Page 6 of A Very Merry Mistake

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Oh,” I say, struggling to find a new topic for discussion. Maybe I’m talking too much. My nerves get the best of me when I’m near a beautiful woman. “I was born and raised in Texas. Have lived in Merryville my whole life.”

“Really? I would have never guessed.”

I smirk. “Am I detectin’ a little bit of sarcasm?”

That makes her perfectly plump lips turn up into a smile she can’t hide. I like to see it.

“Apologies. I’m being rude, aren’t I?”

“Kinda, but I’m not takin’ it personally. I know it’s not me, but a reflection of you and the day you’ve had. You’ve been travelin’ and were down on your luck. That’s enough to make anyone a grump.”

She nods. “Seems I left my manners in New York.”

“No problem, darlin’. It happens.”

We ride in silence for a few moments. “So…you’re a city girl. That explains a lot,” I say with a wink.

“I’m going to let that comment slide,” she tells me as we pass the large WELCOME TO MERRYVILLE mural that was painted a few years ago on the old coffee bean roasting plant. It’s an artist’s rendition of the downtown area with Santa flying overhead. White powder covers the buildings and sidewalks, but it’s not a good representation‌ because snow doesn’t happen that often. If we get a flurry, it barely sticks. Mostly, we’re hit by ice, and it shuts the whole town down.

“So where are ya headin’?”

“Can you take me to Main Street Inn? I have a reservation.”

“Sure thing.” I stop at the four-way intersection. A few people cross the road quickly, but no one else is around. On any other evening, the sidewalks are packed. Most are indoors, preparing for a loss of power.

When we arrive at the inn, Claire unplugs her phone and tucks it in her pocket. I get out and follow her.

She looks at me over her shoulder. “Oh, you don’t have to come with me.”

“The owners are family friends. I’ve been meaning to stop by and say hi.” I catch up to her fast pace and fall in line beside her.

She steps up on the sidewalk, and I open the door for her. The smell of freshly baked cookies and wood burning in the fireplace reminds me of home. A large tree with colorful twinkling lights is in the corner, and holiday music plays quietly in the background.

Claire approaches the front counter that has an old cash register, stacks of paper, and a laptop on it. There’s a bell, which she lightly taps.

Heidi, the innkeeper’s daughter, emerges from the back room, where it sounds like she was watching a trashy reality show on the television.

Heidi immediately greets Claire with a wide grin. She pushes her blonde hair back out of her eyes, and I notice her sleeves are rolled to her elbows. It is hot in here.

I give her a hello, and she looks between the two us.

“Howdy,” Heidi says. “How can I help you?”

Claire pulls her wallet from her huge purse. “I have a reservation for Claire Chester.”

As Claire slides her ID and credit card forward, Heidi types away on the keyboard.

“Is it possible it’s under another name?”

Claire shakes her head. “No.”

After a few more mouse clicks, Heidi speaks up. “I’m sorry. I’m having trouble finding it. Can you tell me the dates you were supposed to be staying?”

Claire grows frustrated. “December first, which is today, through January seventh.”

Heidi searches again, her kind expression fixed in place. Sometimes, tourists can be the worst people on Earth even at of the happiest places on the planet.

---