Page 13 of Hensley Manor
“Hmm. I’ve eaten a lot of cheesecake.”
“Is that your way of saying you’ll be a tough critic, Cole?”
I liked hearing him say my name for some reason. “Possibly.”
Ian had parked near the toy store where the guy dressed as Santa Claus was waving at passers-by. As we headed for the car, I saw a plaque in the store window and stopped to read it.Hensley Toy Company.I then continued toward the car where Ian waited.
“Does your family have a toy company?” I asked, once sliding into the passenger’s seat.
“Yes. Years ago, when the town was much smaller, my great grandfather started the company for the children in Evergreen Valley. Many of them were very poor, you see, and he wanted to bring smiles to their faces. The company began small, starting out with him hiring a few people to make toys in a room in the manor, but it grew from there and he eventually built a workshop downtown.”
“A toy companyandan inn?”
“The manor wasn’t a bed and breakfast back then, but rather, a home that was much too large for my great grandparents and their only child,” Ian explained, backing out of the parking spot. “They would often throw parties and invite the townspeople. Around Christmas, a twelve foot tree would be cut from the forest and displayed in the great hall, and there would be gifts for all the children beneath it.”
“So, your great grandfather was kind of like Santa. Is that what you’re saying?”
Ian laughed. “Not exactly. He was just a very giving person. He helped those in need and expected nothing in return. I like to think I’m the same.”
“You are,” I said, without a doubt.
In the short time I’d known him, he had been nothing but kind.
“Thank you.” He looked at me before focusing on the road.
As we left town and entered the expanse of evergreen trees that lined the narrow road leading to the manor, I had a good idea of where the town had gotten its name. It was truly a valley of evergreen trees for as far as the eye could see. They were everywhere. I might hate the snow, but I couldn’t deny how beautiful it looked as we drove through it.
“When did the manor become a bed and breakfast?”
“1962,” Ian answered. “My grandmother wanted to open the manor so everyone could enjoy it. She’d just had my father and got lonely in the house, especially over the holidays. Renovations have been made over the years, of course, but the design is still the same.”
“Did you grow up in the manor?” I asked, and he nodded. “Wasn’t that weird? Growing up in a place where people came and went all the time?”
“No. I quite enjoyed it. The manor is only a bed and breakfast through the months of November and December. For the rest of the year, it’s just me and the live-in staff.”
“Oh.” That made it better, I guess. But also kind of lonely. I couldn’t imagine living in that big of a house with only a few other people. Perhaps his grandmother had a point. Holidays were best when surrounded by warmth and love. Family.
I used to celebrate Christmas with my parents, sister, and my aunt and uncle. The more noise in the house, the better. Sweets were devoured and we’d talked and reminisced on favorite memories. Laughter, combined with Mom playing carols on the piano in the living room—it was something I missed more than I could ever say.
Holidays were much too quiet now.
The manor came into view, standing tall amidst a sea of white and looking like it belonged on a Christmas card. From the amount of people I’d seen earlier at breakfast, I estimated there were around eleven bedrooms, but there could’ve been more.
Ian drove past the guest parking and parked the car in the garage before turning toward me.
“Forgive my prying, but why did you really come to Evergreen Valley?” His blue eyes stared into mine, and this close, I saw specks of silver in the irises. “Your reservation was made days ago. And then when I first met you last night, you seemed so different than how you are now.”
“Honestly, I—” I paused when his words registered. “Wait, you said the reservation was made days ago?”
That couldn’t be true. I made no such reservation. Doing something while drunk and not remembering? Okay, I could possibly buy that. But there was no possible way I could’ve contacted the manor and not known about it.
Unless someone made the reservation for me.
“Yes,” Ian answered. “I admit my interest was piqued when I saw it was a reservation for one. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but it’s mostly couples and families who travel to the inn. So then I thought perhaps it was business related, or maybe you were only passing through to another town. But you’ve said that isn’t the case.”
“Okay, I’m going to be honest here.”And please don’t think I’m crazy.“I don’t remember making the reservation. I don’t even remember meeting you last night. Until today, I didn’t know this place existed.”
Puzzled, he stared at me in silence. “I don’t follow.”
