Page 4 of Christmas at Pine Ridge Inn
“We’re right on Main Street in Pine Ridge. It’s beautiful here this time of year. I’d definitely suggest visiting if you’ve never been.”
After promising Cynthia she’d stop by if she visited and hanging up, Lila sat on her bed holding the quilt, gripping it in her hand the way a child might for comfort.
Pine Ridge, Colorado. She’d never been to Colorado. You might even say she’d avoided it, like if she ever set foot in the state she’d run into her birth mother, recognize her instantly and devastate the mother who’d raised her by connecting with this other woman.
But someone in Pine Ridge had cared enough to buy a beautiful quilt for a baby girl they’d ultimately given up for adoption. What if that person was still there?
Lila opened her laptop and began researching. Pine Ridge appeared to be a small mountain town with a historic main street that couldn’t have been home to more than a dozen businesses. In the photos, it was surrounded by snow-covered peaks. It looked like the kind of place where everyone knew everyone. Maybe the kind of place where secrets were hard to keep.
It appeared there was only one lodging option in town: Pine Ridge Inn. It was a rustic looking bed-and-breakfast with a wraparound porch. The rooms looked comfy, although not the four- or five-star accommodation she generally stayed in for her job as a hospitality consultant. According to the inn’s website, they offered special holiday packages for guests wanting a cozy mountain Christmas experience.
Although she had little interest in the holiday this year, it did give her a good excuse to be in town if anyone asked. She could book a stay, explore the town, visit Emily’s shop, and maybe find someone who remembered a woman in town who was pregnant thirty-four years ago.
Before she could second-guess herself, Lila clicked through to the inn’s reservation page. They had availability starting December twentieth—just three days away. The holiday package included breakfast, dinner, and Christmas activities. It was exactly what someone escaping their regular life for the holidays might choose.
She filled out the reservation form, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed.
Name: Lila McAllister
Number of guests: One
Dates: December 20 to December 24
Three full days in town should give her plenty of time. The only problem was she received an error when she hit the submit button. The holiday package required a stay from December 20th to December 26th.
Fine. She’d book a week but still keep her plan to be back home alone by Christmas Day. The last thing she wanted was forced merriment with strangers.
When she hit submit, her heart hammered against her ribs. She’d done it. In three days, she’d be in Pine Ridge, Colorado, carrying a quilt made by Emily, looking for answers she’d tried not to wonder about her entire life.
Lila carefully folded the quilt and placed it back in the box, along with the other precious few items from her infancy. Outside her windows, the Southern California sun was setting over the pier, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Soon she’d be trading palm trees for pine trees.
She wasn’t sure what she hoped to find in Pine Ridge, but she felt certain she needed to go.
Three
The GPS in her rental car led Lila through winding mountain roads as afternoon light faded behind heavy clouds. Pine Ridge emerged from the valley like something from a Christmas card—a collection of painted wooden buildings with trim in varying colors, their windows glowing golden in the early evening light. Main Street stretched before her, lined with old-fashioned streetlamps wrapped in evergreen garland and red velvet bows.
Her chest tightened at the sight. The town was straight out of a fairytale, or at least one of those Hallmark movies that played all season long. Had she been here to truly just enjoy the holiday, she might park her car and get out to admire the window displays and breathe in the crisp winter air while sipping a peppermint mocha.
But this year, all that Christmas magic felt like a weight pressing on her lungs. She definitely had to get back home for Christmas so she could mope alone.
She drove slowly past Emily’s Yarn & Quilts, a cozy storefront she recognized from its website. In person, she could tell the sign was hand-painted, and someone had taken a lot of time putting together a festive window display. The shop was already closed for the day, but it would be at the top of her to-do list tomorrow.
Pine Ridge Inn sat at the end of Main Street backed up against the mountains. It was a three-story log structure surrounded by a split wood fence. Warm light spilled from the windows, and garland wound around every post and railing. Icicle lights framed the porch, and even the inn’s sign was decorated with a small wreath. She’d gone from avoiding Christmas this year to putting herself smack in the middle of a made-for-television Christmas movie.
Lila parked and sat for a moment, gripping her steering wheel. She could do this. She’d stayed in hundreds of hotels for work. This was just another accommodation, another place to sleep while she completed a project.
The walk from the small parking lot up the sidewalk to the inn had been cleared of snow. The building itself appeared to be well taken care of, and the small touches, like a seasonal doormat that read Be Merry and a wreath of fresh fir branches, were welcoming.
When Lila pushed open the front door, she heard the jingle of sleigh bells, and warmth enveloped her immediately. A fire crackled in a stone fireplace surrounded by overstuffed chairs and sofas. Christmas garland draped the mantel, interspersed with white lights that cast everything in a soft glow. The scent of pine and cinnamon hung in the air, along with something that might have been hot cider, making her stomach growl.
“You must be Lila!” A woman in her sixties appeared from behind a rustic front desk, her reddish-blonde hair pulled back in a neat bun and her eyes bright. “I’m Carol Brennan. We’re so glad you chose to spend the holidays with us. You got lucky, youknow. We usually book up for Christmas months in advance, but we had a cancellation this year.”
“Thank you for having me,” Lila managed, forcing a smile. The enthusiasm in Carol’s voice made her feel guilty for being there under false pretenses.
“Tom, come meet our guest from California,” Carol called toward an open door behind the desk.
A tall man with a graying beard emerged, wiping his hands on a towel. “Welcome to Pine Ridge Inn. I hope the drive wasn’t too difficult.”
