The waitress, name tag Jeannie, delivered the steaming cup of cappuccino and a plate with something that looked delicious.

“I only ordered the coffee,” I said, apologetically.

Jeannie smiled and delivered the tray. “Compliments of the owner,” she said. “Our famous cranberry orange scone.”

I didn’t argue. “Thanks so much.”

So here I was. I flipped open my laptop and began to type.

My flight had been canceled and I had no idea when I’d be getting out of Pine Valley. Yet I had a story to deliver in 2 days no matter what.

I sighed, looked out the window into the snowy street. The twinkling tree lights celebrated the season. It looked like a Christmas card.

The cappuccino foam was decorated with a cocoa-dusted holiday tree. I brought the cup to my lips and it was just the right temperature. I then tried the scone: minutes out of the oven, a perfect mix of sweet and tart in my tongue.

I could get used to this, I thought. Somehow the deadline didn’t seem so daunting.

“Welcome,” a deep voice said, startling me out of my food-induced reverie. “I see we have the honor of hosting a famous author in our little shop. I’m Hal, the owner.”

The most handsome man I’d ever seen was stretching a hand out to me.

Looked like this delay wouldn’t be so terrible.