Page 25 of A Winter Thaw

She pressed the button to reset the internet and waited, pacing back and forth as the lights on the modem pulsed slowly in and out. A few moments later, it was clear the internet still wasn’t back on.

Groaning, she pressed the button again and waited. She considered calling Audrey, but she stopped herself. She didn’t want to bother her mother, and she also didn’t want Audrey to know that she was struggling to run the hotel on her own.

She pushed the reset button for the third time, starting to feel frantic. What if the internet didn’t come back on? That would be bad for all their guests, but especially for the woman who needed to send her email within an hour. Michelle clasped and then unclasped her hands, staring at the modem and hoping with all her might that the internet would turn back on.

If it doesn’t, I’m going to have to go and tell that guest that she’ll have to go to a coffee shop or something, Michelle thought, biting her lip. And what if she comes back down here because she’s wondering why it’s taking so long?

She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, and then the modem’s light turned back to blue. Michelle clapped her hands together, tears of relief springing into her eyes.

For a moment, she stood there, wondering what to do next. Was anyone checking out that morning? Were there rooms she needed to clean? Did she need to do any laundry⁠—

“Oh no!” Michelle clapped her hand to her mouth.

She’d forgotten all about the quiche! She raced back into the kitchen, where Puddle was still chomping down on the chew toy. The second she entered the room, she knew the quiche was burnt. There was a haze of smoke in the air and an acrid smell everywhere.

Maybe I can still salvage it, she thought, her heart pounding. She grabbed the oven mitts and tore open the oven door. A billow of black smoke poured out and Michelle coughed. She grabbed the quiche and set it down on top of the stove. It was as black as pitch. Or maybe not.

She wanted to start crying, but she didn’t get the chance. In the next instant, the smoke alarm went off. Its high-pitched beeping made Michelle want to cover her ears, but instead she raced for a kitchen chair so that she could stand on it and reach the alarm to turn it off.

Puddle, seeming to sense that there was some kind of emergency, started to race around the room barking hysterically. Michelle climbed onto the chair and reached for the alarm, only to realize that the ceiling was too high and the alarm was still a good three feet out of her reach.

“Puddle, buddy, quiet please,” Michelle said, jumping off the chair and racing for a broom. Not only did she hate hearing the alarm blaring, but she didn’t want the guests to be disturbed by it. She snatched a mop out of the broom cupboard and returned to the chair. She was able to use the handle of the mop to turn off the alarm, and as soon as the beeping stopped, she burst into tears.

She climbed down from the chair and collapsed into it, unable to hold back the tears of frustration and overwhelm.

Could this day get any worse? she thought. I’m going to have to feed those guests cold cereal for breakfast.

She squeaked as Puddle jumped into her lap and began to lick her face with a sweet enthusiasm. Michelle couldn’t help smiling through her tears, touched by the love of the animal.

“What a day, huh, Puddle?” she said, scratching Puddle behind the ears and laughing. “But we’ll survive. I guess I could whip up some of that pancake mix really fast. Hopefully the guests don’t even know the difference, and it tastes as good as homemade.”

She sighed and stood up again, setting Puddle down on the floor. “I guess I’d better hurry up and get to it.” She made her way over to the pantry, where the pancake mixes were. “We only have to make it a couple of days without Audrey and Elaine, and then everything will be back to normal. We can do it, right Puddle?”

Puddle barked and wagged her tail, and Michelle laughed. The little dog might have been adding several items to her to-do list, but she was more than worth it. Michelle loved experiencing her companionship and the puppy made her laugh over and over again.

She sighed again as she began to mix the pancakes together. She told herself that she would hold it together and continue to do her best to run the hotel until Audrey and Elaine came home.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Audrey stuffed her hands in her pockets and sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. Her stomach growled and she glanced at Elaine, who was busy perusing one of the shelves in the bookstore they were in.

“Have you gotten a text yet?” Audrey asked, trying her best not to feel impatient.

Elaine chuckled. “Not yet. I’m sure it will be soon, though. That restaurant is big, there’s bound to be a table soon.”

Audrey and Elaine had walked to an Asian Fusion restaurant that was near their hotel for dinner, only to discover that because of its high ratings, it was packed. They’d added their names to the wait list and gone across the street to wander around a bookstore while they waited for their table to be ready. An entire hour had already passed, and Audrey was becoming hangry. Her mouth kept watering whenever she looked at a cookbook, and she’d glanced at her watch twice as many times as she’d sighed with impatience—although the actions often coincided.

“I almost wish we’d decided to go somewhere else,” Audrey said with a groan. “This wait is lasting forever.”

“I’m sure it will be worth it,” Elaine reassured her with a calm smile. “And I doubt it will be that much longer. But I think I’ll sit over there and start looking over all the brochures and the informational packets we received today during the seminars and at all the booths.” Elaine said the words “brochures” and “informational packets” as if they meant “jewelry” and “cupcakes.”

Audrey shook her head, laughing. “You don’t seem hungry at all, Mom. I feel like I could eat every picture of food in this place.”

“Don’t do that,” Elaine teased. “You’ll give yourself indigestion.”

Audrey chuckled. “I think I’ll call Michelle while we wait. It’ll be a good distraction.”

“That’s a great idea,” Elaine remarked, opening up one of the brochures with a cheerful smile.