Tuesday, December 24, 2024

The Hushed Hearth, Stave 5

Stave 1 : Stave 2 : Stave 3 : Stave 4 : Stave 5

Courtesy Kennebunkport Inn/Nicole Wolf

Erin and Riley were awakened by light streaming in through the open curtains and a low rumbling from the street outside and below gently rattling the window. Sitting up, Riley looked out the window.

“Looks like Brynn Wilson is plowing Main Street,” Riley said, leaning back against the headboard as Erin stretched over him to get a view for herself.

“And it’s sunny! A Merry White and Bright Christmas to you, honey!” she said, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him.

“Mrry Chrsms, hny,” he replied without withdrawing from the kiss.

She finally pulled away and, stretching, said “I slept great! Snug as a bug! I wonder how everyone else slept? Did the heater kick on?

Riley flipped the switch on the bedside lamp. It clicked, but didn’t turn on. “I’m not sure the power’s on, but maybe it was for a bit…?”

Erin was already up and out of bed, reaching back long enough to grab Riley’s hand and pull him towards the edge of the bed. “Let’s check on our guests!”

“I wonder if Maud slept at all,” Riley mused, climbing out of bed much more slowly than Erin. “We didn’t actually turn down a room for her.”

“I’ll check!” Erin said, slippers already on her feet as she left the bedroom for the hallway. After a quick splash of water on his face, he joined Erin where she was already putting her ear to the door of Room Six, having presumably listened at Room Seven and heard nothing of note. A moment later, she shrugged and moved on to Room Five. Her brows knit together as she opened the door. She only took a moment to peek in.

“Empty,” she said, a slightly puzzled tone in her voice. She pushed past Riley back to Room Six, peeked, then repeated the exercise on Room Seven. “All empty! I could have sworn I heard some shuffling of some sort on this floor during the night.”

Riley looked into Room Seven as well. Everything looked neat as a pin (or neat as a button, depending on your emphasis). Then it hit him.

“Apparently Maud was up here at some point last night. We didn’t turn this room down originally,” Riley said. He and Erin took one more look at the other rooms and found them all in the same neat state. None of the rooms appeared to have been stayed in.

“I guess she stayed on the first floor with the others. Let’s go see!” Erin said as she headed down the stairs, Riley in tow. “Who was where?” she asked, using her best stage whisper voice as they approached Room One.

“Skyler Mills was here, and the Fosters were in Room Three.”

Erin knocked lightly on the door. “Skyler? Are you up?” She received no response, so knocked harder and called his name more loudly, waiting a moment. Silence. Finally, she opened the door a crack, then pushed it all the way in. The room was just as empty as the ones above, also showing no signs of occupation.

Erin looked at Riley, confusion clear on her face. Riley moved down to Room Three and knocked, but didn’t wait as long as Erin had before opening the door. Room Three was also empty. He quickly checked the other two rooms as Erin went towards the dining room and kitchen.

“They’re not here either,” he heard her call from the other room. 

Riley entered the dining room as Erin emerged from the kitchen. The fire in the hearth was still burning well, and the firewood rack was still full. The room was just as spick and span as they’d left it the night before.

“The kitchen is spotless, and the wood stove is still working. It looks like someone was maintaining this stuff all night long, Rye.”

Riley crossed the lobby to the front doors, pausing only long enough to check whether or not they were locked (they weren’t). He opened the doors and stepped onto the porch, which looked as if someone had worked very hard at shoveling and sweeping. The sidewalk that led from the porch out to Main Street was completely clear of snow. Riley had just finished taking this in when a voice called to him from up the street.

“Merry Christmas Riley! And Erin!” The voice came from Brynn Wilson, who had apparently stopped his plowing long enough to wish them well.

“Merry Christmas to you, Brynn! You’ve been busy already, it looks like.”

Brynn Wilson walked up the sidewalk to shake hands with Riley and hug Erin. “Yep, well, Main Street won’t clear itself of snow, that’s for sure! Do you guys have power or something?”

“Nope, it’s still out for us,” Riley replied.

“Oh, that’s odd. I could’ve sworn I saw lights on in there while I was going by. And the way your porch is clear, I thought maybe you’d taken a hair dryer to it!” He laughed at the thought, Erin joining in. “Are you guys prepared for a chilly and powerless Christmas?”

“Actually,” Erin said, taking Riley’s arm, “we are. Is power still out everywhere?”

Brynn nodded, saying “As far as I can tell anyway. It’s definitely out on east side, and the little bit of the west I’ve got to so far looks about the same.”

“In that case,” Riley said, putting his arm around Erin’s shoulders, “and if you don’t mind, Brynn, please spread the word that the Hushed Hearth Inn is set to host anyone that wants to celebrate and needs a warm place to stay and active kitchen in which to prepare food.”

Brynn looked surprised. “Your power’s out, but your kitchen works? You got a special generator just for that?”

Riley smiled at Erin, then said, “No, but we have a huge wood stove and a top tier chef working it.”

“That… sounds like an invitation to a proper Christmas shindig! I’ll start letting folks know!”

“Thanks, Brynn. And we’ll expect to see you by lunchtime.”

“Deal! Thank you two!” Brynn said, almost jogging back to his truck. He gave the couple a wave as he climbed into the cab.

Erin and Riley stood in the morning sunlight for a moment longer, then by mutual unspoken agreement, went inside to prepare for a Christmas party.

***

By the time they had finished breakfast, the first of the townsfolk arrived with a tentative knock on the lobby-side of the hearth. Cory Hughes and his young son Toby greeted Erin and Riley, stating that Brynn Wilson had told them the inn would be a good place to go if they were a little cold, hungry, or wanted a little more company this morning. Erin ushered them to a table near the fireplace, but Toby immediately went to the tree.

“There’s no decorations,” he said, seeming confused.

Riley joined him there. “You’re right, Toby. Not a single strand of tinsel, not a star on the top… what should we do about that?”

“Well…” Toby replied, a little shyly, “I’ve got this one ornament back at the house. It’s a black and white dog dressed up like a World War I flying ace, and he’s got a little yellow bird with him. I… could…” he trailed off.

Riley glanced back at Cory, who nodded, then asked “Toby, would it be alright if you brought that ornament for the tree? I think it would go really well… here.” He pointed to a spot near the middle.

“No, I think it would go better here!” Toby replied, pointing to a place nearer the window.

“That sounds perfect. How about you run get it as soon as you’ve had a little breakfast?”

