Chapter One #2
She glanced at her phone, eyes drifting over her and Ramona’s last text interaction.
Several blue bubbles sent from April, asking Ramona if she thought getting a tattoo of an actual scorpion was a little too on the nose.
And underneath the last text—the last text with no response from Ramona—were the words Read 8:41 PM.
That was two days ago.
April really didn’t want to use the L-word—lonely—but ever since Ramona had moved to LA to work as a costume designer nearly two years ago, the word haunted her like Miss Havisham’s ghost. Ramona was crushing it as Noelle Yang’s assistant, taking on more and more responsibility with each project.
It was everything Ramona had ever wanted, everything she deserved after giving up her whole life when she was nineteen to help raise her little sister, Olive, after her father’s debilitating car accident, and she certainly didn’t need her small potatoes BFF whining about loneliness and a struggling business.
Still, over the last few months, her texts with Ramona had been sporadic at best, and she couldn’t remember when they’d last FaceTimed.
She did know, however, that they hadn’t seen each other in person since this past November, when Ramona and Dylan had come back to Clover Lake for Thanksgiving with Dylan’s rock icon parents, Jack Monroe and Carrie Page.
Even then, their time was taken up with Ramona’s family and April hadn’t wanted to impose.
Her own Thanksgiving was a quiet affair with Dr. and Dr. Evans, sipping red wine around her mother’s immaculate table while trying to deal with her father’s insistence that she invest Wonderlust’s profits—that was a laugh—in the stock market, and her mother’s constant hints about settling down.
April didn’t think Jacqueline Evans, a Capricorn sun with a Virgo rising, would appreciate April’s long-term plans of becoming a cat lady, or how she’d recently decided to give up dating altogether, because what the hell was the point, so instead she’d sipped her drink and gotten a little too tipsy, which had only invited further disapproval from her parents.
Then, after walking home in a red-wine haze because her dad hadn’t wanted to drive in the inch of snow that had fallen the night before, she’d promptly opened up her favorite dating app looking for something fresh and intriguing, only to be met with the same boring people asking the same boring questions.
Casual dating had been her bread and butter for the last three years, after her engagement had imploded in spectacular fashion, but it all felt so tiresome to her—the first dates that she never had any interest in turning into a second, getting naked in front of someone new, the whole song and dance afterward, when all she wanted was to go home and sleep in her own bed.
She wasn’t really interested in anyone she dated and hadn’t been since Elena.
No matter how she tried to open her mind to possibilities, no one stimulated her imagination or affections, no one made her stomach flutter with that first-crush feeling or caused her heart to feel like it was going to bust right through her rib cage.
No one made her smile uncontrollably or wake up in the morning marveling at how fucking lucky she was.
Lately, the only thing she woke up to was a hair ball vomited up by one of her cats at the foot of her bed.
But even if some Taylor or Scott or Lydia had inspired such feelings, April had been there, done that, and consequently been crushed into oblivion when the only person she’d ever fallen madly in love with left her after three years together for a twenty-two-year-old artist named Daphne Love.
Daphne Love, for crying out loud.
She’d rather not relive that experience, thanks, no matter what Ramona, her mother, or the entire town of Clover Lake thought about it.
“Ah, well,” Penny said now, shoving her glasses back up on her nose. “We’ve got enough going on with this fancy new resort opening this weekend.”
April hmm’d politely, dug her debit card from her bag and tossed it on the counter. Owen whipped it away, then set her latte in front of her. She gulped at it greedily, burning her tongue a bit.
“I hear it’s to be quite the gaudy affair,” Penny said, leaning closer to April and whispering. Loudly. Penny didn’t really do quiet.
April nodded as Owen handed back her card and receipt.
Cloverwild was a luxury resort and was indeed rumored to be extravagant.
April had no idea if gaudy was an accurate description as she hadn’t seen it yet, but when a vacation spot’s entire purpose was to bring in tourists with a lot of money, it was bound to be pretty high-end.
“It’s not gaudy,” Owen said. “It’s Mia. She’s a classy broad.”
“Ah, yes,” April said, tucking her card away again. “Just what every classy broad wants to be called.”
