The Donnell Inn

“Thank you,” said Clara Donnell, trying not to show her disappointment in taking back her last guest’s room key. “Please come again.”

The guest, a woman in her forties who had to make a mere pit-stop along the way to see a relative, left without even so much as a word. Clara took that as a sign that the service hadn’t been up to the woman’s standards - perhaps she hadn’t given her enough towels? Had the hand soap run out again? She would have to send in another order for that, but it would be difficult to find a deal that was within the inn’s decreasing budget.

As much as Clara was a control freak, there were some things that she just couldn’t control, like the fate of her inn, and it made her crazy. Not only that, but she was an over-thinker, and she stressed herself out on things that weren’t as bad as she made it out to be. But this situation with the inn and its finances was certainly something to worry about. The Donnell Inn had become her pride and joy ever since she had first bought it, and she had even planned to pass it onto her children and their children after that. But now, it wasn’t looking like she could afford to keep it open past the holiday season, and the thought of not having the beauty of the inn to look forward to everyday nearly broke her heart.

“Hello?” called a voice in front of her.

Clara snapped to attention, blinking wildly. She was so far off into her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the man walk in. “Oh, hello,” she said, putting on a smile despite her agony within. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I was wondering if I could take a room,” he replied cheerfully. He flashed her a grin of pearly white teeth in response to hers, and she felt her cheeks growing hot.

His brown leather jacket glistened in the light that poured through the windows which revealed a dazzling landscape of snowy hills stretching far beyond the inn. He had eyes that resembled snow globes, bright and friendly, and Clara found it almost difficult to look away from their vivid light blue color. Brisk air radiated off of his clothes from when he had been outdoors, but he didn’t seem phased by the cold one bit, his personality remaining warm and lively.

“Ma’am? A room, please?” he said again after she had stared at him awkwardly, caught once more in a daze.

Butterflies crept into her stomach as she replied, “Yes! Yes, there’s a room available.” She had to hold back from saying “many rooms available.” But it didn’t take a genius to see how unoccupied the inn actually was.

She led him to a room on the first floor next to the lounge area featuring a fireplace that once had always been lit, but was now a pile of ashes and cinders because she couldn’t afford to pay the lumberjack to chop down any more wood for her.

“Here you are,” she said, handing him the room key.

He thanked her and went inside, nodding goodbye to her as he shut the door. Well, that was that. Now she would go back to her desk and wait helplessly for another guest that would give her the rest of the funds she needed to restock her soap supply that was running drastically low. In November, she had gone an entire week without a visitor. Who knows when the next one might be? Days, maybe.

She sighed, slumping down on one of the armchairs in the lounge instead. Perhaps she could sell one of these chairs - there were only two of them anyway, and one missing couldn’t make much of a difference, could it?

I give up, she thought dispiritedly. Her head was beginning to ache, and suddenly she didn’t feel so good. Life had seemed so easy when she first bought the inn - so many opportunities to be had, goals to be fulfilled. And in the beginning, it had been easy. Guests had flocked into the Donnell Inn in droves for the first two years, but it was after the second year that business started declining, especially after the Cherry Hill Inn opened in the next town over. She took it as a personal issue at first, thinking that perhaps she wasn’t being as friendly as she should, or cleaning rooms well enough. But no matter how hard she tried, guests simply stopped coming, and Clara eventually realized that it was because the other inn had something that hers didn’t. The Cherry Hill Inn was classier and far more luxurious than the Donnell Inn that was rustic and cabin-themed. But what did fancy pillowcases and expensive furniture have against warm and cozy family memories? A lot, apparently.

“Give up on what?”

Clara jumped at the voice that belonged to the same man she had just given a room to. “You snuck up on me again,” she cried, holding her chest. She softened, grinning up at him. “I didn’t realize I said that out loud.”

“Sorry. I guess my feet are light. I’ll tap you next time.” He plopped down on the armchair next to her and held out his hand. “I’m Gabriel, by the way.”

She shook his hand, which she noticed was calloused and rough, probably from many a hard day’s work. “Clara. It’s nice to meet you.”

Gabriel nodded, staring into the ashes of the nonexistent fire. “I could light that for you, if you want.”

“Oh, thank you for offering, but there’s no wood left.”

“No worries. Give me an axe and I’ll be back in a bit. No charge, either.”

