The Holiday Secret

“There’s a full breakfast every morning, but in the winter, I discovered that people don’t like to venture very far from the inn,” the innkeeper told her as they retraced their steps down the hall. “You’ll find a pot of homemade soup and bread in the dining room for lunch, but supper is on your own. There’s also a grocery store in Castle Falls if you prefer to stash a few things in the minifridge in your room.”

Karen retrieved a colorful flyer from a wire basket next to the computer and slid it across the desk. “Compliments of the Chamber of Commerce. If you decide to stay through the weekend, you might want to watch the parade.” Her eyes sparkled with humor. “I can’t guarantee peace and quiet, though. Most of the town shows up.”

Ellery’s mouth went dry.

In a small town, didn’t the majority of conversations revolve around the people who lived there? If Ellery kept her eyes and ears open, it was possible she could learn more about her brothers’ character from the people who saw them on a daily basis than she would from a private investigator.

Ellery studied the collage of tiny photographs on the flyer. A family sharing a picnic in a gazebo. The silhouette of a man paddling a red canoe down the river. Slices of life that made up the town her brothers called home.

“There’s a calendar of events inside,” Karen continued. “The Happy Cow—that’s the ice cream parlor on the main street—introduces a new flavor during their open house, and that always draws a crowd. The local businesses get pretty creative.”

“What do you do here, at the inn?”

“The pastor of a local church asked if I would host the live nativity this year. I’ve been looking for ways to connect with the community more and it seemed like the perfect opportunity...” Karen’s voice trailed off and she glanced in the direction of the gathering room.

Ellery couldn’t prove it, of course, but she suspected that the handsome, gray-eyed Scrooge who preferred concrete parking lots to quaint stone outbuildings didn’t approve of live nativities, either.

Chapter Four (#u484cf79b-4cd4-5297-bc1c-ac565409bce0)

The next day, Carter spent the majority of his time in the heated garage, fixing the ancient plow that Karen had inherited when she’d bought the inn. The thing was as temperamental as an old mule, but there wasn’t enough money in the budget to replace it, so Carter did his best to coax the engine to life after every snow.

On his way out, he grabbed the bucket of salt by the door. Making sure the sidewalk didn’t double as a skating rink was the last item on his to-do list for the day.

A flash of color in the center of the yard caught Carter’s eye and he walked over to investigate.

Bea had informed him that she was going to make a snow “horse” after school, but it had undergone a transformation since the last time Carter had seen it. The snow sculpture now boasted button eyes, a shaggy white mane recycled from the head of a dust mop and reins fashioned from a scarf that looked as if it had been spun from cotton candy.

Carter wasn’t all that savvy when it came to fashion, but thanks to Jennifer’s high-end taste in clothing, he could tell the difference between wool and cashmere.

Considering there were only two female guests in residence at the moment, he had a pretty strong hunch who the scarf belonged to.

How it had ended up in Bea’s possession, though, was a mystery.

In his mind’s eye, Carter saw his daughter blithely skipping across yet another invisible boundary. There were two rows of hooks in the back hallway, one designated for family and one for guests, but to a five-year-old, a scarf was a scarf. Especially when said five-year-old was in a hurry. Or when the article of clothing that caught her eye happened to be in her favorite shade of pink.

Carter wasn’t completely sure if either theory was correct, but there was one thing he did know. If he didn’t remove the scarf before the temperature plummeted, it would be permanently welded to Bea’s snow horse come morning.

Carter’s careful attempt to loosen it stirred a hint of jasmine into the night air, providing yet another clue about the owner’s identity.

The temptation to place the scarf on one of the hooks in the hallway and go about his business was strong. But if Bea had taken it without permission, an apology might be in order, too.

He took the stairs two at a time to the second floor, rapped on Ellery’s door and waited. And waited some more.

It suddenly occurred to Carter that he hadn’t seen Ellery all day. A thin layer of snow still blanketed the Lexus, which meant she hadn’t driven into Castle Falls.

Feel free to explore the grounds.

His mom extended the same offer to all the guests, but Carter couldn’t imagine Ellery Marshall taking her up on it, let alone helping herself to one of the extra pairs of snowshoes or skis and striking out on her own.

Then again, this was the woman who’d stopped along the road during a snowstorm to take a picture of a bald eagle.

Karen Bristow kept a motherly eye on everyone who stayed under her roof, so it was possible she would know where Ellery was.

Knowing his mom usually prepped for breakfast this time of the day, Carter retraced his steps to the first floor and walked into the kitchen.

“Have you...” The rest of the sentence snagged in Carter’s throat.

Because Ellery Marshall sat on a stool at the butcher block island, one foot tapping to the lively beat of “Sleigh Ride,” both hands wrapped around a coffee mug.

His coffee mug.

Ellery took one look at Carter’s expression and knew there was a reason this particular room hadn’t been included on her tour the day before. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Growing up, though, the kitchen had been Ellery’s favorite room in the house. The air seasoned with her mother’s laughter, a tangle of fresh herbs in terra-cotta pots on the windowsill and whatever soup was bubbling away on the stove.

Even now, when she was alone, Ellery found the simple task of kneading bread dough or chopping vegetables more relaxing than a day at the spa.

And Karen Bristow’s kitchen, with its canopy of gleaming copper pots and splashes of daffodil yellow and periwinkle blue, had invited Ellery to linger.

Ask God to reveal what her next step should be.

No. That wasn’t quite true.

What Ellery needed was the courage to take the next step and actually spend some time in the town her brothers called home.

The reason she’d driven to Castle Falls in the first place.

Carter’s gaze lit on the chunky ceramic mug in Ellery’s hand and she made another impulsive decision.

“Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

“There’s always a coffee bar set up in the dining room,” he said slowly. “My mom is pretty strict about guests wandering into the kitchen—”

“Unless that guest knows her way around a French press.” Karen glided into the room, Bea bouncing along at her heels, and smiled at Ellery. “And is willing to share.”

Ellery returned the woman’s smile as she slipped off the stool. As tempting as it was to linger, she didn’t want her presence to be a source of friction between Carter and his mother. “I’ll take this upstairs to my room.”

“Wait...” Carter stepped into Ellery’s path. Dipped his hand into his coat pocket and produced an enormous ball of fuzzy pink yarn. “Does this belong to you?”

Bea recognized it first. “Those are Snowflake’s reins, Daddy!”

“I gave the scarf to Bea, Deputy Bristow,” Ellery said quickly, in case Carter had assumed his daughter had taken it without permission. “When we put the finishing touches on Snowflake, I was the one who suggested she needed reins.”

“We?” Carter repeated.

Ellery should have known that a man trained in investigative techniques would zero in on that particular word!

Bea danced across the room and landed at Carter’s feet. “Miss El’ry helped me! And tomorrow we’re going to find a blanket and make Snowflake a saddle and—”