Inn For The Holidays – Harper Lin

My household ate leftovers and most of our clothes were bought on sale.” Chuckles rippled through the room. “And honestly,” she added, straightening, “I prefer it that way.” “What happened to the fortune?” A woman asked. “Ah, the famous Penwick fortune,” Nora said. “Unfortunately, the Penwick men made a series of bad investments.

And they thought the money would keep flowing, but eventually the wealth dried up, eaten by debt. This mansion, for example, is now owned by the town. And good thing, because the town takes care of this place at least.” A dry murmur of agreement moved through the group. She led us into the next room, which Nora explained was a ballroom. “The Penwick women,” Nora continued, “the women were practical.” She stopped beside a glass display case. Inside were a few carefully curated pieces: a pair of worn gloves, a delicate fan, a tiny beaded purse.

We moved to another glass display case with several pieces of jewelry arranged on velvet, brooches, rings, and a fine chain that caught the light. “They loved jewelry,” she said. “Not just because it was beautiful, but because it lasted. Land can be lost and businesses fail.” She tapped the glass lightly. “Jewelry is portable fortune. The women sold off a lot of the jewelry, and helped pay the debts, and this is what remained.” That was probably why Len had been excited to find his grandmother’s brooch at an estate sale.

The heirlooms had been sold off and lost. We moved into a smaller sitting room. Its walls were papered in a soft, time-faded yellow. An unlit fireplace anchored one side of the room, more domestic than grand. As Nora spoke about holiday gatherings once held there, my attention drifted to the opposite wall. One of the exposed wooden beams bore three decorative marks. They were in the shape of flowers. None of the other beams had these decorative marks. I found it odd. I raised my hand.

“Do you know what those carvings are?” Nora followed my gaze and tilted her head. “Those?” She smiled faintly. “Just decoration.” I must’ve not seemed satisfied with that answer because she stepped closer, studying them. “Someone must’ve began carving a decorative motif and never finished. Either they lost interest, or it proved more work than expected. Woodcarving wasn’t cheap.” She straightened and moved on to talk about the wallpaper.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author. www.harperlin.com OceanofPDF.com CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 About the Author A Note From Harper Excerpt from “A Book to Kill For” OceanofPDF.com D CHAPTER 1 ecember in Sierra Hills always surprised visitors who expected palm trees and beach weather.

Winter here in Northern California had its own personality. The mornings were cold and silver. I often saw fog drifting low between the rows of grapevines. The vineyards themselves stood bare and sculptural. By afternoon, the sun warmed the air just enough to release the scent of damp soil, crushed leaves, and the faint bite of pine carried down from the higher elevations. The Wildflower Inn looked especially beautiful against the winter landscape. Stella had outdone herself for the holiday season. Every archway was wrapped in garlands of eucalyptus and cedar, the green leaves still fragrant and fresh.

Soft white lights looped around the wooden pergola bordering the vineyard. When night came, the lights appeared to float in midair like fallen stars. The whole property felt hushed and glowing. I never experienced peace in this particular way until I lived in wine country during the winter. Inside the inn, the lobby buzzed with activity as we decorated for the holidays. I balanced a box of ornaments against my hip as I stood on tiptoe to adjust the garland above the front desk.

A sprig of rosemary had been poking out at an odd angle, and I tucked it back into place, stepping down to assess my work. I went over to the Christmas tree, setting the box down carefully before kneeling beside it. A few feet away by the fireplace, Jesse was struggling with a wooden reindeer that stubbornly refused to stand straight. No matter how many times he nudged it, the reindeer leaned left, as if exhausted by the holiday season already.

“This thing is possessed,” he said, brushing his dirty blond locks away from his sparkling blue eyes. He looked like someone who belonged here. His flannel sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, vineyard casual, and I had to admit, he was effortlessly handsome.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 9cdda6d8145cc0f8
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,004,676 bytes (0.958 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 118
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 139.02 minutes
• Total Words: 27,804
• Total Characters: 157,523
• Average Words per Page: 235.63
• Average Characters per Page: 1334.94

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