Maggie Shayne - An Enchanted Season

Having been raised a Christian herself, Rachel had heard only bits and pieces about how the faith of Islam worked, but she did know those who were devout to it prayed five times a day. Though it wasn’t her own system of beliefs, she would be an innkeeper’s wife, and that meant welcoming not only a diverse number of travelers, but a diverse number of faiths. Rising, she nodded cordially to him, adding a smile. “I think that can be arranged. I can scrounge up another rope to go out to your car to safely fetch your bags, if you like.”

“Oh, there’ll be no need,” Cassie reassured her, rising from the sofa as well. “They’re out in the hall.”

Rachel headed through the greenery-framed door, frowning softly. Sure enough, three sets of bags rested around the foot of the coat rack, like presents around a Christmas tree. One set was vinyl pink, one set was cloth black, and one set was leather brown. She was sure they hadn’t brought their luggage in with them, and reasonably sure she hadn’t heard the front door open and close…somewhat sure? Maybe Bella had directed the other two to bring in their bags while Rachel was distracted with the tale of the Inn…

Shaking it off, she picked up the brown cloth bags and mounted the stairs. “This way, please; I presume you’ll each want separate bedrooms?”

“Of course,” Mike agreed. “When you’ve traveled together for as long as we have, you tend to want some privacy now and then.”

“Have you been together long, then?” Rachel asked next, leading him toward the bedroom overlooking the front of the house. “Oh, the bathroom is that door there, conveniently labeled as such. There are two more further down the hall, each with its own sign, in case this one is busy at some point.”

“Yes, I see,” Mike confirmed, nodding his head at the carved and painted sign. “We’ve gone on holiday voyages like this one for many years now. Sort of a hajj of friendship, as it were—I’ve already been to Mecca, so that journey is complete. We travel for other reasons these days.”

“I hope you don’t mind our Christmas celebrations,” Rachel offered politely, entering the bedroom and crossing to the four-poster bed, setting his two suitcases on the padded bench at its foot.

“Why should I? Christ was one of the most important Prophets to appear before Mohammed’s time. The traditions of Christmas celebrate the exact same spirit of unity and brotherhood that the followers of Islam embrace at this time of year—in fact, today is the last day of hajj on our holy calendar,” Mike added, smiling at her. “Not to mention the Winter Solstice, an important holy-day for those who revere nature. Though the coldest days of winter still lie ahead of us, today is the darkest, longest night, the shortest, dimmest day of the whole year…and it is a time when all of us in the Northern Hemisphere are reminded that, no matter how bleak things look today, tomorrow will be a little brighter than today, and the day after will be even brighter than before.

“And so here we are,” he stated, spreading his arms with a smile. “Bringing you customers for your business, when it seems likely that the storm has chased everyone else away.”

Her cell phone rang, startling Rachel. She hadn’t realized what a mesmerizing speaker her guest was until then. Pulling it out of her pocket, she flipped it open. “Bethel Inn, how may I help you?”

“ Rachel? This is Bill Pargeter. I just wanted you to know that my granddaughter and her family have arrived safely at my house. It’s going to be a tight squeeze, what with my two daughters and their own broods, plus my grandson…but I wouldn’t put a rabid dog out in weather like this, let alone make ’em drive all the way out to your place. I’d shoot the rabid dog to put it out of its misery, but I wouldn’t put it out in this weather. ”

Rachel made a face at the wall. So much for tomorrow being a little brighter than today… “I’m glad to hear that Joseph, Mary, and the baby are safe and sound at your place, Bill. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Wait, there’s more!” Bill’s voice interrupted her before she could tell him good-bye. “I know Mr. Harrod’s being, well, the backside of a front-ugly cow right now about that mortgage of yours. Joseph and I talked it over, and we’re both in agreement. We’re gonna pay you the full price for their ten-day stay, half from him, an’ half from me. That’s on the hope that this storm will be less severe than the weather guys keep claiming it’ll be. By paying you a retaining fee, they can at least guarantee a room to escape to, once it’s safe to drive again—and no arguing, young lady. Consider it a Christmas gift from the Pargeters and the Stoutsons, a thank-you for hosting little packets of our family whenever we have ’em over for a holiday.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta get off-line so my own daughter can teach me how to use that newfangled computer-thing she got me for my birthday last month. Beth says there’s a way we can transfer the money to you online, so you’ll get it into your account right away. Richie’s a good enough boy, but that father of his would have him cuttin’ corners an’ driving the Inn into bankruptcy.”

“Th-thank you!” Rachel stammered, too shocked by the generosity to protest. Not that she had much of a chance for it, since the old farmer hung up before she could even try. Returning the phone to her pocket, she blinked a few times, then drew a deep breath and let it out. With the income from six guests, plus the income from the Stoutsons…they would have enough to pay the mortgage for this month, and their other bills as well. Their savings had been whittled down during the months Steve and she had spent doing all those repairs, unable to operate the Inn. With the boys replacing the Platz brothers, they’d not only have the mortgage and the electricity paid, but enough set aside to start feeding those depleted accounts.

Maybe today was one of the darkest days of the year; it had certainly been darkening metaphorically around her and her fiancé up until this point, as well as physically. But with one phone call and six unexpected visitors, Rachel felt like the sun was finally returning to her and Steve’s life. Remembering her guest, who was rolling out a small prayer rug taken from one of his suitcases, she quickly murmured her excuses and left the room, giving him privacy for his faith.

Six guests…God bless them all, Rachel thought, amazed that she would find herself thinking such a thing after the way the boys had arrived. It’s going to be interesting, entertaining that many when they can’t go off and visit other people. Maybe some party games in between meals? She could still do a quiche for supper, if she stretched it with cheese and vegetables and added a few more dishes, but Rachel also had a much bigger lunch to plan. Head full of ideas, she returned to the kitchen.

STEVE WASN’T SURE WHAT TO MAKE OF THE WOMAN, BELLA.Ignoring the biting, breath-stealing cold, she used her muff to dust the snow off the front of the rounded lump that was her car, extracted the crowbar with black-gloved hands, and trudged alongside him and Joey through the increasingly deep drifts without any problems, despite the slenderness of her frame. Joey, bundled up once again, kept slipping her glances, too. Of the three of them, she seemed almost happy to be out in the deepening drifts. Sandwiched between the two men, she forged onward, somehow guiding them in what had to be the straightest line Steve had ever seen anyone take in a blizzard, as if drawn by some sort of beacon.

Not that there was much to see beyond the swirling, falling snow and misty white puffs of their own breath, of course, but when something reddish-gray loomed up out of the grayish-white surrounding them, it took Steve a moment to realize the reddish thing was the plastic of his newspaper box, advertising the name of the local tribune, and the gray bits belonged to the metal mailbox and the weathered-wood post supporting both. The object looked oddly short, until he realized how deep the drifts had packed up under their feet.