Page 31 of Promise Me This Christmas
“Our B & B guests always come first.But Jo’s creamy raspberry French toast is a perennial favorite and I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Despite her friendly banter with the guests, Larkin thought Amy looked tired and stressed.Her smiles were strained and there were gray smudges under her eyes.Her messy bun was even messier this morning, and she was continually tucking stray strands behind her ears.
“We did,” Marjorie assured her.“And now I’d like to once again offer my help in your kitchen.I’m not a professional, but I’ve done a lot of baking in my time.”
Before Amy could reply, Peter put a hand on his wife’s arm.“Sorry, dear, but are you forgetting about the sleigh ride we booked on that Christmas tree farm we drove past yesterday?You thought it looked so romantic.”
“Oh yes.That’s right.”Instead of looking excited by the reminder, Marjorie’s smile faded slightly.“But we will be back in time for the tea if you need any help at the event itself.”
“We’ll be fine,” Amy assured her.“I just want you to relax and enjoy.”
As the Kettles headed off to prepare for their sleigh ride, Amy turned to Gibson, who was folding his napkin in preparation to leave.“And what are your plans for the day?Anything I can help you with?”
“Sage Carrigan offered me a tour of her chocolate-making facilities,” Gibson said.“Please excuse me.I don’t want to be late.”
“By all means.I hope you enjoy yourself.”She watched him leave the room with a slight frown deepening on her face.
“You okay?”Carson asked.
“I guess a conversation is too much to ask for.But at least I got a complete sentence out of the man that time,” Amy said.“Anyway, what about you ladies?Ethel, is there something you’d like to do this morning?”
“I can’t wait to get back to my book.”She patted Larkin’s hand.“I’m sorry to be so boring.”
Larkin was actually relieved.“You will never be boring to me.Besides, I need to do some research for my story for theCourier.I’ll get you settled in the library and then I’m off for a few hours.”
“I’m so sorry,” Amy said.“But we’ll be setting up for the tea in both the sitting room and the library.Would you mind reading in your room instead?We can bring in the chair and footstool from the library if you’d like.”
“The chair in my room is perfectly comfortable and it’s no bother at all,” her gran said.“You go off and do your research, Larkin.”
“Which way are you headed?”Carson asked.“Want a lift in my truck?”
“Thanks, but I’ll walk.I need the fresh air and exercise.”She was tempted to have some more time alone with him, even if it was only a few minutes.But she needed to focus her thoughts on her article.It may only be a fluff piece for theCourier’s Christmas Eve edition, but she intended to do a good job with it.
It was a cool but sunny morning, and the town of Marietta looked like a Christmas postcard to Larkin as she headed out dressed in her red puffer and cozy wool-lined boots.She wound her red-and-turquoise-striped scarf around her neck and slipped on her sunglasses.The glare off the pristine snow was blinding.
She started on the path through River Bend Park, following the river.The shallower edges near shore were solid ice, but in the center, the river still flowed.She didn’t need to imagine how icy cold it would be.Every year she took part in the polar plunge at her favorite ski resort.It was kind of crazy but invigorating and fun.
It always put her in mind of some of the mountain lakes she and Carson had hiked into when they were young.Even in midsummer the water in those lakes had been frigid.But that had been part of the fun and the challenge.Hot and tired from hours of climbing, they would shed their packs, strip to their underwear, then race to see who could submerge the fastest.
Catching herself thinking of Carson again, Larkin consciously redirected her thoughts to the purpose of her walk.She wanted to check out a couple of the other popular bed and breakfasts in Marietta.Just to see what the choices were in this town, and how they stacked up compared to Bramble House.
The first B & B on her list was Silver Spur at the far end of Railway Avenue.According to their website, the B & B was owned by former rodeo legend, Burt Conway, and his wife, and was a popular accommodation choice for people attending the town’s annual rodeo.In terms of reviews, it was second only to Bramble House in the number of five-star reviews.The main attraction at Silver Spur seemed to be listening to Burt Conway’s stories about his glory days as a bull rider in the nineties.“An authentic Western experience” was the promise on the website, and as Larkin approached the handcrafted two-story log home, she could see why.The house with its floor-to-ceiling windows, vaulted ceiling, and fieldstone chimney looked straight from a movie set.
She approached the front door from the porch, where she found a basket of brochures available for the taking.Flipping through the brochure, she saw that the B & B featured cowboy breakfasts complete with beans and flapjacks, and guests were invited to visit Burt’s “trophy” room, where they could relive his fifteen-year career as a professional bull rider.
Larkin returned the brochure.She could see the appeal of the Silver Spur, but guessed it serviced only a subset of visitors to Marietta.
Next on her list was the newest B & B in Marietta, the Rocking Chair.This one was located between the courthouse and the Graff Hotel, which required her to cross back over the river.The two-story home, like Bramble House, was Victorian in style, but this had an abundance of gingerbread detailing and a pastel palette that made it appear more pretty than stately.True to its name, four rocking chairs painted in lovely pastels to match the house sat out front on the porch.
There were no brochures on offer, but from reading their website, Larkin knew their breakfast offerings were similar to those at Bramble House.Classic menu favorites with modern twists, meant to appeal to a wide age range of guests.As she blatantly peered into the multipaned window on the front door, she was startled by a face staring back out at her.A moment later a woman in her midthirties opened the door.
Brown hair, brown eyes, a pleasant—if slightly inquiring—smile.Larkin had the feeling they’d met before, but no name came to mind.
“Hi, I’m Larkin Carrillo.Sorry to snoop, but your B & B is so pretty.I was curious to see the foyer.”
The woman opened the door wide.“I’m Dana.You’re welcome to come inside and take a better look.My husband, Chris, and I renovated the house ourselves.We just opened as a B & B this past summer.”
The entrance was bright and cheery with light-gray plank flooring, neutral walls, and framed photos of various beautiful rocking chairs.
