Not long after Mr. Myers left, our new arrivals, Mr. and Mrs. Trimble, checked in. There was no Jordan that day to stand by my side while I greeted them and carried their luggage up to the second floor. But it was all right. I had grown comfortable in the position of hostess. My grandmother's lessons may have been difficult to appreciate over the past week or two, but her guidance on keeping a cool head with a placating smile, no matter the situation, was a useful skill to have when working in the hospitality industry.

I also kept them stocked up on hot cocoa and cookies that night on my own. Though, I did glance out the back window and found a light on in Jordan's apartment. I wondered if he would continue to fix up the manor now that he felt certain I was going to sell the place. Frankly, I wouldn't have blamed him if he did mentally check out. However, when I woke up the next morning, still sore from sleeping on the floor, I spotted Jordan out early, putting up the six Christmas trees around the drive.

I figured he might have gone to a tree farm the day before and had actually been working the entire time I thought he was off sulking. He really did have an admirable work ethic, and I truly hoped that Mr. Myers and his company would keep Jordan on the payroll. Then, maybe he could teach them about Gina's history and make sure her memories were respected. Whenever I had stayed at historical hotels during business trips, I often found little mementos and pictures in their lobbies showcasing the history of the building. Panoramic Destinations must see value in his skill and knowledge.

At least, that's what I told myself. It made me feel more comfortable about my appointment with Saundra to write up the contract. After making a breakfast featuring one of Gina's omelettes and hash browns, and then cleaning up the Trimbles' room, I headed down to the foyer to collect my coat and hail a cab for town. While I waited, I heard the rhythmic tapping of a hammer and I followed my ears to the sitting room where Jordan was replacing some damaged baseboard. However, the moment I stepped into the room, hopeful of catching his eye so I could see what damage might still linger there, a creak of the floor alerted him to my presence. He stopped what he was doing, gathered his tools, and disappeared out of the room without looking my way.

I got into the cab with a heavy heart and we headed into town with the background of Christmas music singing loud from the radio. I almost laughed when "Blue Christmas" started playing, but I expected the driver wouldn't understand the cruel humor of its timing.

We stopped in front of a lovely brick building with several offices lining the sidewalk. I approached her door, decorated with a festive wreath and evergreen garland, and took a deep breath before heading in.

The small office comprised two, maybe three rooms if you counted a small bathroom tucked behind the receptionist's desk. I gave the desk clerk my name and took a seat on a plush sofa that sat next to a squat Christmas tree positioned by the front window. Ornaments resembling gavels and the scales of justice adorned it.

"Ms. Creeke, come on in." Saundra opened her door and ushered me in.

"Hi, Mrs. Waverly, thanks for seeing me on such short notice." I took a seat in a leather armchair that sat before a rich, cherry wood desk.

"No problem, Lyn. I handle real estate matters all the time. Whipping up a contract doesn't take that much effort."

We discussed a few points regarding the contract—what Devon was offering, how the payment would be handled, how long the contract would be valid for, and would there be any contingencies.

"Well," said Saundra as she leaned back in her chair and surveyed her monitor, "since you've already shown Mr. Myers the report, I've heard from his lawyer that the company isn't interested in an inspection contingency."

"Correct."

"Still, I'm going to include it in the disclosures, along with the town's bylaws. Did you ever read those?" She paused and looked at me from over the top of her glasses.

"Yes." I met her question with a roll of my eyes. "You should probably know I saw a violation on the way here. The bookstore had a trashcan out by their stoop."

"Yes," she groaned. "That's Lindsey's way of protesting our refusal to contract with a different dumpster company. Admittedly, I'm on her side. The company is supposed to clean up any trash that spills over when dumping into their truck, but they just claim it is the resident's fault and never bother following through with their advertised services. Sadly, they're cheap and it comes down to a budget war every fiscal year." She sighed, then looked over at me with a smile. "But at least I know you're reading."

"I do what I can," I said with a shrug.

"It's too bad you won't be staying then." Her tone shifted towards motherly concern. "You do want this, right? With them throwing out the inspection contingency, the only way out of this is if there is a mutual agreement to break the contract. Which I suppose would be good if you really want this, but if it's because of your fight with Jordan..."

"How did you...?"

"It's a small town, and a lot of people saw Jordan storm out of Marge's Sunday night."

"Oh." The word dropped from my lips and my shoulders eased. I thought she somehow knew about our fight at Jordan's place.

"So that's not what this is, right?"

"No." I lied.

"Hmm." She gave me a knowing look, forcing me to turn away. However, she didn't press the matter. "Well, I see you negotiated a closing date in the new year. Their lawyer has asked me, again, to see if you'd be interested in doing it sooner. With them paying outright, we could have title papers and everything ready in only a couple of weeks..."

"No," I said firmly, before my voice dropped with my slouch. "I want Jordan to finish out the holidays at the inn. They can wait a week or two more."

"I see." She gave me a sly smile. "Well, it also gives you more time. You know, should you change your mind and decide to convince them to change theirs too."

"No," I said with strength returning to my voice. "This is what I want."

She answered with a thoughtful hum and an appraising gaze before turning back to her work. Soon after, I signed the contract, and she emailed it over to the lawyers at Panoramic Destinations. By the time I hailed a cab and got back up to my room, there was an email already in my inbox saying they signed the contract, too.

It was done.