Page 37 of Joy to Noel
Huffing an exasperated sigh, I pocket my phone. On my way out the door, I pause to stick out my tongue at Hamlet.
“Iced white lavender latte for Clara!” I call loudly, despite the fact that Becky’s Brews is only large enough to accommodate four tables. And despite the fact that Clara is standing directly in front of me.
She gives me an amused look. “This barista power is going to your head, Mads.”
I grin at her. “Just living out my barista dreams. I’ve gotta get the hang of it in time for tourist season.”
Clara rolls her eyes with a scoff. “Never have you ever dreamed of being a barista, Miss ‘Tea Is Better Than Coffee.’ Do you think you’ll be working here over the summer, or will you be too busy with proofreading clients?”
There are no other customers here, so I round the coffee bar and sit down with Clara. “We’ll see. Of course, it would be nice to have a mile-long waiting list of potential clients. But until that happens, I’ll keep slinging the inferior caffeinated beverage that I disdain so much.”
I haven’t confessed to Clara that Liam made me a cup of coffee I actually enjoyed. I haven’t confessed to myself that I wish he’d invite me over for another cup sometime. When he came to retrieve his key last night, he offered zero exposition on his time in Houston. Beyond ensuring that Hamlet behaved himself, Liam also asked zero questions about my life or business or feelings, so I one-upped his aloof attitude as I shut the door without a goodbye. I don’t anticipate any more pour over coffees with Liam, and I’m working hard not to care.
Becky walks in the front door, arms laden with cartons of various milks. “Morning! How are you lovely ladies today?”
Clara and I both jump to our feet to lighten Becky’s load, and together we restock the refrigerators. As we organize milk cartons, Becky says, “Mads, I need to talk to you about the cabin.” The apologetic expression on her face makes my stomach sink.
“I talked with James last night, and I’m afraid we really need to open your cabin up for rentals as soon as possible,” she says. “We’ve sold out all of the cabins for the upcoming opening weekend, and we just had another couple email asking if there were any available. I’m so sorry for the short notice, but the month of April is when tourist visits start ramping up.”
“It’s okay. You guys were already more than generous to let me stay there for the past few weeks. You have no reason to feel guilty about running your actual business,” I assure her. Even though I’ve grown to love my cozy Christmas cabin and feel an unreasonable level of sad feelings when I think about vacating the space.
“Do you need to come stay with us?” Clara asks. “We could blow up an air mattress in the sunroom.”
“No way,” I say. I have zero desire to live with newlyweds, but I don’t tell Clara that. Instead, I reason, “You need your sunroom office to continue writing the greatest Christmas romances ever told.” She smiles at my compliment, her blue eyes lighting up with warmth. I sassily add, “Plus, you’d have to sell off half of your jungle in there to make space for an air mattress.”
She huffs, but she can’t deny it. Clark has only enabled Clara’s obsession with plants—her sunroom truly looks more like a jungle than a house. He’s the perpetrator who bought the shirt Clara is currently wearing, which says, “Just One More Plant.” Except the word “One” is crossed out and replaced with an infinity sign above it.
“How does one go about finding a rental house or apartment in a town like Noel?” I ask Becky.
“Hmmm, your best bet would probably be to work with Rhonda, the real estate agent in town,” Becky replies. “She handles rentals as well as home sales. Just text her what you’re looking for.”
“What are the odds of finding a small, furnished apartment in Noel?” I ask, already knowing the grim answer. “Or should I be relocating to Kansas City or Nebraska?”
Becky and Clara exchange an anxious look. Clara is the one to answer. “Please don’t leave Noel! I promise it wouldn’t be an intrusion for you to stay with us. We could turn the sunroom into our shared office space during the day. It would be fun!”
I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “Would Clark find this plan fun?”
Clara’s smile fumbles. “He’ll come around.”
I turn to Becky. “What’s Rhonda’s number?”
Chapter eighteen
Liam
April
“Ican’t tell you how unusual it is for a rental like this to come available here,” the real estate agent tells me. “Ever since Christmas Fest started and the pet food plant opened, rentals have been practically nonexistent in Noel—especially furnished spaces.”
My first order of business this morning had been to contact Rhonda, the town’s only real estate agent, to inquire about a longer-term rental option. As comfortable as the cabin has been for a short stay, if I’m going to be here for a few more months, Hamlet and I need a little more room to stretch our legs.
Ireallydon’t want to commute in from Bella Vista or Bentonville every day, but finding a furnished apartment in a town like Noel isn’t exactly easy. Luckily for me, Rhonda messaged me back almost right away letting me know that a rental property had just come available. I left the factory to meet her here a mere hour later—a pro of small-town life, I suppose. It’s an unremarkable ranch style house made of reddish-brown brick with dark shutters framing the windows.
“The owners of the house will be back at the beginning of next year when they return from visiting their kids abroad. So, as long as you’re out by the end of December, the place could be yours,” Rhonda says.
It’s a more-than-adequate space with a split floor plan, the primary bedroom on one side of the house and two small bedrooms on the opposite end. One of the rooms is being used to store the owners’more valuable and sentimental items, so it will remain locked. But the other is open and set up as a bedroom. There’s a single garage that’s also locked, but I can easily park my SUV in the driveway.
The space is an odd juxtaposition—the interior of the house looks like it was recently remodeled, with hardwood floors, white granite countertops, and dark wood cabinetry in the open-concept kitchen and living spaces. The furniture, on the other hand, looks straight out of the 80s with mismatched floral prints and pink velvet chairs. Although the furniture is outdated and not at all my personal taste, I could live with it for a few months. Hamlet will certainly appreciate having more room to roam while I’m gone at work.
