Chapter 63

At the Grove Park Inn, we spent some time admiring the display of gingerbread houses, and Grandma said, “Do they have this contest every year? This is wonderful.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” George said. “People bring entries from hundreds of miles away just to compete. Lieutenant Sanchez, who works for me, said that she’s seen this contest featured on one of the cable television channels.”

“They’re amazing, aren’t they?,” I said.

And so they were. With categories ranging from adults down to children aged five to eight, there was a wide variety of creativity on display. We lingered over the displays until it was time to be seated for brunch.

“Oh, my,” Grandma said when we were seated. “Look at that view.”

The Inn sat on a mountainside, and the entrance was at ground level. Due to the slope of the land, by the time you walked back to the restaurant wing, you were forty or more feet above grade looking out across a golf course at the mountains beyond.