Page 14 of It's the Worst Time of the Year

Chapter Five

BAILEY

I woke in a world of softness and quiet. Burrowed beneath a pile of quilts and blankets, I had to remind myself where I was: the third floor of Barrington Manor, tucked into a gigantic wrought-iron four-poster bed. I hadn’t slept so deeply in—I couldn’t even recall how long. No alarm blaring in my ear, no early-morning conference calls, no frantic rush to hail a cab or beat the traffic. Just warmth, hushed silence, and the gentle hush of wind outside the window.

I turned onto my side, inhaling the faint scent of lavender and something earthy in the linens. The heavy velvet curtains had been left half-open, and a pearly light filtered in, revealing that the snow was still coming down. Mother Nature had certainly decided to gift us with a frosted fortress—the drifts outside rose nearly to the windowsills, leaving nothing but ghostly shapes of hedges and trees beyond. There was definitely no going anywhere today. We were snowed in, well and truly. Yet somehow, the thought didn’t fill me with dread. Instead, it felt almost enchanting, as though we’d stumbled into a secret holiday hideaway sealed off from the rest of the world. If onlywe could all keep from killing each other, we might actually be able to enjoy ourselves a little. A rueful smile came to my face as I snuggled deeper under the covers and gazed at the swirling snowflakes outside the window.

Last night’s dinner replayed in my mind. After we’d discovered Edna’s hidden stash of supplies and coaxed the ancient generator to life, the four of us—Jacob, Theodore, Edna, and I—had ended up in the kitchen, cobbling together the stew. Edna had taken charge, and what a miracle-worker she proved to be: she turned a few root vegetables, a package of frozen beef tips, a tin of broth, and some dried herbs into the most mouthwatering stew I’d tasted in years. We’d devoured it at a makeshift dining arrangement in the parlor, not saying much because we’d all been worn out and ravenous. The meal had been unexpectedly comforting. Afterwards, Theodore’s grumblings had quieted, Jacob’s teasing had softened, and Edna had hummed a Christmas carol while tidying up. I’d helped her peel carrots and chop onions, enjoying the warmth of the kitchen and her cheerful chatter, feeling oddly at home despite the strangeness of the setting.

Later, we’d divided up the bedrooms. Theodore and Edna had chosen rooms on the second floor—he’d insisted on one with a view over the driveway, as if he expected a plow to appear at any moment—and Edna had settled into a chamber decorated with faded floral wallpaper. Jacob and I had ventured up to the third floor, following a corridor lit by a single string of Christmas lights plugged into a hallway socket. We’d found extra blankets, linens, and towels tucked neatly into old-fashioned armoires. My own room boasted an en-suite bathroom complete with a claw-foot tub, and I’d indulged in a long, hot soak, letting the stress of yesterday’s journey melt away. By the time I crawled into the large bed, I’d fallen asleep instantly, the kindof deep, dreamless slumber that comes only when your body is completely spent but utterly safe.

I stretched my arms overhead languidly, relishing the fact that no shrill beeping was forcing me to rise. Instead, I chose to get up out of sheer contentment. Swinging my feet to the floor, I found slippers (thankfully discovered in a closet last night) and padded over to the window. The snow was still drifting lazily down, big fluffy flakes that glimmered in the morning light. The power was on, judging by the soft hum of the house and the subtle warmth in the radiators near the wall. We had electricity, we had food, we had blankets—this storm would not defeat us.

After dressing—I made my way downstairs. The grand staircase was a sight to behold. Yesterday it had seemed a sad relic of times gone by, but now, with holiday lights twinkling along the banister, it was downright festive. The scent of something delicious wafted up, prompting my stomach to growl. I followed my nose toward the kitchen.

I entered to find a cozy domestic scene: Edna stood at the large wooden table, cracking eggs into a chipped porcelain bowl, her tinsel scarf replaced this morning by a Santa-patterned apron. The strands of her silver hair were twisted up in a loose bun, and she hummed quietly as she worked. Jacob, broad-shouldered and focused, hovered over the stovetop, turning strips of bacon in a cast-iron pan. The sizzle of hot fat was music to my ears, and a curl of smoky scent made my mouth water. Theodore appeared from a doorway that presumably led to the cellar, a dusting of flour on his impeccable trousers, carrying a sack of flour and a jug of maple syrup.

“Found your flour,” he said to Edna, trying to sound put-upon but not entirely succeeding. “And maple syrup. Anything else you require, madam?”

Edna looked over her shoulder. “No, Theodore, that’s all. Thank you.”

He gave a half-hearted huff, but I caught the corner of his mouth twitch upward. He liked being useful, even if he pretended otherwise.

