Page 3 of Dancing in Lake Mistletoe

“I’ll do that,” I agree.

Annette winks as she grabs a key from a row of hooks behind the desk. “Follow me,” she says.

The staircase leading to the suites is lined with old photos—black-and-white images of the inn throughout the years, framed in gold and wood. Annette points out a few as we pass, telling me little stories about the inn’s history.

“This one was from the big snowstorm in ’78,” she says, pointing to a photo of the inn under what looks like four feet of snow. “And here’s Willa’s grandmother, Wilhemina. She’s the one who turned the house into an inn.”

We make it to the second floor and down to the end of the hall, and Annette stops in front of a door with a hand-painted sign that readsTheNutcracker Suite. She turns the key in the lock and pushes the door open.

“Here we are,” she says, stepping aside to let me enter.

The room is whimsical and even cozier than I imagined, elegantly inspired byTheNutcrackerballet. A queen-size bed sits against one wall, piled high with soft quilts and plump pillows in shades of cream, burgundy, and gold. My suitcase and carry-on are already perched on top of it. The windows overlook a garden area, encased by glass panels. A fireplace flickers in the corner, casting a warm glow over the room. Its gleaming white mantelpiece holds delicate figurines of Clara, the Nutcracker Prince, and the Mouse King, arranged beneath a garland of twinkling lights and glitter-dusted pine cones.

In the corner by the window, an ornate miniature Christmas tree glimmers with glass ornaments, shaped like candies and tiny ballet slippers. Tucked beside it is a little reading nook, complete with a luxurious velvet armchair in a deep cranberry hue and a bookshelf.

“Wow, this is gorgeous,” I say as I take it all in.

“Your private bathroom is through that door,” she says, nodding toward a door to the right of the bed. “There’s coffee, tea, and hot cocoa pods in the drawer under the coffee machine. And if you need anything else, just pick up the phone—it connects directly to the front desk.”

“Thank you,” I say, dropping my purse by the bed and sinking into the armchair. The fabric is soft and welcoming, and I can already tell I’ll be spending time curled up here with a book.

She smiles, clearly pleased by my reaction. “We thought you’d like it. Willa wanted to make it special for you. We’re all excited for the new theater to open and a little starstruck to have a professional ballerina staying with us.” She glances around the room, as if making sure everything is just right. “Dinner is at seven if you’re hungry. We do a rotating menu, and tonight’s special is Trixie’s beef stew with herb dumplings.”

“That sounds perfect,” I say, already feeling my stomach rumble at the thought.

Annette gives me a quick nod. “I’ll leave you to settle in then. Just come down whenever you’re ready.”

She steps out, leaving me alone in the quiet comfort. For a moment, I sit still, letting the peace of the space sink in. The fire crackles softly.

This place already feels like a home away from home. I stand and cross to the window, watching as the evening light fades, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink. A small bird flits past, settling on a branch outside, and I smile to myself.

The Gingerbread Inn is everything I hoped it would be—and maybe a little more.

Dutch

It’s only six a.m., and I’m already in my truck with coffee steaming in the cupholder. The morning sky is a deep blue just before dawn as my seven-year-old daughter, Josie, and I head out for the day.

My first stop is to drop Josie off with my friend, Sela Prince. Sela works in the mayor’s office and lives in an apartment above the flower shop downtown. She recently got engaged to Isaac Ralston, a photographer she met when the travel magazine he freelanced for was doing a feature on holiday-themed destinations and sent him to our little town. She’ll soon be a stepmother to Isaac’s eight-year-old daughter, Cobie, who has become one of Josie’s close friends.

Sela is an angel who feeds Josie breakfast and takes her to school on the mornings I have to start my day before drop-off time. Today, I have a meeting at the nearby Sun Valley Resort Hotel before work.

I texted her before we left the house to let her know we were on our way, and when I make the turn onto Main Street, she’s waiting on the sidewalk.

I pull up to the curb and put the truck in park.

“Good morning,” Sela greets as she opens the passenger door.

“Hi, Sela,” Josie chimes.

“Morning. Thanks for taking her today,” I say as I reach into the backseat and grab her book bag.

“It’s no problem at all.”

“Is Cobie here?” Josie asks as Sela helps her down.

“Not yet, but Isaac is picking her up this evening, and she’ll be here through Halloween.”

“Yay!” Josie squeals.

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