Page 28 of Christmas at the Inn on Bluebell Lane

“Well, I’d love for you to design a brochure,” Ellie told her as they went into the kitchen. Daisy, who had been snoozing by the stove, perked up her little head. “I thought I could distribute some locally, in shops and cafés.”

“Great idea. I could do that, no problem.”

“Are you sure you have time—”

“For you, Ellie?” Emma grinned. “Of course.”

They spent a few more minutes talking through the brochure, and Emma opened her laptop and showed Ellie a couple of graphics she’d been thinking of. By the end of the conversation, she was feeling encouraged again, and grateful for her friend’s support. This was really starting to come together. Now all they needed were the guests to book…

Emma left a short while later, promising to email Ellie a mock-up by that evening, since time was of the essence. The house was still quiet, with everyone out, although guests would start trickling back for afternoon tea soon. Ellie decided to take a few moments to stroll outside and collect—and bolster—her thoughts.

Shewasencouraged, she told herself as she wandered through the garden, some of its trees already bedecked by fairy lights, to the bench by the little pond that Ben and Owen were still hoping to somehow turn into an ice-skating rink. The area under the willow tree was currently a construction site; Matthew and Ben were working on a platform for Santa to sit atop. There was a nip in the air, and the sun was breaking through billowy gray clouds; the world felt caught between all the seasons, a hint of each one in the air, like either a memory or a promise.

Ellie sank onto the bench with a gusty sigh as doubts began to trickle through her once more. It wasn’t just about the little LED tree, she knew. She wasn’t that ridiculous, but it represented something more elemental that Matthew had been trying to point out to her. She’d got too invested in making the inn a success, she realized, not for her family’s sake, or even the inn’s sake, but for her own. It had been her idea at the start, and so its possible failure had felt personal to her,toopersonal. In all her efforts, she’d been trying to prove something about herself, and the realization was both humbling and a little shaming. No wonder she’d cared more than anyone else, she thought, and yet was thatwrong?

Ofcourseshe wanted the inn to succeed. Yes, maybe she’d become a bit carried away with the idea of it looking polished and professional, but that wasn’t wrong either, was it? And she’d learned her lesson. She’d include a few more of the homemade decorations; like Emma had said, they could be lovely little touches.

But what, Ellie thought disconsolately, really, was it all for? If Gwen wasn’t bothered by whether the inn succeeded or not… if her children weren’t… if it had been a fun adventure for a brief period of time and nothing more… Why keep it going at all? She didn’t want to put in all this effort for her own sake, her own pride, while having to drag everyone else along.

And yet maybe she was being unfair. Gwen had got John involved, after all, and he’d come back twice already to work on the nativity set, which looked amazing—the figures done in smooth, sweeping and simple lines so children could move them about. Matt was working hard on the garden, and he and Ben had gone to investigate eco-friendly options to turn the pond into a rink. Jess had made some nice craft ideas and samples, and Gwen had created a beautiful menu for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day…

Everyone was pulling their weight, Ellie acknowledged, even if they weren’t as personally invested as she was. But would the guests even book? They hadn’t had any Christmas bookings yet—a fact which Ellie was trying not to let alarm her because they’d only just started their publicity. But it was already the end of October; most people would have probably made their Christmas plans by now, something Sarah had pointed out during one of their discussions. Ellie had replied that plans could change, but now she wondered. Had her determination, her desperation, blinded her? What if this really was all for nothing?

“Are you hiding down here?”

She turned to see Matthew strolling over with a smile.

“Just thinking,” she replied, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Good thoughts?”

“Sort of.”

He sat down next to her and tilted his head up to the sky, squinting into the sun. “You’ve really been worrying about this,” he observed. “And working so very hard. But there’s not much we can do about it besides give it our best.”

“I know. It’s just… what if our best isn’t good enough?”

He lowered his face, turning to her with a smiling shrug of his shoulders. “Then it isn’t.”

“I don’t understand how you can be so philosophical about it, Matt,” Ellie exclaimed, shaking her head. “We moved our entire family all the way from America to Wales to run this place. We’ve poured everything into it for the last two years—time, money, energy, emotion. Why are you not that bothered? Are you just that laidback, or is something else going on?”

She didn’t realize until she’d asked the question—and felt Matthew’s hesitation in response—that the possibility had been lurking in the back of her mind. Her husband’s equanimity had been just a bit too surprising, and so unlike when they’d first moved here, and he’d thrown himself into renovating the inn with the same kind of passion and fervor she had—and broken his arm in the process. That setback had discouraged him, and eventually made him reevaluate his priorities. But why did he seem so different now?

“Matt?” she prompted when he still hadn’t spoken. “Issomething else going on?”

“No,” he said finally, but he sounded strangely hesitant. “At least… not… not yet.”

“What?” A frisson of anxiety rippled down her spine. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s very early days of a… apossibilityI’ve been investigating.”

“What?” Ellie said again, this time blankly. He’d never made apeepabout some “possibility” before now. She had no idea what it could be. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” she asked. “And what sort of possibility are we talking about?” Her mind was already starting to race. Was it a job in Cardiff? Some crazy new venture or scheme, or just another office position? Why hadn’t hesaid? On some subconscious level, she’d wondered if something was going on, but she still hadn’t expectedthis.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries, with so much going on,” Matthew explained. “And it really is in the very vague, probably-won’t-happen sort of stage, so it seemed prudent to wait until I had more to go on, before I got anyone worked up.”

“Whatprobably won’t happen?” Ellie demanded. She was starting to feel exasperated, as well as seriously alarmed. She still couldn’t believe Matthew hadn’t breathed a word of this—whatever this was—before now.

“A job opportunity,” he told her, sounding reluctant to part with even that much information. He held up one hand to forestall any further questions. “I’ll give you all the details soon, when we can talk about it properly. But we’ve got guests coming back any minute, and the kids all kicking around, and afternoon tea to put on. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you, Ellie, I promise. I just didn’t want to add to your anxiety—”

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