The Applewood Inn
Chapter 2
New Year's Eve was less than a week away.
Although Christmas was over, holiday decorations continued to be displayed everywhere, to be taken down after the New Year. In the big cities, especially, reminders of anything Christmassy seemed irrelevant as people moved past the holidays.
In small towns across Amerca, however, the Yuletide trimmings were festively exhibited far past the holidays, for it reminded the town of the warmth and coziness of being home.
Applewood in Massachusettes was such a town.
The rustic New England village was like a step back in time. Most of the town consisted of simple painted houses with colored shutters and red barns. It was located 150 miles north of Boston, but with its simple colonial setting, it could not be more different from the sprawling, metropolitan city.
Senior resident Annabelle Murphy, along with her husband, Bud, owned the small inn located in Applewood. She especially loved this place during the winter season. The entire town had been blanketed in white snow, decorated with snowflakes and candy canes and lights.
Anabelle liked looking out the window to view the gingerbread cookies displayed in the local bakery or the sounds of jingle bells ringing down the street. Although Christmas Day was over, she could almost hear the Christmas carolers in traditional Victorian garb strolling by as they did during Christmastime.
To her, Christmas in Applewood never ended, for the spirit of love resided in the townspeople's hearts throughout the year.
Never mind that it was cold blustery outside. The day had started with snow falling heavily with wind gusts reaching almost 60 mph. But there was no such thing as bad weather for her. Some days she just wore more clothing than other days, is all.
The hearth here was always warmly lit to welcome all who came.
It was late afternoon when the door of the inn unexpectedly burst opened, bringing in a sudden gust of snow flurries to the inn.
Anabelle looked up as a man and a woman, bundled up in wool coats, hats and scarves, rushed to get in and shut the door. They seemed to be happy as they discussed the cold weather of the town.
"Brrrr! Oh, Brrrrrrr!" exclaimed the attractive female, as she attempted to warm herself by wrapping her arms around herself, "I feel as though I had been in a freezer with the fan turned on!"
"Typical weather for the town of Applewood!" smiled the male, "But they love it! I should have told you there are basically only two seasons here worth appreciating: winter and baseball!"
Anabelle would recognize that male's voice anywhere. She quickly rounded the counter while Mike and Connie were still brushing patches of snow off their thick wool coats.
"If I live and breathe! Mikey! Come here to your auntie!…" She turned to yell in the next room, "Bud, honey! Come quick! Mikey's here!"
"I'm comin' woman!" a gruff voice shouted from another room.
Bud, an elderly but sturdy gentleman, hobbled into the room. His whole face lit at the familiar figure, "Well, will you look what the storm brought in! Looks like we got somethin' to celebrate tonight!"
Bud and Anabelle each gave Mike a big hug as they nodded to his companion.
"And who is this you've brought home to us, Michael?" Bud greeted Connie, "From what I can tell, I guess the city does know how to grow the pretty ones!"
Connie laughed merrily, liking the couple immediately.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Uncle Bud," Mike seemed to be blushing, "This is Connie Rubirosa…another prosecutor from New York City. She's here to help out on the case. Connie, this is Bud and Anabelle Murphy."
"Hello, and nice to meet you two," stated Connie.
As Connie stuck out her hand, Anabelle made an obvious gesture of looking at Connie's hand and noting no ring, remarked, "Another prosecutor, you say? She's also lovely and single to boot!"
"Now, Auntie Annie…" Mike began.
"Oh, pay no mind to our Little Miss Matchmaker over there!" said Bud heartily, "She'd matched sunshine to lightening if she could! I'm sure you must be freezing cold after being in the snow!"
"Oh, where are my manners?" Anabelle said, "Of course they are! You two young people head straightway to our special alcove in the next room over there and I'll get you both some hot cocoa! You'll do all your unpacking later! Go on, git!"
Mike and Connie exchanged looks. The thought of sharing hot cocoa, in a picturesque setting while hailing snow fell outside, certainly did sound inviting.
.
.
Mike updated Connie as they sat in a room called the "window" room.
Leather books covered one wall three stories high. The colonial styled room was furnished with two plush love seats, matching easy chairs, pillows and a chess table.
But it was the large triple–pane Bay Windows, projecting outward from the wall, that was the highlight of the room.
