The ambience at the Candy Cane Lane Inn was different than Dak had been expecting when he booked his reservations months ago. From the pictures online, he’d been imagining an overly cliché family run B and B where everyone was corny and sappy, flinging Christmas in his face like it was a handful of that fake silver tinsel he used to hang on the tree as a kid—the Muzak version of a holiday classic. What he’d gotten was actually a quaint, cozy inn where the innkeepers were kind and offered plenty of activities to those who wanted to participate but didn’t hound their guests to make an appearance at every single event. Even the décor in his room was understated. While the bed linens were Christmas themed—plaids in red and white with a handmade quilt in a poinsettia pattern, the rest of the room wasn’t packed with kitsch. A small Christmas tree with tasteful, red and gold bulbs sat on the dresser, the white lights creating a soft glow while a few other pieces here and there, such as an antique Santa, reminded the guest it was Christmas without screaming in a person’s face—like a dancing Santa shaking his hips to “Jingle Bell Rock” might’ve done.
After a long day of exploring the town, Dak returned to his room, hoping to get some work done before he called it a night. It wasn’t quite 6:00, but he’d spent the day before traveling and gotten up early to check out the newest B and B the town had to offer. While he’d taken the tour with several other potential investors and curious townsfolk, he already knew the Wenceslas Inn would not be for him. Unlike his current temporary residence, what the Smith Corporation had done with the Georgian home reeked of over-the-top, inauthentic Christmas in a bag, and that wasn’t what he was looking for.
Dak paused outside of his room right next to the stairs on the second floor to dig the key out of his pocket, glad they still had manual locks here, unlike the key card entrances on the doors at the place he’d seen that morning. That was just a little too “hotel” for his taste. He had the key in the lock, ready to go inside and grab his laptop, when he heard a voice behind him.
“Good evening. How are you? Cold out there isn’t it?”
He turned to find an older woman with bright red hair and matching red lipstick smiling at him. She wore a nice pantsuit in red and white and dangly silver earrings that said she loved Christmas but didn’t need to look like wrapping paper. She laughed, and a little twinkle in her eye caught his attention. “It is cold,” he said, smiling back at her. “Are you headed out?”
“Oh, no. I think I might be done for the night. When you get to be my age, you can’t go frolicking around on the ice like you used to, you know?” She chuckled again, and Dak found himself joining in. “I’m going down to the lounge for hot chocolate and Christmas cookies.” She rubbed her hands together. “Such a nice tradition, don’t you think? I can smell the sugar cookies from here.”
Dak took a deep breath and realized he could smell them, too. He hadn’t eaten dinner yet; it had completely slipped his mind. Cookies for dinner didn’t sound very responsible, but then, it was almost Christmas....
“Would you care to join me?”
“Oh, I have a lot of work to do....” He’d promised his Vice-President of Accounting, Diana, he’d go over those expense reports by the first, so he was already a day late. He hated being late....
“Work? Work can wait! Let’s go have a cookie, and then you’ll have the rest of the night to look at those reports.” He raised an eyebrow at her, certain he hadn’t said what it was he had to do. “Or whatever it is that’s got you looking like you’re having a fiscal emergency. You know, it’s not like your co-workers are still sitting around their cubicles are they?”
A grin pulled up the corner of his mouth at her enthusiasm. She had a point. “Okay, I guess one cookie never hurt anyone.” He didn’t normally eat much sugar, but those cookies sure smelled god.
“Right?” she agreed, patting him on the arm. “I’m Ellie, by the way, Ellie Snow.”
“Dak Brooks,” he said, offering her his hand.
She took it in both of hers. “Dak? What an interesting name! Short for Dakota?”
“That’s right,” he nodded. Shrugging, he said, “Seemed to suit me better.”
“I can see that.” She studied his face for a moment and then smiled fondly, and Dak couldn’t help but become even more enamored with the woman. She slipped her arm through his and he escorted her down the stairs, feeling almost as if he were walking his grandmother into a party. “Now, are you named after South Dakota or North Dakota?”
He turned to look at her, seeing that twinkle in her eye again, and realized she was joking, though her face was a perfect deadpan. “Uh... neither. I’m named after my grandfather.”
“Ah, wonderful!” Ellie proclaimed as they reached the bottom of the stairs. The sound of quiet conversation, as well as Christmas music and children laughing, came from the den a few rooms over. Ellie paused in the doorway and inhaled deeply through her nose. “Doesn’t it smell like Christmas?”
Dak did the same, breathing in deeply. Scents of cinnamon mingled with the pine scent coming from the tree in the corner, and then there was the sweet smell of fresh, frosted sugar cookies and hot cocoa. “It smells exactly like Christmas.”
Ellie giggled like a little girl, patting him on the arm again, and they headed toward the waiting cookies. Ellie took three and a cup of cocoa while Dak decided one was probably all he better have. The cocoa was served in glass mugs—not foam cups as he’d expected—so he took a cup, dropping a few extra marshmallows in for good measure, and followed Ellie to an empty sofa next to a coffee table.
He waited for her to settle in before having a seat next to her. Across the room, a family of four were enjoying their treats, the parents laughing and nodding along with the music while the two children spun and twirled to Tchaikovsky’s “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.” Ellie waved at them, and they all grinned in recognition, waving back. She clapped her hands at their performance, laughing heartily, before she took a bite of one of her cookies and settled back against the couch.