Chapter 13: Maple Festival Preparations
1271 Words
Because fake relationships... Weren’t supposed to feel like home.
And yet, that was exactly what it had begun to feel like.
By midmorning, Maple Hollow was fully awake.
Aria finished breakfast in the inn’s small kitchen, but her mind stayed on the quiet sunrise conversation she had shared with Caleb.
It had been simple. Honest. Unscripted.
Nothing like the performances they gave the town.
And somehow, that made it matter more.
She rinsed her cup and set it in the drying rack when a knock sounded at the front door.
Sharp. Official. Unexpected.
Aria wiped her hands on a towel and went to answer it.
Mrs. Whitmore stood on the porch, clipboard in hand.
Which could never mean anything simple.
“Good morning,” Aria said.
“Good morning,” Mrs. Whitmore replied briskly. “I hope I'm not interrupting.”
“Not at all.”
Mrs. Whitmore stepped inside without waiting to be invited.
Aria had expected that.
“I've come about the Maple Festival.”
Aria blinked.
“The Maple Festival?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Whitmore looked mildly surprised.
“Surely you knew about it.”
Aria shook her head.
“No.”
“It happens every autumn. The entire town participates.”
That sounded big.
“And Maple Sky Inn,” Mrs. Whitmore continued, “has always been one of the main locations.”
Aria straightened slightly.
“It has?”
“Of course.”
A pause.
“Which means you'll be helping this year.”
Not asking.
Telling.
“What exactly does that involve?” Aria asked carefully.
Mrs. Whitmore consulted her clipboard.
“Decorations.”
Reasonable.
“Refreshments.”
Manageable.
“Guest coordination.”
Complicated.
“And preparation for the festival committee inspection.”
Aria blinked.
“Inspection?”
Mrs. Whitmore nodded.
“We ensure standards are maintained.”
Of course they did.
“And Caleb Turner,” Mrs. Whitmore added, “has volunteered to assist.”
Aria stared.
“He has?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Whitmore made a note.
“You'll work well together.”
Before Aria could respond, the door opened behind her.
Caleb stepped inside.
Bootsteps paused.
He took in the scene.
Mrs. Whitmore.
Clipboard.
Aria.
Concern.
Then... “What did I volunteer for?” he asked.
Mrs. Whitmore turned calmly.
“The Maple Festival preparations.”
Caleb looked at Aria.
She lifted both hands slightly.
“Not my idea.”
Mrs. Whitmore continued as if nothing unusual had happened.
“You'll assist Miss Bennett with decorating, repairs, and general readiness.”
Caleb exhaled slowly.
“Of course.”
Which meant he had no choice.
Mrs. Whitmore nodded approvingly.
“Excellent.”
She checked another item on her list.
“The inspection will be in three days.”
Three days.
Aria’s stomach tightened.
“That soon?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Whitmore handed her a paper.
“Guidelines.”
There were many pages.
Too many pages.
Then Mrs. Whitmore closed her clipboard.
“We look forward to seeing your progress.”
And just like that, She left.
Silence filled the lobby.
Then Caleb said,
“Inspection.”
“Yes.”
“Three days.”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Then... “Well,” he said, “we better get started.”
The next hour passed quickly.
Too quickly.
They moved through the inn making lists.
Decorations needed.
Floors to polish.
Fixtures to repair.
Windows to clean.
By the time they finished, Aria’s notebook was full.
“This is impossible,” she said.
“No,” Caleb said calmly.
“It's just work.”
She sighed.
“Easy for you to say.”
“We'll manage.”
The certainty in his voice steadied her.
Like always.
They started with the front hall.
Boxes of old decorations had been stored in the basement.
Which meant lifting.
Carrying.
Dust.
And very little space.
The basement ceiling forced Caleb to duck slightly.
“You should've warned me,” he said.
“I didn't build it.”
He gave her a look.
“You bought it.”
“Different thing.”
They moved boxes together.
Close quarters. Narrow aisles. Constant proximity.
Every time she turned,
He was there.
Every time he reached,
She noticed.
Too aware. Always aware.
At one point they reached for the same box.
Again.
Their hands brushed.
Again.
This time neither reacted immediately.
Which somehow felt worse.
Then he lifted the box.
“After you.”
She climbed the stairs ahead of him.
Very aware he was right behind her.
Upstairs, they opened the boxes.
Garlands.
Lanterns.
Maple leaf decorations.
Banners.
It looked charming.
Hopeful.
Festive.
“It'll be beautiful,” she said quietly.
He nodded.
“Yes.”
Later, they hung decorations in the front hall.
Aria stood on a ladder adjusting a string of paper maple leaves.
“Left a little,” Caleb said.
She moved it.
“Too much.”
She adjusted again.
“Perfect.”
She looked down.
“You're very bossy.”
“I'm precise.”
“That's the same thing.”
“Not even close.”
When she stepped down her foot slipped slightly on the last rung.
The ladder shifted.
Before she could react strong hands caught her waist.
Steady. Firm. Secure.
Her breath stopped. For a moment. Neither moved.
Then he set her upright.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
Her voice came out softer than intended.
His hands lingered just a second longer.
Then released.
They stepped apart.
But the space between them felt smaller than before.
By late afternoon, the front hall looked transformed.
Golden leaves hung from the beams.
Lanterns lined the walls.
Soft autumn colors warmed the space.
Aria stood back and smiled.
“It looks wonderful.”
Caleb nodded.
“Good start.”
He picked up his jacket.
“Tomorrow we'll finish the rest.”
“Okay.”
He headed for the door.
Then paused.
Looked back.
“You did good today.”
The simple praise warmed her again.
“Thank you.”
He left.
And once again.
The inn felt quieter without him.
Aria stood in the decorated hall as evening light filtered through the windows.
Everything was coming together.
The inn. The town. The festival. The future.
But one thing felt less certain now.
Because forced teamwork... Was turning into something else.
Something steady. Something warm. Something real.
And that was the one thing their arrangement was never meant to become.
- Writer
