The Hushed Hearth, Stave 1

Stave 1 : Stave 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?”