Page 34 of Hearts on the Mend

My brain glitches for a minute, overwhelmed by how quickly my day has changed. I’m nowhere near ready to host people.

“This is the living room,” I say pathetically. “It needs to be cleared out. My aunt apparently wanted to open a library.”

“So that’s how you know her…” Sloane circles the living room. “Ruth was my boss. I’m the new editor of the Merritt Point Herald.”

“Oh, you know her?” I ask, half dreading the details that will follow. Usually, people’s impressions of my aunt are less than favorable.

“And Ethan cooked in that tiny, ugly kitchen of yours last year,” Jack continues. “One of his famous supper clubs in the attached barn.”

“I’m feeling a bit left out now.”

“Oh, don’t.” Izzy comes to stand beside me. “Part of small-town life. Everyone knows everyone and everything. Once you accept it, I find it’s easier. Come on, let’s have a glass of wine before we dive into work.”

“My wife always has a plan.”

“Speaking of which, don’t go too far, Jack. I have lots for you to help with.”

“Don’t—” Ethan whirls around on him. “You promised you’d stop with the sick love shit. No innuendos, no flirting…”

Jack tosses his arms into the air. “I can’t help it. Have you seen her?”

This earns him a kiss on the cheek from Izzy, and I’m still chuckling as I make my way down into the kitchen with the girls.

“I’ve been clearing everything out. We’ll need to settle for my finest china. My wineglasses are still packed up somewhere across the country.” I reach into the cupboard beside the stove and grab three ceramic mugs. Of course it’s the one with booby birds on it.

I’m a bit of a bird girl. Thought it was funny.

“We’re not picky.” Sloane sinks down at the kitchen table, glancing around the room. “Can’t believe Ruth is selling this place. I felt like I was just here when she asked if I wanted to take over the paper last summer.”

“She’s happy with the Florida sunshine.” I rifle through the kitchen drawer, searching frantically for a wine opener. “And she’s trying to help me out. My ex is dragging out the divorce and⁠—”

Shit. I don’t have one.

Izzy looks at me expectantly, then grabs the bottle to check for a screw top. “Hey, this is a small problem. If we can’t have it now, we just share the bottle another day. For now, you can put us to work.”

I wave her off, grabbing the bottle of wine and taking off one of my sneakers, hopping on one foot as I open the back door, out onto the snowy deck. I hold the shoe perpendicular to the old post, then place the bottom of the bottle inside the heel, raise the shoe a few inches, then smack it hard.

“What are you⁠—”

Sloane and Izzy stand in the open doorway as I strike again. This time, the cork budges upward.

“Oh my god, this works?”

Another hit, then another before the girls cheer behind me.

“What the hell is that banging?” Nolan hollers, and a second later, he’s crowding into the doorway with the others, all of them craning to see what I’m doing to that poor bottle.

“Problem solving,” I grunt, giving the bottle another whack.

A sharp crack splits the air, louder than anything a cork should make.

“Was that the cork?” Izzy asks, and I swear I hear the porch roof groan when I drive my shoe against the post once more.

Sloane shrieks. Someone, maybe Jack, shouts my name.

I don’t even have time to look up before Nolan plows forward, hauling me back tight against his chest. Snow avalanches down where I was just standing, then a chunk of the porch roof folds in on itself and collapses onto the deck.

Confused, I peek up, wine clutched in one hand, as the last of the roof settles into a pile of splintered wood.