffling through the small trail she’d made through the Christmas decorations that led to the living room, across to the dining room and then back to the kitchen, Ivy took stock of everything she still had on her list.

Firewood needed to be chopped and brought in for each of the rooms. Grocery shopping. Still. She grimaced at that idea. She would rather paint all day and clear snow on the sidewalk so the guests would have easy access.

And the trees. She was tempted to go out to the back yard and cut down a few because she had no idea where she’d get those blasted things this close to Christmas.

She slipped on an apron from inside the pantry door and brought out mixing bowls, baking pans and set to work making a batch of her favorite cookies. Painting could wait a little while longer now that Aspen had helped with the harder projects. From there it wouldn’t take long to string the new set of lights and hang all the decorations he unearthed. “Cookies will help the work go faster, don’t you agree, Max?”

He barked from his spot by the back-kitchen door.

“Right.” Some fried chicken and homemade mashed potatoes sounded good too.

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