Page 59 of Fetch Me A Mate
But they'd made one crucial miscalculation. They still thought he was the same wolf who'd run three years ago, the one who chose flight over fight when the pressure got too intense.
They were wrong. This time, he had something worth staying to protect. Someone worth fighting for.
Let them escalate. He was ready.
29
DIANA
The morning after the soft reopening, Diana found Miriam in the lobby with the inn's leather-bound ledger spread across the reception desk. Sunlight streamed through the front windows, illuminating pages yellowed with age and filled with careful entries spanning decades.
"Good morning," Diana said, setting down two cups of coffee. "Researching our celebrity guest?"
"Something like that." Miriam adjusted her spectacles and pointed to an entry from February 1998. "Look at this one. 'Blizzard of '98 - twelve strangers stranded for four days. Left as lifelong friends. Annual reunions planned.' Henry wrote that."
"Twelve people?"
"Storm hit without warning. Knocked out power, blocked roads. We had a full house and nowhere for anyone to go." Miriam turned the page, revealing newspaper clippings tucked between entries. "By the third day, they'd organized game tournaments and storytelling circles. Two of them got engaged that summer."
Diana studied the faded photographs. Groups of people gathered around the fireplace, playing cards at the parlor tables,helping in the kitchen. Strangers transformed into family by circumstance and hospitality.
"That's beautiful."
"The inn has a gift for bringing people together. Always has." Miriam flipped ahead several pages. "Here's another. October 2003. 'Siren sang in the lobby until dawn. Half the town fell in love with her voice, the other half with each other.'"
"A real siren?"
"Real as you and me. Traveling through, heartbroken over some sea prince. Keened until morning, and by sunrise three couples had gotten engaged." Miriam's eyes twinkled. "Magic has a way of revealing what's already there."
Diana leaned closer, reading entry after entry of moments when the inn had served as more than shelter. Sanctuary for the lost, catalyst for connections, keeper of stories that mattered.
"All these years, all these people."
"Each one left something behind. Joy, memories, pieces of themselves woven into the building's history." Miriam closed the ledger gently. "That's what you inherited, child. Not just a business, but a promise to keep providing that sanctuary."
"What kind of promise?"
"That there's always a place where people can belong, even temporarily. Where strangers become friends and the lonely find connection." Miriam handed Diana the pen she kept clipped to the ledger's cover. "Your turn."
"My turn for what?"
"To add your entry. First official record as innkeeper."
Diana accepted the pen, its weight familiar in her palm. The same fountain pen Miriam had lent her for the ward signatures, now offered for this more permanent purpose.
"What should I write?"
"Whatever feels true."
Diana thought about yesterday's success, the way skeptics had become supporters over tea and conversation. The community's embrace of her efforts, the satisfaction of proving herself through competence rather than promises.
But underneath the triumph, her empathic gift whispered unease. Rowan had returned from his evening errand last night with tension radiating from him like heat from a forge. He'd insisted everything was fine, but Diana felt the careful control he was maintaining.
Something was building. Something that would test more than her business skills.
She dated the page and began writing in careful script:
November 15th - Soft reopening exceeded expectations. Community support stronger than anticipated. The inn continues its mission of bringing people together. Today felt like home.
