Chapter 3
Helen pulled into Hopeton, North Carolina, around five p.m. The town was picturesque—like something from a postcard.
Shops lined the main street of the town, with the picture windows decorated in charming colors of fall leaves, pumpkins, and Thanksgiving turkeys.
Streetlamps were starting to come on, casting a moody light onto the sidewalks.
She pulled her older model Chevy sedan into a parking spot near one of the restaurants. After the divorce, she’d managed to get a good deal on an older model car from one of Cybil’s friends who owned a used car lot. It wasn’t fancy, but it had low mileage and was dependable.
It had taken her two days to travel from Arkansas to North Carolina. Since she was trying to save money instead of getting hotel rooms, she would pull over and nap at rest areas when she felt she couldn’t drive any further.
Cybil had offered her some money to start her new life on the right foot, but Helen declined.
She needed to start fresh, on her own terms and with what little cash she had. Money, or lack thereof, had wrecked her marriage. She didn’t want money to ruin a friendship.
Helen got out of her car and arched her back to stretch out the stiffness from sitting so long.
The breeze picked up, and she smiled at the cold, crisp November wind.
After making sure her door was locked, she headed into the Main Street Grill and Bar.
There was a crowd already and no empty tables, so she walked over to the bar. Easing onto the barstool, she plucked a menu off the counter and scanned the items.
Her stomach growled at the smell of fried hamburgers and onion rings.
“What can I get you to drink?” A middle-aged man with soft brown hair and matching brown eyes wiped down the counter in front of her.
“Just a water,” she said quietly.
“Sure thing.” He returned with a large glass of ice water. “Our specials are the Reuben and fries today. And cheesecake for dessert.”
Her mouth watered. “Sounds good.” She was tired of eating gas store food, but she was also mindful of her money.
She studied the cheaper options on the menu. “I think I’ll have the potato soup and a house salad with Thousand Island on the side.”
The bartender smiled. “I’ll put that right in for you.” He walked toward the kitchen.
Helen took a long sip of her water and studied the room.
It was an older building, but recent updating had been done.
The walls were painted a soft green and the wood floors appeared to be refinished.
The tables had linen tablecloths, but the vibe was casual.
She had been reading up on the town and knew that tourism was big in Hopeton during the summer.
She figured, since the snow hampered travel in winter, the townspeople got a break from the tourists.
She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She typed in the directions to the bed and breakfast. Surprisingly, it was only a ten-minute drive from the restaurant.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” the bartender asked. “My name is Oliver King, by the way. I am born and raised in Hopeton, so I know every face.” He held out his hand.
Helen smiled and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Oliver. I’m Helen Dunn. And you are correct. I’m not from here. I just arrived today. I will be the caretaker of a B&B.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah? Which one?”
She looked down at her phone at the directions. “Laurel Cove Bed and Breakfast. It’s on the lake.” She held out her phone for him to see.
He placed his elbows on the counter and studied her with a grin. “Oh yeah. So, you are the new caretaker.”
Helen nodded and took another sip of water. “You know that place?”
He nodded. “Sure do. It was a fixer upper when Rebecca and Kacey bought it. They put a lot of sweat and tears into that place. It looks great. They just need the right person to take care of it. Looks like they found her.”
She ducked her head and placed her hands on the counter. “I hope so.”
He cocked his head. “Have you run a bed and breakfast before?”
She chortled. “No. First time. Hope I don’t make a mess of it.”
He smiled confidently. “I’m sure you’ll do great.” His eyes landed on her left hand. “I’m guessing from your accent you’re from Tennessee?”
Self-consciously she covered the tan line from where her wedding ring used to be. “Arkansas.”
He gave her a serious look. ‘Are you sure? I’ve been known to be spot on when it comes to accents.” He grinned.
She relaxed at his playful banter. “I grew up in Tennessee but moved to Arkansas when I got married.”
He snapped his fingers. “I knew it.”
A waitress approached the end of the bar and got his attention. “Oliver, I need two gin and tonics.”
Oliver nodded and turned back to her. “Nice meeting you, Helen. I think you’ll find yourself right at home in Hopeton.”
She nodded and took a sip of water. Under her breath she muttered. “I hope so. It’s the only place I have left to call home.”