Riley had never seen a young boy eat eggs so quickly, and he had been a scrappy young boy himself at one point.

The scene repeated itself several more times. Steff Wood and her partner Hayden, then Emerson Rees (one of the older community members, although he still described himself as a “very eligible bachelor”), then Rowan Hart and family all arrived in succession. Before long, word had spread that folks should bring decorations as well as any food they’d like to prepare. By lunchtime, it was, indeed, a proper Christmas shindig, and the entire inn had been trimmed in all manner of handmade and random decorations.

Some of the last people to arrive were Blake and Kerry Foster and their children, along with another couple and children that neither Riley nor Erin recognized. They were introduced as Hector Bardin and Alexis Stone, up from New York City. Hector was a cousin of the Foster’s, which reminded Riley of part of his conversation with Reed and Elys the night before.

“Oh, so you were the houseful of guests we heard about, huh?” Blake only stared back at Riley as Hector gave him a tentative smile and nod. “We had a couple of guests here last night that said they were spill-overs from your place, Blake. Did Reed and Elys wind up going back over there?”

It was actually Hector that replied. “Did you say Reed and Elys?” Riley and Erin both nodded.

“Reed and Elys were the names of my great-great-grandparents.”

Riley and Erin both looked at each other, then back at Blake and Hector. “That’s… how they introduced themselves.” Riley went and fetched the guest book from where he’d put it back in the lobby desk. Opening it, he flipped to the last page.

Hector’s eyes widened a bit. “Skyler Mills as well?”

“Does that name ring a bell with you?” Erin asked.

“Yes,” Hector replied, “Skyler Mills was one of New England’s most noted Traveling Troubadors in the mid nineteenth century. What did they look like?” Hector asked. Riley and Erin described them all, and Hector nodded, saying, “I actually don’t know what Skyler Mills looked like, but your description of his outfit certainly fits with the style he might’ve worn. Maybe your visitor was… acting the part?”

While Riley and Erin considered this, Hector added, “What you said about Reed and Elys certainly sounds like the photos I’ve seen of them. I’m just not sure why anyone would… I don’t know, try to impersonate them? Would you mind telling me about what they said?”

Riley and Erin smiled at each other and began telling the stories from the previous evening as they, Hector, Alexis, Blake, and Kerry sat down at the round table in front of the hearth. The kids went to join some of their friends that were being entertained by another townsperson that had brought a guitar. They were singing Christmas carols to the great delight of Emerson Rees, who some of the kids were convinced was Santa Clause in disguise (mainly because he was the oldest person in the room and kept suspiciously chuckling with a distinct “Ho ho hoo!” under his breath).

The morning, afternoon, and evening saw the Hushed Hearth Inn as busy as it ever had been, and no one left without at least one special moment or memory. For many, it was Riley’s toast, which was apparently a quote from someone up through his family tree:

“To all of us gathered here today… I thank you for the friendship you have shown to us and to each other. Let us all remember today, that we were able to gather despite the weather in a place that will forever fill the role as haven for love and laughter in Whispering Fork…”

***

Three weeks later, the euphoric feeling from Christmas had not quite worn off, but Riley found himself worrying once again about the bills. They only had two weeks to come up with the balance on the lien. Business had picked up a bit, and in fact a somewhat exotic couple was currently in the dining room, having booked a room for a full week. Erin was chatting with them in her typical Erin-ish way, and seemed more animated than usual. The couple were responding in kind. A moment later, Erin was frantically waving Riley over to the table.

“Riley!” Erin said, barely containing her excitement. “Did you know that Matteo and Teresa are from Texas? Well, not originally, but that’s where they’ve lived for the past twenty years?”

“No, I don’t think I knew that. Interesting!” Riley said, turning to Matteo and Teresa. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

“We just couldn’t resist staying a while in the world-famous Hushed Hearth Inn!” Teresa replied, a slight accent marking her as Eastern European, although her light hair and complexion would have fit better on someone of Scandinavian descent.

“World-famous, huh? Well now I have to ask — where in the world did you hear about us?”

Erin couldn’t contain herself any longer. “We’re in this months’ Condé Nast Traveler!”

“Condé Nast Traveler? What’s that?” asked Riley.

“Only the most important travel magazine in the northeast, if not the whole US.”

Matteo leaned over and pulled something out of his backpack. A moment later, he handed a copy of a slightly-worn magazine to Riley.

“Here you go!” he said, his accent and dark complexion marking him as likely Italian. The magazine he’d handed to Riley featured a flattering picture of the Hushed Hearth Inn from Christmas Day on the cover. The lead story was titled “The Hushed Hearth,” and the author’s byline read Hector Bardin.

Riley flipped toward the center of the magazine and began reading the article.

At the request of my illustrious editor, Alexis Stone, on the 100th anniversary of the first issue of Signature Magazine (from which emerged Condé Nast Traveler, the periodical you, dear reader, currently hold in your hands), I originally intended to write about Signature’s founding by my great-great-grandparents, Andrew Reed Foster and Katherine Elys Foster. Instead, and given the season, it seems more compelling to tell you the tale of the founding of my great-great-grandparents themselves, the story of which was uncovered during a holiday excursion to my cousin’s ranch in Whispering Fork, Connecticut.

Centrally featured in this story is the Hushed Hearth Inn, located squarely between the tines of the fork from whence the town gets its name. When tragedy struck Reed and Elys (they went by their middle names), the Hushed Hearth Inn became their second home, providing them with everything they needed to survive and thrive.

The article then detailed, in touching tribute, the story that Reed and Elys related to Riley and Erin, and then Riley and Erin had shared with Hector and Alexis. It then switched to Hector’s perspective from Christmas Day.

The current owners, Riley and Erin, carry on the family tradition with seemingly effortless grace. The entire town had been without power for all of Christmas Eve and on into Christmas Day itself. My cousin was both frantic and despondent, as most of the Christmas glory he’d planned relied on a steady supply of alternating current. However, when word reached us that a party was forming at the inn, we decided to hoof the half mile through the snow and see what the hubbub was about. 

Arriving, we were greeted by a scene straight out of a Dickens story. The outside of the inn was modestly appointed with holly garlands and evergreen wreaths smartly trimmed with simple red bows and ribbons. The interior, however, was in the process of being grandly decorated by a large but disparate group of townsfolk of all ages. A collection of mismatched tinsel, holly, and garland  was draped or hung throughout the lobby and on into the dining room. It turned out that the decorations had been brought by the townsfolk — the inn itself only providing the canvas for decorative art.

