My back ached and protested as I pulled the ladder from the workshop that adjoined Jordan's suite out on the yard. I had broken down and added the pillows from my aunt's old bed to my makeshift mattress on the floor and wrapped myself in her fluffy comforter since my stash of pillows and blankets were now in demand.
My first morning with guests went about as well as someone new to the experience could expect. Jordan and I decided on pancakes, cranberry syrup, and bacon for breakfast. I kept to the kitchen, loading up plate after plate with stacks of pancakes, while Jordan served the hungry crowd in the dining room. After they departed and headed off to town to enjoy their Saturday, Jordan left me to clean the kitchen on my own while he started work on some electrical problem listed on his inspection report. Once I finished with the kitchen, I called him back to help me with the rooms. He showed me everything that needed to be cleaned and how to avoid the stuff we weren't allowed to touch. Even with his help, it felt like ages before we were done. I thought I'd found my freedom after the rooms were finished, but just as I was about to lie in for a nap, Jordan knocked on the door to tell me it was time to set up the crafting supplies for the guests' make-your-own-ornament hour.
We gained two more couples that night and I spent a good chunk of my evening just trying to keep up with the demand for hot cocoa and cookies. Thankfully, Jordan had brought a large box of cookies from the bakery just as he'd done Friday night. I went to bed not having done any work on my computer, which still remained cozy and warm inside its bag.
On Sunday we served a meal of biscuits with sausage gravy that came out of Georgina's recipe book. I didn't make the sausage by hand, but I did manage to make the gravy on my own. We served it with some sliced fruit that I had to chop and clean well before the sun rose up.
Jordan once again helped me with the rooms and told me he'd keep doing so so long as I wanted, but that it would prevent him from making his way through the repair list. I told him I'd manage after this weekend, but he answered that assertion with a smug smirk.
This time I had the sense to actually check the day's events and was pleased to find that since it was Sunday, they'd be going into town for carols, and that particular Sunday was a bit special as it was also the town tree lighting. A town sponsored shuttle bus would come to whisk Jordan and the guests away to the ceremony, while I stayed behind and finally got some work done. Which is why I thought it was perfectly okay to use my free time in the afternoon to retrieve the ladder in the shed and drag it up to the expansive patio. I propped it up near the side entrance to the house and made my way to the roof.
"What are you doing?"
I didn't bother to look over at Jordan. I hadn't packed more than a pair of flats and a pair of cozy slippers for my weekend in Hereford Hills. Neither was the best apparel for balancing on top of a rickety ladder and my nerves kept me from making any sudden turns.
"I'm looking for something."
"Okay...and that something is?"
"Here," I said, biting the tip of my thumb as I scrutinized the nearly foot long stretch of wrought iron posts and railings along the roof's edge. "I'm sure it has to be this. The points are too sharp. They haven't weathered enough. This has to be it."
"What?" he asked, a little chuckle rattling his voice. "What are you talking about? That's just some decorative trim that also helps keep the snow from crashing down on us in the winter."
"Yes, I know..." Satisfied with my find, I began my descent. "I don't care about what it is, I was trying to figure out who made it."
"Probably some guy a good century or two ago," he answered.
YOU ARE READING
Her Christmas Legacy *COMPLETED*Romance
Madelyn "Lyn" Creeke and her grandmother were the last of their family. At least, that's what Lyn's grandmother always led her to believe. Lyn had never heard of or seen pictures of Georgina Creeke, a great aunt that had been living a few hours awa...