Page 7 of Three Months Yesterday

“There’s no reservation for Beckett Stone anywhere in our system.” My gaze stays focused on the computer screen as I try doing another search, but everything I try comes up blank.

“That can’t be right.” Wyatt’s voice shifts as he moves around the desk, moving to stand beside me so he can see the screen.

“Could it be under another name?” I ask Beckett, but Wyatt jumps in before he has a chance to say anything.

“That probably would’ve been the smart thing to do, but I’m the one who set it up and I did it under Beckett Stone.”

My eyes shift from the screen to my brother and I know the expression on my face clearly shows just how annoyed I am. I love my brother, but he’s never once made a reservation in any of our systems correctly. There’s a reason my parents never let him work the front desk when he was a teenager.

“Don’t give me that look. Sarah watched over my shoulder the whole time.”

“Sarah, the woman you know has a crush on you and loses all train of thought when you give her the slightest bit of attention?” The words may not be entirely fair, but there’s no denying the truth in them.

I love Sarah. She’s a great employee and a sweet person, but she has no idea how to handle her crush on my brother. It’s cute in most situations, but her lack of focus has put us all in a rather tight spot.

“Well, that doesn’t really matter anymore, now does it?” He glares. “Beckett’s here and planning on staying for a few months.”

My eyes dart to the man on the other side of the desk. “A few months?” I ask. “So, you were reserving a cabin, right?”

“I didn’t⁠—”

“Yeah,” Wyatt interrupts once again. “Policy dictates any long-term guest gets a cabin, and Beckett Stone deserves the privacy of a cabin.”

I offer yet another tight smile to my brother. His tone heavily implies I’m the idiot in this situation—probably for a multitude of reasons—but right now I’m sure it has more to do with even deigning to think The Beckett Stone could stay anywhere other than one of the few cabins we have on our land.

Wyatt’s right, of course. The cabins closest to the main house have always been available to rent, and they’re the first type of accommodation we offer for anyone staying longer than a week. But those cabins are completely booked, and have been for months.

“You’re right, except the cabins have been booked out for months. One will open up in a few days but then it’s booked a week later.” I try to keep my voice low, but there’s no way to keep Beckett out of the conversation from where he stands.

“I really don’t mi⁠—”

“What about the cabin over by your place?”

“Wyatt,” I snap at his third interruption. My eyes bulge and I turn an apologetic smile to Beckett. I’m not a person to lose their cool—especially around guests—but if anyone can make me, it’s Wyatt. “Sorry,” I murmur, my gaze dropping to the desk in front of me for a moment. I lift my gaze back to my brother and keep my tone as even as I possibly can. “It’s not done yet.”

Although the estate sprawls eighty acres and dates back to the early 1800s, leaving plenty of time for numerous structures to be added over the years, in the short time I’ve managed the property it’s been an impossible task to get every single one renovated.

Over the last three years, I’ve been working on bringing all the cottages back to life. So far, I’ve been able to finish with the two closest to the bed and breakfast and the rest of the cabins available to rent, but the two near my house have needed a lot more work.

We also haven’t officially decided what we’ll do with those cottages yet. With them being so close to my house—less than fifty yards from my front door—I’m not so sure I want guests staying in them.

“What are you talking about? I heard you tell Mom you finished last month.”

My eyes fall shut and I silently send up a prayer wanting my brother to disappear, at least for the rest of the day.

“It’s all right,” Beckett cuts in. “I’m really not picky. A room will be more than enough.”

I open my eyes and the small smile he offers helps bring a sense of peace to the air around us—at least for the brief moment of silence we have before my brother opens his mouth.

Stonebridge Hollow is nothing like Harborview, and yet it still feels like coming home.

Harborview’s historic roots were as deep as they could get, being founded around the same time Boston was, but everything about my hometown screamed fishing town. The harbor was the main focus and everything else was built around it.

Stonebridge Hollow clearly has its own historic roots if the buildings are anything to go by. It shouldn’t have surprised me, considering all the civil war trail signs posted along the side of the road, but the feel of the town is so incredibly different from anything I’ve ever experienced.

Where Harborview had its central focus that couldn’t be ignored no matter where you were, Stonebridge Hollow pulls you in every direction. The center of town is a crossroads, drawing you in with shops at each corner.

A general store with all the hallmarks you’d expect of a town with so much history. Even without walking in, I could see the wide variety of merchandise available. I have no doubt I’d be able to find both snacks and knickknacks I might need for a random project.