I'm not sure when I slept. At some point, everything just became a dull pain resonating in the back of my mind and with that numbness, I could push past the threshold of sleep. My movements, my motivations, were all robotic.

Somehow I managed not to burn myself on a hot pan or slice off a finger while cutting fruit for breakfast. Thankfully, Jordan forgave me enough to assist me with breakfast duties. Or he figured that someone that looked like the walking dead was not the best face to be greeted by first thing in the morning. So he ran food out to the dining room and I tended to the kitchen, never seeing the guests at all that Thursday morning.

I debated continuing work on the decorations after cleaning the rooms, but there was still a chance a guest might return during the day to enjoy the warmth of the fireplace or use the dining room to eat a lunch brought in from town. So instead, I dragged myself up to my room and collapsed into bed. The sound of Jordan's knocking woke me up and he reminded me that cookies and cocoa would be due in the next hour.

He didn't stick around after that and I was left to act as hostess alone. Once everyone was asleep, I went back to work on the decorations. I needed to get them all done that night. There could be no more late night sessions once we received our guests on Friday. I'd need to be perky and alert to deal with a full house. Thankfully, I pulled it off with a couple of hours to spare for a power nap. Admittedly, some ornaments looked a bit haphazard by the end of that night, but they were done and I could just stick the uglier ones on the far side of the tree where no one would see them.

After making breakfast that Friday morning, again with Jordan serving the guests in silence, I checked out the Trimbles. Then I headed upstairs to clean the rooms, prepping all I could for the new arrivals joining us that afternoon. It occurred to me that getting a nap in, as I had the day before, might be a solid plan. However, I worried the couple hours I had available to me before check-in time wouldn't be enough for a proper nap. So, instead, I dragged out my storage tubs and placed them by their respective trees out on the drive before heading over to the work shed.

I noticed Jordan's truck as I passed the parking lot and, though I had hoped he'd be busy attending to something inside the main house, I spotted his silhouette gliding past his front window as I drew close to the shed. Time, however, was limited. Even if he caught me in my vulnerable state, I didn't really care what he might say to me. It would be nothing I hadn't already said to myself and the words no longer had the stinging effect they used to.

I yanked a ladder out of the shed and began dragging it up the yard when I heard the click of a latch locking into place behind me.

"Do you need help?" His tone was flat and didn't reveal whether he was asking out of actual concern or over some malicious amusement that would only result in a reply denying me assistance.

"No." I tried to hide the labored breathing in my voice. The ladder was deceptively heavy and the cold, dry air failed to imbue my lungs with the oxygen needed to power my freezing muscles. "I'm fine," I muttered, hefting the ladder on to my shoulder, only for it to immediately slide off.

He didn't respond, and I didn't bother to look back to see if he went inside. However, after a minute or two of making slow, laborious progress, my burden lightened.

"I said I didn't need the help," I said with feigned resentment. I turned to find him bundled up in a thick flannel coat and a cozy, fleece-lined trapper hat. His face, however, remained exposed to the elements, and the boxy tip of his nose was as red as his cheeks. Had he smiled, he would have looked rather jolly.

"Yes, well, I don't want you tearing up the lawn, dragging this thing behind you."

"I suppose that makes sense," I muttered, turning back around.

Our progress was slow, making our way up the slight slope of the backyard, and I knew at some point one of us would break under the pressing silence between us.

"So, is there something you need to tell me?" The venom in his voice seemed to indicate he already had his answer.

"Sounds like you already know..."

"How long did you plan on waiting before telling me I was losing my home at the beginning of the year?"

"I was going to tell you." I dropped my side of the ladder and turned to face him. "That night you came by with the coffee. I was going to tell you then." As I mentioned his gesture, he looked away. I continued. "But you bolted before I had the chance, and then the only time I saw you was at breakfast and we were both too busy for chitchat."

"Well, now you don't have to worry. Saundra told me."

"So much for client confidentiality." I rolled my eyes before lifting the ladder back up and renewing our trek to the front of the house.

"I wouldn't say she broke confidentiality... at least not too much. I had gone to see her yesterday to ask about how I could get this contract overturned, but she wouldn't share any details with me. She only told me about the closing date because she worried we weren't talking and she thought I should know how long I had before I was out on the streets."

"I'm sorry," I said, throwing my free hand up in the air as we approached the side parking lot. "I had every intention of telling you. You've just made it difficult."

"I've made it difficult," he said with a huff.

"We've both made things difficult." It wasn't worth fighting him on something that was, to some degree, true. "And for your information, the only way to break the contract is if Panoramic Destinations and I both agree to do so."

"O-oh?"

We reached the drive, and I gave the ladder a tug to show his job was done. He released his end, and I did what I could to get the lengthy ladder set up beside my first tree. I then went over to my bin and fished out the lights. Jordan, however, continued to keep me company on the drive. His stance was caught in an uncertain fidget and his eyes didn't know where to place their gaze.

