Page 2 of Dancing in Lake Mistletoe

Keller takes a left onto a small two-lane road that winds around a lake and leads us to a hillside that is dotted with an array of inns and bed-and-breakfast homes that look out onto the water.

The tires crunch over the gravel as we pull up to the Gingerbread Inn. The building looks exactly how I imagined it, like something out of a storybook. A Colonial-style house with dark green shutters and intricate white trim curling along the eaves. Large planters, filled with yellow and orange mums, and pumpkins in all shapes and sizes line the front steps.

Keller pulls up to the side of the inn and stops in front of a massive garage.

“Welcome to your home away from home,” he says as we exit the truck, and he grabs my large bag.

He ushers us to the inn’s rear entrance.

The air smells clean, tinged with pine and wood smoke from a nearby chimney. The porch creaks softly underfoot as I drag my carry-on up the steps, and a little brass bell chimes when Keller pushes open the door. The entryway is filled with soft light. There is a long bench beside the door with boots linedbeneath it. A series of hooks above the bench holds coats and scarves of varied styles and colors.

“This way,” Keller says as he starts down the hallway.

I follow him as the aroma of cinnamon, butter, and the faintest hint of coffee envelops me.

When we make it to the front of the inn, we are greeted by a woman seated behind a desk.

“Welcome!” she bellows as she looks up from the computer screen with a wide smile, setting down a teacup.

She’s probably in her early thirties with dark hair cut in a neat bob and warm brown eyes that crinkle at the corners.

“Annette, this is Mindi, our guest from New York,” Keller says, introducing me.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mindi.” Her voice is bright and warm. “I hope you had a nice flight and drive in from the airport,” she says as she taps on the keyboard.

“Not too bad, and Keller here was an excellent escort. The drive was beautiful,” I say, returning her smile.

“That’s what we like to hear! The leaves are showing off this year, aren’t they?” She beams as she glances out the windows that overlook the front of the inn, where the trees seem to glow under the late afternoon sun.

“They sure are,” I agree.

She says over her shoulder to Keller, “I have her in room 203.”

He nods and reaches over to relieve me of my carry-on. “I’ll take this and your suitcase up for you while you get checked in,” he says before heading to a staircase that sits to the left.

“Willa will be so pleased you’re here. Let me call her. She’s been looking forward to meeting you,” Annette says.

Before I can respond, she steps around the counter and disappears down a short hallway, leaving me in the quiet, cozy lobby. The place feels like someone’s home, not a hotel. There’s aroom just behind the desk with a large brick fireplace, already lit and flickering. It has floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the water. The walls are papered with a rose pattern, and the furniture is old English chic with a sofa and several mismatched armchairs, arranged around a low coffee table, stacked with magazines and a vase full of fresh flowers. A baby grand piano sits in the far corner. A three-tier crystal chandelier is the main focal point of the magnificent space. A faint jazz melody hums through the air, blending with the gentle ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner.

When she returns a moment later, she’s followed by a stunning woman with long, dark hair. A chubby baby boy with a tuft of dark hair is perched on her hip.

“Mindi! Welcome, welcome!” She pulls me into a light, unexpected hug before stepping back to study me. “I’m Willa, the owner. We’re so glad you made it.”

“Thank you,” I say, a little overwhelmed but charmed by her warmth. “It’s such a beautiful place. I can’t wait to settle in.”

“Oh, you’ll love it here. We’ll make sure of that. You’ve already met Annette and my husband, Keller. This is our son, Beckham; he’s six months old.” She looks down at the cutie pie, who offers me a wide smile, and then gestures toward the hallway. “And here comes my mother-in-law, Trixie. She’s the real boss around here. She’ll be looking after you during your stay.”

Trixie strides into the room, her presence impossible to miss. She’s much older than both Annette and Willa with sleek silver hair, and she’s wearing a fitted white sweater over gray slacks.

“Hi there, Mindi,” Trixie says, offering a warm smile. “It’s great to meet you. I manage things around here, so if you need anything at all, just ask.”

“Nice to meet you too,” I say, feeling a little like I’ve stumbled into a holiday movie.

“Well,” Annette says, clapping her hands together, “shall we show you to your suite? You’ve gotThe Nutcrackerroom, of course. It’s one of our favorites.”

“That sounds perfect,” I say.

Willa grins. “Oh, it is,” she says. “We decorated it just for you. Once you’re settled in, please come back down and have some coffee, and we’ll chat.”

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