Merry Mended Hearts (Santa’s Radio Christmas Romance #1)

2. Grace

GRACE

The more time passed, the worse my worries got.

I sat in the lobby as more guests came and went. I looked up other hotels, but the nearest town was Whitefish, and it was about an hour out. I even called the shuttle service that brought me up to the mountain, but they weren’t making any more trips today.

It was only four thirty in the afternoon, but the sky outside was starting to darken. Desperation began to creep behind my sternum like a prowling snake, and my heart was the unsuspecting mouse.

Maybe Harper’s Inn had a shuttle that could get me back down. Or a sled.

I read something about sleigh rides offered here. Maybe their driver could hook up Old Bessie to a sleigh and get me somewhere to sleep tonight.

Somewhere warm, preferably.

Leaving my suitcase on the floor by the Christmas tree, I went back to the reception desk.

The receptionist was hidden behind a book with a couple embracing in the snow. Its title was Oh, The Weather Outside. Hm. Looked like something I’d enjoy.

I wondered if it was any good.

This woman and I were what Anne Shirley would call “Kindred Spirits.” The fact that she loved reading made us instant buddies.

“Excuse me?” I said, knowing the atrocity it was to interrupt someone in the middle of the pages.

The receptionist lowered her book. To her credit, she didn’t glower at me, but smiled. Something told me she had sunshine in her DNA.

“Still here?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m still here. I wondered…”

“I’m Juniper Harper,” she said. “My parents own this place, and I go by Junie since the double ‘pers’ in my name sound weird.”

Fair enough. I liked this quirk about her.

“Hi, Junie. I’m—well, I guess you already know my name.”

“Any luck finding somewhere to stay?” Junie asked.

“No. That’s what I wanted to ask. Is there any transportation back down the mountain? Anywhere else you know of? It’s getting dark…super early, by the way.”

“Yeah,” Junie said. “It does that here. Northern Montana. We’re about twenty minutes from the Canadian border.”

“That close?”

“America’s North Pole,” she said.

The perfect destination for a Christmas writing retreat. No interruptions. Just seclusion to inspire me to create the perfect story.

Sigh. Goodbye, perfect story. Goodbye, hopes and dreams.

After my most recent rejection from yet another agent, I wasn’t sure I could take any more. I’d poured my heart and soul into that book. I’d edited, cut words, added more, and tweaked it so much that if my manuscript had been made of fabric, it would have had more random scraps than a patchwork quilt.

Even still, I’d been proud of that book. How could they have turned it down?

I’d been so distraught. One or two rejections had been hard enough, but I’d sent it to over a hundred agents. And every single one of them said no.

It was hard not to take that as a reflection of my own shortcomings. Like even after all that hard work, I was the reject.

Junie was still watching me.

“I’m not sure where to go at this point,” I told her. “I’m feeling a little antsy. According to the gift shop in West Hills, there’s no shuttle coming up here again tonight, and I can’t really sleep out in the snow.”

I started feeling more uneasy the longer I spoke, so I stopped.

“Where are you from?” Junie asked.

“Scottsdale, Arizona.”

Her mouth twisted in concern. “That’s far.”

“Yeah. I flew all the way here thinking I’d have a room. Anything you can do would really help me out.”

Junie placed a piece of paper in the fold of her book and set it on the counter. She chewed her lip.

“I don’t know…”

“Please,” I said, fully realizing how desperate I sounded. “Unless you’ll relent and let me sleep on your couch in there until I can book a flight home tomorrow, I have nowhere else to go.”

The stool Junie sat on squeaked as she rose to her feet and circled around the reception desk. She tiptoed to look at something out the large windows behind me. I pivoted, watching her.

What was she doing? Was there room in the barn after all?

I’d take anything at this point.

“I think he’s gone for the night,” she mumbled, drumming her fingers on her thighs.

“Who’s gone?” I asked.

“No one.” She perked up, beaming at me with the slightest hint of reserve. “I just…I have an idea, but I can’t have Boone freaking out at me for doing this. My mom is gone, so she won’t care, but my cousin?”

“For doing what ?” What was she talking about?

“Shh. You can stay here.” She offered both hands to me and lowered them again with an exhale. “But you can’t tell anyone I’m doing this. I’ll make up an NDA or something because I’m really not supposed to do this.”

“Anything,” I said with buckets of relief pouring fresh intervals of oxygen over my head. Every breath I took felt like a gasp after being submerged under water.

What was she talking about? What was she not supposed to do? Kick out other guests? Bunk them into the same rooms to clear one for me?

Junie peered in one direction, then another, before tilting in. Her eyes had flecks of gold around the irises and the freckles spraying across her nose were adorable.

