The Inn at Tansy Falls

by Cate Woods

Genres: Family Life; Holiday books; Small Town & Rural; Women's Fiction; Clean & Wholesome Romance; Holiday Romance

Synopsis

' I loved, loved, loved this story!! This is the perfect read for fans of Robyn Carr.' Goodreads Review, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Dearest Nell, if you’re reading this letter, I’m already gone. You’re my best friend in the world, and as my last request I’m asking you to lay me to rest hundreds of miles away, in my crazy gorgeous, totally one-of-a-kind hometown of Tansy Falls. I know you’re a born-and-bred city girl, but hear me out. After first losing Adrian, and then me… I know your heart is hurting, Nell. I think you’ll find that you need Tansy Falls as much as I do. So, I’ve got it all planned out. For two weeks, you’ll be staying at the sweet, local inn and every day you’ll be trying something new. And if you follow my instructions to the letter, you may discover there’s more to my story than you think. A surprise something… or someone at the end of it? Only you can find out! Some last advice before you set off, Nell. Don’t forget your sturdy boots and make sure to give Boomer, the inn’s resident dog, a belly rub from me. Stay well away from former quarterback Brody Knott (boy, do I have some stories about him!). And finally, let the future bring what it brings. While Tansy Falls may look small, I know better than anyone that new beginnings can be found in all kinds of places. That little Vermont town you’d never heard of? Well, it might suddenly begin to feel just like coming home… If you love feel-good love stories by ReaAnne Thayne, Debbie Macomber and Robyn Carr, you’ll adore this gorgeous, heart-warming novel about starting over. What readers are saying about The Inn at Tansy Falls : ‘ Warm, romantic, heart-warming – readers who love stories about women who find strength within a tight-knit charming community, will adore this… Fans of Robyn Carr and Debbie Macomber are going to fall in love with The Inn at Tansy Falls.’ Sunday Times bestselling author Carmel Harrington ‘ Absolutely loved this book, read it in one sitting… Loved Tansy Falls and all the characters in it and almost felt as if I was there myself, the descriptions of Tansy Falls was brilliant and it sounds like a perfect escape… Beautiful, a book that will give you a range of emotions and a happy ending.’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars ‘ I don't think I could have loved this book more. It’s simply so, so beautiful. A real mix of emotions went through me reading this. I giggled, I was intrigued, I got angry but *disclaimer* do have the tissues at the ready. I can't remember the last time I cried at a book, but this was so beautifully written it got me.’ Bobs and Books, 5 stars ‘ I loved, loved, loved this story!! This is the perfect read for fans of Robyn Carr… The author describes the beautiful small town so wonderfully that I almost wished I could get on a plane and visit it. The characters are all so warm and loveable that you feel as though you're getting a big hug just reading about them... 100% would recommend!!’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars ‘Beautifully written and so much fun! Clean and romantic. You will stop and wonder how this one will turn out and you just might be surprised! A great book!’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars ‘ I was hooked. Like the idea of leaving the comfort zone and learning to live life. Highly recommend this book and author.’ Linda Strong Book Reviews, 5 stars ‘ I absolutely loved this book. The author made you feel really invested in their lives. I do love the ending… Great read!’ At A Glance Book Reviews, 5 stars ‘A fun, sweet, light read… a great summer book to get you in a happy mood.’ Blind Bat Books ‘ If you are a fan of Robyn Carr’s Virgin River Stories, then this book is practically tailor-made for you. This book was an absolute joy to read, and I adored it.’ Goodreads reviewer

Release date: May 12, 2021

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 350

Sample

Nell gazed up at the flight departure screens with a swooping sensation close to vertigo. rome. lagos. los angeles. bangkok. It was dizzying, the thought that from this spot you could travel across the globe to wherever you wished in a matter of hours. Anywhere in the world—except right now the only place Nell wanted to be was back home in her not-quite-right apartment, preferably in bed, with the curtains closed. It wasn’t as if her bed was even that comfortable: the mattress still sagged down on one side from the memory of the man who had last slept on it a year ago. Every time she turned over at night, she was reminded of him.

Scanning the list of destinations, Nell finally found it: new york, departing at 8:20 a.m. and, in bold green capitals alongside, on time. Her stomach lurched, and she reached a hand for the pop-up handle of her borrowed suitcase. If the events of the past months hadn’t already disproved the idea that you could “manifest” your heart’s desire simply by “asking the universe,” then this settled matters once and for all, because how many times over the past few days had Nell begged the universe to cancel this flight? Yet here it was, waiting for her on the asphalt outside. It didn’t even have the decency to be delayed. Could you get airsick while still on the ground, wondered Nell, swallowing down her rising panic.

