Page 11 of Christmas Cove

America was sure there was more, way more, to his tale. No matter how long she played twenty-questions with the man, he didn’t sound like he was in the mood to give up anything else.

While she had inspected the fridge contents, he had made his way to the door. “What time should I expect you out tomorrow?”

“Whenever the driver gets back, I suppose. Midday? Is that agreeable?” she asked.

With a nod, Leo opened the door, and a rush of cool, fresh air filled the space. “If you need anything, my number is on the fridge. Don’t hesitate to ring me.”

She wanted to say something. Anything. A thank you. An apology. Any variation of a salutation would have worked fine, but she was dumbstruck by his kind consideration of her predicament. She simply stood in her indecision to act and watched him pull the door nearly closed.

Through the crack, he said, “All righty then. Have a pleasant evening,” and pulled the door tight.

CHAPTER8

Leo beatthe side of his balled-up fist on Edwin’s front door, and a light flickered to life beside the window. He kicked the ground and scuffed his foot along the coir doormat, where one would knock snow from their boots. But alas, there was no snow, just disappointment of a different kind in the air.

“What is going on out here?” Edwin said as he cracked open the door. “Oh, it’s you. Come on in.”

Leo headed straight for the kitchen. “You got a new brew?”

“On tap.” Edwin said.

Leo didn’t even care about the flavor, though he enjoyed taste-testing Edwin’s craft beers whenever he created a new batch. On the wall above the butcher-block bar hung mugs and steins that Edwin had collected from his travels around the world. Leo took his favorite off the hook and tilted it under the tap. Pulling the lever, the amber liquid bubbled out and filled the stein. Like a professional bar-jack, he released the tap without overflowing the rim.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Edwin said and took an etched gray mug down from the hook on the wall.

Not ready to answer, Leo sipped the chilled beer and savored the taste and crispness of apples and pumpkin. The fresh flavor surprised him, not because it hit the autumn nail on the head, but because Edwin’s flavors usually leaned towards the practical and away from the enjoyable. This one was anything but standard. The man’s improvements had not gone unnoticed.

“This is really good,” Leo said and placed the drink on the counter.

“I tried something different.”

“I can tell,” Leo said and nodded his approval.

Edwin pulled Leo’s mug across the counter and held it hostage. “You can have it back when you tell me what you’re doing here.”

“You know, I can just fill up another mug,” Leo pointed at the rack of hooks filled with a dozen or more steins. Edwin’s unamused face told him to get to it. “I met the woman—”

“Is she pretty?” Edwin interrupted.

“Does that matter?” Leo said and reached for his mug, but Edwin pulled it just out of Leo’s reach.

“It might,” Edwin teased.

“Fine. She was pretty, but I didn’t really notice because she was too busy criticizing the lack of holiday décor. And not just at the cabin. Apparently, our town isn’t festive enough for her liking.”

“Our town, and the cabin for that matter, has absolutely no festive anything. Are you surprised? I told you we should have decorated the cabin earlier.” Edwin pushed the mug back down the counter to Leo, satisfied with the answer Leo had offered.

“I know, and it pains me to admit that you may have been right” Leo had a long drink. “She said she’s checking out tomorrow.”

The booking was the first one he’d received in a while, and even though she mentioned paying him for the whole booking, he wouldn’t take the money. No matter how much he needed it, it felt a little like stealing. He would just hope for another booking in the new year. And perhaps he had stumbled upon a clientele he had previously been unaware of. Even during the summer months, writers would want somewhere quiet to come and work. Somewhere with breathtaking, albeit dry, scenery.

Leo snapped his fingers. “You know how we’re always looking at ways to revitalize the area. What do you think about hosting retreats? Health and wellness folks could come in the spring or fall. Writers and such could come in the winter. Fitness types could come in summer. It could work.”

“What made you think of that?” Edwin said and pulled up a stool to the counter for himself and one for Leo.

“She’s a writer. And it got me thinking that other people may want to come stay here for some peace and quiet.”

Edwin laughed. “Okay. But you said she’s leaving. Not really a ringing endorsement.”

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