Page 6 of The Christmas Cottage
“We’re here,” he said gruffly, and Vanessa jumped.
“Oh, right.” She smiled brightly, handing him a cash tip before sliding out of the car. The cold smacked her again as she exited the warmth of the taxi back out into the dry, frigid air,and the old man got out too, coming around to get her bags out of the trunk. That felt like extra work, so she nervously handed him another ten-dollar bill, which he looked at confusedly before shrugging and tucking it into his pocket along with the twenty she’d given him as a tip.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, touching a finger to the edge of his beanie and nodding at her before sliding back into the taxi and driving away.
Merry Christmas, indeed.Vanessa clutched the handle of her suitcase, her bag in her other hand, and stared at the toy store. Mabel was inside, waiting on her, and she suddenly felt a flood of panic.
She wasn’t ready to see her grandmother again after all this time. She was nervous, and unprepared, and she had no idea what she was going to say. She?—
She was hungry. Her stomach growled, and her head faintly ached because she’d only had two cups of coffee before her flight, and Vanessa felt suddenly very sure that if she could get another cup of caffeine and something to eat, she’d feel much more ready to see her grandmother for the first time in so long. She just needed a minute to adjust. To get her head on straight.
The town was so overwhelming and distracting that she couldn’t think if she’d seen a coffee shop or any bigger restaurant, but she had clearly seen a diner only a couple of blocks away from the toy store.
With that one firm landmark in mind, she hoisted her bag and clutched her suitcase a little tighter, and started hurrying down the sidewalk toward the Snowdrift Diner.
As she walked, she looked around, trying to take in the rest of the town a bit. She passed by a sign for a Christmas tree farm, large pines fringing the outer fence that split around a mud and gravel path that wound back behind the main street and undoubtedly led to the larger farm. She could see innumerabletrees and what looked like smoke from a chimney, and another of those memories flitted back into her mind.
She thought she could remember going there when she was much younger, picking out a tree with her grandparents when her grandfather and her parents were still alive. It was one of those ‘cut your own tree’ places, she recalled, and she remembered Mabel handing her hot apple cider while Grandpa chopped down the tree, Mabel ready with the netting to wrap around it so that they could load it onto the truck and take it back home.
Vanessa bit her lip, the memory fading as she stopped in front of the diner. It was an old-fashioned log structure, with big windows and all of the lights and Christmas decorations creating festive, slightly organized chaos on the outside. Inside, she could see dark green booths and an old-fashioned diner counter making a squared-off U shape in the center of the building.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside. And the moment she did, that deep breath brought with it the scent of rich tomato, spices, gamey meat, and the clear smell of chili. There was the smell of dark coffee too, and the interior of the diner was comfortably warm, inviting anyone who stepped inside to stay, eat, and thaw out.
There was a chalkboard sign behind the hostess stand with the day’s specials.Breakfast All Day!was written at the top, with pumpkin French toast listed below it as the day’s breakfast special, and then underneath that, venison chili with maple cornbread for the lunch special. Vanessa hadn’t eaten chili since she was a child, and she couldn’t recall if she’d ever had venison, but her stomach growled again at the thought of it.
The diner was alsopacked. The only seats available were at the counter, on the dark green stools that surrounded it, with absolutely no room for her to tuck her bags next to her. Vanessa was just about to turn around and try something else, when apretty thirty-something woman with her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun hurried up to her, wiping her hands on the short apron covering her jeans. She was wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and Vanessa assumed she must be a waitress.
“Sorry,” the woman chirped, with a bright smile. “We’re packed with the lunch rush. But we have a couple seats at the counter! I can get you whatever you’d like, just grab one?—”
“I think I might go.” Vanessa managed a tiny smile in return, gesturing to her bags. “I have?—”
“Oh, don’t worry about that! I can tuck them right back here.” The woman took the suitcase before Vanessa could say anything, rolling it behind the hostess stand and holding a hand out for her other bag.
“I don’t know if I want to leave?—”
“They’ll be perfectly safe. Place like this, you could leave them on the sidewalk and they’d still be there when you came out. Grab yourself a seat, and I’ll be right over with some coffee. You do want coffee, right?”
Vanessa nodded, thrown off by the flood of hospitality and the small-town friendliness, just as she’d known she would be. She couldn’t think of a reason to argue, exactly, so instead she found herself handing the bag over and going to the furthest seat that was empty at the counter, a couple of seats away from other customers. She hung her purse up on a hook underneath, just as the friendly waitress—whose nametag saidPatty, she saw now—came over with a pot of coffee and a bowl of single-serving pumpkin spice creamers.
“Here you go!” she said brightly as she filled a cream-colored mug with the diner’s logo on it with coffee. The logo was a snowman holding his own cup, Vanessa saw, with a snowdrift behind him and the diner’s name above it in old-fashioned script. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to see what you might wantto eat.” Patty slid a laminated menu toward Vanessa, and darted off.
Her appetite had fled. She took one of the single-serving creamers out of the bowl and opened it, dumping it into the coffee cup as she wondered if it had been a mistake to come to Fir Tree Grove. She laughed inwardly as she opened another. What was she thinking? Of course it had been a mistake. All she had to do was look around the diner to see that she stuck out, but she didn’t want to, because she was sure they’d all be looking at her the way the taxi driver had. Sure, she had passed some other people who looked like they were tourists, and Patty had been friendly, but shewasn’ta tourist. And pretty soon in a place like this, it would get out that Mabel’s granddaughter was home for the first time in years, the first time in her entireadult life, and everyone would definitely look at her like she stuck out.
Being a tourist was one thing, but being someone who was supposed to belong butlookedlike a tourist was another. She had no business here. She should be back in San Francisco, doing her job, and not upsetting her boss. She’d been right about how bad cell service was, and she was sure that was the only reason she hadn’t already had multiple calls from Russell.
“Would you like some coffee with your cream?” A deep male voice cut through her thoughts, and Vanessa jolted, blinking as she looked down at the small pile of creamers in front of her. She’d dumped six of them into the eight-ounce cup of coffee. It was a pale tan color now, and she couldn’t believe she’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t even noticed.
She looked up, blinking again as she was immediately startled by the man standing in front of her. He was remarkably handsome, tall with thick dark brown hair and a wide smile that softened his otherwise strong, chiseled face. He had a scruff of dark stubble on his jaw, and he was wearing a forest green and black plaid shirt, with an apron over it.
Vanessa assumed he must be a waiter. Probably come to take her order, which she still hadn’t even thought about. She wasn’t sure she was hungry any longer, although she knew she should eat. The muffin she’d picked apart at the airport early that morning definitely didn’t count as breakfast. But her stomach was so tied up in knots that she didn’t know how she was going to eat anything, much less chili.
“Sorry,” she said, unsure exactly as to why she was apologizing. “I was a bit preoccupied.”
“You certainly seemed to be.” The man grinned at her, amusement coloring his voice as he topped off her coffee, adding a bit more to the cup. “Wanna talk about it?”
Vanessa frowned at him. “This isn’t a bar,” she said primly, glancing back down at the menu. It was all the kind of food she would expect from a place like this.
Breakfast platters of eggs and bacon, or sausages and toast, pancakes that promised to be stacked high and served with maple syrup. Fish and chips, meatloaf with mashed potatoes, an elk burger with goat cheese and pepper jam, a regular burger that could be ordered classic or “Western” style with barbecue sauce, cheddar cheese, or an onion ring, a hot roast beef sandwich with juice for dipping, and—she guessed because of the season—a “Pilgrim” sandwich with local turkey, homemade stuffing, fresh cranberry sauce, cream cheese and a side of gravy.