It wasn’t yet 6 a.m., but the woman at the check-in desk looked ready for a night out drinking martinis. Nell’s hand shot up to her own reddish-blondish bob; she had tumbled out of bed at 4:30 a.m. and fallen straight into a taxi, without a single thought about her appearance, but under the surgically bright lights of the airport terminal she was regretting not taking a brush to her hair at the very least. She was no supermodel—she was about a foot too short for one thing—but with her fine features, apple cheeks and rosebud lips, she was often described as elfin, which secretly pleased Nell as it made her think of Liv Tyler in Lord of the Rings—who, to be fair, she looked nothing like. This morning, however, she was decidedly more orc than elf.

“How many bags will you be checking in today?” asked the clerk.

“Just the one, thank you.”

“And are you carrying any of these objects inside your bag?” The clerk held up a laminated list of restricted items and tapped at it with a long red nail. As Nell scanned the list she felt her face grow hot; she grinned at the clerk, aiming for breezy innocence but ending up looking more suspected shoplifter. Honestly, she might as well have had a neon sign on her head reading: smugglers r us. Thankfully, however, the precious cargo she had hidden in her suitcase, wrapped up in a favorite sweater, didn’t appear on the restricted list. Still, she couldn’t help worrying what would happen to her if it was discovered.

In all her thirty-seven years, Nell’s experience of air travel had been limited to the occasional hop from her home in England across to Europe. It wasn’t that Nell didn’t like the idea of travel—quite the contrary, she dreamed of going on safari in Africa or hiking in the Himalayas—but like so many of the dreams she’d had over the years she’d never quite managed to make it a reality, and now it was too late. Rather than Malibu or Milan, her life had calcified around a few square miles of unexciting outer London suburb, and with each passing year she felt her existence was shrinking ever smaller, until one day she supposed she would simply just… disappear.

“Aisle or window seat?” asked the check-in clerk.

“Whichever is closer to the emergency exit.” Nell had been aiming for a jokey tone, but even to her own ears she sounded somewhere between timid and panicked.

The clerk rearranged her foundation and false lashes into a look of sympathy. “Nervous flyer, are we?”

“Oh, I’m fine, just a little out of practice.”

“Nothing to worry about at all. Relax, have a breakfast G&T, watch a movie. It’ll be fun! Right, here’s your boarding pass. You’ll be boarding at gate twenty-two at 7:30 a.m. Enjoy the flight, Miss Swift.”

Nell picked her way along the aisle of the plane, ducking past passengers deadlifting their bags into the overhead lockers, until she found her seat right at the back next to the toilets. It was in the middle of a row of five seats, so neither by an aisle or window, and was about as far from the emergency exit as possible. The check-in clerk had evidently decided that Nell needed the physical reassurance of two people squished on either side of her rather than easy access to the inflatable emergency slide.

As she settled into her seat, a woman with a tangle of bags and children stopped at the end of the row.

“Hold up, guys, I think this is us. I said HOLD UP!” She grabbed a toddler who was making a run for it then fixed Nell with an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve drawn the short straw: we’re sitting next to you.”

“Oh, that’s fine, please don’t worry.” Nell liked kids; besides, right now she welcomed any distraction from obsessing over how this lump of metal was going to stay up in the air for the eight hours it would take them to get to New York.

The woman smiled with relief. “Right, Tyler, Zoe, you sit on the other side of the lady.” The two older kids started to clamber over Nell. “Tyler, watch your elbows! Really, I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, it’s not a problem,” said Nell, helping the little girl into her seat. “But would you prefer to all sit together?”

“That’s kind, but they’ll behave better if they’re split up.”

After a frenetic few minutes organizing toys, drinks and snacks, and securing the toddler, the woman sunk into the seat next to Nell. The older kids immediately got out their tablets, clamped on headphones and became as still and silent as waxworks.

As the plane started to taxi toward the runway, Nell swallowed down the lump that had appeared in her throat and got out the novel she’d bought at the airport. Trying to ignore the flutters of fear in her belly, she turned to the first page and attempted to read, though it may as well have been written in Lithuanian for all she actually took in. A moment later the fasten-seatbelt sign flashed again with a soft boing and the plane began picking up speed. Nell glanced around in alarm—couldn’t anyone else hear that clanking noise?—and as the plane left the ground she gave up all pretense of reading and clamped hold of the armrests, her feet rammed against the floor as if slamming on the brakes.

