Page 35 of Pine Creek Lodge
Sofia’s eyes sparkled with mischief, clearly having similar thoughts about that shower Nat had promised, but before she could respond, Martha, cut in while she cleared the table. “Not so fast, honey. We’re doing presents now. Your shower can wait, can’t it?” Her tone was light but left no room for argument.
Nat bit back a groan while Sofia, clearly amused, nodded enthusiastically.
“I’d love to stay,” she said, following the rest of the family into the living room. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring any presents,” shesaid, glancing at Nat and then at the rest of the family. “It was all a bit last-minute, but I’ll make it up to you next time.”
The casual way Sofia said “next time” sent a jolt through Nat.Next time.Sofia saw the potential of something more, even if it was just a vague promise. Their eyes met, and they both blushed, quickly looking away. Nat’s chest tightened. She wanted to believe there could be a next time. She really did.
Martha reached under the tree and pulled out a small wrapped package. “This is for you, Sofia. I whipped it up last night. I hope you like it. Don’t worry; you don’t have to wear it if it’s not your thing.”
“For me?” Surprise flickered across Sofia’s face as she took the gift, her fingers brushing the soft wrapping paper.
“Yes, but as I said, it’s just a silly little thing.”
Carefully, Sofia peeled away the paper, revealing a knitted beanie in shades of gray and blue. For a long moment, she just stared. “You... you made this? Last night?” Her voice was soft, almost reverent.
“Yeah,” Martha said, a little bashful now. “It gets cold around here. Thought you might need it.”
Sofia swallowed hard, and Nat realized with a jolt that this might be the first homemade gift she’d ever received. Sofia’s life had evolved from less than basic to elegant, and polished—nothing in between like the raw, simple warmth of something made with love and care. She’d never had a real Christmas either.
“Thank you,” she whispered, pulling the beanie over her head. It fit perfectly. “It’s... beautiful.” She stood up to give Martha a hug.
“I’m glad you like it, honey. It suits you.”
Nat felt a rush of affection for her mother, who she suspected had been up until the early hours, making it. She noticed howSofia’s smile lingered, a bit softer than before, as she adjusted the beanie. The simple gift had clearly touched her.
The gift exchange continued, and Zoe squealed over a scrapbook Nat had compiled of their childhood memories. She watched as her mother unwrapped the Christmas-themed oven gloves she’d bought for her, along with a pair of simple navy ones. Her current oven gloves were worn and full of burn marks.
“Thank you, sweetheart. I love them.” She hugged Nat and handed a present to her husband. “This one’s for you, Robert.”
Nat’s father raised an eyebrow and unwrapped the gift revealing a thick, beautifully bound recipe book. The cover was embossed with the title “Family Favorites: A Collection of Baked Goods and Traditions” and featured old photos of their bakery and family gatherings. His eyes softened as he flipped through the pages, each section organized with hand-annotated notes and cherished recipes. “Martha, did you do this?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.
“With a little help from Nat and Zoe.”
He stood and crossed the room to hug her, the recipe book pressed between them. “It’s perfect,” he murmured. “Thank you.”
Nat glanced at Sofia and saw the unmistakable shimmer of emotion in her eyes at witnessing her parents’ embrace. The love and warmth radiating from her family was clearly touching something deep within her. Without a word, Sofia reached for Nat’s hand, their fingers intertwining, and she gave Nat a small, soft smile, one that spoke volumes about how much this moment meant to her.
Just then, Nat’s phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her abruptly from the warmth of the scene. Her heart sank as she glanced at the screen. It was her boss.
“Hello? Mr. Franklin?”
“Bergman,” he said curtly. “We have a problem. I just got a call from one of our lodge guests. Apparently, there’s no staff present. Care to explain?”
The blood drained from Nat’s face. Her mind raced, and then it clicked suddenly. Carla. Of course. “Mr. Franklin, there’s a misunderstanding,” Nat began, stalling for time. “I had arranged?—”
“I don’t care about your arrangements,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “Our policy is crystal clear: staff must be on-site, at all times. I don’t run a charity, Bergman. I run a lodge that prides itself on impeccable service. And you’ve just jeopardized that.”
Panic surged as Nat glanced at the living room, where Sofia was laughing with her family. “Sir, please, if you’ll just let me explain. The main guest, Ms. Holloway, specifically requested to be left alone and?—”
“I don’t want excuses,” he snapped. “I want results. Unless you’re there in five minutes and make up for our guest’s discomfort, you’re officially terminated. And I’m only giving you another chance because you’re one of our best employees.”
Nat swallowed hard. She couldn’t go back to the lodge and work for Carla. This wasn't just about avoiding an uncomfortable situation—it was about protecting herself and Sofia from a situation that could easily become unbearable. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, deciding to be honest. “But the primary guest is here with me and – ”
“What?” Mr. Franklin interrupted her. “And where is ‘here’?”
“At my parents’ house.” Nat blew out her cheeks. “I invited her to my parents’ house for Christmas. The other guest who’s currently at the lodge showed up unexpectedly just as we were leaving.”
Mr. Franklin’s tone hardened, dripping with incredulity. “So you thought it was okay to leave her there? Alone? You know what we pride ourselves on, Bergman. Impeccable service. Andnow I have a disgruntled guest who hasn’t even had her morning coffee and it’s midday!”
