Page 27 of The Cinnamon Spice Inn (Maple Falls #1)

TWENTY

MADISON

The bell jingled overhead as she stepped inside, and warmth wrapped around Madison instantly.

Anita’s Maple Leaf Café was everything she remembered.

Small, cozy, and overflowing with charm.

Exposed brick walls framed a collection of shelves filled with old cookbooks, Mason jars of preserves, and vintage teapots.

The glass bakery case near the register was filled with a selection of homemade cakes, pies, and perfectly golden biscuits.

All the chairs had thick, comfy cushions, and the oversized menu was three pages long.

They were tucked into plastic trifolds and handed out to each customer. There wasn’t any QR code to scan here.

The Maple Leaf Café served up the most iconic hometown eats—grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup, local pasties stuffed with beef, potatoes, and bacon, ladled with rich brown gravy.

Hearty breakfasts with omelets and sausage that could keep you full until dinner.

You never left the café hungry, that was for sure.

More importantly, you never left feeling alone.

Whether you wanted them to or not, someone was always going to sit down and talk to you—either to share town gossip or to try and get a little out of you.

The murmur of conversation blended with the low hum of an old record player spinning Ella Fitzgerald. The entire café smelled like buttery pastry, bacon, and dark-roast coffee.

And at the center of it all, bright like the sunrise, was Anita Whitaker, Zach’s mom.

“Well, well, well! Look who’s finally come to visit.” Her hands were dusted with flour, with a smudge on her cheek, and yet her grin was completely unstoppable.

Madison barely had time to process the sheer joy on Anita’s face before she wrapped her in a tight embrace. “I didn’t get to hug you last night.”

Madison hadn’t known what to expect, but there she was, feeling the closest thing to a mother’s hug that she’d had in the past three years.

Anita placed both hands on Madison’s shoulders and took a step back to get a good look at her. “Well, you look as beautiful as ever,” she said with a wide smile.

“So do you. It’s so good to see you,” Madison said, feeling a lump rise in her throat at Anita’s warmth.

“You’re here for the Pumpkinfest meeting, is that right?” Anita asked.

“Yep,” Madison confirmed, glancing toward the back of the café, where the unofficial committee had gathered in the corner, already deep in discussion.

“What can I get you?” Anita asked, pulling her notepad from the pocket of her apron.

Madison glanced down the table, where the committee members were already tucking into their lunches.

“I’ve got a maple bacon BLT on the menu today,” Anita offered. “Goes good with a cup of soup. It’ll fill you right up and keep you warm. That wind’s supposed to pick up this afternoon, and I’d hate to have it blow you away.” She chuckled.

“That sounds great. Thank you.”

“With a Coke?”

“Yes, please.”

Anita smiled and disappeared behind the counter, and Madison turned her attention to the conversation happening at the table. She could’ve sworn she’d just heard her name.

“Now, as I was saying, just because Madison’s back in town doesn’t mean the inn’s suddenly going to do a complete one-eighty,” Mrs. C. was saying, her tone clipped.

Madison frowned. What exactly was going on here? She walked forward to join them.

“The Cinnamon Spice Inn has been in that family for generations. You can’t expect them to want to sell it,” Mr. Alders countered.

“It doesn’t matter if they want to or not. We need an inn that’s fully functioning and bringing in tourists. If not, we’re all in trouble. You know I’m not wrong,” Mrs. C. pressed.

The mayor pursed his lips.

Madison stood up straighter, her heart thudding. “What exactly are you talking about? The inn isn’t for sale,” she said, jumping right in.

Mrs. Bishop jumped in her seat and turned around. “Oh, Madison, didn’t see you there,” she started to say, but Mrs. C. just kept right on going.

“Have you considered that maybe it should be?” Mrs. C.

asked, folding her arms. “Now, don’t get me wrong, your father is a lovely man, but he’s in over his head.

Every time I turn around, he’s rescuing another animal.

Maybe he should buy some land and start a farm instead—leave running a business to someone else. ”

“Now, Betsy, that’s not fair,” Mrs. Bishop interjected, coming to Madison’s defense.

It was probably a good thing Mrs. Bishop had spoken up, because the words forming in Madison’s head were not going to be as kind. Her pulse pounded; her face heated.