“Good morning,” I said, stepping forward. “It smells amazing in here.”

“Morning, Bailey,” Jacob said, glancing over with a smile that sent a pleasant warmth through my chest. “We’re going all out for breakfast—pancakes, bacon, maybe some scrambled eggs if Edna is feeling generous.”

Edna winked at me. “I’m always generous. Especially when it comes to feeding people.”

“I can help, too,” I offered. “How about I make coffee and set the table?”

“That would be perfect, dear,” Edna said. “The coffee beans are in that tin on the counter. There’s a grinder and a French press too. Help yourself.”

I got to work carefully grinding beans and filling the kettle to boil water. As I did, I noticed Theodore straightening silverware and checking the mugs, as if he couldn’t resist making himself useful. The tension from yesterday had abated somewhat, though it still lingered beneath the surface. The storm outside had forced us into a kind of truce, each of us leaning into our best behaviors—or at least trying to.

Jacob plated the bacon, his forearms flexing as he lifted the heavy pan. I turned away quickly, feeling a flush on my cheeks. The coffee beans released their aromatic oils under the grinder’s burrs, and I inhaled deeply to steady myself. Focus on coffee, Bailey, I told myself. Not on Jacob’s arms. Not on the way he’d smiled when he saw you this morning.

Eventually, we settled around the small kitchen table. Edna poured pancake batter onto a griddle while Theodore warmed the syrup in a small pot. I brought over a tray with fresh coffee, cream, and sugar. Jacob took the seat across from me, his knee brushing mine under the table as we arranged ourselves. The accidental touch sent a spark through me, but I pretended not to notice. We were all just too close together in this cozy kitchen, that’s all.

Conversation was pleasant, if slightly strained. We talked about the snow—how long it might be before a plow ventured this far out into the countryside, how the roads must be completely buried. Edna speculated that it might be two days at least, given the drifts. Theodore grumbled that he had no intention of spending Christmas trapped, but he didn’t sound as aggressive as before. Jacob mused that maybe we’d just have to make our own Christmas magic right here. I glanced up at him over my coffee mug, and he shot me a playful, almost conspiratorial wink that made me smile behind the rim.

Breakfast was sumptuous: fluffy pancakes drizzled with real maple syrup, crisp bacon that melted in your mouth, scrambled eggs that Edna whipped up at the last second. By the time we finished, I felt delightfully full and content. Outside, the storm continued to swirl, but inside we had warmth, good food, and—dare I say it?—the beginning of a team spirit.

After cleaning up (Theodore washed while Jacob and I dried, and Edna arranged the dishes neatly in the cabinets), we retreated to the various rooms. Edna settled into the living room, a basket of colorful yarn at her feet, and soon began crocheting something—perhaps a scarf or a blanket, it was hard to tell with the speed of her nimble fingers. Theodore claimed an armchair by the window and cracked open a paperback thrillerhe’d found on a dusty shelf. He looked oddly at ease, his rigid posture softened as he immersed himself in the story.

Jacob and I had planned to do some work—at least, that was the excuse. We retrieved our laptops and set up at opposite ends of a large mahogany desk in the study. Snowy light filtered through the tall windows, and a pair of old-fashioned lamps provided a cozy glow. The problem was, I couldn’t concentrate. Instead of reviewing documents or answering emails (not that I had much signal to send anything out), I found myself sneaking glances at Jacob’s profile. The way he ran a hand through his hair when he was thinking, the subtle furrow of his brow as he stared at the screen. Occasionally, our eyes met, and a silent current passed between us. I couldn’t quite decipher it—anticipation, uncertainty, something that made the air feel electric.

After half an hour of pretending to work, I gave up. “I’m going to explore the mansion a bit,” I said softly, closing my laptop.

Jacob looked up, curiosity in his gaze. “Need company?”

I hesitated. Part of me wanted him to come along, but another part needed space to clear my head. “I’ll be fine,” I said, offering a reassuring smile. “I’m just going to poke around. I’m feeling restless.”

He nodded, though I noticed a hint of disappointment flicker across his face. “All right. Don’t get lost among the cobwebs.”

I laughed softly. “I’ll leave a trail of breadcrumbs.”

Easing out of the study, I took a hallway I hadn’t tried yet. The house revealed itself in layers: dusty corridors leading to rooms that seemed frozen in time. I passed a small sitting room with delicate rose-patterned wallpaper and lace curtains.Another room contained shelves of antique dolls; their painted faces eerie but beautiful at the same time. Further along, I entered a room that appeared to be some sort of storage space for holiday decorations—vintage Christmas ornaments, strings of old-fashioned bulbs, tinsel in faded colors, and hand-carved nutcrackers. A treasure trove of Christmas past.

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