Connie sat on the extended window ledge alongside with Mike. They had a nice view of the snowstorm outside while feeling warm and snuggly inside, with two mugs of hot cocoa placed in front of them.
A nice fire had been started in the fireplace.
Connie smiled in her mug as the steam came up to warm her nose. Mike liked how she took pleasure in the simple things. As she took another sip, Mike explained to her about the case.
It was a straight-forward case. A conglomerate had bought some land in Applewood and was planning to construct a modern shopping center, despite protests from the townspeople. Mike was here to represent the people of Applewood.
"Hmm…a case against a corporation?" Connie questioned, "it sounds as if you are going up against some very powerful people. They probably hired a whole team of legal experts with some pretty strong arguments for putting a shopping center here. "
Mike shrugged, "Everyone is entitled to present their side of an issue. It's just that theirs is stupid."
It was hard for Connie to hide a smile.
"So, what, you plan to win your case by humoring them into submission?"
Mike grinned, "That could be one way. Or I could prosecute the case honestly and fairly, a strategy few lawyers use."
Connie shook her head, "My, my, you don't even need me to do research! You could just perform a nightly prosecutory stand- up routine in front of an open mike! How could we not win?"
Although they knew they needed to seriously discuss the case, they were having a grand time. Connie took a sip as she glanced around the provincially decorated room.
"So how do you know these lovely people in this quaint town?" Connie asked.
"Bud was my father's best friend," explained Mike, as he, too, enjoyed his warm drink, "Even though we moved around a lot with my father being in the army, we always managed to end up here for the holidays."
Connie looked around at the ambiance, "You must have had some amazing Christmas memories."
Mike shrugged, "I don't know if it was all that. This place always seemed to be a waiting station, someplace to hang our hats for a second before it was time to go again."
She looked at him with empathy. What it must have been like for a little boy like Mike to continually move around, never having a place to call his own.
The conversation was getting too personal.
"Anyway," said Mike, purposely shuffling some papers, "Our court strategy, of course, is to show the destruction of a lovely community, of the jobs it would take away. I need you to do some research on the impact the building of a mall would have on local jobs, the wildlife habitat and the loss of open space…"
Connie took the papers he handed over to her, and added her own suggestion, "I think it might also be a good idea to check on the impact of traffic on air quality standards, too."
Mike nodded approvingly.
"I knew you would come in handy!" Mike teased.
Connie found it hard to keep her mind on the case. She just wanted to appreciate the warmth of the inn and being alone with Mike. Alone with Mike? This was not a date! He was her boss and he was sitting across from her, not gazing longingly into her eyes, but asking about air quality standards!
As they talked further, their bodies had also come closer together, although neither had been aware it had occurred.
Connie experienced a sweet quake of familiarity. It seemed that ever since Mike had won the Marcus Woll case, she had become accustomed to the closeness of him; whether they walked in tandem throughout the city, shared a drink at the bar or sat in opposing chairs at her desk, they always seemed physically so close.
The late afternoon light had frittered away. The glow from the fireplace struck tiny glints of gold and red in Connie's hair. Mike had never noticed that before and he was mesmerized by it.
He became strangely quiet as his breathing changed to a deeper, faster rhythm. His intense look made Connie's cheeks feel warm.
"Mike," Connie asked softly, "What is it?"
"It's...nothing..."
In the background was the crackling of the fireplace.
He noticed a strand of Connie's hair that had fallen slightly out of place. Leaning forward, Mike's hand reached up and gently touched the misplaced lock of hair.
He was so physically near her now. It was like a dream. She watched his face as his forefinger and thumb gently rubbed the silken strand.
His eyes are such a deep shade of blue, she thought as she felt his fingers lingering in her hair longer than necessary.
Connie watched him steadily, astonished at the tender gesture, the extreme care with which he brushed her loose hair back. And then, regrettably, it was over.
He drew a deep breath, looking surprised at what just happened.
"Connie, I-"
Connie felt a tingling warmth to her skin as she noticed something that could pass for passion in his eyes. Little did she realize that those same responses had been reflected in her eyes.
All she knew was that...it shouldn't be happening.
"Mike," Connie's voice sounded different, "We're no longer cold, are we? I think we should go to our rooms now and unpack."
Mike nodded, feeling the cold once more.
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There is always something magical about small town Americana during the holidays, don't you think?
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