We hadn’t forgotten lunch. Neither of us had wanted to think about food after we left Jamestown earlier today.

“The Inn sounds like a good idea,” I said. “I’m hungry, too.”

THE GOOSE CREEK INN sits in the curve of a bend on Sam Fred Road on the outskirts of Middleburg. When you come upon it on a snowy night as we did, it looks like a life-sized sugar-dusted gingerbread house tucked away all by itself in the middle of a forest. The fairy lights strung through the surrounding trees were snow-frosted and the windows glowed with the golden light of crystal chandeliers and candles on tables, making the place seem enchanted.

The parking lot, however, was jam-packed and anything but peaceful.

“Why the hell is this place so crowded on a Wednesday night? Who’s crazy enough to eat out when it’s snowing?” Quinn asked in a growl.

“Well, we are.”

“We’re different … hey, I think there’s going to be a spot. That couple’s leaving. I’m following them back to their car.”

“You’re stalking them. Be careful you don’t hit them … it’s slippery.”

“Do you want to drive?”

“How much snow did you get in California?”

“I didn’t do too badly getting us here, did I?” He zipped into the parking place right behind the other car as it pulled out. “Look, not a scratch.”

We got out of the Jeep. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just hangry.”

He pulled me toward him and wrapped his arm around my waist. “I love you. And I’m hangry, too.”

He held the front door for me and we stepped into another crowded space. The congested lobby was filled with people waiting for tables, occupying every available seat, or perusing the recipes in the Goose Creek Inn’s Best-Loved Recipes Cookbook, which was on display on an antique sideboard. As always, the place smelled of something wonderful for dinner.

Hassan, who had been the maître d’ for as long as I could remember, stood at the front desk in his usual dark suit and a floppy Santa hat, charming a grumpy-looking party of four.

“This wasn’t a good idea,” I said to Quinn. “We should go home.”

“Lucie?” Hassan gestured at Quinn and me to join him as the foursome followed a waiter into the dining room.

We made our way through the crowd to his desk. “I’m so sorry, but there’s truly no room at the Inn tonight.”

“We’ll find a stable,” Quinn said. “No worries.”

Hassan burst out laughing.

“Seriously, we’re going home,” I said. “We should have called, but we were on the road for the last couple hours driving in the snow. It was an impulsive decision to come by.”