Page 87 of Christmas at Valentine Inn

Dave:Just posted your photos from today. I hope you enjoy all the attention. By the way, I know the inn is closing on the 21stfor a week. Would you really close it for your wedding? Just come clean. It will be easier for everyone that way.

Who was he getting information from? I was officially freaked out. But I was also a Molly Weasley.

Me:Are you threatening me? Also, where did you get this number?

Dave:I have my ways. Just remember that.

Me:Well, remember this: I will be saving this little tête-à-tête for the police. Sleep well.

I waited for his response that never came. I lay back down, knowing sleep would elude me. I knew he was trying to be careful, but his thinly veiled threats didn’t go unnoticed. The question was, what was he threatening? I was afraid my Hallmark Christmas was about to turn intoDie Hard.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU ...”

Is there anything more awkward than being sung happy birthday to?I kept thinking as Mom walked in carrying a four-layer chocolate fudge cake, straight out ofMatildaand looking like Dante’s inferno. How she’d managed to get forty-one candles on it, and lit at the same time, I would never know. Nor did I really want to. Especially since, momentarily, I would have to attempt blowing them all out in front of everyone. And I mean everyone. Drake returned early. He said it was because he didn’t want to miss his favorite sister-in-law’s birthday, but I knew it was because of Dave, and he missed Charlotte and Jameson like crazy. But Dave was the catalyst. There was obviously a spy among us.

I looked around the dining hall at every suspect, I mean guest, since Mom had insisted on inviting everyone at the inn to my celebration. Of course, everyone showed up. How many times do you get invited to a party with a major celebrity? Sure, I will have a lifetime of that torture ... I mean honor. I kept forgetting Drake and I were friends now, especially since his and Charlotte’s birthday present to me was an all-inclusive trip to Bora Bora. Patrick and the kids were included. Besides, the cottage was pretty cramped at the moment—even if we had invited just family to the party, it wasn’t a viable option.

With the cottage full of people, guess who got kicked off the hideaway bed? It wasn’t terrible that I had no choice but to sleep with Patrick on his couch. There was literally no room at the inn for me. It was a sacrifice I gladly made. I was just grateful I wasn’t sleeping in a manger.

Drake had been gracious enough to let Patrick’s parents continue to stay in the honeymoon suite. I really hoped Drake and Charlotte weren’ttalkingat night on the hideaway. Just in case, I never sat on that couch. I had to say, I was thankful for Drake’s benevolence. Without it, Ophelia and Marcus would have ended up in Patrick’s suite, which would have meant zero alone time, versus the five minutes we enjoyed every night before drifting off to sleep.

At that moment, I caught a glimpse of Ophelia and Marcus as I peered over the flames to see them standing back near the buffet hutch, not singing. I knew they hated me. I felt like they were always lurking about, studying me like a lab rat. I wasn’t sure what they expected from me. Patrick said it was because they had loved Nina at first, and, well, we all know how that turned out. While I understood their hesitation, I would like to have had the benefit of the doubt until I actually did something crazy. Or perhaps they counted the Ron Swanson thing against me. I would give them that. I looked like a nutjob in that photo, but come on. Besides, they should blame Patrick for that. If he hadn’t had me so wound up, I might not have guzzled that chocolate milk in the store.

Unfortunately, I had more pressing matters to worry about. There was a traitor among us, and I had to know who. I caught a glimpse of Chef Paul standing near the kitchen door. He was number one on my list of suspects, as he was the only employee who knew about Charlotte and Drake’s wedding and he knew my phone number. Drake wasn’t so sure. Patrick was on the fence, as he and Drake were now BFFs and acting like the Hardy Boys trying to solve this mystery. At first, Patrick totally agreed with me, but that was more because he thought Chef Paul had a thing for me. Drake was convincing him otherwise. Normally, that would annoy me, seeing as it was Drake. However, it was kind of cute to see them together, going over clues and talking to the security team Drake had hired. They’d even patrolled the grounds. The best part was watching them interrogate Paul, playing good cop/bad cop. Patrick was, of course, the good cop. Drake had made Paul hand over his phone and let him scroll through his texts. They found nothing of consequence, other than that he wasn’t a very good speller and he had a string of women he messaged every day.

Still, I wasn’t convinced it wasn’t Paul. I mean, hello, ever hear of a burner phone? I’ve watched plenty of crime dramas, and let’s not forget my dear future brother-in-law played a spy on a regular basis. Why was I the only person thinking that way? Not even the police were able to do anything yet. It’s the yet that always gets you.

“Happy birthday, dear Izzy ... Happy birthday to you.”

“Make a wish!” Mom shouted while trying to burn my eyebrows off with the candles.

I wasn’t sure I had anything more I could wish for. Well, perhaps that Dave went down in flames, but I wasn’t wasting a wish on him. I carefully looked to my right at Patrick, close to my side, then to my left at Bridgette and Rory, who both gave me toothy grins. What more could I ask for? Well ... maybe one more thing. I would love to add one more to the group. Someone to call meMommy. I closed my eyes and for a brief second saw flashes of a little girl with my same dark curly hair playing with Bridgette and Rory. I knew it was a nearly impossible dream, to have a baby who looked like me. I felt selfish for wanting more than I had already been given, yet it was my wish—as impossible as it was. I opened my eyes and blew with all my might, probably looking like a fool. Dad captured it all with his camera.

I didn’t blow all the candles out at the same time, but Patrick, Bridgette, and Rory jumped in to help, all laughing. It was the best sound in the world.

Mom loved it so much, she burst into tears.

Charlotte grabbed the cake before Mom could boo-hoo all over it.

“Happy birthday, darling.” Patrick kissed me once. “I can’t wait to give you my present,” he murmured against my lips.

An electric bolt went down my spine. I was hoping for the first gift he’d ever given me—thelong, slow version. Emphasis on long. We were probably going to have to hide in the attic to achieve that.

I’d made everyone promise not to bring any gifts to this soirée. It was embarrassing enough to eat cake with everyone. And who knew what Mom had put in her “gift” basket to me. All I knew was I overheard her asking Charlotte if she should get the jumbo pack in neon colors or pastels, and minty or fruity.

“I’m looking forward to it.” I kissed him back, making sure to keep it innocent. I would hate for his parents to think any worse of me.

“Happy birthday, Izzy.” Bridgette threw her arms around me as my lips left her father’s.

“Thank you, honey.” I gave her a good squeeze.

She leaned away. “I hope it’s okay that I invited Cruz over for some cake.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“You’re the best. I put your birthday present under the tree in our suite.” Her cheeks went rosy.

I wondered why she would be embarrassed. “I can’t wait to open it.”

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