The description Hector had written of the day was touching and sentimental, capturing all that Riley had hoped everyone in town would feel and experience. The article ended with an unexpected call to action.

I have no idea what actually happened on Christmas Eve at the Hushed Hearth Inn, but I do know this: Mathilde (or Maud, if you’re more familiar) created a legacy that carries well on to this day. If you ever find yourself in need of rest and rejuvenation, warmth and welcome, fellowship and family, you would do well to reserve a room for yourself at the Hushed Hearth, and consider spending at least a week there, enjoying all that Whispering Fork has to offer.

Riley put the magazine down, then looked back to Matteo and Teresa. “Is this actually what brought you here?”

Teresa nodded vigorously. “Absolutely! We read about the inn in the magazine, then did a little research on the town on the Internet. It sounded perfect for a venture we’d like to undertake, but wanted to visit the area for a bit before committing to it fully.”

“A venture?”Erin asked. “Ooo, sounds intriguing and exciting already! We’ve lived here all our lives. What do you need to know?”

“Well,” Matteo said, slipping the magazine back into his backpack, “We’re in the antiques, art, and decor business. We’ve been looking to move to the northeast for a while now, but haven’t found quite the right place to try to start a seasonal antique market.”

“When we read about Whispering Fork, something clicked for us,” Teresa continued. “The main issue is that this is a farming community. Do you know of anyone that might be interested in selling some land that they aren’t using for anything else?”

Erin looked at Riley, who looked at the couple sitting in front of him.

“I… think we might know someone with thirty unused acres available…”

Monday, December 23, 2024

The Hushed Hearth, Stave 4


Stave 1 : Stave 2 : Stave 3Stave 4 : Stave 5

The woman strode straight up to Riley and deftly pushed his dinner plate toward Erin while picking up the guest book with her other hand. She was dressed in an apparently homespun woolen dress to match her cap, and thick leggings beneath that ended in workman style boots. She opened the guest book, flipped through the pages to where Riley had been writing, then finally looked up.

“You’ll be Skyler, then?” she asked, pointing toward Skyler. He nodded slowly, and couldn’t hide the slight smile on his face. “And you’re the Fosters, right?” she followed, shifting her pointing to the couple. They, too, had grins on their faces, and also nodded.

She clapped the book shut and set it back down on the table. “Right. C’mon, Riley. We’ve rooms to prepare.” She practically dragged Riley out of his chair, heading toward the guest rooms. She paused long enough to glance back toward Elys and state, “You can help Erin figure out the kitchen. We’ll come check on you in a bit. You two,” she said, somehow pointing at both Skyler and Reed at the same time, “can start getting this dining room spick and span and properly set.” With that, and with Riley in tow, she disappeared down the hallway, then turned left toward the first guest room on the first floor.

She stopped in front of the first door. “Room One will do for Skyler. Room Three, the Fosters. You and Erin will be in Room Eight.”

“Excuse me,” Riley said, finally gathering his wits enough to speak to this woman, “but… who are you, again?”

The woman looked back at him as if he’d grown a second nose. Squinting at his face, she seemed to decide that he had not, in fact grown a second nose and, nodding, said, “You can call me Maud. Let’s go!” Without further introduction or explanation, she opened the door to the first room and disappeared inside.

“First order of business: a little fresh air and a little less dust!” Maud said, moving around the bed to the window on the far side.

“Uh, Maud? That window is pretty sticky. I usually have to really work at it—” Riley began.

Maud swiftly thumped both sides of the frame with her balled-up hands, then smacked the top before grasping the lift and hoisting it open with apparent ease.

“I think I figured it out, Riley,” she said. She then turned to the bed and grasped two corners of the comforter on her side, looking expectantly at Riley.

Riley, moving as if in a daze, picked up the two corners on his side, and together they gave the comforter a smart flap to knock the bit of dust covering it off and toward the open window.

“Who are you?” Riley said as they laid the comforter back on the bed, folding it down for the occupant.

“Like I said, I’m Maud,” Maud replied, an impish grin on her face. 

Realizing that was probably the best he was going to get from her, Riley asked, “Well Maud, I… uh… certainly appreciate the help, but… what are you doing here?”

Her grin widened as she walked past him and out of the room. “I’m here to help. You’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.” she said from down the hall. She was opening the door to Room Three when Riley joined her. “Don’t worry — we’ll close the windows after the rooms’ve had a chance to air out.”

“OK.” Riley automatically replied, then followed up with a quick, “Wait, tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?”

Maud turned to look at him for the second time, again searching his face for the second nose. “It’s Christmas Day, of course!” she finally declared, managing to open the window in Room Three with the same ease as shown in Room One.

They repeated the comforter fluffing and turning down as Riley stated, “I know it’s Christmas Day, but that still doesn’t explain—”

“You’re going to be busy,” Maud said, cutting him off as she exited the room and headed towards the stairs that led to the second level. Riley practically had to jog to keep up with her.

“Busy? Are you joking?” Riley asked, then, deciding to take a different tack. “How could you possibly say that?”

“Riley, my boy… I know more about the Hushed Hearth Inn than anyone.” Maud replied simply.

Of all the things she’d said and done so far, this took Riley aback the most. “Really? I’ll have you know that the Hushed Hearth Inn is my family’s inn. I doubt you know more about it than I do.”

“Oho, is that so?” Maud chuckled as Riley looked slightly exasperated. “Let’s test it then, shall we? Tell me the story of the inn’s founding, if you please.” They were into Room Eight at this point, and Maud was repeating the same exercises she’d gone through in the other rooms. 

“Fine,” Riley said, still assisting her in the preparations. “The Hushed Hearth Inn was constructed by my eight-times great grandfather Jean Poissant in 1769. It was the first inn and public house in Whispering Fork, and has entertained everyone from paupers to princes, so to speak. It’s one of if not the oldest continuously operating inns in the state.”

Maud glanced up at him from where she was smoothing the comforter. “Nice story. You only mentioned a single line about the inn’s actual founding, and it’s not quite right.”

Riley was actually getting upset at this point. “Yes, it is,” he insisted. “Like I said, the inn is my family’s inn.”

Maud held her hands up at him, apparently attempting to placate. “Alright Riley, alright. Would you like a few more details about how the inn actually came about?”

Despite his best efforts, Riley was intrigued. “Yes, but only if they’re factual.”

