Page 3 of Pine Creek Lodge
Ms. Holloway hesitated. "I'll be leaving early tomorrow to hit the slopes. I don't require breakfast."
"Of course," Nat replied, trying not to let her disappointment show. She'd been hoping to showcase her breakfast skills, maybe even coax a smile out of her stoic guest. "What time would you like dinner prepared tomorrow evening?"
"Ms. Holloway took a small sip of the wine, her expression unreadable. "I'm not sure I'll be back for dinner tomorrow," she said. "Don't wait around for me; I’m sure you have better things to do. I can fend for myself if you show me where everything is."
Nat blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion. "I'm sorry, Ms. Holloway, but I'm required to be here. It's my job to ensure your stay is comfortable and that all your needs are met."
Ms. Holloway raised an eyebrow. "That's not necessary. You can go home. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"I appreciate the offer, but I'm not allowed to do that," Nat explained, trying to keep her tone polite but firm. "My presence here is part of the service you've paid for. If I don't fulfill my duties, I won't get paid. And frankly, I need this job."
Ms. Holloway’s jaw set as she looked down at her plate. "I see. Very well, I understand. In that case," she continued, setting down her fork, "I'd like to lay down some ground rules."
Nat straightened, bracing herself. "Of course. What did you have in mind?"
"First, regarding meals," Ms. Holloway began, her tone businesslike. "You can prepare dinner as planned. If I'm not here, simply leave it in front of the microwave in the kitchen. I'll heat it up myself when I return."
Nat nodded, making mental notes.
"For breakfast," Ms. Holloway continued, "you can prepare it as you normally would. If I don't require it, you're free to dispose of it. I won't always know in advance if I'll be having breakfast here."
"Understood," Nat said, though internally she winced at the thought of potentially wasting food.
"Next, my ski gear," Ms. Holloway said. "I'd like it cleaned and my skis polished each night, ready for use the next day. Can you manage that?"
"Yes, of course."
"Good." Ms. Holloway paused, then added, "Apart from that, I assure you, I'll be the easiest guest you've ever had to deal with. I require minimal interaction and prefer my privacy."
Nat forced a smile, though internally she was far from convinced. "I understand."
Ms. Holloway returned her attention to her meal, and Nat stood there for a moment, unsure if she was dismissed or if Ms. Holloway would have more to say.
As the silence stretched on, Nat couldn't shake the uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. Despite Ms. Holloway's assurance that she'd be an easy guest, Nat was getting seriously bad vibes from this woman. The cold demeanor, the rigid rules, the clear desire for isolation – it all added up to what promised to be a very challenging two weeks. But Nat needed this job. Her family needed this job, and no matter how difficult Ms. Holloway might be, she would provide the best service possible. She would be professional, efficient, and unflappable.
She plastered on her most professional smile and said, "Is there anything else you need for now, Ms. Holloway?"
Ms. Holloway looked up, seeming almost surprised to see Nat still standing there. "No, that will be all. Thank you." When she finally met Nat’s eyes for a brief moment, Nat noticed they were red-rimmed and realized the woman hadn’t been sleeping earlier. She’d been crying.
Chapter Three
Natalie hung up her coat, her shoulders sagging as she leaned against the door of her small apartment. The cozy space above her parents' bakery had always been her sanctuary, but lately, it felt more like a reminder of all that was at stake.
She kicked off her shoes and padded across the worn hardwood floors, her fingers trailing along the back of the armchair she'd found at a thrift store. The twinkling lights of her modest Christmas tree cast a warm glow over the room, but the acrid smell of smoke still lingered faintly in the air, a constant reminder of the fire that had nearly destroyed everything her family had worked for. Nat's apartment had escaped the worst of the damage, but the bakery below hadn't been so lucky.
She stripped off her work clothes and headed for the shower. The hot water soothed her tense muscles, and she tried to let the stress of the day wash away with the soap suds. But thoughts of Ms. Holloway and her icy demeanor kept creeping back in, along with worries about her family's financial situation.
After her shower, Nat pulled on her favorite oversized sweater and a pair of well-worn leggings. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and shot herself a small smile. "Come on,Nat," she whispered to her reflection. "You've got this. It's just two weeks."
The familiar creaking of the stairs alerted her to someone's approach, and a moment later, there was a soft knock at her door. "Nat? You home, honey?" her mother's voice called out.
"Yeah, Mom. Just a sec!" Nat called back, quickly running a brush through her damp hair before opening the door.
Martha Bergman stood there, still wearing the apron she'd been using to bake cookies all day. The lines around her eyes seemed deeper than usual, and Nat felt a pang of guilt. Her mother shouldn't have to work so hard at her age.
"We're all gathered in the living room," she said, giving Nat a warm smile. "Thought you might want to join us for a bit before bed."
Nat nodded, following her mother downstairs to the house next door to the bakery. Her father, Robert, was slouched in his favorite armchair, looking exhausted. Her sixteen-year-old sister, Zoe, was curled up on the couch, phone in hand as always.
