“Can we go see the inn?” Masha says. “Please?”
The bad news about the Christys coming over during Christmas Stroll is that the Winter Street Inn will show much better than the house on Medouie Creek Road. Start with the name: the Winter Street Inn. Then take into account that the inn is in town, a stone’s throw from the Christmas magic, while Medouie Creek Road is way, way out in the boonies. Eddie will have to mention that in the chaotic summer months the Medouie Creek Road house remains serene, quiet, and breezy. There is no traffic, there are no crowds, no tourists in the street, no heat emanating off the cobblestones.
But to be fair to Masha, Eddie has arranged for them to see the inn at eleven o’clock. It’s just past ten thirty now. “Let’s go,” Eddie says. “We can walk.”
They start strolling up Main Street, past all the twinkling shopwindows. There are children and dogs and men in quilted hunting jackets, women in fur vests and woolen hats with faux-mink pom-poms, like the one Grace wears. Eddie stops at the corner of Main and Centre and takes a deep breath. The air smells like evergreen and peppermint.
Across the street Eddie sees a familiar figure in jeans, an Irish fisherman’s sweater, and a Santa hat. It’s Benton Coe. He’s by himself, holding a red Solo cup.
Good grief, Eddie thinks. This is the last thing he needs. He turns to check that the Christys are still behind him—Masha looked ready to be swallowed whole by every shop and gallery they passed on the way up the street—and his eyes dart left and right as he wonders which direction will be more effective in dodging what’s right in front of them.
“Hey, Eddie!”
Reluctantly, Eddie seeks out the source of his name. Benton is headed right for him, Solo cup hoisted. From the flush of his cheeks and the way his Santa hat is drooping over one eye, Eddie guesses Benton has been to a party somewhere on upper Main and has enjoyed more than one cup of cheer. Eddie thinks of Grace—but she and Allegra are at Academy Hill, decorating.
“Hello, Benton,” Eddie says. He has no choice but to shake Benton’s hand and introduce him to the Christys.
“Benton Coe, I’d like you to meet my clients, Masha and Raja Christy. Masha, Raja, this is Benton Coe. He’s my wife’s…” Well, here Eddie is tempted to say former lover, but he holds his tongue. “New employer.”
“Yes!” Benton says, grinning. “We’re happy to have Grace on board. She’s going to be a huge asset to our company.”
Masha bats her eyes at Benton. “What kind of company do you have?” she asks.
Eddie grits his teeth. Does Benton Coe have a mesmerizing effect on every woman he meets?
“I’m a landscape architect,” Benton says. “I design outdoor living spaces—gardens, of course, but also pools, walks, decks, patios, water features.”
Masha nods in awe, like he’s just told her he designed the space station, but then Eddie gets an idea.
“As a matter of fact, Masha, Benton designed the outdoor space at the house on Medouie Creek Road.”
“You did?” Masha says.
“Yes, I did,” Benton says, growing even more animated than he already was. “Are you thinking of buying that house? I love that house. I think that outdoor space is one of my favorites on the entire island. Maybe even my favorite.”
Thank you, Benton Coe, Eddie thinks.
“Except for Eddie and Grace’s old house. That was… well, that’s my number one favorite, but my second-favorite is Medouie Creek Road.”
“Really?” Masha says.
“The Medouie Creek Road house doesn’t have a garden shed, though,” Benton says. “Tell you what, if you end up buying that house, call me and I’ll build you a garden shed just like the one Eddie and Grace used to have.”
“You would do that?” Masha says. She’s acting like a twelve-year-old meeting Justin Bieber. Eddie would actually be ecstatic about this—score one for Raja and the Medouie Creek Road house!—if he didn’t have the horrifying memory of catching Grace and Benton locked inside the very garden shed of which he’s speaking!
If the Christys do buy the house, Eddie will tell Raja: Absolutely no shed! In fact, hire a different landscaper altogether.
“Well, good to see you, Benton,” Eddie says. “We have to be on our way.”
“Great to meet you,” Benton says, hoisting his cup. “Good luck in the hunt!”
They part ways, and Eddie leads the Christys across Centre and up Liberty.
“Wow,” Masha says. “He was handsome.”
“Masha,” Raja says.
Masha swats Eddie’s arm. “He thinks I’m bad,” she says. “You should have heard him carrying on about that lady Rachel from the last time we were here.”
“She made cookies,” Raja says.
Oh dear, thinks Eddie.
As they cross the threshold from the street to the front walk of the inn, Eddie’s phone pings. Quickly he checks it. There’s a text from Glenn that says: Full-price offer just came in on the WSI.
From who? Eddie asks. Then he thinks, Whom?
Some guy just called the office offering full market, Glenn says. I guess he used to stay there.
“Is something wrong?” Masha asks.
“Not… not, no,” Eddie says. “Not exactly. I just received word that the inn already has a full-price offer. It just came in.”
Raja smiles.
“But we can still look at it, right?” Masha says. “And if we like it, we can go higher than full price.”
Eddie ushers Masha forward. It sounds sketchy, doesn’t it? Some “guy” calling in and offering the full price because he used to stay there? Could be a crank, although Glenn is the best in the business at sniffing people out.
He has asked Mitzi not to be present in the house while he’s showing it—and yet before Eddie can reach for the knob, she is swinging the front door open, exclaiming, “Welcome!”
“Mitzi Quinn!” Eddie says. “I didn’t expect to find you at home.” His voice holds a touch of reprimand, but obviously not enough because Mitzi seems unfazed.
“Come in, come in,” Mitzi says. “I’m the owner, Mitzi Quinn.” She reaches out to hug—HUG!—Masha Christy, a woman she has never met. Masha, being Masha, thinks she has found her soul mate. Their embrace is one of long-lost friends reunited after a war.
“I’m Masha,” she says. “And this is my husband, Raja. Thank you for inviting us into your beautiful home.”
They all step into the great room, which, Eddie has to admit, presents well. Mitzi has decorated it with what must be a hundred strings of white lights. There are lights on the gigantic tree, there are lights amid the greens on the mantel, and there is an enormous lit evergreen wreath above the fireplace. The room twinkles.
“This looks even more festive than usual,” Eddie says.
“I went whole hog with the lights for Kelley,” Mitzi says. She smiles sadly at Masha. “My husband has terminal brain cancer and he’s blind in one eye.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Masha says.
“He used to really love my caroling village,” Mitzi says. She leads the Christys over to a table all set up with a Byers’ Choice Christmas market scene. “The kids used to tease me about my carolers, and Kelley, too, but one night I caught him out here, rearranging them.” She laughs, then quickly grows somber. “That’s why we’re selling.”
Eddie tries not to frown. This is why he wanted Mitzi gone! No potential buyer wants to hear about terminal brain cancer! They want to imagine a house filled with happy times. They want a place that will make them feel they will live forever.
“Shall we look at the kitchen?” Eddie says.
“Well, I loved it,” Masha says once they have toured the entire house save for the master suite. “No surprise there. But…”
But, Eddie thinks. To keep it running as an inn, she’ll have to hire a staff: a marketing expert, a reservationist, a general manager, a housekeeping manager, and at least one chambermaid, a breakfast cook, and a maintenance man. The mere idea is not only expensive, it’s exhausting.