Page 12 of Christmas at Pine Ridge Inn
The easy teasing between Brady and the Brennans reminded Lila of the dynamic she’d had with her own parents, and the familiar tidal wave of sadness threatened to topple her. Sarah nudged her then, bringing her back to the present.
“Could you grab that cookie sheet from the oven? I think they’re done.” The knowing look on her face said she sensed Lila needed to keep busy.
As Lila pulled the golden cookies in the shape of snowmen and reindeer from the oven, the warm scent of vanilla and butter filled the air. Steam rose from the hot cookies, and she felt an unexpected sense of accomplishment at the perfectly golden results.
“Those look professional,” Ali said admiringly. “You sure you don’t bake regularly?”
“I guess it’s like riding a bike,” Lila said, but she couldn’t hide her pleased smile.
As the afternoon progressed, Lila found herself relaxing in ways she hadn’t expected. When the sisters’ playful argument escalated into an actual flour fight, she surprised herself by laughing instead of stepping back. When Sophie asked her to help with the dough for the gingerbread men, she abandoned her precise measuring approach and went with the older woman’s “eyeballing it” method.
“My grandmother always said you could tell if someone was good at baking by how they handled cookie dough,” Sophie said, watching Lila work. “Too dry and they’ll fall apart. Too wet and they’ll wind up spreading too much and flattening into a pancake. You’ve got it just right though.”
The compliment warmed Lila more than it should have. She’d spent years perfecting her professional skills, earning praise forher strategic thinking and efficiency. But when was the last time someone had complimented her on anything but work?
Brady returned as they were transferring the final batches to cooling racks, the kitchen now warm and fragrant with the smell of fresh-baked cookies. Flour dusted every surface, and most of the bakers bore evidence of their afternoon’s work on their clothes and hands.
“The lobby smells incredible,” he said, stealing a cookie from a cooling rack despite Sophie’s protests. “I’ve got stations all set up for the decorating portion.”
“Perfect timing,” Carol said, surveying their bounty. “We’ve got enough cookies to feed the whole town.”
As they began carrying platters of cookies to the dining room, Lila realized she’d completely lost track of time. The afternoon had slipped away in a haze of flour and laughter, and for the first time since arriving in Pine Ridge, she hadn’t thought about her mission to find her birth mother.
“You coming to decorate?” Kimberly asked, balancing a tray of sugar cookies.
Lila hesitated. She’d planned to retreat to her room to call Jenna or catch up on emails. But looking around at the group that had somehow become familiar in just a few hours, she found herself nodding.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Excellent,” said Sarah with a warm smile. “I wouldn’t want to lose my partner.”
It was then that Lila remembered she wasn’t the only one here alone for the holiday. She didn’t know why Sarah wasn’t spending the holidays with friends or family, but it warmed her heart that Sarah thought of them as a team. They moved into the dining room where Brady had set up decorating stations with colored icing and sprinkles, and for the first time in months, Lilawas looking forward to something that had nothing to do with work.
That evening, after a delicious dinner and a rowdy game of charades in the lobby, Lila retired to her room to take a shower. She was too restless to sleep though, as thoughts of the quilt, and who’d commissioned it, filled her mind. The day’s activities had been a welcome distraction, but now in the quiet of her room, all her questions came rushing back. She decided to take her book down to read by the fire for a while, hoping the peaceful atmosphere might calm her racing thoughts.
She was surprised to find Brady in the lobby kneeling beside one of the side tables near the fireplace, tools spread around him as he worked underneath it with careful concentration.
“You’re here late,” she observed.
He looked up, a screwdriver in his hand. “Just tightening up this table. The legs get loose over time with all the use, and it was starting to wobble when guests set their drinks down.”
“Do you mind if I sit? I can be quiet.”
Brady studied her for a moment, as if weighing whether he wanted company. “Sure,” he finally said.
“Thanks,” she said, selecting the same chair she’d sat in earlier that day when she’d talked with Carol.
Brady moved to the fireplace to put more logs on the fire, and Lila found herself studying the lobby with fresh eyes in the soft lamplight. The furniture was arranged in conversation groupings, but there was something about the flow that seemed off to her.
“You know,” she said as Brady poked at the logs, “if you moved those two chairs from the corner over here by the fireplace, and shifted that side table to the other wall, you’d create a muchbetter conversation area. The way it’s set up now, people sitting over there feel isolated from the main seating area.”
Brady returned the tool to its rack by the hearth, turning from the fire to look at her, his expression unreadable. “You said you’re a hospitality consultant?”
She nodded. “I go into hotels and resorts and help them improve the guest experience and optimize revenue opportunities.”
“And they pay you to tell them how to rearrange their lobby? Or their buffet line?” He looked mildly amused now. Not like he was belittling her profession but like they shared an inside joke.
“Sometimes pool furniture too.” She shrugged, smiling.
