“Yes. It was a hat. I think it was part of Mr. Graham’s Santa suit. He hired it, and it obviously wasn’t colorfast.” She frowned. “And it’s weird, because I could have sworn I’d packed the whole suit away for them, including the hat. I was very careful, but somehow the hat was mixed up with the laundry so I guess not.”
Hattie blinked. “Santa suit?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Graham from Ohio. They spent two nights in the Cider Suite. He told me that Mrs. Graham’s fantasy was to spend a night with Santa, so he hired a suit to surprise her.”
“It’s November.”
“I don’t think he cared about that. He also bought a festive-themed sex toy, but I didn’t ask for details. I thought it might ruin Christmas for me.”
“Indeed.” Hattie was so fascinated she momentarily forgot how tired she was. “How do you know all this?”
“People talk to me,” Chloe said, “which can sometimes be a little alarming, to be honest, but it does lead to interesting revelations.”
“And pink sheets.” Hattie grabbed a box of tissues from the shelf in the laundry room and handed her one. “Stop crying, Chloe. You might just have done me a favor.”
Chloe took the tissue and blew her nose. “I have?”
“Yes. There are guests who would apparently love to sleep in pink sheets. They’re soothing, didn’t you know?”
“No—” The girl looked dazed. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do. Put the pink sheets to one side. Do not throw them away.” Hattie hurried back to the reception desk, where Stephanie was tapping her foot.
Hattie took a deep breath and smiled, hoping to reduce the tension and soften her mood. “All sorted.”
Stephanie paused the foot tapping but didn’t look remotely softened. “You fired her?”
“No, I didn’t fire her. It was a mistake.” Or was it something else entirely? Something Chloe had said niggled in the back of her brain. “Odd, really, because she seemed convinced that she’d packed the red hat away with the rest of the Santa suit Mr. Graham brought with him. She couldn’t figure out how it got mixed up with the rest of the laundry.”
Stephanie’s expression didn’t flicker. “Probably because she’s careless. You’re far too lenient. Brent would have fired her.”
There was no way Brent would have fired Chloe, but he would have found a way to manage Stephanie.
She had a feeling that Stephanie wanted her to fail.
“We’re a team,” Hattie said, “and our job is to support one another.” Fortunately for her, Gwen and Ellen Bishop, two sisters in their eighties who had been regular guests since the inn had opened, chose that moment to wander into reception. Hattie had never been so relieved to see anyone. “Excuse me, Stephanie. I need to attend to our guests.”
She hurried across to the Bishop sisters and greeted them as if they were a lifeboat in stormy seas. “How was your breakfast?”
“Delicious as usual.” Gwen beamed. “The maple syrup is the best we’ve tasted anywhere. Everything here is just perfect as it always is, and it’s all down to you, dearest Hattie.”
If only everyone were so good-natured and easily pleased.
“We’ll give you a bottle to take home, Miss Bishop. I’ll arrange it right now.”
“I’ve told you so many times to call me Gwen, honey.” Gwen patted Hattie’s arm gently. “You’re looking tired. You’re not sleeping?”
“I’m fine,” Hattie lied and Gwen gave her a compassionate look.
“Keep going,” the older woman said softly. “One day at a time, one step at a time. That’s what I used to tell myself when I lost my Bill.”
“I used to tell you that, too,” Ellen said and Gwen nodded.
“You did tell me that. Daily. I wanted to tip my breakfast on your head.”
“It’s what sisters are for.”
Hattie felt a pang of envy. It would have been nice to have a sister, but her mother had died a week after Hattie was born, and her dad had never married again. She and her father had been close and she still felt the loss, never more so than when Brent had been killed. I need you, Dad.
She especially missed him at Christmas. Her dad had always made Christmas special.
“The problem,” Gwen said, “is that people are sympathetic at the beginning, and then they think it’s time for you to move on. They don’t realize that grief never leaves you.”
Hattie nodded. Usually, she saved her tears for when she was alone in the shower or walking the dog, but Gwen’s kindness had loosened the bonds of her restraint and for a moment she was afraid she might howl on the spot. Emotion gathered in her throat and bumped against her self-control.
“That’s true. I still miss my dad,” she confessed, “and he died seven years ago.”
Gwen reached out and squeezed her arm. “The people we love never leave us, not really.”
People said that, but it wasn’t true, was it? Brent had definitely left her. And he’d left her with a ton of problems to handle.
“The weather is looking good for our trip home.” Ellen briskly changed the subject. “But before we leave, we have a little something for that treasure of yours.”
“Delphine,” her sister said as if Hattie had numerous treasures to choose from.
“We’d love to say goodbye to her.”
She pulled herself together.
“She’s reading a book in my office, with Rufus. I’ll find her.” Rufus, their four-year-old Labrador, had been one of Brent’s better ideas. As well as proving himself to be a dedicated and reliable babysitter, he was also a source of unconditional love and affection. Hattie had shed so many tears into his sleek golden coat over the past two years that he barely ever needed a bath.
“Delphi?” Hattie popped her head round the office door and saw her daughter lying on her stomach, carefully turning the pages of her book while Rufus lay next to her protectively. He lifted his head, ever watchful, and thumped his tail on the floor. Delphi looked up, too.
Her face brightened. “Did you know that a T. rex had sixty teeth?”
“I did not know that. You are always teaching me something.”
“Did dinosaurs go to the dentist?”
“No, they didn’t go to the dentist.” She had no idea where Delphi got her obsession with dinosaurs but it made for nonstop entertainment.
Hattie’s heart suddenly felt full. The child was her whole world.
She was lucky and she needed to remember that.
It seemed like only yesterday she’d discovered she was pregnant. Her daughter was growing up so quickly it was scary. “You can tell me more about the dinosaurs later, but right now the Miss Bishops would like to say goodbye to you.”
“They’re leaving? No! I don’t want them to go.” Delphi scrambled to her feet, her skirt sticking to her tights. “I hate it when people leave.”
Hattie felt her chest ache. “Me, too. But they’ll be back in a month. They’re coming for Christmas, remember?” Providing life didn’t have a nasty shock in store for them, like a brick falling from a building onto their heads just as they were walking past.
She had to stop thinking like that.
She was turning into a catastrophist, and she didn’t want her daughter going through life afraid of everything, anticipating disaster at every turn.
Delphi sprinted out of the office and hugged the Miss Bishops tightly.
“Don’t go. I want you to stay forever.”