Happily Ever Never

5. Brooke

5

brOOKE

I recognize the Come On Inn right away, from several of Serena’s books, a Queen Anne–style converted house painted pink and white,with decorative trim. The broad front porch has rocking chairs, a swinging chair hanging from chains, and potted flowers resting on white-painted wrought iron tables.

We walk into the lobby and make our way over to the reception desk. The man behind the desk wears a navy jacket with a gold name tag on it and a maroon-striped tie. He nods at us. “Ms. Lovelace, we have your room ready.”

“You know me?” She looks at him in surprise.

“Well, of course.” He stares at her in confusion. “You always stay here when you come to town. It’s me, Phillip, remember? The manager?” Then he bursts into laughter. “Oh, you’re joking!”

“Ha ha, yes, of course.” She gives him a pained smile. “Just a barrel of laughs, that’s me. Ah, yes, thank you for having my room ready. My friends need a room as well.”

“Of course. We always keep your suite reserved for you.” He glances at us and smiles politely. “And the lovely couple would like their own room, I take it? Honeymoon suite? ”

I kick Lucas in the ankle. “If you say that we’re not a couple in that same horrified tone again, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“I wasn’t horrified. I was just stating a fact!” Lucas scowls at me. “You were the one who was appalled.”

“Separate rooms,” Phillip says. He hands each of us a key. I drop mine into my jacket pocket.

“I need a drink,” Serena says. “The bar is this way.” She leads us out of the room and to a bar and restaurant area. There’s a picture window with a lovely view of a winding creek. “That creek leads to Loon Lake,” she murmurs. “They have very good fishing there.”

“Oh, I remember your book with the fishing competition!” I nod eagerly. “You could get some fishing in, Lucas.”

“I could, if I were willing to spend even more time in this backwater hell.”

We head to the bar and take seats at the counter.

The sense of disorientation hits me again. There are families sitting at the tables, chatting happily with each other. Who are these people? Are they real? Do they have lives, families, jobs? Do they exist if I’m not in the room with them?

“I’ll have a white wine spritzer,” I tell the bartender. I’m not much of a drinker, although at the moment I wish I was. “Excuse me a minute,” I say to Lucas and Serena.

I jump to my feet and walk to the end of the bar, where a couple of women are chatting. They look to be in their fifties, one of them wearing a denim dress and the other wearing a green pantsuit. “Excuse me. This may be an odd question, but I was just curious as to what brought you to Green Acres.”

Green Suit beams a smile at me. “We’re going to do some shopping at those lovely downtown boutiques, and then enter the annual cookie decorating contest. I’m Estelle, by the way. How about you? What brings you to Green Acres?”

A lightning bolt. “Oh, uh, same. ”

“Well, good luck. Last year I was a runner-up in the best flower-themed cookie division.” She smiles with pride.

“Well, congratulations.”

Her face falls. “Of course, this could be the last year they actually have the contest, if that bastard developer gets his way and plows over the town rec center.”

“What a scumbag,” her friend chimes in.

My smile twitches. “Well, let’s hope he doesn’t, then!” I say brightly. “Good luck with the cookies!”

“What’s your cookie theme?” Estelle asks me.

“Uh... there’s no place like home.” She gives me a puzzled look. “House cookies. My cookies will look like a house. Oh, my drink is ready—I’d better go. Nice to meet you, Estelle.”

I return to my seat. My white wine spritzer is waiting for me, and I take a healthy swig, trying to steady my jangled nerves. Serena’s already downed half a glass of red wine. Lucas is nursing a whiskey.

“I have an idea,” Serena says. “But you’re not going to like it.”

“I agree; I already don’t like it,” Lucas says. “Or you, or this town. But I’m willing to listen to anything that might get us out of here.”

“We’re basically inside one of my novels. One that I’m in the process of writing.” She takes another swig of wine, emptying her glass, and waves at the bartender for another one.

“Go on,” Lucas says.

“Well, I took a quick glance inside your book—I mean, my book. I’m assuming you don’t know anything about romance novels?” She’s saying that to Lucas.

“Or romance.” I take another sip of my drink as Lucas scowls at me. “Sorry, it’s the alcohol talking. That and my intimate knowledge of your schedule.”

Serena pulls out a notebook and scribbles something.

“Are you taking notes?” I demand .

“Of course I am!” she says, not looking up. “This dialogue just writes itself. It’s great.”

“You don’t know anything about my personal life,” Lucas says to me in annoyance.

I roll my eyes at him. “I know you don’t have one.”

“Maybe I’m having a passionate affair with a woman you’ve never met.”

“Oh, really? Do tell. What’s her name?” I arch an eyebrow at him.

If he’s dating someone, I am going to stab him with my swizzle stick. Not because I’m jealous. If I have no personal life thanks to working for him, then he doesn’t get one either.

“Pri... anne... lise.” He stammers slightly as he says it and avoids my gaze, taking a swig of whiskey.

“I’m sorry, what? I didn’t quite catch that.” I lean in, smiling poisonously. “PriAnnelise? What an unusual name. Is that French?”

