Christmas at the Inn on Bluebell Lane: An absolutely gorgeous heart-warming Christmas read by Kate Hewitt

Author:Kate Hewitt [Hewitt , Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781837902965
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2023-10-05T16:00:00+00:00

Sarah was still thinking about Trina and the stables as she headed home later that afternoon, the evening already drawn in, the sky darkening. On a night like tonight, with the air so chilly and still, it was easy to believe Christmas was just a little more than a month away, especially now that the decorations had gone up in shops, festive lights strung out along the high street.

As she pulled into her drive, she simply sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, steeling herself for the evening ahead—dealing with Mairi’s anxiety and anger, helping her to study, while also prying Owen off his games console and trying to engage him in family life. Making dinner, doing laundry, tidying up as she went along, all the while waiting for Nathan to come home and most likely closet himself in the study for another evening of solitude and silence. The prospect made her feel defeated before she’d even begun.

I don’t want my life to be like this, Sarah realized with a jolt. This wasn’t just a wave in an otherwise untroubled sea; it was everything. She didn’t want to live this way, trudging through life, cleaning up other people’s messes, doing her best to seem in control. She didn’t want to be this way. In the past, she wouldn’t have stood for any of it. She would have told Mairi to get herself under control, made some study cards and bought some revision guides, considered the whole thing sorted. She would have confronted Nathan, snapped at him to make more of an effort, done and dusted. Neither of those would work now, she knew, and moreover, she didn’t even want to attempt them.

Somehow, over the last few years, she’d changed—for better as well as for worse. She didn’t want to be that overly ambitious and assertive woman who was secretly pleased people seemed intimidated by her anymore, and yet she still wanted to take control of her life.

How?

The front door opened and Owen stood there, looking gangly and uncertain as he peered out into the darkness.

“Mum?” he called. “Are you coming inside?” A pause, and then he added a bit plaintively, “I’m hungry.”

With a sigh, Sarah opened the car door.

Everything in the house was just as she’d expected it to be—toast crumbs littering the kitchen worktops, along with an open jar of jam, a pack of butter, and two knives smeared with both. The milk had been left out by the kettle, and the lid of the sugar bowl was left off, with sticky grains of sugar scattered everywhere. It wasn’t all that much, and she could clear it up in two minutes, but all the same it felt more dispiriting than, Sarah knew, was warranted.

“Owen, were you the one who had toast?” she asked, and he ducked his head.

“Yes—”

“Please clean up after yourself,” Sarah told him crisply, before calling for Mairi. “You’ve left the milk out and the sugar all over the counter, Mairi,” she said in a mild yet firm voice as her daughter slouched downstairs.

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