Page 19 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
“So, you don’t enjoy it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It’s written”—Bronte waved a hand—“all over you. You don’t look like you enjoy your job.”
Jonah shrugged. “I’ve been at it for a while. I guess I’m just ready for something new.”
“Like what?”
Jonah paused. While Bronte seemed nice, he didn’t need to burden her with his own personal dilemmas. Best to stick with the facts. “The plan has always been that I’ll take over my dad’s practice once I retire from the Army. He’s got a temp doctor in there now?—”
“The traveling doctor with the cat staying in the apartment over the clinic?” Bronte cut in.
“Right.” Jonah nodded. “She’s here now, but Dad’s been hanging on to his share for me.”
“I sense a lack of enthusiasm for that too. You don’t want to move back here?”
“What? No—I mean, I’ve always loved the idea of raising a big family here. It’s a great place.”
“You don’t want to take over the practice, then?”
You do this, and you’ll break Dad’s heart.Andif you’re planning on breaking Dad’s heart, don’t bother coming back at all.
Jonah cleared his throat, pushed back from the table, and made his way to the coffeepot for a refill. How did this woman see right through him? “Like I said. It’s always been the plan. My great-grandpa started the practice. His son took over, and then my dad took over. Now it’s my turn.”
“Hmm.” Bronte picked up her fork and started back in on her eggs. They had to be cold by now. “So how does Doctor Jonah White not know that his entire family is gone for Christmas?”
Not ready to sit back at the table, Jonah scanned through Holland’s homemade syrups in the fridge. Deciding on cinnamon and vanilla, he added them to his mug with a splash of cream. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“I think you accomplished that on all accounts.”
“Indeed, I have.” Jonah raised his mug in a mock salute before taking a long gulp. He blanched. Too sweet. “In my defense,” he said as he dumped the sugary concoction down the drain and poured himself another cup before sitting back at the table, “no one said anything about a Christmas vacation when I talked to them last, and I never got my mother’s email with the plans and invitation.”
“Sounds like you need to check your email more often.”
Jonah pointed a finger. “You are probably exactly right.”
“You’re one of those people with, like, three thousand unread emails in their inbox, aren’t you?”
More like seventy-three thousand, but he wouldn’t admit to that. “Something like that. So…” Time for a subject change. “Bronte, author of epically long, sad books, what’s the plan?”
Bronte blinked up at him as if the change in subject had given her whiplash. “Plan?”
“Yes, plan. We’re stuck here, and you have work to do. What does that look like?”
“Oh, well”—Bronte pushed away her plate—“I guess I’ll take my suitcase back up to my room and unpack again. I have quite a bit to write over the next couple of weeks, so I guess that looks like me just sitting at my computer getting all the words out of my head and onto the blank page until I’m done.”
Where did that leave him until then? What did one do with a writer?
Her suitcase was still where it had fallen in the entryway when she’d come downstairs. The thing looked like it weighed a ton. That was something he could do. “Okay then. I’ll take your suitcase back upstairs. If you want to get your computer, you can get started. I’ll make sure there’s hot water on the stove for more tea.”
Before she could say anything, Jonah rushed out of the kitchen and grabbed Bronte’s suitcase. He was right, it did weigh a ton. He hauled it upstairs, then deposited it in the room at the end of the hall that Holland had labeled with a wreath and sign.
Maybe this wasn’t the Christmas vacation he had planned, but he could say that having a little extra time before he talked about his future with his dad had him…relieved.
Now to find something to do for the next week and a half until he could fly out and meet everyone.
ChapterFive
