The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel by Anita Stansfield Page A

another day, then,” he said and wheeled her into the kitchen.
    “Perhaps for Christmas,” she said just as they entered.
    “I’m afraid I won’t be here for Christmas,” he said, but the statement became lost as Chas and Polly expressed their excitement at seeing Granny out and about, so that she could make certain they did everything right. Jackson was tempted to hover in the kitchen with them, but he already felt like he was intruding on family time, and he didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself. He went to the parlor to check his email and found simple Thanksgiving greetings from a number of people, mixed with evidence of concern for his absence and his well-being. He responded with holiday greetings in return, and assurances that he was fine and that he’d been invited to have dinner with a lovely family. He received two invitations for Christmas and just wrote that he’d get back to them. He knew he’d be back home long before then, but he wasn’t certain yet what he wanted to do. So much had changed among the dynamics of his friends and coworkers—or rather, his friends who were his coworkers, because other FBI agents were the only people who could tolerate him. After he returned to Norfolk and was able to gauge the temperature and mood a little better, he would be better able to decide what was best. He couldn’t help thinking that it would be nice to just keep hiding here through the holidays, but the idea was ridiculous. If he felt like an intrusion for Thanksgiving dinner, being here for Christmas would feel like a travesty.
    Jackson hid in his room with Dombey and Son, finding some odd form of comfort from the memories that reading it stirred for him. He put on a nice button-up shirt that he’d hung in the bathroom when he’d showered, in order to steam out the wrinkles. He added a tie, glad that he was in the habit of never traveling without one. At exactly two o’clock he went down the stairs, inhaling the sweet aromas of a holiday meal into his soul as well as his senses. He was surprised to come to the bottom of the stairs and find a wide doorway open, when he hadn’t realized a room was there. A closer examination made it evident it was an envelope door, and draperies that had covered it had been pulled back on each side. He entered to find no one there, but a long dining table was set elegantly, including candlesticks lit in the center. A fire was burning in a fireplace across the large room, and he noticed a couple of comfortable chairs placed strategically near the fire. What a great room! He almost felt as if he were in some kind of dream. The dreamlike sensation was enhanced by Chas coming through a different door that swung in from the kitchen.
    “Oh, hi,” she said, setting pretty little dishes of cranberry sauce on the table. She was wearing a festive apron over a black dress, and he was glad he’d put on a tie. “We’re just a little behind schedule. Make yourself comfortable.”
    “Can I help?” he asked.
    “Stop asking that. It’s all under control. We’re mostly waiting on Charlotte. She’s bringing the pies and the rolls. She likes the rolls to be hot so she’s probably pulling them out of her oven at this very moment. Oh,” she said, “I take it back. I forgot. You can help. Granny’s back in her room, but she made it clear that you would be escorting her to the dining room for dinner.”
    “A pleasure,” he said and found Granny wearing a nice dress, which was an entirely different experience than seeing her in her usual loungewear. Her hair had also been given more than the usual attention, and she was wearing a string of pearls around her neck. In the midst of preparing the meal, Chas had obviously spent some time helping her grandmother get dressed up. He told her how lovely she looked, and she told him that he looked snazzy, which made him chuckle.
    He pushed the wheelchair to the head of the table where a place was set without a chair. Charlotte and