“I promise that I will tell you the truth about the inn,” Maud said as she moved past him once more into the upstairs hallway. “Let’s see how everyone else is doing and what else needs to be done, and I’ll fill in some blanks along the way…”

***

As they headed down the stairs, Maud began speaking. Her voice seemed slightly different. For one thing, it was less bossy. For another, it was somehow… younger. No less strong, and no more energetic, but with a spark of agelessness that defied her appearance.

“It was the springtime of 1769,” she began, “and Jean and Mathilde Poissant moved from Boston, Massachusetts to Whispering Fork, Connecticut. Jean had made a modest name for himself in the textile industry, but after several encounters with industrious farmers and ranchers, decided a more rural lifestyle would suit him and his family much better. He obtained two parcels of property in Whispering Fork, over 100 miles from Boston, and moved there as soon as his affairs were in order. The parcels included thirty acres just outside of the village, and another two acres between the branches where the river forked. Jean determined that he would farm and raise a bit of livestock on the thirty acres, and figure out what to do with the other two acres at some point.”

Riley and Maud entered the dining room in time to see Reed and Skyler setting fresh tablecloths out to spread on each table. Maud nodded at them and they returned the gesture before Maud continued her story.

“The main problem with Jean’s plan was that he didn’t know the first thing about farming or raising livestock.” she said, helping gather a collection of napkins and silverware for the tables. Riley automatically fell into step with her, putting place settings out on the tables after Reed and Skyler covered them with tablecloths. “Try as he might, he couldn’t get anything to grow or take root. It didn’t matter if it was spinach or squash, legume or lettuce, it just wouldn’t grow. Combine that with the fact that the areas he’d staked out for pasture failed to produce any but the meanest of grasses, and he couldn’t keep his livestock fed. By the end of the second year of the Whispering Fork Expedition, as he called it, he was completely disheartened.”

“It was a good thing his wife, Mathilde, was as wise as she was industrious. She saw what was happening with the family farm by the end of the first season and started making plans for another venture: an inn on the two acres between the river’s forks, for what was quickly turning from village into town, with plenty of folks passing through on their way between Boston and New York City. Her dream was for the inn to become a place that not only they could call “home,” but anyone that traveled through might have the same opportunity. It would be a place of cheer and celebration during the good times, and respite and renewal during the hard times. People from all over would be able to share company and enjoy fellowship while under its eaves.”

“By the time Jean was ready to pack up the farm and head back to the textile industry, Mathilde told him they could keep his dream alive by making a slight alteration away from cultivating crops to hosting guests and travelers. Jean was skeptical at first, but he also trusted his wife, and they invested what was left of their capital in the construction of the Hushed Hearth Inn. By the next season, it opened, and has been open ever since.”

“And that, my dear boy, is the real story of the inn’s founding.”

Having finished setting all of the tables, Maud headed toward the kitchen. Riley followed, wondering at the story he’d just heard. Could it be true? Was the Hushed Hearth the result of a failed attempt to farm the same thirty acres that he had been trying to sell to pay off the tax lien?

On entering the kitchen, Riley saw that Maud was conferring with Elys and Erin about something. A moment later Erin waved him over. As he joined the group Maud and Elys went to the pantry and began digging around, apparently for ingredients.

“So, this is beyond strange,” began Riley.

“I know!” Erin exclaimed. “We’re going to bake pie crusts in this old wood stove!” She seemed genuinely excited.

“No, I mean her,” Riley said, pointing to where Maud was pulling items off of one of the shelves in the pantry. “She just told me in detail about how the inn started, and it’s not quite the same as the story I’ve always heard. None of the claims seem to be unbelievable, but... I'm not sure what to think.”

Erin yet again took Riley’s hand, squeezed it, and stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Honey, nothing about this evening has been normal. But we have a couple of paying customers, and we need to do something in order to make sure they’re taken care of. They all seem not only agreeable, but like they’re genuinely enjoying what’s happening. I get the sense that Elys and Reed know Maud, and really like her.  And I’m not sure why, but I do too. And I… trust her, somehow.”

It was Riley’s turn to squeeze Erin’s hand and lean down and kiss her cheek. “I won’t pretend that I have any idea of what’s going on here tonight, but I’m with you. As long as everyone’s happy and taken care of, I’ll try not to worry about it.”

Erin smiled up at him again as Maud and Elys returned with a square basket full of various dry ingredients as well as oils and preserves. Elys put the basket on a small table and began taking the contents out, motioning for Erin to help her.

“They’re in a good spot. Lots of work to do, but Erin’s a wizard with that stove,” Maud said. “We have one more task to do: gather some wood.”

***

They exited the kitchen via the service entrance. It was dark now, and the snow was actually picking up slightly, the flakes getting fatter and heavier. They crossed the small yard to the shed. It was used mainly for storage at this point, but was also where the inn’s main woodpile was kept. The woodpile was currently only about a quarter full, which given the state of disuse of the inn, seemed fine to Riley. He grabbed a few logs off of the pile and was about to turn back toward the kitchen when he saw that Maud hadn’t actually stopped at the pile. She had instead continued walking around the corner of the shed and was almost out of sight of Riley as she called back over her shoulder without looking:

“Not that wood. We’ll get some of that on the way back.”

Riley quickly put his small load down and followed her around the shed. They crossed the narrow but still well-maintained foot bridge over the dry creek bed and continued straight for a few more moments. The trees were somewhat thicker here, and the light was dim, but Riley knew where he was going in general. He was wondering if Maud was as familiar with the grounds as he was when he almost bumped into her. She had stopped at the edge of a tiny clearing, the grove circled by relatively small evergreen trees. The scent hit him a moment later — Balsam firs, and he was instantly transported back to every Christmas from his childhood.

“Here we are,” said Maud, her voice more quiet than it had been all evening. She turned to Riley and said, “You need to pick one.”

“Wait, you want me to use one of these as for a Christmas tree?” 

He could see Maud nodding in the dimness, then saw that she had produced a small hatchet for the job from somewhere in her long coat. 

“That’s what they’re here for, after all. Sometimes the inn needs a tree, and when no other is available, the grove provides.”

Suddenly Riley had a vision of a memory long forgotten, of himself as a small child with his mother, wandering around through the trees at the back of the inn, looking for a perfect Christmas tree. That had been a hard year, but his mother had insisted they get a tree and put it up in the dining room. They had eventually found what must have been this little grove, and his mother had said something.

“I need to pick one.”

Then, turning to Riley, she said, “Remember this Riley: take a tree, leave a tree.”

