As the car tires rattled down the gravel road, Kat gripped the steering wheel in silent frustration. Although they’d labored over the riddle during dinner—even asking Colt for help—they weren’t able to reach a satisfying conclusion. In desperation, they’d settled on two flimsy possibilities—Timothy’s telescope and the sundial—based on the riddle’s references to the sun and stars. But neither option seemed to encompass the entire riddle, and Kat wasn’t surprised when they checked both locations after dinner and came up empty-handed.
At this rate, she’d be stuck in Poppy Creek forever.
Passing through an open gate, she sucked in a breath as a stunning Victorian home came into view, its buttery yellow exterior illuminated by twinkling Christmas lights in a soft, golden hue.
After parking in the covered carport, Kat climbed out of the driver’s seat only to stand perfectly still, in awe of her surroundings. Lush green vines ambled up each side of the stately exterior as if swaddling the residence in a warm blanket. Based on the inn’s name, Kat wondered if they were morning glory vines and imagined how the building would look engulfed in vibrant indigo flowers in the springtime.
But her favorite feature was the inviting front porch that boasted a cozy seating area generous enough to accommodate several guests. Lanterns flickered on the tabletops and thick throw blankets were draped over the plush couches and chairs.
As she gazed at the idyllic setting, a familiar longing filled her heart. In the quiet moments, when she allowed herself to dream, she’d envision running an inn of her own, even grander than this one, with enough space to host workshops like pottery, quilting, and stained-glass. Maybe even self-defense classes, if she so chose. Possibly even large enough for its own elegant restaurant.
But above all, she dreamed of keeping the most opulent suite available for someone in need of a rejuvenating retreat but who couldn’t afford it. Someone like Fern or one of their many Hope Hideaway residents.
Of course, that’s all it was—a silly dream. She’d never leave Fern or Starcross Cove. And yet, she found herself drawn to discovering what else the Morning Glory Inn had to offer, to tuck away the inspiration for future quiet moments.
Lugging the shopping bags of clothing from Penny’s store up the broad porch steps, she couldn’t help noticing every thoughtful detail, from the basket of lawn games to the rack of fishing poles. The owners of the establishment certainly seemed keen on ensuring their guests had a good time during their stay.
Kat breathed a contented sigh as a delicate bell chimed, greeting her as she crossed the threshold. Immediately, the homey scent of gingerbread enveloped her like a welcoming hug.
“Hello, dearie! Welcome to the Morning Glory Inn. You must be Kat.” Seemingly from out of nowhere, a lithe, sprightly woman appeared in the hallway. “I’m Gertrude Hobbs, but everyone calls me Trudy. Here, let me help you with those.” Without waiting for a response—or a hello—Trudy plucked the bags from Kat’s grasp, unconcerned with the fact that both of her hands—and every inch of her festive apron—were covered in flour.
Flitting toward the antique check-in desk, Trudy called out over her shoulder, “It’s a Christmas miracle I had a room available. Not more than two minutes before Penny called, a guest canceled. Her mother took ill, the poor dear. Nothing too serious, thank goodness. But she didn’t feel right leaving her home alone under the circumstances, which is perfectly understandable. At my age, the sniffles can turn to pneumonia quicker than the time it takes to boil a pot of chicken soup.”
Kat hid a smile as Trudy set the bags on the polished hardwood floor before flipping open her guestbook. The woman sure had the gift of gab.
“That’s why my husband, George, and I have a full refund cancellation policy,” she continued. “Things happen outside our control. And the last thing the poor dear needs is financial stress on top of an ill mother. Besides, our rooms rarely stay empty for long. As the only inn in Poppy Creek, our No Vacancy sign is practically a permanent fixture.”
“You’re the only lodging in Poppy Creek?” Kat asked, speaking for the first time since her arrival.
“Officially, yes. And let me tell you, it can put quite the strain on two old-timers who’ve been running this place for nearly forty years. Although, Dolores Whittaker has been known to put up a guest or two in her large farmhouse. She lives by herself, you know. And I think she likes the company. Would you believe she does it all online? It’s amazing what you can do with technology these days. But I prefer to handle everything the old-fashioned way.”
She plucked a brass key from a wall of hooks behind her, passing it to Kat by the end of a green satin ribbon. “You’ll be staying in the Cedar Suite upstairs. It doesn’t face the garden, but you have a prime view of the forest, which looks lovely covered in snow. And we’re supposed to get a nice storm sometime this weekend. Not according to the weather station, of course. But Bill Tucker’s pig, Peggy Sue, has been accurately predicting snowstorms for years.”
“Unfortunately, I’ll only be staying one night.” For a fleeting moment, Kat regretted her brief visit. Since she’d lived her whole life on the coast of California, she’d never seen snow before.
“Oh, now that’s a shame.” Trudy made a tsk-tsk sound in tandem with a disappointed shake of her head. “Well, I’ll hold off on booking your room for the rest of the week in case you change your mind. Christmas in Poppy Creek is a magical time of year. You really can’t appreciate it unless you stay a few days, at least.”
Before Kat could respond, a loud trill reverberated down the hallway.
Trudy clapped her hands, scattering a puff of flour. “Oh, heavens! I forgot all about the cookies.” Scampering from behind the desk, she said, “I’ll have George carry your bags up to your room. I’d love to stay and chat, but time waits for no man, as the saying goes.”