Madison leveled a look at Mrs. C. “Listen here. The inn might’ve had a rough patch, but I’m here now. And I’m going to set things straight. I’ll make sure we get things running exactly the way they need to be.”

Mrs. C’s sharp expression softened slightly. “But for how long?” she asked. “You’re not staying forever, are you?”

Madison hesitated, her throat suddenly dry.

“That’s what I thought,” Mrs. C. said knowingly.

“Listen, sweetheart, I love that you’re here, wanting to help your family.

I do. But we have to think about this entire town.

When people don’t have a good place to stay, it hurts all of us.

Sales are down across the board, and that directly ties back to the inn.

We need visitors to come to Maple Falls.

More importantly, we need them to want to stay a while. ”

Madison shook her head to stop Mrs. C. “You misunderstood me.”

Mrs. C’s eyebrows rose.

“I’m staying,” Madison said confidently. She had no idea where those words had come from. She wasn’t staying. She couldn’t. She had a whole life waiting for her in New York.

“You are?” Mrs. Bishop’s face lit up like a moonbeam.

Mrs. C. looked shocked. Mayor Bloomfield clapped. Mr. Alders even stood up and gave her a congratulatory pat on the back.

Madison knew she couldn’t backtrack now. Not right this second. She shouldn’t have said it, but she just wanted Mrs. C. to quit listing all the reasons her family should sell the inn.

Thankfully, Mrs. C. let the conversation drop just then as Mayor Bloomfield redirected it. “Right, then, where do we stand with the festival, Mrs. Bishop? Do we have enough pumpkins ordered for the square?”

“Yes, sir. I talked with Liam myself last night. He’ll be sure to deliver them bright and early Friday morning in the town center.”

While the conversation continued around her, Madison’s insides swirled with anger and frustration. She still felt blindsided by Mrs. C’s comments.

Clearly, she hadn’t sent the letter. She’d probably contact a realtor before reaching out to Madison. But that didn’t mean someone else around this table hadn’t sent it. Someone who knew the town was plotting to persuade her dad to sell.

Madison knew that the inn had been struggling since her mother had passed.

She could see that with her own eyes, but she’d had no idea that people were actively discussing whether her family should sell the inn.

The idea stung. It was not only an attack on her father but on her mother’s legacy.

And that wasn’t something she would stand for.

The conversation switched to the hay bale maze in front of the Kettle, and how the setup was going, but Madison still wasn’t really listening. Instead, she sat there, trying not to glare at Mrs. C. She felt hell-bent on proving her wrong.

Madison wasn’t going to let anyone talk about her family like they couldn’t handle their own business. The inn might have fallen into disrepair, but that didn’t mean it was lost. She was here now, and she was going to fix this.

Kit came out just then, running food to their table. “Hey there!” Kit said, putting the plate before her. The BLT was served warm on toasted sourdough, and the loaded baked potato soup looked rich and cheesy, with bacon bits and scallions on top.

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Madison said, accepting the dish.

“Today is my last day. I told Anita about the inn. I hope that was okay.”

“Of course. I hope she doesn’t mind that I’m stealing you away?”

Kit shook her head. “I was just helping out here temporarily; Anita knew that when she took me on. Trust me, she’s loads happy that I’ll be managing my own kitchen.

I don’t think she likes me under her feet so much,” Kit added with a whisper.

“Speaking of which, are you free in a little bit? I’m stocking Liam’s pumpkin patch with fresh scones and a couple of new recipes and I thought maybe you’d like to try them. ”

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you at the inn around two and we can go to the pumpkin patch together?”

Madison smiled and nodded, just as Mrs. C. cleared her throat to get her attention.

“Definitely. See you then,” Madison said before turning her attention back to the table.

“So, Madison, do you think your family is up for running the carnival games on Saturday?”

“Of course,” Madison declared. In for a penny, in for a pound , she thought.

“But just as a heads up, we’re going to be closing for the next couple of weeks.

Just to refurbish a few things,” she added before Mrs. C.

could suggest selling the place again. “With the tree crashing through the roof and all, we thought it would be a good time to freshen up the place. We’re going to relaunch at Halloween with an amazing new chef, new décor, the works.

I promise you it’s going to be just what the town needs.

And we’re planning on using the Pumpkinfest to promote the relaunch. ”

“That settles it then. With any luck, this will be our best fall ever.” Mayor Bloomfield pounded the table enthusiastically.