The Christmas Bus by Melody Carlson Page B

the door behind her. Then, sitting down in her padded rocking chair, she began to cry. Tears from long ago poured down her cheeks, and she let them. She wasn’t quite sure what she was specifically crying for—oh, it had to do with her grandparents, of course, her childhood, their passing . . . but it was all rather vague. Perhaps she was simply grieving.
    She wasn’t sure just how long she actually cried, but after she’d blown her nose and splashed cold water on her face, it was nearly two o’clock. And she knew it was only a matter of time until the new guests would begin arriving. She must pull herself together.
    The house was quiet when Edith went back downstairs. She figured that Myrtle was over at the church either helping or harassing Olive. But at least it gave Edith a chance to regroup and get a few things done. To her relief, the cookies looked okay. Perhaps a bit thinner than she would’ve made them, but at least they hadn’t burned. She picked up a lopsided star and took a bite. To be perfectly honest, the anise did make them taste more interesting. She wished there was time to brew a pot of tea, but Edith figured she’d better get busy before the guests started coming. She still needed to put fresh linens in the Good Shepherd Room, where she planned to put Albert Benson, since he was alone and the room was a bit smaller than the others. She also wanted to put the special Christmas mints on the pillows. She’d just picked them up at the Candy Cane Shoppe yesterday afternoon.
    “You’re going to have your hands full with your new guest,” Betty Gordon had told her in a conspirator’s tone. Betty was the owner of the candy shop as well as a member of their congregation.
    “So you heard her this morning?” ventured Edith.
    Betty laughed. “I can imagine she’ll really spice things up at the inn.”
    Edith nodded without commenting.
    “Between you and me, I heard that she made a similar scene at Mrs. Santa’s Diner.”
    “Oh, dear . . .”
    Betty slipped the package of specialty mints into a red and white striped bag. “It’s not my place to say this, but the less time that woman spends in town, the better it will be for everyone, Edith.”
    “Well, she’s helping Olive with the Christmas pageant,” said Edith as she put her change into her purse. “That should keep her busy.”
    “Poor Olive.”
    Edith nodded. She had been tempted to apologize, but then it wasn’t really her fault if a guest behaved badly. Was it?
    Edith placed the final mint on the pillow in the Cool Water Room. This room was one of her favorites. All in shades of blue, it was so soothing and peaceful. This was where she planned to put the Thomases. Something the wife had said suggested in her email that the couple had been under a lot of stress lately. Hopefully, this would help.
    Edith was just going down the stairs when she heard voices below.
    “Hello,” she called as she spied a couple standing in the foyer. They looked to be about her age, or maybe younger. “You must be the Fieldses,” she said as she shook their hands and introduced herself.
    “I’m Carmen,” said the woman, then with a slight frown, “and this is Jim.”
    Jim didn’t look too happy.
    “We would’ve been here sooner, but Jim got lost. I begged him to stop and ask directions . . . but you know how men can be.”
    Edith smiled. “Christmas Valley is a bit off the beaten path.”
    Then she gave them a brief tour, explained how things worked, gave them some brochures from town, and finally showed them to their room.
    “Staff and Rod?” questioned Jim.
    “All the rooms are named after portions of the twenty-third psalm,” she explained quickly. But still they didn’t seem to get it.
    “Because this is the Shepherd Inn,” she continued. “And the shepherd uses a staff and rod to keep his sheep safe.”
    “It sounds more like something he’d use to beat them with,” said Carmen.
    Edith laughed. “No, no,” she said. “A good