Page 18 of No Room in the Inn

For another, I saw her trapped inside a Christmas tree dress today. It’s hard to be scared of someone after you’ve seen something like that. And she just doesn’tlookscary, no matter how much her face scrunches up. She even has dimples. Dimples have to be the least intimidating facial feature out there. I mean, I’ve seen baby pictures of this girl, for goodness’ sake.

And now she rides into town after who knows how long, and she wants me to leave? I don’t think so.

“Hmm,” I say with a nod, pretending to consider her words. “Interesting. But I’m afraid I can’t do that.” I stretch my arms above my head and give a theatrical yawn, because I’m feeling a little irritated with the woman who abandoned Granny at the end of her life. “And it’s really getting late, so if you could just leave the way you came, I’m going to turn in for the night.”

Willow’s eyes widen comically, and her jaw drops a bit. “I—what?” she says.

I feel a surge of satisfaction at having put that look on her face. May the Lord forgive me, but I like pushing this woman’s buttons.

“I’m not leaving,” I say comfortably. “Where would you want me to go, anyway? It’s night. There’s snow on the ground. I’m not camping under a tree somewhere.” Then I flop backward on the bed, grabbing a pillow and placing it under my head.

It would be really great if she could leave now. Does she realize I have nowhere else to go? No family, no friends?

No. Of course she doesn’t. Because she didn’t bother to ask.

“Yes, you are,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “You’re leaving immediately. This is my property, and I don’t want you on it.”

Hold up—what did she say?

My eyebrows shoot up, and I prop myself up on my elbows. “Is it really yours?” I say before I can stop myself. “Did Granny leave it to you?” I was wondering what Granny would do with the inn, but we never talked about it.

“Yes, she—wait a minute,” Willow says, breaking off as though my words have just registered.

Dang it. I said too much.

Willow’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Why did you call her that? Did you know her? It didn’t sound like you knew her when we talked earlier.”

I sigh and rub the back of my neck awkwardly. Being called out on my dishonesty is…uncomfortable. “I—yeah. I did,” I admit. “We were pretty close, actually.”

Willow frowns, and she appears to be processing this new revelation. As she stands there, her phone rings. The cheery little jingle blares loudly into the now-silent room, and she answers quickly.

Good. It’s an annoying ringtone.

“Hello?” she says.

Though the phone isn’t on speaker, the person on the other end is loud enough that I can hear what’s being said.

“Willow, are you alive?” the voice says. “Please come home. You’re making me really nervous going there by yourself at night. At least wait until tomorrow when it’s light.”

Willow glances at me, looking deep in thought. Then she sighs. “I’m on my way, Sarah,” she says. Then she hangs up.

“Okay, look—here’s the deal,” Willow says, jabbing one finger in my direction and narrowing her eyes at me. “I will be back tomorrow morning at ten. You will be here, and we will talk. There are things I have to get done with this inn. I don’t know how to do any of the other stuff Granny wanted me to do, but I can manage the inn. So we’ll figure something out tomorrow. Got it?”

“What else did she want you to do?” I say, tilting my head to the side. “Did she leave you a quest?” It sounds like something Granny would do.

“Basically,” Willow says with a sigh. “And just thinking about it stresses me out. Because I don’t want to disrespect her dying wishes, but also…making up with my parents? The whole Mr. Nixon thing? Not sure how to make any of that happen. Not that it’s any of your business,” she adds, frowning. She clears her throat. “So just be here tomorrow at ten, okay?”

The Mr. Nixon thing?What’s that all about?

But I don’t ask. “You’re bossy,” I say instead, giving her a cheeky little grin that’s sure to infuriate her.

“I’m serious,” she says, narrowing her eyes again. “I’ll be here at ten. If you’re not here, I’ll call the police on you.” Without waiting for my response, she turns on her heel and leaves.

I keep my eyes trained on the door in case she comes back, but after a minute it becomes clear that she’s really gone. So I let myself flop back on the bed again, and I stare at the ceiling.

Granny wanted her to make up with her parents, huh? Maybe that’s why Willow left Woodfield—she fell out with her family. And what was it she said about me?

I sigh, reaching over and turning off the light. “Your granddaughter is kind of a pain,” I say into the darkness. I know Granny’s gone, but I direct my words to her anyway.

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