Page 19 of Knotty, Nice, & Holiday Lights
Izzyooooh’sas she keeps working on her last few cookies, and I steal a glance at Asher, who sends back a knowing look before Izzy says, “Maybe I should come back in the Spring.” She places her last cookie on the sheet, then frowns. “I mean, if I can. I may not have vacation time at a new job by then.”
“You’re getting a new job?” I ask as I'm moving the baking trays into the oven.
Her “Ehhh….” in response makes my brows pop up. I set the timer and turn back to her, finding a very glum expression marring her gorgeous face.
Asher isn’t even looking at either of us, and it seems purposeful, that blank look unlike him.
“I was…laid off…just before I came here.”
As I process her words, an unfamiliar rage begins to boil in my blood. “At the holidays?” I barely recognize my voice; it’s so low and holds a tinge of growl beneath my words.
When she’d mentioned the “old job” where she met Asher, I didn’t think she’d meant she was currently unemployed.
Izzy doesn’t seem to notice, sighing before leaning her hip against the island and crossing her arms. “Yeah. It sucks. But I’m going to do everything in my power to get back to work.” A frown. “I mean, I don’t know if anyone is going to be hiring in the industry over the holidays, but I have to keep trying.”
“That’s what you’ve been doing in your room? Searching for a job?”
A small look of embarrassment crosses her face. “That, and working on a little personal project.”
“Are you finding anything?”
It’s strange, this war that goes on between my thoughts and emotions, part hoping Izzy gets everything she wants and finds a job that will value her, the other hoping she doesn’t find anything and has to stay with us. And guilt over the selfish thoughts begins to strangle me from within, mixed with the nagging realization that even if she doesn’t find a job, there’s no reason for her to stay here.
Not yet.
“So, Will,” Izzy peers at me before joining Asher at the table where he’s making his gift displays. “Are you expecting any other guests here for the holidays?”
“No, actually,” I confess. “Honestly, most people who come here stay at the big hotel. But that’s okay with me.” My smile is forced. “There are only four guest rooms here, and with me running the place alone, I usually only advertise two vacancies at a time to keep things more personable and not stretch myself too thin.”
Her onyx brows draw together with unasked questions, and I smile for real this time.
“You want to know how I’m running this place alone.”
She winces, blinks. “I… it’s not my business.”
How wrong she is. Everything to do with me is her business, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
I head over to the island and sit on the stool closest to her. “Like I said before, I grew up in Crescent Lake. Born and raised. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Asher pauses his arranging and looks at me, hands on top of the table. Izzy sits sideways in her chair to face me, her eyes warm and encouraging.
“My parents bought this place when I was around ten. It was so run-down that it took about six years for them to complete the renovations, inside and out, then open.” I smile at the memory, how excited my parents were. “We all lived here together, us in the apartment tucked away in the basement. I’d stayed here to help out, maintaining a few other local part-time jobs. Went to a college close enough for a driving commute. Since I went to school part-time, too, I only graduated a couple of years ago.”
“And you majored in Business Management, right?” Izzy’s head tilts a bit as she leans closer.
I let out a laugh, so pleased she remembered. “That’s right.”
She grins. “Good preparation to run a business like this, then.”
This time, I’m the one wincing. “Not exactly. I didn’t take any hospitality classes. Everything I know about running this place is from watching and helping my parents.” I blink and let out a long breath. “The New Year before last, my parents went to a party. It was something they never did because they lived for this place. Too much,” the last comes out as a whisper, my heart constricting, eyes growing hot.
I’d told them to go. That I’d watch the place for them, entertain any guests who stayed in. They deserved to have fun.
“They never made it home.”
Chapter Eleven
Will’s tousled hair falls into his sapphire eyes, and all I want is to hold him in my arms. He’s an adult—younger than me, I assume—but still, there is this youthful quality to him sometimes that stirs in me this caregiver side I rarely visit. And the feeling is strong right now, as is the foreign, deep-seated sorrow in my chest.