It took a little more convincing, but eventually she budged and took him to the tool shed. She waited on the porch steps until he returned with an armful of excellent firewood that he took inside. He refused to use the fire starter, remarking that it would make it “too easy.” She shook her head playfully, crossing her arms as she watched him light a fire with two sticks as if he had done it this way a thousand times - and for all she knew, maybe he had. Nonetheless, she couldn’t hide the smile that seemed to be continuously creeping up on her face when he was near. Not only was it nice to have somebody help out without expecting something in return, it was even better just to finally have pleasant company.

“Thank you,” she said after he was finished. “I don’t think you know how much that means to me.”

He shrugged. “It was nothing, really. Just something I have experience with.”

Clara made them each a cup of coffee, his black by request and hers with cream and sugar. They sat down together in silence, this time on the sofa, watching the flames dance wildly in the fireplace. It was Gabriel who finally spoke up, his voice coming out low and raspy. “It’s a nice place you got here, Clara.”

“Not as good as the Cherry Hill Inn, apparently,” she stated with a sigh. “That’s where all my customers went. Believe it or not, this place used to be booming.”

“Never heard of it,” he quipped, but Clara could tell he was trying to make her feel better. “Don’t sell yourself short. This place has all the rustic charm and cozy holiday magic that the Blueberry Mountain Inn could never have, or whatever it’s called.”

Clara laughed at his attempt at a joke - something she rarely did nowadays. She turned her head to look at him and they caught eyes, except they didn’t look away. It seemed as if he could see right through her - all the sorrow she had been feeling, and somehow he could make it all melt away with just a simple glance.

Suddenly, she felt a warmth growing inside her as she turned her gaze back to the flames, and it wasn’t just from the heat of the fire. There was something about this man that unlocked something deep inside her - a feeling of pure happiness, a joy that she hadn’t felt around the holidays in a long time. She could feel his eyes still on her, studying every inch of her being, and she felt exposed in a way that made her feel as if in this moment, there was no need for control, and that he took it all into his hands.

But there was still reality in the back of her mind telling her it wasn’t true, that as soon as this man left she would go back to worry and stress, to bills she couldn’t pay and things she couldn’t afford. Gabriel laid a hand on her leg, sensing her unease, and suddenly she found herself spilling everything that had been on her mind - from her hatred of her competition to her fear of losing the inn, everything that she worked for. She told him all that she couldn’t bear to tell anyone else for fear of their judgment, and he listened, nodding all the way through without interrupting once.

At the end of it, he stayed silent for a few moments, thinking of what to say. His eyes were shiny, and Clara thought that he might tear up. And when he finally spoke, all he said was, “You deserve everything and more. Merry Christmas, Clara.” 

Then, he got up from his seat and went back to his room, leaving Clara gawking at what had just unfolded. Had she been wrong about this man all along? How could she have just told him everything so easily - secrets and feelings that she hadn’t even told her own mother? She was a fool to think that he could have understood, and he probably thought her to be a horrible innkeeper who couldn’t keep her mouth shut around her guests. She went to bed that night repeating the conversation over and over in her mind, and parts that she should have kept to herself.

The next morning, the room key was left on her desk, and the man’s room was empty. The bed hadn’t even been slept in, and everything was neat and clean, not a speck of dust on any surface. To Clara's surprise, there was a note on the dresser that read:

“Clara Donnell,

Your story last night touched me in a way that rekindled a spark in me that hasn’t been lit for a long time. For that, I’m fulfilling your lovely dream. What I didn’t tell you, Clara, was that I am the owner and CEO of a successful lumber company, which is, of course, where I get my experience with chopping wood and building fires. From the goodness of my heart, I am giving you enough money to get the Donnell Inn back up and running in the way you’ve always wanted it to be, and I may have also told a few people about your inn. You’ll find the money enclosed in the envelope right next to this note. I left before you could refuse, as I knew you would. Merry Christmas, Clara.

From, Gabriel the Lumberjack.”

Clara gaped at the note, her heart racing from what she had just read. Sure enough, there was an envelope on the dresser that had been stuffed with nearly ten thousand dollars! She felt herself growing faint, in complete and utter disbelief.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” she whispered to herself, tears beginning to flow from her wide eyes. “Oh, thank you, Gabriel, thank you.”

A quarter of an hour later, guests began to pool in, touched by a story that they had heard about an inn with just the right amount of rustic charm and holiday magic. The Donnell Inn was booming once more, all thanks to the angel of a man who saved it from ruin, and for that, Clara couldn’t be more thankful. She didn’t know if she would ever see or hear from Gabriel again, but all she knew was that he would never leave her mind, and she would think of him for all the holidays that the Donnell Inn would get to see.