The Christmas Inn Read Online Free PDF

for a mountain man of my
own.”
    * * *
    L ONG HOURS LATER AND NEARLY out of gas, Marnie crested a
hill, following the road as it trailed along a stream that wound through the
countryside like a velvet scarf. To the right, in the middle of a sweep of land
framed by pine trees, she spotted a sign in navy blue edged with gold announcing
The Mirabel Inn. Beyond the sign, a long driveway led up a gentle slope to the
inn.
    Marnie had never seen anything quite so beautiful and majestic
in her whole life. She pulled to a stop on the side of the road, captivated by
the sight. Two large wings extended back from either side of the inn’s front
entranceway and peaked roofs accented the elegant structure sparkling in the
afternoon sun. The Mirabel Inn looked like something out of a fairy tale. Its
generous expanse of windows glittered in the light and the wide verandas wrapped
around two sides. The eaves adorned with intricately carved wood emphasized the
inn’s Victorian feel.
    Her research revealed that The Mirabel Inn had once been the
private residence of a lumber baron who owned most of the land in this part of
the valley. It stood as a magnificent testimonial to his wealth and position in
the community during the early years of development in this area of the
state.
    When Marnie was a child, she’d dreamed of living in just such a
place, a dream that was immediately tempered by the reality that only the very
rich could afford a house like this. But she could still dream, and she now had
days to experience what living in a house like this would be like.
    She started along the winding drive leading to the entrance
with its tall white columns framing a beautiful front door, festooned with the
largest Christmas wreath she’d ever seen, and set off by inlaid glass panes on
either side of the door. She passed a towering fir tree, whose brightly colored
Christmas lights added to the ambience, before entering a section of the
driveway flanked by sprawling rock gardens. She could only imagine the types of
flowering plants and shrubs that the gardens would hold in the summer. At the
moment they were mulched and ready for winter, the bark chips peeking through a
light blanket of snow.
    Why would Scott’s client want a mystery guest to assess this
inn? There wasn’t a shingle missing off the roof, or a bit of peeling paint
anywhere to be seen.
    But Marnie’s only concern was getting a few questionnaires
filled out while she relaxed by the fireplace in her room with a hot toddy. Add
to that a soaker tub where she could soothe her sore muscles after a nice hike
along some of the trails she’d read about in the brochure. Absolute heaven.
    She parked in front of the door and got out. Clutching Scott’s
emailed directions along with her confirmation number, she slung her purse over
her shoulder, and crossed the stone driveway toward the entrance. Her hand was
on the huge brass doorknob when a little boy raced around the corner of the inn
toward her, screaming in excitement as he grabbed the back of her jacket. A
small dog that resembled a barrel with legs circled her, its fervent bark adding
to the pandemonium.
    “Ethan, come back here!” a man, following in pursuit of the
child, yelled.
    Marnie looked down into the bluest, roundest eyes she’d ever
seen, and couldn’t help smiling. The child had what looked like tomato sauce on
his cheeks and a grin that made him impossible to resist. “Well, hello there,”
she said, kneeling down.
    “Sorry,” the man said, coming to a stop in front of her. “My
son believes this inn is his private play area, and he’s a little too young to
get the message that not everyone who arrives here wants to play with him.” He
gathered the boy in his arms.
    “And I take it the dog has the same idea,” she said, still
kneeling as she patted the animal, which immediately lay down, rolled over and
offered his belly for a rub. “What’s his name?”
    “Henry. He adopted us a year ago.” The man’s