"So Saundra also told me it was you that pushed the closing date. That these people wanted to close as soon as possible."

"Yeah, well..." I had no intention of further explaining my actions than that.

"She told me it was because you wanted me to finish out my holidays one last time at the inn."

I paused, the lights caught in my hands, hovering over the bin. I maintained my crouch, debating whether I heard gratitude or indifference in his voice. There may have even been a word of appreciation forming on his lips, but the shrill tone of my phone cut through the tension and left Jordan's tongue silent.

"Sorry," I mumbled, dropping the lights back into the bin and pulling out my phone. Seeing the caller's name on my screen, I answered it with a low groan rolling through my throat.

"Hello Mr. Myers." I took a few steps away from Jordan, whose groan was far less subtle than mine.

"Please call me Devon, Ms. Creeke," he replied in a cheery tone.

"How can I help you, Mr. Myers?"

"Oh, well," he said, my lack of informality clearly bruising his merry mood, "I just wanted to call you in advance so that you were prepared for one of our contractors coming out this Monday. His name is Clint Hendricks and he'll be arriving..."

"Excuse me," I said with a shake of my head, realizing I hadn't misheard him. "Why exactly did you schedule that without asking me?"

"Oh, well, I don't see why it will be a problem. It's a Monday, surely you won't have that many guests and he'll come in the middle of the day. Really, he just needs to be allowed in. He won't need you to walk him around..."

"I've got things to do and I don't need him underfoot." My voice clipped, and I tried to recall myself, but the words continued to burn on my tongue. "I'm down to the wire with getting the Christmas display done for the competition and..."

"Oh," he replied with a sigh of relief, as if he suddenly understood the whole picture when he'd barely caught a glimpse, "please don't worry yourself. I really, truly appreciate that you are trying to maintain the inn's image for us, but the place already looks great, do not stress over it. It shouldn't be any problem to have Mr. Hendricks over."

"Do not assume what will and will not be a problem for me," I said with a firm rise to my voice. I had begun to pace to work the nerves out of me, but in doing so, I turned myself to face Jordan. He watched me with an expression lost between amusement and pride. I blushed and turned back around, continuing on with a lower voice, hoping Jordan may not pick up on my next question. "Why do you even need a contractor here?"

"Ah, you see," he said, his tone brightening up as if I had somehow displayed renewed interest in this idea, "since you pushed our closing date, we really need to get on top of things as soon as possible. We need every day we have to get the place ready in time for the summer season. An expansion will take some..."

"A what?" I exclaimed, no longer concerned with who could hear me.

"An expansion." He punctuated his answer with a light, carefree laugh. "The inn, as it is, is quite quaint, but certainly not as profitable as it could be. We'll be adding a hefty expansion to the back of the house and turn the original manor into an elegant lobby. It'll be opened up quite a bit. We'll need the room to welcome the increased number of guests."

"You..." I started, my heart sinking into my stomach, "you won't be tearing up anything, right? I mean the dining room..."

"Oh, I admire your aunt's attempt to open up the space some, but it was shoddy work. We can't possibly have a strip of mismatched wood running through the floor. Of course, we'd need to tear up all the flooring anyway so that it's consistent throughout the entire lobby."

"It's... it's not a..." I found words difficult as my breath became quick and shallow. "It's not a lobby."

"Don't worry, Ms. Creeke, I promise it will all keep the same lovely charm it has now. By the time we're done, I'm sure we will have a resort even your aunt would have wanted to stay at!"

The only thing holding my tongue was the frantic words of my grandmother's memories in the back of my head.

"Slow to anger, quick to kindness."

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"Don't give in to worry or anger, it only leads to trouble."

And every other cliche you can think of.

But you know what, my grandmother was a hypocrite and I guess, despite her best efforts, some of that part of her nature found its way into me too. It was time I pulled a lesson from one of her own overreactions.

"No, Mr. Myers." My body became rigid and my free hand balled into a fist. "No, she would not. Your contractor can come once you own the property. Until then, if I see him anywhere on my land, I will not hesitate to call the police. You have been warned."

I had to remind myself that throwing my phone to the ground would both not end the call and would likely result in a smashed screen. So, to convey the intensity of my distaste, I simply stabbed the end call button with enough force to make my thumb sore and then shoved the phone back into my pocket.

"Well, it's a bit like déjà vu," said Jordan with a snide roll to his words. "Seems like only a few weeks ago I was saying the same thing..."

"I don't want to hear it." I spun on my heel to face him, my face red and wet with tears. "I do not need to hear it, Jordan."

"Lyn, I..."

I didn't wait to hear the end. I stamped up the steps of the house and threw the door open, disappearing inside while I still had the will and strength to move my legs.