Page 40 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

Ana-bell: Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Jo. It’s been nuts over here. Weston and I broke up, and I’m trying to turn things around for the inn.

Jo-Ho-Ho: You broke up??? Are you okay? Honestly, I thought it was coming, but I figured you’d wait until after the busy season. You’re the one who broke up with him, right? Tell me you’re the one who broke up with him.

Ana-bell: I am. He hasn’t been very gracious about it, and to be honest, it was a bit of a scene. I’ll tell you more about it later.

Jo-Ho-Ho: Of course he wasn’t gracious about it.

Ana-bell: You just don’t like him because he thinks my Christmas fixation is unhealthy.

Jo-Ho-Ho: If yours is unhealthy, then so is mine.

Jo-Ho-Ho: I’m having problems with Craig too. That’s the personal problem I mentioned.

Ana-bell: Oh no! Didn’t he invite you to spend Christmas with his family this year? We thought that was a big step forward.

Jo-Ho-Ho: Yeah, but now he’s saying he might need to work.

Ana-bell: Isn’t he the manager of the store?

Jo-Ho-Ho: Precisely. Which is why I think it might be code for him wanting to sleep with his co-worker. They’ve been spending all this time together lately. He says it’s because they needed to do a full restock after all the Cream of Wheat got weevils. Maybe I’m panicking—you know how I spiral—but I’m worried he’s cheating on me.

Ana-bell: If he is, he’s an idiot. Did you talk to him about it?

Jo-Ho-Ho: He says I’m crazy.

Ana-bell: You are NOT crazy. Don’t let him gaslight you. I’ve realized I let way too many things go with Weston.

Ana-bell: I don’t want you to make the same mistakes.

Ana-bell: Normally, I wouldn’t condone this, but maybe you should look through his phone.

Jo-Ho-Ho: Maybe I will. Thanks, Anabelle.

Ana-bell: I’m thinking of changing the inn into a Christmas B&B. Would you be interested in helping me?

Jo-Ho-Ho: OMG, yes. I was born for this. Does this mean you’re ready to meet in person?

I start to respond, then stop. Jo is the person I probably share the most with, or she was before this week. Meeting her in person would be a big deal. Huge. I’ve already taken over the B&B, dumped my boyfriend, and befriended Ryan…

I take in a deep breath, hold it, then let it slowly gush out.

Ana-bell: Yes. Of course. I can’t wait to meet you.

It’s Thursday morning, and it’s the first day thatIhave missed breakfast since reopening the B&B.

I slept for only an hour at a time last night—something I know to be factual because I recall looking at the clock at least once every hour. Saint Nick was restless too, padding over my reclined body as if I were an uncomfortable couch he wished to return to the store.

Last night, Ryan informed me about the inspector’s visit, and sure enough, when I checked my email account, there was a curt message requesting that I set a date for the evaluation within the next week.

I selected Monday for a few reasons. Reason One: It is still several days away but is not at the end of the period of time we were given. If I’d chosen the last day, it would have created the appearance that I’d done something wrong and was worried about being caught. Reason Two: Mondays are a day of transition, and I dislike them. Why ruin a day I enjoy? Reason Three: Most of my current guests are checking out on Sunday, and a few of the rooms will be empty until Thursday. Why displace people so the inspector can look at their rooms? Much better for most of the rooms to be unoccupied. Reason Four: Ryan and Jeremy Jacobs have offered to look over the building today, on Jeremy’s day off, to try and get ahead of any possible problems. Admittedly, I have no idea how much experience Ryan and Jeremy Jacobs have in such things. I, obviously, have none.

I was tempted to text Weston and call him abominable names for doing this to me, but Cynthia, who came by after her shift to have dinner with Ryan and me, insisted it would be a bad idea to put anything in writing. So I haven’t reached out to him. I’ve just been sending bleak thoughts his way, hoping he can feel them as he goes about his business.

If nothing else, I’m encouraged by something Ryan said—Weston will probably flinch every time he hears a trumpet, possibly for the rest of his life.

A couple of guests came by when we were eating in the dining room last night, and Ryan, who’d made much too much pasta for the three of us, invited them to join us. To my astonishment, they did. Within five minutes, we knew their names—Enoch and Grace; their dog’s name—Udolpho; and what they do for aliving—he’s a brand manager, whatever that means, and she’s an author. They’re here to celebrate the release of her book.

It’s fascinating to me, the way information gushes out of some people as if they’ve turned into hoses. I can’t keep up, and most of the time I’m not tempted to try. So I didn’t say much at first, but after they praised my holiday decorations, Ryan pointed out that I am knowledgeable about Christmas attractions in the area. And I actually enjoyed myself as I gave them information on what they can see and experience locally at this time of year.

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