“You okay, honey?” It was her neighbor. Nell’s eyes were squeezed shut, but she could only imagine how not okay she was looking.

“I’m fine, thank you,” muttered Nell, feeling her knuckles turn white and her insides plunge as the plane soared upward. “Just a little nervous.”

“Would you like to talk? It might keep your mind off the flight, and I am dying for some adult conversation.”

Nell managed a tiny nod.

“Great! Well, my name’s Sara, and you are?”

“Nell,” she mumbled, her entire being focused on keeping the plane aloft through willpower alone. “Lovely to meet you.”

“You too, Nell. The kids and I are on our way home to Connecticut after going to visit my aunt, who lives in Windsor. You know, where the queen has a castle?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“My husband, Eric, had to stay home unfortunately. Work.” Sara sighed. “His boss is brutal. Eric’s in finance, his office is in New York. Have you been there before?”

“No, I haven’t.” The engines had stopped thundering quite so alarmingly now, and Nell risked opening her eyes. “This is actually my first time visiting the States.”

“Really? So what’s bringing you to New York?”

“I’m just connecting to my next flight. My final destination is Vermont—a little town in the north called Tansy Falls.”

“Oh, well, you are in for a treat! Vermont is so pretty, you will love it.”

“It does sound beautiful, but…” How to explain to a stranger how terrifying she was finding this: jetting to the other side of the world, all alone, to a town where she didn’t know a soul? “I’ve never flown by myself before. And it’s a long way from home,” Nell managed.

“Sure, but isn’t life all about getting out of your comfort zone and trying new things? What’s that saying? ‘Feel the fear and do it anyway!’ Out of your comfort zone is where the magic happens!”

Nell smiled and nodded in a polite fashion, but honestly, this nice lady was seriously mistaken. Nell had never understood why it was considered such a positive thing to get out of your comfort zone. Come on, folks, the clue is in the name! Comfort zone? As for embracing your fears, surely the fight-or-flight reflex had evolved over millennia for good reason, and Nell chose flight every single time. Just not this particular one.

The seatbelt sign went off and the flight attendants got up and started preparing for the drinks service. Nell’s grip loosened a little on the armrests, and she looked at Sara gratefully.

“You’re doing great, Nell,” said Sara, giving her arm a pat. “So, do you live in London?”

“Just outside. I have an apartment near a park. It’s great for dog walks—I’ve got a Maltese Terrier called Moomin.” Nell dug in her pocket and pulled out her phone, showing the photo she had as her screensaver. Just seeing Moomin’s fluffy little face soothed her; she really should have brought him along as an emotional support dog.

“Oh, he is very cute. Who’s looking after him while you’re away? Your husband?”

Nell flinched. “No, he’s staying with my parents. I’m not married.”

“Lucky you,” laughed Sara, rolling her eyes; if she’d noticed Nell’s discomfort at the mention of husbands, she was kindly pretending she hadn’t. “What are you going to be doing on your vacation?”

“Well, I’m not really on vacation, strictly speaking. I’m going to Tansy Falls on a sort of… mission, for my best friend.”

“Oh? Does she live out there?”

“No, she…” Nell paused. The shape of the words she was about to say still felt so unnatural to her it felt like she was reciting a line from a movie. “She died. A month ago. She had cancer. Her name was Megan.”

Sara looked horrified. “Oh, I am so sorry, what a terrible thing to happen. And so young!”

“Yes, it really is.” Nell stared at her hands, grief threatening to swallow her whole again. She had spent so much of the past few months in tears that they came easily when she was alone—sometimes without even a warning sob, just dripping from her eyes like a faulty faucet—but the idea of crying in public, in front of this kind stranger, horrified her. “You see, the reason I’m going to Vermont is because Megan asked me to scatter her ashes on a mountain that was special to her when she was growing up.”

But really, what Megan was asking of her over the next two weeks was so much more than just that.

“Good afternoon, and welcome to Burlington, Vermont, where the local time is 4:20 p.m. The weather on the ground is a chilly nineteen degrees Fahrenheit and snow flurries are forecast later tonight, so wrap up warm, folks! Safe travels, and thanks again for flying with us.”