As this memory washed over him, Maud echoed his mother’s words.

“Remember, Riley: take a tree, leave a tree.”

Riley moved to the center of the small clearing, slowly turning to really look at each tree along the perimeter. Eventually, as he completed a circuit, the clouds behind one tree broke just enough to allow bright starlight to shine through. One tree in particular seemed illuminated, as if the stars above were somehow decorating the tree, with the brightest near the top.

“That one. I choose that one.” Riley said, moving toward it. He carefully lifted the limbs at the base of the tree and used the hatchet to quickly and cleanly create the first notch, then moved to the other side to finish the job. As he did, a single cone fell alongside the tree. Riley carefully picked it up and put it in his coat pocket, making sure the seeds were still intact. He would need those in order to plant a tree to replace this one. Once the cone was safe and secure, he handed the hatchet back to Maud and hoisted the tree onto his shoulder. Together, they headed back toward the inn.

As they passed the shed, Maud grabbed an armload of wood. Riley looked like he was about to try to do the same, but Maud waved him off. “You go get that tree set up. I’ll get the firewood.”

Riley crossed through the kitchen, drawing the attention of both Erin and Elys as he went. He didn’t pause, but continued on down the hall and into the dining room. Reed and Skyler had finished the rest of the settings and had found some boxes that looked vaguely familiar to Riley but which he couldn’t immediately place. He carried the tree to the back of the dining room and set it up directly in front of one of the large windows there. The clouds remained gappy enough that the twinkling of the stars continued to have the effect Riley had observed in the grove. Stepping back, he admired the tree, then realized what the boxes Reed and Skyler had found contained: decorations.

He joined the other two as they went through the boxes. He retrieved the tree stand and skirt, but before he could actually pull any of the decorations out, Maud entered the dining room. She dropped her logs in the firewood rack there, then crossed to the three of them.

“No decorations necessary. The skirt and stand will do just fine. Those,” she said, pointing at some candle holders and handles, “and those as well,” indicating some stockings, “but nothing else, if you please.”

“Are you sure?” Riley asked. Both Reed and Skyler also looked to Maud as she nodded.

“I’m sure, Riley. The rest will take care of itself in due time.”

Riley wasn’t sure what that meant, but he had promised Erin that he would not worry about it. Even more, he wanted to believe what Maud was saying, which is something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

With that, Maud took both of Riley’s hands. As she did, he felt a tremor of some kind, almost like a shock of static electricity, but warm instead of painful.

“Everything is set. Go close the guest room windows and see if they need anything else in the kitchen. After that, everyone should get some sleep.”

“Wait, we didn’t prepare a room for you, Maud,” Riley stated as the realization hit him.

She chuckled at him. “I’ll see to myself when I’m ready. For now, I’m going to tend to the hearth.” She let go of his hands, but the warmth the conveyed remained.

Riley did as she asked, closing the guest room windows and making sure the rooms were otherwise prepared. By the time he returned to the kitchen, everyone except Maud was there, finishing whatever cleaning and preparation had been underway.

Skyler was the first to take his leave with a courteous bow, and went straight to Room One. The Fosters lingered a bit longer, gazing around the kitchen, before taking each other’s arms and saying goodnight to Erin and Riley. 

Looking around the kitchen, Erin took in a breath and exhaled it quickly. “Well, that was an adventure! I’m a little bit beat, honey. Are you ready to turn in?”

Riley nodded, and they left the kitchen. As they passed the dining room, Riley glanced back to where Maud sat in front of the hearth, her feet propped on it, her eyes gazing into the fire there. He started to move toward her, but she held her hand up to him.

“Get some rest, you two. I’ll come get you if I need anything. If not, I’ll turn in soon myself. Just remember Riley — Mathilde had a vision when she built this place. That vision was realized and transformed, and became a legacy. You have it in you to honor the past while creating a new future.” Maud had shifted her focus from the fire to Riley and Erin, and Riley felt the love, joy, and good will her gaze conveyed. He wasn’t sure why, but he had quickly come to trust this stranger that seemed to know him and the Hushed Hearth Inn.

“Thank you, Maud. And good night.”


Saturday, December 21, 2024

The Hushed Hearth, Stave 3

Stave 1 : Stave 2 : Stave 3 : Stave 4 : Stave 5


Erin was up and around the fireplace in a dash. Riley was stuck somewhere between standing and being flabbergasted. A moment later, Erin was leading a couple to the table, taking their coats and putting them over the back of one of the chairs of a nearby table. The couple was striking; the man’s short cut salt-and-pepper hair was neatly styled to match his much more salty than peppery trimmed beard, and the lady’s straight faded auburn locks were elegantly braided and worn Dutch-style. They were both dressed with what would best be described as casual formality. The man had a bowler hat in his hand and wore a loose suit-style vest over his long-sleeved white button down shirt. The lady’s pants were beyond bell-bottoms, with the legs flowing widely enough to drape like a skirt. They perfectly matched what must have been a custom-fitted blazer-style blouse.

They gave the appearance of being middle-aged, but they also exuded an energy that led one to think they were much younger. They both nodded to Skyler, who returned the nod. For a moment, Riley could have sworn that the greeting was more familiar than it was polite, but the thought was interrupted by Erin suggesting that Riley get the couple seated while she made up two more plates. Riley did so, pulling out the chairs next to Skyler and offering them to the couple.

As they sat down, the introduced themselves. “Hi, we’re Reed and Elys Foster.”

Riley smiled uncertainly at them, feeling like those names and their faces seemed familiar, then it struck him.

“Are you related to Blake Foster?”

“Yup, we’re part of that Foster clan,” replied Reed with a wink at Riley.

“They have so much family in town this season!” declared Elys, laughing. “It’s one of the reasons we’re here — there’s no room at their inn!”

“We wanted to come by here one way or the other,” continued Reed. “Especially given our history with this place.” He took a moment to look around the dining room, apparently lost in thought as Erin returned with plates full Christmas Eve dinner for them.

“Well, if it’s a room you need, we can definitely oblige. How long do you think you’ll be staying?” asked Riley.

“Oh, probably just the night. We’ll… be leaving town again tomorrow,” said Reed.

Riley looked a little disappointed, but opened the guest book and wrote their names in it: Reed and Elise Foster, 12/24/2024

“It’s spelled E-L-Y-S, dear,” said Elys, seeming to know that he’d written it down incorrectly. He fixed the mistake, then introduced himself, Erin, and Skyler.

