Page 29 of The Christmas Eve Delivery

I gave Lydia my arm as we scrolled toward the small downtown area. “What do you want to show me this afternoon?”

She pointed to the gazebo. “Isn’t it pretty? Could you picture it surrounded by roses?”

I narrowed my gaze and tried to look at it from her perspective and surrounded with red roses.

“That’s all I can think about,” she confessed. “Brookdale is very picturesque and yet there’s nobody here taking pictures. That gazebo is a replica of an early Edwardian style. Half the buildings in town are from that era, or slightly earlier. I think if we did something as a town, we could become one of those destination wedding places. What do you think?”

“Depends on what thesomethingyou are thinking about is.” I had to agree with her. The town was very charming. That was one of the reasons I wanted to build the resort in Brookdale. I thought people would be attracted to not only the natural resources around, but the town itself.

“I don’t know,” she continued. “If we could get a social media influencer to come have a wedding here, or maybe even convince a designer to open a bridal shop or something like that, I think we could really turn this town around.” As she spoke, she walked in a slow circle and stopped so that we were looking at the side of the library.

“Can’t you picture that as a backdrop for wedding pictures?” she asked.

I gazed down at her as she looked out at some vision she saw in her mind.

I could tell she wanted that as a backdrop for her wedding. She would make a beautiful bride in front of that very house, surrounded with roses.

15

LYDIA

Iwas sad that Miles had returned to the city, but I honestly hadn’t thought I was going to be so sad that it would make me sick. I hadn’t felt well on and off before he showed up, but after he left, it was almost like I was sick. Almost.

I felt sick to my stomach like I had eaten entirely too much, but the problem was, I was barely eating at all. I was sad, uncomfortable, and depressed. Was I sad because I didn’t feel well, or was I not feeling well because I was so sad?

When Miles had been around, I had been too distracted to notice whether my stomach felt woozy or not. He made me feel giddy and like I was floating in the clouds. There was no possible way I would have admitted to feeling slightly off during my time with him.

I didn’t want to do anything. When my most recent guests checked out, I just didn’t have the energy to go clean and prepare their room for the next guest. Instead, I called Mrs. Griffin to see if she was interested in picking up an extra shift and put theClosedsign on the door. I went to take a nap until she showed up.

When I got up from my nap, I stumbled my way out to the lobby. I had one of those uncomfortable nap hangovers, like I wasn’t quite awake yet.

Mrs. Griffin took one look at me and started cooing. “Oh, sweetie, you look about done in.”

I felt ‘done in’. I pressed my palm to my forehead and then to my cheeks, trying to feel whether I was running a fever or not.

“Are you feeling unwell?” she asked.

“I am so exhausted.” I admitted. I did not mention how incredibly sad I was that Miles had left, but she was smart enough to figure it out. After all, he wasn’t sitting in the lobby playing on his phone like he had been the past few days.

It had been nice having him around. I wished he would have stayed longer. But it wasn’t as if we had some kind of arrangement for whatever this relationship thing was between us. Was what we had even a relationship? Whatever it was, I wished I could have more.

“I’m just not feeling right,” I admitted. “Thank you for being able to come in. I’m going to head back to bed, I think.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” she asked.

I shook my head. It made me dizzy. I braced against the front desk and closed my eyes tight, hoping the spinning would stop.

“You sit down right here,” Mrs. Griffin said as she took my arms and guided me to one of the lobby chairs. “If anyone needs anything, you tell them I will be right back.”

She bustled down the hallway toward my apartment, and then she turned around and marched right past me. “I keep forgettingyour kitchen is on the opposite side from where you live. Stay put, I’ll be right back.”

I certainly did not feel like moving. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, she returned from the kitchen carrying a steaming mug.

“I made you some chicken noodle soup. It’s still hot, so blow on it.” She set the mug down on the side table.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

“Somebody did, and I thought you were about to fall over. If your tummy is sour, just sip the broth. The noodles are good if you think you can handle a little food. Get that in you, then go back to bed.”

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