“There’s an old family wing here,” she whispered, “one we don’t let outsiders know about. There’s a room there that you can stay in.”

The heaven’s opened. Angelic choruses began to sing.

“Oh, my gosh. Seriously?”

“Shh!”

Oh, right. I lowered my voice, peering right, then left, before tilting in. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. I mean that. Not a word to anyone.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not a blogger, are you?”

Chagrined, I shook my head. “No. I’m not affiliated with anything like that. I’m just a writer.”

Those narrowed eyes thinned to slits. “Writer?”

“An author. Books. I write books.”

Junie nodded once as if in slow motion. “And you won’t…document this or anything?”

“If you want me to sign something, I will,” I said. “I won’t say a word. Not even to my mom. My lips are sealed. I promise. This means so much.”

Junie lingered and said nothing for so long that I worried she’d retract her offer. But moments passed, and she nodded her head again.

“This way,” she said, waving for me to follow her.

We passed a long staircase whose banisters were woven with garlands. The scent of cinnamon was pervasive with every step. More garlands were strewn along an opening into the hall where an elevator was situated. Ahead, double doors whose glass looked into the dining area. To the right, there was a single door with the words Employees Only on it.

My heart climbed into my throat. Junie turned the knob and waved me on.

This part of the inn was nowhere near as nice or branded as the rest of it was. While the carpets out there were red and gold, this carpet was old, worn, and a shade of blue. The walls here didn’t have classy wallpaper but were a simple tan color. There was, however, a garland and Christmas lights twinkling around one of the three doors in sight.

“This used to be a house before my grandparents added onto it, and this is where my cousin and I grew up,” Junie explained.

I remembered the cowboy mentioning something about his grandparents, about how he’d worked here when Junie’s grandparents turned this place into an inn. Was he the cousin she was talking about?

She’d called him Boone.

“Who’s your cousin?” I asked.

“Oh, Boone?”

Bingo.

“He’s a repairman here. Fixes all kinds of things. He works in the barn a lot, tends the horses, you know. And he’s one of the sleigh drivers, so if you want a sleigh ride while you’re here, you’ll maybe ride with him.”

“And…he won’t like that I’m here?”

She stopped at the door right next to the one with all the twinkly lights around its doorframe. “Pfft. He won’t even know.”

“That’s a relief,” I said. “This is seriously so incredible of you. How long can I stay?”

My flight didn’t leave until the day after Christmas. I hoped she’d grant me this space for the duration of my stay. I really didn’t want to go home yet.

Junie turned the knob but didn’t go in. A few inches shorter than I was, she glanced up at me with a serious expression. “If you keep your nose clean, I’m sure you can stay until then. But not a word.”

“I got it.”

She could count on me. I was as count-on-able as a number line. Even as I had the thought, a sinking feeling entered my stomach, but I pushed it away.

Junie opened the door and flicked on the light. The room was ordinary, as far as rooms went. A twin-sized bed was pushed up against the wall. It was nicely made with an old quilt covering the top. There was a bedside table with a lamp, a dresser to my right, and the closet doors to the left were closed.

Hanging above them along the ceiling were dozens of ribbons.

“Horses?” I asked.

“That’s Boone. Anyway, here you go. The bathroom is just down the hall. I keep it pretty clean, so I hope you will remember that we’re sharing it.”

“Got it,” I said, realizing just what a huge outreach this was.

Junie was sweet, there was no doubt about that. Offering her personal space to a total stranger?

She backed out of the open door. “You saw when we passed the dining hall? Mason is amazing. You’ll have to use those tickets I gave you and get some dinner.”

“Thank you so much. And I want to pay you for this room,” I hurried to add before she left.

Junie waved this off. “We can work that out. I wasn’t about to leave you stranded.”

“Thank you,” I said again, and then Junie left the room.

I crept slowly around the room, introducing myself to the space. I mean, not literally. But in that way a person does when you’re completely new and not sure where anything is.

Wheeling my suitcase toward the dresser, I laid it on its side and looked at the pictures on the walls. Most were of horses, though there was one of a beautiful blonde woman.

Who was she? Did she have something to do with whoever this Boone person was? Would he really be that upset that I was here?

Thinking fast, I pulled out my phone and crossed to sit on the corner of the bed.

Me: Good news. They found a place for me.

Mom: I’m so glad! That receptionist was super nice.

Me: You have no idea.

This wasn’t the way I imagined this trip going, but I wasn’t going to balk at that. The fact was, I was here. Away from work and from the frustrations and discouragement that had slammed me down after querying my book.

I’d just wanted to escape.

To write this new idea elbowing the corners of my mind and demanding release.