“Did I hear you say you had a history with the Hushed Hearth Inn?” asked Erin.

“Oh yes. The entire Foster family does, actually,” stated Reed.

“Interesting, I don’t think Blake’s ever mentioned it,” said Riley.

“Well, it’s a hundred-year-old story at this point, and didn’t affect his side of the family nearly as much,” Elys answered. “Are you interested in hearing about it?”

“Definitely,” Erin replied. “This seems to be the night for stories about the inn.”

Reed nodded. “Good! Although it begins with tragedy…” he said, directing his gaze at the fire burning in the hearth.

***

“The year was 1919, and the winter that year was much like this one. Andrew and Katherine Foster owned a small farm just outside of town. Life was hard for them, but they managed… until the fire. They lost everything — the house, the barn, even the animals, and the crops hadn’t been very good that year, so they had no money either. They had no family nearby and no roof over their heads as a dreadful Christmas Eve storm blew in.”

Reed paused, and Elys seamlessly took over the narrative. “With nowhere else to go, the couple wandered into town, cold and hungry, hoping for anything. They arrived at the door of the Hushed Hearth Inn.” Elys paused long enough to look around the dining room, smiling as she did. Then she continued with, “The proprietors at the time… Sydney and Devin were their names, if I recall correctly, took them in without hesitation.”

“Devin and Sydney… I think they were your great-great grandparents, right?” Erin asked Riley. Riley nodded, not having ever heard any of this from anyone in his family.

Reed picked up the story again. “Sydney and Devin gave the Fosters a room, food, clean clothing, and told them to rest. The Fosters didn’t intend to stay more than was required to wait out the storm, but Devin and Sydney wouldn’t hear of them leaving.”

“’You’ll stay until you’re back on your feet!’ was the quote, I believe,” said Elys. “And Sydney and Devin were true to their word. They were more than generous with the Fosters. Sydney taught Katherine the secrets of cooking meals for large crowds in the kitchen as well as how to sew sturdy clothes from pretty much anything that could be sewn. Devin and Andrew went out every day from dawn until dusk, working to clear a patch of ground on the Foster’s property and rebuild the farm house.”

“As soon as it was clear enough, Devin gathered some able-bodied men of the town, and together with Andrew, they managed to rebuild the house and barn before the first Spring thaw. The Fosters continued to live at the Hushed Hearth Inn, which had become their second home, and Sydney and Devin, their second family.” 

As Reed stopped for a sip of whatever Christmas Cheer Erin had poured for them all, Elys continued the tale. “However, once the Spring came around, the Fosters realized they had a decision to make. They were originally from New York, and Andrew had a brother still there that had contacted them during the winter. He was looking for a change of scenery and occupation. Gerald was his name, and he published a small New England periodical, but wanted to follow in Andrew and Katherine’s footsteps and live a farmer’s life.”

“The Fosters had been struggling with the decision for weeks, but once the house and barn were finished, and the fields ready for planting, and a few livestock were available, they realized that New York was calling them home. They wound up selling their farm to Gerald for a fair price, and moved back to take over his periodical business.”

Reed wrapped the story up with, “But they never forgot the kindness that was shown to them at the Hushed Hearth Inn. After losing what they thought was everything, they gained more than they could have imagined. They remained ever grateful to this place.”

“There’s a lesson in that for all of us, I think,” finished Elys. “Even in the worst of times, small acts of generosity can create ripples of goodwill that cannot be measured.”

***

Reed and Elys gazed at each other for a moment, then turned to look at Riley at the same time. “Did you enjoy that story?” Elys asked?

“Oh yes!” replied Erin before Riley had the chance to. “It seems exactly like the kind of thing that Riley’s great-great-grand’s would have done!”

Reed nodded. “Yes, indeed. This place,” he said, gesturing around to take in the whole inn, much like Skyler had done, “tends to bring out the best in people, doesn’t it?”

Erin nodded back at Reed, then said, “Goodness, we should eat! Otherwise, this food’s going to get cold!”

“You’ll have to put Riley’s back on the stove, dear,” said a stranger’s voice, coming from the other side of the fireplace. A moment later, an ancient, squat, but obviously hale woman came into view, pulling off a thick woolen cap, the kind with ear flaps. “He and I have business to attend to first.”


Sunday, December 15, 2024

The Hushed Hearth, Stave 2


Stave 1 : Stave 2 : Stave 3 : Stave 4 : Stave 5
Riley and Erin stood up simultaneously and entered the lobby, each taking the opposite path around the fireplace. A figure stood in the lobby, unwinding a short scarf from what turned out to be a man’s neck with unhurried precision, his presence so sudden it seemed as though he’d always been there. He smiled at Riley and Erin as he pulled off his gloves before depositing both gloves and scarf inside the knit hat he’d already removed, all of which appeared effective if not antiquated. Dark blonde curls framed his face, falling just past his ears in unruly waves that teetered between charming and wild. 

A moment passed in silence as the man glanced back and forth between Riley and Erin. Finally, he broke the silence with "Is that a no, then?"

Riley and Erin both came to their senses, although Riley was the first to reply. "No! No, I mean, no to your 'no.'"

Erin put her hand on Riley's arm as she addressed the man. "What my husband Riley is trying to say is: Yes, we most definitely are open for business tonight." Taking a step forward, she extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Erin! What can we do for you this evening?"

The man’s smile broadened even further. "Ah, marvelous! I would simply adore a room and supper, if I'm not too late and you have the space available."

Riley and Erin looked at each other again, their surprise morphing into confusion before about-facing into relief then side-stepping back toward the original surprise. Riley had collected enough of his wits to meaningfully participate in the conversation. "We definitely have the space and were just laying out some dinner. Please, come in!"

Riley touched the iPad with which he managed reservations, then remembered two things: 1) he had neglected to charge the device for the past couple of weeks, and 2) the power was out. Erin was showing the guest to the dining room, taking his hat and coat at the same time, as Riley rifled around in the front desk and eventually found an old guestbook. He wasn’t sure the last time it had been opened, but there were some blank pages in it yet. 

He joined Erin and the guest at the table in front of the fire. Erin handed him the coat and hat as Riley said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name… for the guestbook…” He gestured with the guestbook in a way that looked more like an interpretive dance than an explanation..

“Ah, my apologies… Riley, is it? I don’t believe I actually dropped my name to begin with. Skyler Mills, and I’m very pleased to meet you.” He extended his hand, and Riley managed to grab and shake it with his non-guestbook-laden one.

