Page 13 of Dancing in Lake Mistletoe

The space houses a gorgeous garden in the spring. It lies between the inn and the owner’s cottage with arched arbors, stained-glass birdbaths, a couple of stone benches, and a marble fountain. Winter perennial blooms are scattered about between towering evergreen tree varieties and bright holly bushes. When Willa inherited the inn from her grandmother, she had it enclosed with a black steel frame and glass with retractable panels that could be opened in the warm weather months, but converted into a garden atrium in the late fall. That way, the roses can bloom all year. Guests can sit outside with awarm beverage and watch the snow fall all around them while stargazing on clear, cold nights or enjoy the garden even if there’s six inches of snow on the ground.

“Hey, Dutch,” Keller greets.

I join them and take a seat in one of the Adirondack chairs.

“You here to pick up the girls?” he asks.

“Yeah, I had to run over to check the streetlight in front of Mom’s dress shop, so I figured I’d head on over,” I say.

“Willa came out a few minutes ago to check on Beckham. She said the movie has about thirty minutes left,” he informs me.

“Where is the little man?” I ask.

He lifts a monitor from beside him and waves it in the air. “Tucked in his crib, sound asleep,” he says. “That is, until he wakes up and screams the house down between three and four in the morning.”

I chuckle. “I remember those days. And believe it or not, you’ll miss them.”

He grunts. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Bob smiles. “It’s true, son. One day, you’ll find you miss a lot of things. Soak them in while you can. Even the ones that rob you of sleep and patience. And try to work a little less and live a little more when you can.”

“I hear you, Dad. I’m scaling back as much as I can,” Keller says, turning his attention to me. “Speaking of which, when do you want to start working on the turntable for the town tree?”

“I was thinking next week if you and Bran have time. I just signed on to help over at Sun Valley for the next two months, so that’ll take up a couple of afternoons each week, but I could do Mondays and Wednesdays after my normal rounds,” I say.

“That should work for us.”

“What are you doing over at the resort?” Bob asks.

“Helping them with the equipment and lighting for the theater until they can find someone full-time.”

“Nice. Bran and I will be up there, too, doing last-minute adjustments on some of the set designs we did for them,” Keller says.

The back door to the inn swings open, and Josie and Cobie come racing out into the garden. Willa and Norah are on their heels.

“Daddy, we had Butterbeer,” Josie squeals as she barrels into my lap.

“You did?”

“Yep, three mugs,” she says, holding up three fingers.

My eyes drift up to Willa’s.

She looks contrite as she apologizes, “Sorry for jacking them up on sugar.”

Hannah bounds out the door next, followed by a woman with caramel curls pinned on top of her head and big honey-brown eyes. Recognition registers as her gaze falls to me. I stand, taking Josie with me as they make it to us.

“Hey, Dutch,” Hannah greets.

“Hannah,” I return with a nod, and then my eyes go to the wide-eyed beauty behind her. “And?”

“Oh, this is Mindi. She’s one of Willa’s guests. Mindi, this is Josie’s dad, Dutch,” Hannah says, introducing us.

“Mindi is a real ballerina,” Josie chirps.

“She is?” I extend my hand to Mindi.

“I am,” she says as she takes my offered hand, and I swear electricity shoots up my arm as her fingers touch mine.

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