Page 12 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
Looks like I’m headed back home.
Lexi
Wait, what? I’m calling.
Bronte
Don’t call. I’m fine. A family member showed up at the house and didn’t get the memo that the family was gone for Christmas. Since there isn’t any other place to rent on the island, I’m just going to head back home to get this book done.
Lexi
Why don’t you fly here? Mom and I would love to have you.
Bronte
Can’t. Have too much to write. Thanks for the offer though.
She was in the middle of messaging Holland on the rental app, trying her best to explain the situation, when her phone rang.
This late, there’d only be one person who decided to forgo their text thread and call. Bronte swiped to answer. “I told you not to call. It’s so late, shouldn’t you be in bed already?”
“It’s not even midnight in LA.” Lexi brushed her off.
Right. The two-hour time zone difference.
“Are you safe with this other family member in the house?”
“Yes, I’m safe.” Bronte looked over to the door to her bedroom. Jonah may have scared her, but upon closer examination from the safe distance across the full length of the bar, he had kind, tired eyes and appeared as frustrated by the situation as she was. “He looked harmless enough, and I have my door locked and a chair under the handle.” The things you picked up when you bounced back and forth in foster homes your entire life. Quick people-reading and intruder safety.
The faint sounds of a keyboard clacking came through the phone. “Is there some kind of Christmas special on fish or something up there this week?”
Bronte frowned. “I don’t know. Why?” She dragged her suitcase out of the closet where she’d stashed it earlier, then tossed it on the bed.
“Because I’m checking the availability of hotels in the area, and there are none. And right now, I’m showing flights being delayed.”
Stalking over to the dresser, Bronte pulled out the contents of the top drawer. Surely that was a mistake. All the flights couldn’t be delayed. “I think there’s another airport a little farther out.”
A few more taps filtered through the phone. “Nope, looks like all those are delayed as well.”
“Then I’ll just take the ferry back over to the mainland and figure something out until the flights open back up.” Bronte cringed.
“And if you can’t get a flight?” Lexi voiced the fear dancing through Bronte’s brain.
Bronte threw her hands up. “Then I’ll rent a car and drive myself home.”
“You hate driving.”
“I know.” Bronte moved back to the dresser and yanked the second drawer open. She stuffed the contents of the drawer into her suitcase a little more forcefully than necessary. Sighing, she leaned on the side of the bed. “Look, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll just figure it out in the morning.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep.” Bronte pasted on a fake smile, hoping it came across in the sound of her voice. The smile, not the fakeness.
After saying goodbye, Bronte went back to making sure she had repacked everything. Having completed the task, she let herself plop on the bed. She just needed a good night’s sleep, and then she’d figure this out in the morning.
So long as her initial impression stayed true and she wasn’t murdered first, that was.
* * *
