Pennyroyal Christmas (A Ruthorford Holiday Story Book 1) by Shanon Grey

she took Kat’s outstretched hand. “Don’t ask,” she said with a hearty laugh. “Just call me Dink. I know…can’t decide which is worse.” Another hearty laugh followed. Kat instantly adored the woman.
    Dink leaned over behind another box and pulled out a brown package, wrapped in twine. “This is for you.” She plopped it into Kat’s hand.
    “Everyone’s been so kind,” Kat said.
    Dink smiled, “Welcome to Ruthorford, dear.”
    Rowe shrugged and answered a couple of questions about some orders and shipments before turning to Kat. “I have a feeling our dinner is waiting,” he said.
    “Nice to meet you,” Kat called over her shoulder and Rowe escorted her out the door.
    The snow began falling in earnest. Kids stood by the fountain in the median, laughing, trying to catch snowflakes on their tongue. A light dusting was beginning to cover the grass. Rowe and Kat walked back up the street to the bed and breakfast, stopping by the car to drop off her gifts.
    Teresa met them as they entered the inn. A huge tree, decorated in an old-fashioned milieu to match the Victorian building, stood proudly in a large bay, wrapped presents overflowing its skirt. The place smelled of hot food, fresh greenery, and mulled cider. “Let me take your coats,” she offered, took them and handed them off to a young girl. “Your table awaits.”
    “Will you be joining us?” Kat asked.
    “Last minute group of women from Mobile piled in this afternoon. Didn’t expect the snow. They were headed to the other side of Atlanta to a Romance Writers’ Conference. I told them it should be fine by tomorrow. You guys go on and enjoy. Is Brenda coming?”
    Kat shook her head. “No. She said she was heading home to a book.”
    “Then, let me sit you by the window so you can see downtown.” She led then into the dining room and seated them in a smaller bay then the one that held the tree. As she sat down, she looked out the window. A smaller version of the median fountain was off and the insides filled with red poinsettias and greenery. The top overflowed with green, red, and white streams of color. The ground around it was covered with a fine white powered of snow. She looked up and saw the lit lamp posts, trees, and window decorations. Even the benches had red ribbon laced through. A winter wonderland lay before her. The children that had been chasing snowflakes were now chasing one another, tossing balls of snow that fell apart as it landed.
    She looked at Rowe, who was watching her. “Thank you.”
    “My pleasure.” He reached over and took her hand.
    “Hope you eat meat,” Teresa said and set plates of prime rib in front of them.
    “Oh, yeah,” Kat cooed.
    “Good. You didn’t get any salad because I want you to save some room for dessert. Eat up.” The same young girl that had taken their coats set a breadbasket between them and two glasses of water. Beside the water, she set two wine glasses and a bottle of Merlot, then glanced at Teresa, who handed Rowe the opener. “I’ll let you handle it. Sharon’s a bit too young.”
    “My pleasure.”
    The prime rib was tender and flavorful, the minted peas fresh, and the baked potatoes as fluffy as the snow. Then there were the rolls. Plump, light, yeast rolls. Kat could have made a meal on those alone.
    They talked of ranches and Ruthorford, art and sculpting. It wasn’t until Teresa set two bowls of hot bread pudding with whiskey sauce and deep rich mugs of coffee, that Kat mentioned Morgan.
    “It was very strange. When she hugged me, I felt…,” she took another bite of pudding, looking for the right word and unable to resist eating more.
    “She’s a healer,” Rowe commented casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “She’s still getting the hang of it. That’s why you might have felt something other than warmth.”
    “A healer?” Kat put down her spoon.
    “Um-hmm.” He took a sip of hot coffee and closed his eyes in appreciation.