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My heart almost cracks under the weight of the sadness because I thought I’d long outrun her vicious claws. I thought I retracted them, that they couldn’t sink into me again. But of course, she found a way, whether she meant to or not.
What was meant as a last trip home, a closing of a door, has just become a problem with no end in sight. I returned to my hometown for a short amount of time, or so I thought, and now that isn’t what I have in store at all. Do I stay here and figure this out? Get a job not in my hospitality field? Do I move, but who will manage the property if it needs it? How do I know when it will be safe to sell?
So many questions flutter around my brain as I walk back to my car in a daze, my eyes flitting to the end of the block where Hope Pizza sits.
Where my roommate is probably cooking up tonight’s dinner menu.
Setting up rules with Evan made the butterflies in my stomach go wild. Which they always tend to do when I’m around him, but this is different. He sees me, really sees me, for the first time in, well, ever. To have his undivided attention, to have him cook for me, was almost like the dates I always dreamed about him taking me on when I was a teenager. In my fantasies, we’d go out to the local diner, where he’d hold my hand in front of everyone, and we’d share a milkshake or something.
Now, none of that matters. In comparison to what I’m dealing with, I have no time to entertain fantasies from my childhood or flirt with my roommate.
My roommate. What the hell will we do now that my stay isn’t a temporary few weeks? Maybe Evan doesn’t want a broke roommate for what is a long road ahead that seems to have no end.
Fuck, I’m exhausted already, and I haven’t even begun to seriously tackle this.
Not for the first time in my life, I let myself wallow in self-pity. Just when it seems I’ve gained some good luck or things are looking up for me, something comes to crush it right back down. My entire life, I’ve swung between these two pendulums, never settled, even, or in balance.
Is this what I’m destined for forever? Will I always be chasing down something that is unattainable?
Today, it surely feels like it.
10
AUGUST
Iwake the next day with a serene thought in my mind, just seconds before reality brings me crashing back down.
Because I remember that I have to come up with fifty thousand dollars, and I’m alone with just myself to rely on for that.
Every day I’m not working is a day I’m still in the shackles of my mother’s will. Of that property that I refuse to live in. But how am I supposed to leave Hope Crest without a plan of action?
I need to come up with a serious outline of how I’m going to get this house off my books. But first, I need to drag my ass out of bed and eat something in order to think straight.
Evan wasn’t home when I got back last night, and I didn’t hear him come in. Maybe I was too exhausted that I passed out and missed him, or maybe he truly didn’t come back to our shared residence. The thought sours my stomach, but my crush on the guy who barely looks in my direction is the least of my worries right now.
As I brew a pot of coffee and wipe the fog out of my eyes, I check my phone. Two emails from prospective employers wanting a decision on their offers, which I’ve put off for way too long, and a text from Leona about visiting the old inn with her today.
Shit, I forgot I’d agreed to that. Before my disastrous meeting with Mr. Malloy, I agreed to see the historic property with Leona out of sheer curiosity. I figured, if I was going to be here sorting out my mother’s will, I might as well take a fun little trip with a woman I loved like a mother to see something that interests me.
Now? It feels like an unneeded dalliance to a place I could never know more about. Seeing the beauty of it right now would probably make me feel even shittier.
But I never say no to Leona. She’s done so much for me that I can’t disappoint her. Even if I want to hide under my covers away from all my problems right now.
So I eat, dress, and wrap myself in my favorite jean jacket before driving the twenty minutes to the outskirts of Hope Crest.
Out here in the brambles of the canal, where the trees grow far above my head, and the rush of the Delaware River is all to be heard, I feel at peace. In our river valley, with its lush greenery and quiet hum of the rapids, I’ve always thought this was the most peaceful place on earth. Imagining a resort out here, the one thing I always thought Hope Crest and the surrounding towns were lacking, is something I used to fantasize about on my most homesick nights away at college. Because I wasn’t yearning for the love of family or the company of my mother. No, I wanted the background of my youth, the wild landscape of my childhood.
When things got too tough at home, I’d sneak out to the canal and skip rocks or walk along the bank. I’d observe the turtles or crawfish that popped up out of the water. I’d admire the beautiful stone homes that looked like something out of a Civil War novel.
It’s just the kind of place I’m standing in front of when I eventually get out of my car after venturing down the gravel lane Leona gave me directions to.
Ivy and wisteria wind up beige and gray stone, creating an effect that makes the enormous building look like something out of a fairy tale. Large floor-to-ceiling windows smatter across the entrance, giving a view into an empty but promising inside. The front of the building seems to cascade out into smaller and smaller sections, with a gazebo off to the side that looks like it’s seen better days.
The front porch, if cleaned and repainted, would be beautiful, with rows of rocking chairs and maybe some lamp lights. I have no idea what condition the grounds are in, but I can only imagine sweeping, romantic gardens and a pool with ornate tiling. The whole place feels like a dilapidated dream, and my mind is going wild with ideas.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? Leona has been showing me pictures.”
I turn to the male voice that hits my back and am surprised to see that Leona Ashton isn’t standing with him.
