Page 43 of Healing Hearts at the Christmas Inn
“Jane?” Trinity’s voice penetrated the haze of her imagination, and she gave herself a mental shake. “Are you okay? You’ve suddenly gone pale. Like you’d seen a ghost.”
“Uh…” Jane swallowed, trying to wet her suddenly dry throat, the words she’d fancied she’d heard from her grandfather echoing through her mind. “You know what? I found the ornaments. So why don’t we each take a box, and we can come back for the rest tomorrow and start decorating then?”
They packed up the albums and the boxes for the ballroom, neither rushing nor lingering. As they walked down the attic stairs, Jane felt changed by the evening, as if the ice inside her had begun to melt.
They’d carried the boxes and albums down from the attic and set them in the ballroom, ready for the following day.
As they left the room, Holly walked out of the dining room. “Trinity, there you are, my love.” Her eyes pooled with relief. “I’ve been looking for you. It’s time for bath, teeth, and bed.”
“Sorry.” Jane smiled at Holly. “It’s my fault. Trinity was helping me gather decorations for the ballroom, and we lost track of time.”
“We’re going to decorate it tomorrow, Gran,” Trinity said enthusiastically and slid a hopeful look at Jane. “I’m trying to convince Jane to reopen the Winter Ball, even if it’s just us.”
“That’s ambitious,” Holly said, laughing and looking at Jane. “Thanks for keeping her busy.”
“Only a pleasure,” Jane assured Holly. “Trinity was a great help.”
“See you tomorrow,” Trinity promised. “Good night, Jane, and remember to think about my idea for the Winter Ball.”
Jane laughed and shook her head at the stubborn twelve-year-old as she watched her disappear up the stairs with Holly.
“You know that’s not a bad idea, sweetheart,” Julie’s voice came from behind Jane, making her spin around.
“Oh, no, Gran,” Jane said, blowing out a breath. “We couldn’t possibly. It’s way too late to organize and…” she pursed her lips. “You know we can’t afford it.”
“Oh, fiddlesticks,” Julie scoffed. “I can raise the money. Don’t you worry about that, and trust me, it’s never too late to throw a last-minute ball together for Christmas.”
Jane stared at her grandmother for a few seconds, wondering if she was joking, and realized she wasn’t. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“That young lady,” Julie pointed to the stairs. “She’s our little miracle this year.” Before Jane could ask what that meant, her grandmother continued. “Now, go get some sleep. We have a lotto do tomorrow to get this ball planned and arranged in time for Christmas Eve.”
“Gran,” Jane said. “You know no one will come because of the McFadden Hotel ball.” The McFaddens had picked up the tradition of a Winter Ball in the years after her grandfather died. Greg McFadden had been her grandfather’s best friend. “We can’t try to steal their thunder or guests.”
“Oh, honey,” Julie’s eyes became serious. “Haven’t you heard? Greg is terribly ill. They cancelled the ball in September already, and they’re selling the hotel.”
“What?” Jane spat. “No, I didn’t know that.” Of course, she didn’t. Jane didn’t keep up with what was going on outside the inn anymore. “That’s awful.”
“Yes,” Julie agreed. “There are a lot of people who will be really happy that we’ve once again taken back the Winter Ball tradition.”
“Gran… that doesn’t seem right,” Jane said, a pang of guilt hitting her, while excitement over organizing and having the ball bubbled beneath it.
"Nonsense," Julie said firmly, her eyes twinkling. "Greg always knew the day would come when we'd take our ball back. He's been waiting for it." She squeezed Jane's hand. "Now go get some rest. We have three weeks to pull off the impossible."
Julie headed toward her room, and Jane made her way through the connecting door into the family house, her mind already racing with everything that needed to be done.
She'd barely closed the door behind her when the house phone rang. Jane grabbed it from the hallway table.
"Hello?"
"Jane, darling, is that you?" A woman’s voice that she hadn’t heard in years rang through.
Jane froze. It hit her like ice water, familiar and unwelcome all at once. It couldn't be.
Her mother?
"Sorry, you must have the wrong number," Jane said, her voice flat and controlled. "There's no Jane Darling here."
She hung up before the voice could respond, then reached down and yanked the phone cord from the wall jack.