Something about the woman’s words resonated with Kat, but she wasn’t sure why. “I can carry my own bags, but thanks for the offer. You take care of those cookies.”
“Thank you, dear. Do come down once you’re settled in. We’re watching White Christmas tonight and we’d love for you to join us.” With a fluttering wave, Trudy scuttled down the hallway and disappeared from sight.
Lifting her bags off the floor, Kat smiled. Trudy was an interesting woman, to say the least, but Kat appreciated her warm, gregarious demeanor.
As she mounted the creaking staircase, admiring the eclectic assortment of artwork hanging on the wall, Trudy’s words echoed inside her head.
Time waits for no man….
Why did the phrase sound so familiar?
Juggling her belongings, she eased open the door to her suite. Her breath immediately caught in her throat. Directly across from the threshold, a fully decorated Christmas tree sparkled in front of an expansive bay window, its silvery lights glittering around the room like tiny prisms. The fragrant branches dispersed the most delightful aroma of fresh cedar, and Kat briefly closed her eyes, savoring the scent.
As her eyelids drifted open, she noticed two snug reading chairs arranged in front of a quaint potbelly stove. A queen-size canopy bed rested against the opposite wall, its thick quilt dotted with embroidered evergreen trees.
She set the shopping bags on the tufted bench at the foot of the bed before crossing the room to inspect an exquisite grandfather clock similar to one she’d seen in Penny’s apartment. Rather than numbers on the dial, the hands ticked past images depicting the various phases of the moon and sun.
As she studied the unusual design, Trudy’s words flooded her mind.
Time waits for no man.
Retrieving her cell phone from her coat pocket, Kat pulled up the photo she’d taken of the riddle.
The stars wait for no man.
That’s why it sounded so familiar! Her pulse quickened as the pieces started to fall into place.
The stars wait for no man, and neither does the sun. Once you think it’s over, it’s really just begun.
Each line could be referring to the passage of time. Which meant…
She hastily scrolled through her contacts, looking for the number Penny had programmed into her phone earlier, then remembered her date with Colt—the one her fiancé had attempted to turn into a double date.
While sweet, the offer had been grossly misguided. Not only did being around Penny elicit too many painful memories, but spending time with Jack evoked an emotion far worse… hope.
Grateful for his one remaining single friend, Jack welcomed Reed Hollis into his home with a boisterous grin, which broadened when he caught sight of the white paper bag in his hand. The Sadie’s Sweet Shop logo stamped on the front instantly made his mouth water and he snatched it from Reed’s grasp.
“What’d you bring?” The paper crinkled as Jack rooted around inside.
“All your favorites, don’t worry.” Reed shrugged out of his sherpa-lined coat, hanging it on a rustic hook by the front door. “I wasn’t sure if Grant would be home, so I brought enough for three of us.”
Jack shoved a pecan caramel square into his mouth, amused by Reed’s comment. Although Grant lived in the cozy guesthouse behind his cabin—which he’d originally built for his sister’s visits—he rarely saw him anymore. Ever since he got engaged, Grant spent most of his time with Eliza, Ben, and their dog, Vinny, basically using the guesthouse as a place to sleep. “It’s just you and me tonight. Two sad bachelors stuffing their faces with chocolate.”
“Hey,” Reed laughed, kicking his boots off before flopping onto the couch. “I brought taffy and licorice, too.”
A sucker for the sweet, star anise flavor, Jack dug inside the bag, finally retrieving a handful of black licorice shaped like lumps of coal—fitting, given his grinch status this year. Satisfied with his selection for the moment, he handed the bag back to Reed before sinking into his oversize plaid recliner.
“I was surprised you called,” Reed admitted, choosing an amaretto truffle for himself. “Doesn’t Lucy usually visit this time of year?”
The slippery candy slid down Jack’s throat, lodging in his esophagus. Coughing violently, he pounded a fist against his chest until it shook loose, reopening his airways.
“Are you okay?” Reed asked with concern.
“I’m fine,” Jack croaked, his eyes watering. Leaping to his feet, he crossed the short distance to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. When he’d finally caught his breath, he shared, “Lucy can’t make it this year.”
“Oh, man. I’m sorry. I know how much you look forward to seeing her.”
“Thanks. I’ll miss her, but life happens.” Rather, his parents happened, but he didn’t feel like going into the dreary details at the moment.
While Reed arranged the deck of cards on the coffee table for their game of gin rummy, Jack set a saucepan on the stove to make a quick batch of apple cider, trying not to think about Lucy’s canceled trip.
What he wouldn’t give to have his little sister back in Poppy Creek for good. For a time, he’d even considered setting her up with Reed. In Jack’s opinion, she couldn’t do better than his kind and dependable friend who made a stable, honest living running his own nursery that specialized in rare varieties of roses. What girl didn’t like flowers? Besides, according to the number of female tourists who swooned over his “boy-next-door” vibe and “soulful” brown eyes, he wasn’t bad looking, either.
But for all Jack’s not-so-subtle hints, Reed seemed to be pining after someone else, although he’d never talk about it no matter how much he pried. Not that Jack could blame him. He never talked about the day Ashley left. For all his friends knew, their breakup had been mutual. That was the unexpected side effect of being the eldest child in a large family—he got used to taking care of his siblings’ problems and burying his own.
Maybe if he put a little more energy into his own life, he wouldn’t be so lonely.