Nell peered out of the plane window, giddy with relief at finally being back on solid ground. The world outside wasn’t putting on the most spectacular of welcomes: the sky was heavy with clouds, and the only snow she could see was piled up in dirty, well-tramped heaps edging the runway. In the distance she could just about make out the smudge of dark hills on the horizon. It wasn’t quite the winter wonderland she had envisaged.

After the craziness of New York’s JFK airport, however, the low-key coziness of Burlington was a relief, and within minutes she had made it through security and baggage claim, jumped into a taxi and was speeding through the grid of fast-food joints and outlet stores surrounding the airport. The driver wasn’t in a talkative mood, which suited Nell, and within minutes the motion of the car lulled her to sleep.

When she opened her eyes again, nudged awake by the engine cutting out, it was dark. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Judging by the drool on her cheek she had been fast asleep, but then it must be well past midnight back in London.

“Miss? We’re here,” said the driver, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Welcome to Tansy Falls.”

Nell peered dozily out of her window. From what she could see, they had pulled up on the town’s main street: she could make out a few blocks of shops, marked by spotlit signs and flagpoles, and a little farther on, the slender spire of a church that reached several stories high like a gleaming white beacon, though without the ambient city light she was used to in London it was impossible to see more.

“Great, thank you,” said Nell, rubbing her eyes. “I’m staying at the…” Her mind suddenly blank, she fumbled in her bag for Megan’s letter to check the details. “The Covered Bridge Inn?”

The driver gestured out of his side window. “You’re right here.”

“Oh okay, thank you,” she said, still groggy with sleep—she was thousands of miles from home and right now felt every single one of them—but then she looked where the driver had pointed and her heart floated up like a helium balloon as she got her first glimpse of the Covered Bridge Inn.

To Nell, it looked like a Hollywood movie set from one of those romcoms she loved to watch on Sunday afternoons where the heroine is adorably clumsy (yet always gets her man), cherry pie is a menu staple and kissing in the rain is the most romantic thing ever, rather than cold and squelchy. Stretching the length of the block, the inn’s brick walls were painted dark red and a row of sash windows dressed with spruce-green shutters ran along each of its two stories. There was a grand front porch, supported by white columns and topped with a presidential-looking balcony, but it was the homey touches that enchanted Nell: the planters overflowing with foliage and dotted with fairy lights, the rocking chairs lined up along the deck, painted the same green as the shutters and a pair of dormer windows peeping like amused eyebrows above the roof. A white picket fence wrapped around the whole building like a ribbon trimming a gift, which was entirely appropriate because right now Nell felt as if Megan had given her the most wonderful present.

She stepped out of the taxi, relishing the sudden smack of cold, and wheeled her bag up to the entrance, over which hung a sign written in curly gold script: welcome to the covered bridge inn, and underneath, in smaller letters, sharing white christmases since 1878. Nell broke into a delighted grin; she’d never had a white Christmas before and the idea that these seemed to be guaranteed in Tansy Falls made her like this place even more.

Once inside the lobby, Nell felt like she had wandered into somebody’s den: there was a log fire, a floor-to-ceiling wall of bookshelves and an eclectic mix of ornaments that looked like they’d been lovingly collected over the years from vacations and antique stores rather than “curated” by an interior designer. It was a room that couldn’t care less about being cool; its sole purpose was to give you a welcoming hug.

“Hi there, may I help you?” A woman had appeared from a doorway to the rear. She was dressed down in jeans and a checked shirt, her light brown hair in a messy bun skewered with a pen.

“I’d like to check in, please. My name is Penelope Swift.”

“Sure thing.” The woman opened a leather-bound book on the rustic wooden table that clearly served as the reception desk. “Ah yes, there you are. Welcome, Miss Swift. My name’s Connie Austen and I’m the manager here at the Covered Bridge. How was your journey?”

“Oh, about 35,000 feet too high up in the air for my liking.”

Connie smiled; Nell warmed to her instantly. “Well, why don’t you take a seat by the fire while I go and print out the paperwork? Just leave your bag here and I’ll get it taken up to your room. I won’t be a moment.”

As she disappeared out back again, Nell sunk into the cushions of the nearest couch. She couldn’t quite believe that she’d done it: traveled thousands of miles across the world, on her own, without any disasters, tears or major dramas. For now, she gave herself permission take her foot off the gas and relax; whatever challenges the next two weeks had in store could certainly wait until morning. The flickering and crackling of the flames worked like hypnosis, and Nell’s eyelids had started to get heavy when one of the furry throws on the opposite couch suddenly shook itself, jumped on the floor and plodded over to greet her.