When I proposed getting away to write it, Mom and Dad had offered to give me my Christmas present early. Mom was in full support of a writing getaway. She’d suggested Jackson Hole, but that was too expensive. And I could tell my timeline bothered her—with my sister newly married and living so far away, Mom had mentioned that having me gone would feel too much like an empty nest.

Still, this was the only extended break I had away from my job at Halveics Wellness, where they offered essential oils, whole medicine alternatives, gentle cleaning products, and the like via phone and online orders.

I’d gone on plenty of writing trips with friends, but every time I’d gotten precious little actual writing done. While they’d been fun, the time was usually spent chatting instead of you know, writing.

That was why Mom and Dad agreed to my timeframe.

I pulled my notebook out of my bag and settled a little deeper onto the bed, resting my back against the wall as my phone rang.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, wondering why she was calling. I’d just told her I was good to go.

“Hi, hon. You got all settled in? They found a room?”

“Something like that,” I said.

“I’m so glad. And how’s the inn? Are you in love?”

“Absolutely. Montana and I are getting married.”

She missed the irony in my voice. “That’s good. So you’ll write what you need to and skedaddle on back home by Christmas, right?”

“Um…What?”

We’d gone over this. Today was Tuesday. My stay was booked for a week, and Christmas Day, Friday, happened to fall in the middle of that week. Mom knew that. She’d gone over the flight with me.

Maybe she just forgot?

“Mom, I’ll be gone for Christmas.”

“I know,” Mom said with resignation. “And you know I fully support what you’re doing. It’s just…I was kind of glad things hadn’t gone as planned. That maybe you’d come home early. It won’t be the same without you here. Uncle Mike will be here—he’ll wonder where you are.”

I loved my mom’s only brother, but she couldn’t be saying what I thought she was. My suspicions began to rise.

“Did you…deliberately not book me a room?”

Why would she do that? Why make such an expensive mistake on purpose?

“Of course not. I booked you that room, Gracie. I’m just saying Uncle Mike will be sad you’re not here, and I didn’t think of that when I agreed to this.”

“He sees me on social media, Mom.”

When I was little, Uncle Mike had been a human jungle gym, and then as I’d grown up, he’d gone from a fierce contender on Mario Kart to a shoulder to cry on. I hadn’t seen him in a few months, but I knew Uncle Mike wouldn’t care that much that I was gone.

“You know, it’s really too bad you left. He told me last night that he’s bringing his associate, that one I told you about. The one who just got divorced. Terry something.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Mom’s unexpected guilt trip was ruining my sudden relief.

“You know I’m like, stranded here, right?” I said.

“I know, but?—”

“This isn’t helping, Mom. I have no way to get back to West Hills.” Nor did I want to reschedule my flight if I didn’t have to. Not when I hadn’t done what I came here to do.

Sure, I wanted to be with my family for Christmas, but I saw them all the time as it was. This was my Christmas present. It had been on the verge of ruination.

Mom was ruining it all over again.

“I’ve got to go,” I lied, glancing at the room’s dark walls and the horse trophy on the dresser. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Get some writing done, come home Christmas Eve. Win-win!”

“Bye, Mom.”

I hung up before she could say anything else. What did she think she was doing? She and Dad had planned this trip for me, after all. Why throw a wrench in it now?

Work was stressful enough. Working a dead-end job at a call center when my heart was in writing? Sucked.

I intended to make enough money with my stories to quit my job. But scribbling away on napkins during lunchtime and writing only on weekends wasn’t cutting it.

This was my chance. I was working on a fantasy romance between a woman who could wield magic and a elven warrior who’d been raised by trees in a forest wasteland, and it was going to be a bestseller.

The idea was catchy, thriving, and unique. I had the perfect tagline. My brain was bursting with ideas and conversations, and all I needed was the time to craft the story the way it was acting out in my mind.

To live in the world I was trying to create.

This book would be the one. It was unique enough. I was sure no agent had represented anything like it. If I gave the story everything I had, immersed myself in the world I hoped to create, I couldn’t fail.

At least, that was what I told myself.

While Mom supported my writing, I knew she wanted me to stop living in my own head. Mom thought I needed to find a man who could ground me in reality. Help me grow up and adult or something.

But I didn’t want reality.

Not when made-up men were so much better than those in real life.

Besides, I’d moved into my own place last year. Wasn’t that adult enough?

After venturing out into the dining room and enjoying a delicious meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes with creamy gravy, and parmesan-crusted asparagus—with rolls that could rival my grandma’s—I crept back to my room, readied for bed, and settled in with my laptop.

My fingers danced across the keyboard, transferring everything I’d written in my notebook so far. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen from here or who this Boone person was, but from the sound of things, he was an older guy who worked on the property.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind me being in here. If I played my cards right, he’d never know until I was gone.