Page 5 of Christmas at Pine Ridge Inn
“It was beautiful,” Lila said, which was true. The mountains covered in snowy pines had been stunning, even if she’d been too nervous about the windy roads to fully appreciate them.
“We were just setting up for evening refreshments,” Carol said, gesturing toward a sideboard that held two urns—one labeled for cider and one for hot cocoa—and a plate of cookies. “Nothing fancy, just a chance for our holiday guests to get acquainted. Most folks are settling into their rooms right now, but you’re welcome to grab something hot to drink and warm up by the fire.”
Holiday guests. Right. Lila had temporarily forgotten she was part of a package deal. “How many guests are you expecting?”
“Eight, including you,” Tom said. “Nice intimate group for the holiday activities. Tomorrow we’ll start with snowshoeing, then cookie baking and decorating in the afternoon.”
“Friday we’ll all go out and pick the tree, then come back to make ornaments and decorate, and then Saturday is the festival downtown,” Carol added as she practically buzzed with excitement. “We’ll keep you busy all the way through the big dinner and sleigh ride on Christmas Eve, and then we’ll all have a lovely Christmas together.”
The weight in Lila’s chest grew heavier. She’d assumed she could simply avoid whatever activities the inn had planned,but the Brennans’ enthusiasm made it clear they were used to everyone participating. “That all sounds lovely,” she said carefully. “Though I’m not sure how much I’ll be joining in. I’m here more for the quiet retreat aspect.”
Carol’s expression softened with understanding. “Of course, dear. The holidays can be complicated. All our activities are optional, so you do whatever feels right for you.”
Something in her tone suggested she’d hosted guests before who needed space from Christmas cheer. Lila felt a rush of gratitude for the older woman’s intuition.
“Also, I know I made my reservation through the twenty-sixth, but I really have to get going on Christmas Eve. I wanted to let you know in case you can book my room for someone else over the holiday.”
Carol cheerful expression fell, making her look like a child who’d just learned Santa wasn’t real. “You aren’t staying for Christmas?”
Lila shook her head. “No, I’m afraid I have other plans.”
“Of course, dear. Well, let me show you to your room,” Carol said, lifting Lila’s suitcase before she could protest. “You’re in the Pinecone Room on the second floor. I think you’ll love the view.”
They climbed a staircase lined with black-and-white photographs of the inn through different decades. “These are wonderful,” Lila said, pausing at one that showed the inn in what looked like the 1950s.
“Tom’s grandfather built this place in 1923,” Carol said proudly. “It’s been in the family ever since, though we’ve made updates over the years to keep guests comfortable.”
Lila’s consultant eye automatically cataloged details as they walked. The carpet was worn but clean and the fixtures were a bit dated. But something about the inn’s cozy feel made her reluctant to mentally redesign it. This place had an authenticcharm the luxury resorts she usually worked with sometimes lacked.
“Here we are,” Carol said, opening a door halfway down the hall. “The Pinecone Room.”
The room was smaller than Lila was used to but undeniably cozy. A queen-sized bed dominated the space, covered with a hand-stitched quilt in shades of cream and forest green. The pattern reminded her immediately of her baby quilt. They weren’t identical, but similar enough to make her breath catch. A wingback chair sat by the window, and a small writing desk occupied the corner.
“The bathroom is just through there,” Carol said, pointing to a door beside the closet. “And you have a lovely view of Main Street and the mountains beyond.”
Lila moved to the window and looked out at the snow-covered rooftops below. In the gathering darkness, every building glowed with warm light, and she could see a few people moving along the sidewalks in their long winter coats and hats.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Dinner is at six-thirty if you’d like to join us,” Carol said. “Nothing formal, just a chance for everyone to meet and go over the week’s activities. Unfortunately, we only have one restaurant in town open for dinner, so we try our best to make sure no one goes to bed hungry.”
After Carol left, Lila sat on the edge of the bed and looked around her temporary home. She unpacked methodically, hanging her clothes in the small closet and arranging her toiletries in the bathroom. The baby quilt she placed carefully on the end of the bed, her fingers drifting over the stitching around the edge.
Tomorrow, she would take the quilt to Emily’s Yarn & Quilts and hope that Cynthia remembered something—anything—that might point her toward answers. Tonight, she just had to getthrough dinner with a group of strangers who were probably thrilled to be spending Christmas in this magical little town. She might have skipped the meal, but she’d already foregone lunch in her efforts to get to Pine Ridge before dark.
As six-thirty approached, Lila made her way downstairs. The dining room was just off the main lobby, decorated with the same Christmas touches as the rest of the inn. There was a single candle in each window and a festive display of garland with little red berries down the middle of the table winding between hurricane lamps that cast a warm glow.
A man was setting up the buffet along one wall, moving between the kitchen and dining room. He was about her age, with dark hair and a slight five o’clock shadow on his face. It was clear he’d done this many times before as she watched him move easily around the room.
Lila’s consultant eye automatically assessed the setup. The buffet was positioned in a way that would create a bottleneck when guests lined up to fill their plates. Everything was in one long line instead of separating the salad ingredients, hot food, dessert, and drinks into smaller stations where people could move around out of order. There was plenty of room along the other wall to break the buffet at least in half, and that simple repositioning would improve flow significantly.
“Excuse me,” she said, approaching the man. “I couldn’t help but notice the serving arrangement. If you moved the beverage station and salad bar to the other wall, it would prevent guests from having to cross paths when they’re getting food and drinks. Then you’d also have room here to space out the hot food so those who only want one or the other can skip around instead of waiting in line.”
He looked up from arranging silverware, a frown furrowing his brows. “Thanks for the suggestion,” he said, “but our guests aren’t really in a hurry. They come here to slow down and relax.”
There was something in his tone that made it clear he didn’t welcome her input. Not rude, exactly, but definitely dismissive. Lila felt heat rise in her cheeks.
“Of course,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I work in hospitality, so sometimes I just can’t help noticing these things.”