“Well hello there,” said Nell, offering the elderly Labrador her hand to sniff, but he bypassed the formalities and immediately slumped at her feet, legs stuck up in the air, in the international language for “tummy rub, please.”

“I see Boomer has already introduced himself,” said Connie, who had just reappeared. “You okay with that? He doesn’t have much respect for personal space.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I love dogs. Is he yours?”

“He’s officially the owners’ but really Boomer belongs to all of us at the inn, the guests too. Don’t you, boy?” She gave him a scratch behind the ear. “Right, this is for you,” she went on, holding out a steaming mug that smelled like Christmas. “Hot spiced cider.”

Nell wasn’t crazy about cider, but took a sip, just to be polite. Wow. Her eyes grew wide. This was like nothing at all like the vinegary fizzy stuff they served in pubs back home.

“That is seriously delicious,” she said. “Like drinking liquid apple pie.”

“It’s from the Cedar Creek cider mill, just down the road,” said Connie. “Well worth a visit if you have time. Do you have any plans while you’re here? Will you be skiing?”

“No, I…” As much as Nell liked Connie, she couldn’t face explaining the purpose for her trip right now. “I thought it might be too late in the season to ski?”

“Not at all, there’s still plenty of snow up on Mount Maverick.”

Nell had a vision of wading through thigh-high drifts and having to dig a hole in the snow to bury Megan’s ashes; not quite the send-off she was hoping to give her friend. “I guess you must have pretty long winters up here?” she asked.

“Oh yes. As the saying goes, in Vermont we have nine months of winter and three months of darned poor sledding—though strictly speaking we’re into mud season now. That’s the time between winter and spring when the ground frost melts. Things can get pretty boggy around here.”

Mud season? Judging by Connie’s amused look, Nell’s attempt to hide a grimace had failed. “Don’t you worry,” Connie went on, “you’ll be fine as long as you’ve got a good pair of boots. You just need to take care if you’re driving on any dirt roads: cars have a nasty habit of getting themselves stuck upcountry.” She slid the check-in register in front of Nell. “If you could just sign here… Great. Breakfast is served from 7 a.m. until 10 a.m. in our restaurant, which is just through there. Can I get you anything to eat sent up to your room now?”

“I’m good, thanks. In fact, I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll probably call it a night.”

“Okay, let’s get you settled in.”

Nell gave Boomer a goodbye pat, then followed Connie up a wooden staircase and along a carpeted corridor. Her feet were leaden, and even the thought of changing into her pajamas felt like too much effort, yet Nell couldn’t help but be entranced by the surroundings of the inn. The walls were dotted with framed black-and-white photos of stern-looking couples in starchy period dress standing next to very large cows, while each door they passed bore a hand-painted plaque portraying a different bird.

“We have 20 rooms here at the Covered Bridge, each one named after a different native bird.” Connie stopped outside a door at the end of the corridor and put the key in the lock. “And this one, Snow Goose, is my favorite.”

Nell crossed the threshold, and her eyes lit up with delight. In her experience hotels were anonymous, impersonal sorts of places, but this room felt like it had been waiting especially for her. There was a four-poster bed covered with a patchwork quilt, the colors of which perfectly picked out the sage-and-white striped wallpaper, plus a Nell-sized armchair and antique writing desk with a wooden rocking chair.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” said Connie. “This is the bedroom where we put our brides the night before they get married, but you’re in luck, we don’t have any weddings for the next two weeks.”

About the closest I’m going to get to a wedding night, thought Nell, unwanted memories rushing in on her—but Connie was already moving on.

“I’ll be around tomorrow if I can help with anything at all, but I’ll leave you to settle in now. Good night, Miss Swift.”

“Oh please, call me Nell.”

Connie nodded, smiling. “Sleep well, Nell.”

Once she’d left, Nell sat on the edge of the bed and gave the mattress an experimental bounce: not too hard, not too soft. There was a little box sitting on the pillow, together with a handwritten card. Inside were two chocolates; Nell popped one in her mouth and read the note.

Dear Miss Swift,

Welcome to the Covered Bridge Inn. We hope you enjoy your stay with us here in Tansy Falls.

Warmest wishes,

Piper and Spencer Gridley

Nell wondered if this couple, Piper and Spencer, had known Megan, and whether she would me. . .