“It’s very nice to meet you too, Skyler.” Riley said, then, finally giving up on holding everything, draped Skyler’s coat over the back of one of the unused chairs. Setting the guestbook on the table as well, he pulled a chair out for Skyler as Erin disappeared into the kitchen with the tray, presumably to prepare another plate. 

Skyler, now sitting, looked over the table with a peculiar smile and said, “Oh, I’ve interrupted your supper! Or… have I?”

“Not at all, we hadn’t actually started eating yet. And I can’t tell you how pleased we are to have someone to eat with us on Christmas Eve!” Riley took the guestbook and returned to his own seat, jotting down Skyler Mills, 12/24/2024 in it before he forgot. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you to Whispering Fork, Skyler?”

“Actually, this place,” Skyler replied, waving his had to take in the whole inn. “I… had relatives that lived in this area a while back, and they passed stories down about what a wonderful place the Hushed Hearth Inn was to be at on Christmas Eve. Lively, festive… Full of sound and fury, signifying everything, to turn the Bard’s phrase a bit.”

Erin returned, carrying a plate for Skyler, just in time to catch the last bit of his statement. “Well, we think it’s pretty wonderful, for sure. Although I sincerely doubt there will be a party tonight.”

Skyler looked at her, a bemused expression seeming to play in his twinkling eyes. “Oh no? Well, we might have to see about that! How about I tell the most popular story I’ve heard about this place while we eat?”

Erin retook her seat and, smiling and grabbing Riley’s hand, said, “That would be delightful, Skyler. Thank you.”

Skyler drew in a break, closed his eyes, opened them again, and began speaking.

***

“The year is 1853,” he began, his voice taking on a different timber, his eyes appearing to be focusing on nothing and everything at the same time. His voice drew Erin and Riley in immediately, and had an entrancing effect. “Imagine the inn as it might have been. This fireplace,” he said, gesturing towards the hearth, “roars with lusty life and casts its golden glow over the entire space. The air is filled with the scents of spiced cider and roasted chestnuts, both of which are simmering over or warming on the hearth. The gathering hall itself (which is what the dining room used to be called) is adorned with lush, living evergreen garlands. Twinkling candles burn brightly in each of the large windows save the center one, where the grand Christmas tree is set. The tree itself shimmers with ornaments, all lovingly hand-made by the residents of Whispering Fork.”

“The room is crowded with a mix of townsfolk and travelers. Most of the children are near the tree, playing boisterous and quiet games as they consider they might get away with while remaining in Santa’s good graces. An older couple is tending the fire and tenderly holding hands as they observe the goings-on of the gathering. A small group of musicians is playing carols from a makeshift stage opposite the kitchen door. Everyone seems to be smiling, laughing, and generally brimming with holiday spirit.

“A traveler enters and stands at the edge of the fray, somewhere between the elderly couple and the musicians. His gaze sweeps the room as he unwinds his scarf, shedding the chill of the evening in favor of the warmth of the hearth. He sees special moments… A young couple nervously exchanging glances as they approach each other, seemingly preparing to dance to the music. Neighbors toasting each other’s health and mending old grievances over mugs of what was probably cider. Another person dressed for traveling giving a wooden toy to one of the smaller children near the tree, and the child can’t stop smiling. Somewhere outside, bells are ringing, distant but still clear through the lightly falling snow. The other children have finally stopped their games and, with the help of some parents or grandparents, are placing a small star near the top of the tree to mark the joy everyone is sharing tonight.”

“At that point, the traveler’s voice rings out, rich with joy and longing, as if he sings not just for the room but for the memory of every Christmas past. The singing seems unbound by the walls of the inn.”

Skyler paused briefly, then actually began singing, and his voice was cheerful, strong, full the hope and spirit of the season.

“Here we come a-wassailing
Among the leaves so green,
Here we come a-wand'ring,
So fair to be seen.”

“Then the entire crowd joins him in the chorus…”

“Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail too;
And God bless you and send you
A Happy New Year,
And God send you a Happy New Year.”

“He sings the second verse, and the crowd joins him in two more rounds of the chorus before breaking out in a round of applause. At this point, the proprietor of the inn offers a toast in which all gathered participate.”

“`To all of us gathered here tonight… I thank you for the friendship you have shown to us and to each other. Let us all remember this night, that we were able to gather despite the weather in a place that will forever fill the role as haven for love and laughter in Whispering Fork…`”

***

Riley glanced around the room, and for a moment thought he could actually see the festivities as they must have been. He could hear the music, smell the cider and chestnuts. The visions warmed him, slowly fading, allowing his attention to return to the room as it was, the fire seeming to glow a little brighter. He noticed Skyler staring at him, expectantly, almost as if appraising him somehow.

Finally, Skyler exhaled, and the spell woven by his story-telling was, while not quite broken, subdued. “It may not seem like it right now,” Skyler said, his gaze still holding Riley in place, “but I think the Hushed Hearth Inn has been a place of joy and shared memories before; it could be again.” With that, he turned his attention to the food in front of him. Riley released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and began to pay attention to his plate again when he heard another noise coming from the lobby, and this one much more of a ruckus.

Two voices, lively and warm, seemed to rise from nowhere, filling the lobby with their playful argument.

“This is the place, of course it is!”

“I told you this was the place. Doesn’t look like it’s changed a bit!”

“I told you this was the place, and it does look like it’s changed a bit!”

“Either way, we should see if anyone else is here.”

“HELLO?!” Two voices shouted in unison, one male, the other female. “WE’RE HERE!”

Monday, December 9, 2024

The Hushed Hearth, Stave 1

Stave 1Stave 2 : Stave 3 : Stave 4 : Stave 5

"Has it stopped?" Erin called from the kitchen.

Riley glanced up from the book he was reading in the light of the setting sun and took in the scene outside of his window nook bench. The bay window was slightly fogged, requiring him to rub it with his shirt sleeve before getting a clear view. At half past four in the afternoon, the sun was already mostly set, providing just enough light by which to read and to illuminate the front yard setting that had remained mostly unchanged for the past two weeks. A slight breeze caused snowflakes to dance hither and thither as they fell gently but persistently from the overcast sky.

“Nope,” he replied, returning his attention to the book.

Erin entered the lobby a moment later, joined him on the bench in the window nook, and glanced outside to confirm his weather reporting. "Huh, imagine that? Snow on Christmas Eve in Whispering Fork, Connecticut! Who would've though?"