Owen laughed. “I’ve seen the main lodge,” he said, setting a glass of water in front of Penny. “It’s gorgeous. Should bring in a lot of good business.”
“There’s a fine line between gorgeous and gaudy,” Penny said, pointing her straw at him before sliding it into her drink and turning to face April again. “Your car outside has a lot of stuff in it. Heading out of town?”
April sighed. No way around it, really—sooner or later people would notice there were vacationers in her house and she wasn’t frequenting the city square quite as much.
Goddamn small towns.
“Actually, Penny,” she said, voice probably a bit too saturated with attitude, “I’m headed to Cloverwild myself. Going to teach an art class there this summer.”
Penny’s brows shot up. “And you’re living there? Why in god’s name would you do that?”
April gave her a toothless smile.
“Although, maybe you’ll meet a nice hot thing while you’re there,” Penny said, her voice dripping with meaning. “It’s been, what? Three years?”
April’s smile dropped away. “Not you too,” she said.
Penny presented her palms in surrender but proceeded to surrender absolutely nothing. “I’m just saying. Elena what’s-her-name was always too big for her britches. And Ramona’s got her true love now, living her dream. It’s your turn, isn’t it?”
She smiled beatifically at April, who refused to show any emotion whatsoever on her face. Absolutely not.
“And on that horrifying note,” April said, taking her coffee and tucking her phone into her pocket. She hopped off the stool while Penny tutted, Owen cracking up behind the counter. “Have a lovely day, everyone.”
She walked to her car and opened the door, but as she slid inside, the lid from her coffee cup popped off, and half of the heavenly brew spilled down her favorite Paramore T-shirt. She fell into her seat, Bianca hissing as the searing liquid soaked through the cotton to April’s skin.
“Fucking figures,” she said, then started the engine and drove toward Cloverwild and all of her bright new opportunities.
Owen had been right—Cloverwild was gorgeous.
The lodge itself was a huge two-story craftsman facing the lake, with a large patio area built over the water that contained a firepit and several Adirondack chairs.
Cabins dotted the property in the distance, along with a pier and a dock where canoes and kayaks bobbed in the lake.
Carrying both Bianca and Bob, who were growing quite restless by this point, in their carriers, April walked up the white-and-gray pebbled path to the wraparound front porch, which was filled with cushioned furniture, rocking chairs, and tiny rustic tables the color of maple syrup.
A string of lights circled the porch, already lit and dancing softly in the early-afternoon breeze.
She climbed the stairs and set the cat carriers behind a chair, hoping they’d stay quiet while she checked in with Mia and got her cabin key. She hadn’t exactly cleared housing her cats with Mia, but she had no other options at this point.
“Be right back, babies,” she said.
Bob mewled pathetically, and Bianca simply glared at her through the slats in the carrier, her ice-blue eyes disdainful.
“Yes, yes, I know, I’m a mess,” she said, straightening and catching sight of her warped reflection in the wavy glass set into the large oak door.
She tucked the front of her coffee-soaked shirt into her faded black jeans, hoping it hid most of the stain.
Her hair fell just shy of her shoulders, and her most recent color experiment—purple and teal streaks through her natural dark—was starting to grow out a little, giving her locks a faded iridescent look she loved.
Her makeup was on point—winged liner and dark red lips—despite the slight shadows under her eyes.
She took a breath, the scent of espresso wafting around her as she did so, then pushed the door open.
Inside the lodge’s lobby, it was just as immaculate.
Rustic wooden beams crossed the twenty-foot ceilings; squashy couches were arranged by a stone fireplace, their buttery brown leather accented with plaid-patterned pillows in navy and hunter green and burgundy for a bit of color.
An enormous wagon wheel chandelier cast a warm amber light throughout the room, in addition to the watery glow of a single stained-glass lamp on the oak reception desk by the staircase. It was simple and decadent all at once.
The space was busy, full of preparations for opening day, which would kick off with a party tomorrow evening.
People hurried about, carrying luxury sheets and towels to guest rooms upstairs, as well as outside to the larger guest cabins near the lake and the smaller staff cabins around back toward the woods.
Others filled rustic shelves with colorful books and knickknacks, carried racks of clear glasses to the bar, straightened paintings on the walls.