Page 75 of Tinsel & Tools
Gavin
One Year Later
The door opened, and a young couple walked in, brushing a few flurries off their shoulders.
“Welcome to Cedar Falls Inn,” I said from behind the massive wood desk Allie had found on consignment. “Are you checking in?”
“Yes.” The man tugged his gloves off. “Last name’s Minert.”
“Great. Let me get you checked in.”
“Wow, this place is even prettier in person,” the woman next to him stated, looking around the lobby that Allie had spent the entire week after Thanksgiving decorating.
“All the credit goes to my best friend. She’s got an online channel—At Home With Allie—full of decorating tips and design ideas.” I checked their IDs and then confirmed their credit card on file for any incidentals before sliding an antique-style key across the desk. “You’re in room two, which has a beautiful view of the lake. Once you’re settled, please come down and enjoy some hot cider and cookies.” I gestured to the credenza next to the fireplace, where the treats were laid out.
“Thank you.” Mr. Minert took the key and slid an arm around the woman as they headed for the stairs.
Since opening last spring, we’d hired a cleaning crew and two receptionists to help around the inn. Even with a full staff, I still liked spending time at the front desk. Sometimes, Allie joined me when she wasn’t busy with her own stuff.
Mrs. Ross still handled breakfast and baked goods for our guests, but I’d convinced her to give up her old room and move into the new bungalow we’d built behind the inn. She pretended to complain about “semi-retiring,” but the happiness that radiated from her told me all I needed to know. This place was home for her, and she’d always be a part of Cedar Fall Inn. Besides, I was fairly certain that some guests returned just for her cinnamon rolls.
We’d hosted a couple of weddings, a writing retreat, hikers, and families looking for a small-town getaway, and every time I checked the reservation app, I knew I’d made the right decision to renovate the place.
Allie breezed out of the sitting room in a cream sweater dress and brown high-heeled boots, looking like she came straight off a runway in New York City, even though she’d officially moved in with Ryan and made Brookhaven her home a few weeks after I’d moved in with Cole permanently.
She’d enjoyed decorating the inn, but she wasn’t sure how to turn that into a full-time job here, so she started using social media to build her brand, and things took off from there. She’d secured a few sponsorships and loved making online content. And lucky for me, she continued to decorate the bed and breakfast for every holiday and event.
“The wreath is crooked.” She pointed to the one centered above the fireplace.
“Didn’t you hang that one?” I shot back.
“No, I gave that job to your man.” She glared playfully in my direction. “Speaking of, where is your handyman?”
“Last I saw, he was splitting some firewood outside.”
Cole continued to work with his dad, but whenever he had time, he came to the inn to help out. Not a day went by that I didn’t remember that this place only existed because he’d believed in it and in me.
“You two talking about me?” Cole asked, coming in from the back of the house with an armful of logs to place by the fire.
Allie turned to him. “Do you have your ladder in your truck?”
“Have you ever seen my truck without the ladder in the back?” He smirked.
“Okay, smartass.” She chuckled. “Can I borrow it so I can fix the wreath you hung crooked?”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t want Ryan giving me shit for not being a gentleman and helping you.”
“Thanks.” She flashed me a grin. “These small-town heroes really are as chivalrous in real life as they are in the movies.”
In the next hour, the wreath was fixed, one of our receptionists, Marie, arrived to take over front desk duties, and Mrs. Ross walked out of the kitchen with two warm apple pies in her hands.
“Here you go.” She handed one to Allie and the other to Cole. “I’ve got a plate of cookies cooling in the kitchen for your family dinner,” she told him.
“I’ll go get them,” I started, but was interrupted by my phone ringing. Looking down, I saw my agent’s name on the screen. “Actually, I need to take this.”
I pressed the accept button and made my way outside. “Hi, Marissa. How’s it going?”
Once Cole and I had gone public with our relationship and no one had batted an eye, his worries about the book faded. I continued writing our story and published Tinsel & Tools a little over a month ago. It had been an instant success; even Lynann’s Bookstore couldn’t keep enough copies on the shelves to meet the demand. Within a week, my agent was fielding several offers for audio and translation rights.