Riley didn’t glance up from the book, but did respond with a slight snort of amusement.

"I, for one, am amazed!" Erin continued. "I mean, just because it's done it every year for... " she leaned back slightly, pretending to focus on her wristwatch, "...all our lives... doesn't mean it would happen again this year." She took his hand and squeezed it a little. "It'll be OK, Rye. We'll figure something out."

Riley closed his book, looked outside again, then, sighing, said "It's like I said: I'm actually pretty relieved."

Erin squeezed his hand again. "And it's like I said: I don't believe you."

He squeezed her hand in return, then stood and walked to the double doors that led from the lobby of the Hushed Hearth Inn outside to Main Street. He turned the knob just enough to verify that the doors were still unlocked, then leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes, exhaling softly through his nose.

"If only we could have sold the land," Riley stated for only the second time that day, but probably the fiftieth time since receiving the lien from the tax collector, payable January 31st, 2025. The lien was the kind that would probably be sold to some bank, which would subsequently foreclose on the Hushed Hearth, which would bring an inauspicious end to his family's ownership of it. Two-hundred-fifty-five years after his eight-times great grandmother Matilda built the inn, it would finally pass into someone else's hands, and probably only to be torn down -- another casualty along the path of progress.

The inn seemed to be following in the footsteps of the town itself. Whispering Fork had at one point been a bustling community full of farmers and ranchers. It was idyllic, set around a place where one of Connecticut River’s larger distributaries split in two, and named because of the fork as well as the constant low-level lapping and gurgling caused by steady water flow along the two routes. Then, with the construction of Interstate 84 back in 1969, the town had begun a process of diminishment from which it never recovered. It was said that the planners had originally considered running the interstate through Whispering Fork, but decided instead to route it on the northern side of the hills that surrounded the town.

"It's funny... If Whispering Fork hadn't been so pleasant, the highway might've run through here instead of on the other side of the hills." Riley said, coming back to the nook. "Not sure it would have been better, but the town probably wouldn't have faded away. Strange how much difference three miles can make."

Erin smiled up at him. "There's still time, honey."

Riley smiled sadly back at her. "Erin, our land’s been for sale for two years. The fact is that no one wants to buy thirty acres where crops won't grow and cattle struggle to graze. Heck, no one wants to buy any farm land around here. The handful of families that are left in Whispering Fork probably aren't doing much better than we are, but they at least have something to sell. We have space for rent in a place that no one wants to visit."

“That's not entirely true. We did have that couple here doing an early anniversary celebration." Erin noted. "They were really nice too. Heck, they paid enough to keep the kitchen stocked for the rest of the month. Speaking of... dinner's nearly ready, maybe another half hour.”

“I can’t believe you got that old wood stove working. I always thought that thing was just for show,” Riley said, taking Erin’s hand and helping her up. “I always thought Mom only kept it around because it was… I don’t know, part of the kitchen setting.”

“Regardless of why it’s there,” Erin said, “it’s fully functional. And a good thing too. With the power out, the kitchen at least will stay warm. You’d better make sure the dining room fireplace has enough wood as well. We might be camping in there tonight!”

Riley gave her a half smile. “I’m sure the rooms will be warm, but I’ll make the rounds just in case. You prepped, so I’ll clean the kitchen after dinner.”

Erin hugged him, kissed him, then said, “Darn right you will. Those dang dishes won’t do themselves, that’s for sure!” 

They walked together across the lobby toward the front desk. The fireplace was directly behind it, and opened on both the lobby and the dining room (although the hearth on the lobby side was considerably smaller). Paths led around either side of the fireplace into the dining room. Directly to the left of the fireplace was a hallway that split to the left and right. Erin headed down the right path toward the kitchen, while Riley headed left to the guest rooms.

There were eight rooms in total, split between two floors. While no two were exactly the same, they were all similar enough that it only took a few moments to check each one. Windows facing Main Street were not shuttered; gossamer-light white curtains draped each of them, letting in what little ambient light remained from the day. The beds were arranged on walls opposite their private baths, none of which were overly spacious. Riley’s mother had called them“spa-like,” although he couldn’t imagine why, given there was only a tiny toilet room, a pedestal wash basin, and an admittedly nice soaking bath. The main attribute that they did currently share was that they were all unoccupied (except for the one that Riley and Erin were planning to stay in that evening).

Riley returned the way he’d come and entered the dining room. It, like the guest rooms, was filled with tables which were each distinct from the others (although they were all roughly square, rectangular, or circular). The light from the wider hearth on this side of the fireplace illuminated fully half the room, and the other half was still enjoying timid light from the setting sun via the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end. Riley went there now, looking out and down over what would have been, and indeed was, a picturesque scene of snow filling up the shallow creek bed at the base of the slight hill on which the dining room was perched. Some slightly darker gray clouds represented the smoke that was coming from the wood stove in the kitchen, and Riley made a mental note to pull some more logs inside so they would be ready to add to the fireplace.

Turning back toward the fireplace and front of the dining room, he saw Erin emerge from the kitchen with a tray full of two plates. She placed the tray on the stand near the round six-top table directly in front of the fireplace, then moved the plates from the tray to the table. Riley quickly crossed the room and pulled her chair out for her before she had a chance to sit down.

“Such a gentleman!” she declared, sitting down as gracefully as a princess. She then beckoned to his plate and seat and stated, “Dinner is served!”

Both plates presented generous portions of baked ham, mashed potatoes, and fresh-made cranberry sauce. Riley marveled at Erin’s prowess, especially given the meal had been prepared using a wood stove.

“That stove reports and holds temperatures really well,” Erin offered as if reading Riley’s mind. “It required more attention, but was pretty easy to regulate once I got the hang of the stovepipe thermometer and messing with the damper. I even moved the wood around a bit, which… I’m not sure made any difference, except in my feeling like I was being effective.” Erin practically beamed.

“Honey, I can already tell this is a great success!” Riley said, and meant it. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and was thankful once again that Erin was a genius in the kitchen.

“Good, because there’s also an apple pie to deal with, although it’s in a pan and the crust will be… questionable at best. This stuff,” she said, gesturing toward the entrees, “were child’s play compared to the pie. I don’t have high hopes, but there’s no one I’d rather experience the experiment with!”

Riley smiled as he cut a generous bite of the ham, passed it through the potatoes, and dabbed some cranberry sauce on top. He was just putting it into his mouth when he heard an unfamiliar voice coming from the lobby.

“Hello? Are you open for business?”