Page 1 of You Had Me At Valentine

One

Lyra

Remember when you were a kid and someone asked what you wanted to be when you grew up? You were only limited by your imagination: a ballerina, a policeman, an astronaut. Ora hedgehog in the case of my brother, Leith, which explains a lot about him.

I guess everyone’s answer explains a lot about them because I always said I wanted to be like my grandmother. The innkeeper part, not the baking cookies and slipping five-dollar bills to her grandkids part.

She taught me the true meaning of hospitality in every sense of the word, a lesson I soaked up whenever I visited her at the inn. And then I spent a decade learning to manage the MacLellan Highlands Ski Resort and Spa.

Yes, it’s a mouthful, and yes, that’s my last name on the sign, so there was never any question in my mind that I’d take over for my father one day.

Here’s the thing. The resort is not the inn.

The inn is all the way down the mountain in the valley. Kilt Valley, so named when the first MacLellan came from Scotland and fell in love with this area of the Rockies. Our ancestor James recreated his homeland in central Colorado and built a house worthy enough to be the town’s centerpiece.

The still-intact property sits just off the main square, a breathtaking Tudor Revival meets English Country Cottage—white with a wraparound porch and a steeply pitched roofline that has dumped snow on me more than once. The original stained glass survived all these years, so the windows glow all kinds of colors when the interior lights come on.

It looks like a fairy tale. A place where magic happens.

Gran and my grandpa lived in the house for a while before I was born, but it has six bedrooms, and while I could argue they felt it was too big for them, I think Gran liked the idea of welcoming new people into her home. So, it became the MacLellan Inn.

I like the idea too. But the resort takes massive energy and time to run, so I only make it down the mountain once a week to check in on the secret love of my life.

Don’t get me wrong. I grew up at a ski lodge and that has its own kind of magic. I spent many of my childhood days ice skating, snow tubing, and swimming in Loch MacClellan in the summer (loch means lake in Scottish in case you didn’t know. We don’t have a Loch Ness Monster of our own, so we had a plaster one made that sits in the middle).

But the inn is special.

You might wonder why I don’t work at the inn full-time since it clearly has a piece of my heart. That’s due to my father. And partly my brothers, but mostly Dad.

Let’s just say he hoped my brothers would follow in his footsteps and instead he got me. I’ve been trying to make up for that since…a long time, actually.

It’s my day off, which means I can focus on the MacLellan property of my choosing. The inn, of course. It’s almost Valentine’s Day and the place needs some festive red, pink, and white cheer. Gran used to be the one to string up the decorations and now it’s a task I take on lovingly.

Judy, who has managed the inn since I can remember, stands at the front desk as I shake snow off my boots from the front porch.

“Wasn’t expecting you today,” she calls and something is off in her tone.

Puzzled, I let the door close behind me as I take in her short, graying curls and note that the laugh lines around her eyes don’t even look remotely amused. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, dear.” Her lips purse. “I’m guessing you didn’t talk to your father today.”

Whatever she’s about to say, it’s not going to be good. “I try not to talk to Dad before lunch if I can help it.”

Her smile trembles. “I’m retiring. Finally. At the end of the month.”

“Retiring?” My voice comes out smaller than I intend. “But you’ve been here forever.”

“Since your grandmother hired me.” Judy wrings her hands, something I’ve never seen her do in all these years. “Which is exactly why it’s time. Past time, really.”

I drag in a breath, trying to process this. “Okay. Well, we’ll need to start interviewing replacements. I can adjust my schedule at the resort to help with the transition—”

“Lyra.” The tremor in her voice stops me. “You need to talk to your father.”

That’s the last thing I plan to do on my one day at the inn, so I wave that off.

“I will.”Eventually. “I’ll be in the attic for a bit, hauling out all of Gran’s old decorations. We’ve got to get this place looking like Valentine’s Day!”

My exit feels more like an escape, but I can’t process the idea of Judy retiring. Worse, I can’t stomach the job I want going to someone else.

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