“Yes, she’s French. And very sexy.” He drains half his whiskey and sets his glass down, looking at me defiantly.

“Also imaginary,” I snort.

“Oh, whatever,” he growls. “I’m busy at work. Doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about romance.” He glances at Serena. “Stop writing down everything we’re saying! It’s creepy.”

“Says the man who wanted to keep me in his basement.” She sets down her pencil as Lucas splutters in protest. “Anyway. Moving on. Every romance novel has a series of specific story beats. It starts out with the introduction to the characters, and then we very quickly move into the meet-cute. That restaurant encounter where Lucas paid for your meal? That was your meet-cute.”

“But we already know each other,” I protest.

“I think this world we’re in is trying to force you into the roles of my book. People are already recognizing you as the characters in my book. ”

“What’s your role, then?” I ask. “Oh, wait—are you the sassy best friend?”

“Good question. I think I’m more the wise advisor.”

Lucas snorts in contempt.

She shoots him a dirty look and continues. “Like the aunt you always go to for advice—that kind of character.”

“Okay. So, two chapters in the book filled in...”

She nods vigorously.

“So, in theory . . .” I muse.

She nods again. “You got it.”

“In theory, what?” Lucas demands.

“In theory, if we fulfill every one of the story beats, the book will fill itself in completely and maybe... we get to go home?” I say, turning the idea over in my head.

“Yes.”

My heart swells in panic. “That’s... that’s not going to happen fast. My parents will freak out. Well, my mother will. My father doesn’t remember much these days.”

“I’m sorry. We’ve got to let the story take its course.”

Lucas looks at both of us in contempt. “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m going to go ask the clerk how I can buy a car to get us out of here.” He leaps to his feet.

As he does, a man in jeans and a plaid shirt stalks over to him. A short, plump woman runs after him.

“Now, Henry, don’t get yourself arrested,” she pleads.

The man comes to a screeching halt, right in front of Lucas.

“I don’t know how you can look at yourself in the mirror,” the man snarls at him.

Lucas gives him a cool look and gestures at his handsome face. “Well, when you’ve got this staring back at you, it’s not that hard.”

“Seriously?” I groan.

The man draws back his fist. The woman cries out and grabs his arm .

“Stop!” I protest. “Hitting him isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Figures you’d take his side, Susie McGillicuddy.” He glares at me. “You always were sweet on him, I don’t care what anybody says.”

“McGillicuddy?” Lucas looks at me questioningly.

“She wasn’t sweet on him. She stood him up for senior prom,” the woman pipes up.

“That was a misunderstanding,” I protest. I don’t know what’s supposed to have happened, but I know how Serena Lovelace stories work.

“Sweet on him?” Lucas echoes scornfully. Oh, he is not helping. “What is your problem with me, anyway?” he asks the guy.

“You’re going to tear down all of our businesses and replace them with condos!”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “This town is in the middle of nowhere. That wouldn’t even make sense, business-wise.” He shoots an annoyed look at Serena. “I repeat. I hate this backstory.”

Serena drains the rest of her second glass of wine and gives him a haughty look. “Twenty-three times on the New York Times bestseller list, thank you very much.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out the truth at the meeting tomorrow night, won’t we?” The man shoots me a look of scorn. “And here you are, checking into a hotel with him. Living in sin with the man who’s going to tear down the theater that’s been in your family for four generations. Your parents are probably spinning in their graves.”

“Where else would I go?”

He gives me a puzzled look. “235 Mockingbird Lane. Your late parents’ house. You really did forget all about where you came from when you went away to college, didn’t you? I hope that fancy acting degree was worth it. But then, you never ended up getting any good acting roles, from what I heard. ”

“Nice exposition,” I murmur. “A little info-dumpy, but I’ve read worse.”

He looks mortally offended. “Did you just call me dumpy?”

“No, I said— Ugh, never mind.” I heave a sigh. “How far is the house from here?”

“You go out the door, walk one block, and turn right. That’s Mockingbird Lane. You know, I thought you came home to fight for your late parents’ theater, but I guess you’re just sleeping with the enemy.”

Ooh, a theater. Despite myself, I’m a little excited. My early love of reading morphed into a fascination with theater—I love stories in every form—and I used to love going to the theater. That was before I started working for Lucas, of course.

Now I love... what do I love? Hiding from my boss at lunch, and... collapsing in my bed at night ten minutes after I get home from work.

Henry and his wife shoot Lucas one last dirty look, and then stomp off.

I look at Serena.

“The story is developing itself,” she says to me. “I feel like you’re supposed to go the house at 235 Mockingbird Lane.”

“Will it help?” I say doubtfully.

I can feel my stress levels rising. I have to get home to my parents. What will they do if I disappear? My mother’s heart would break. Who will help pay for my father’s care?

“Oh, come on.” Lucas gives me a look of contempt.

I am tired, stressed out, and fed up to the gills with his snark. “You know, I’ve had just about enough of your attitude. You go buy a car and see how far it gets you.”

I slide off my stool and grab a twenty from my jacket pocket, dropping it on the bar to pay for my drink. “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you soon,” I say to Serena, and I turn and stalk away.