CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Alex spent the next few days preparing for the influx of guests who would arrive on Friday afternoon for a romance writers’ retreat. Staying busy had the added bonus of distracting her from thinking about Jenny. Not that she was trying to forget about her already, just that, well, death sucked.
She wanted the rec cabin in tip-top shape, since the authors would be meeting there several times a day for meals and to decompress after solitary writing sessions.
Delivery trucks came and went all week. The big stuff had already come in, but multiple boxes of smaller items arrived daily—countertop kitchen appliances, pots and pans, dishes, and cutlery.
Board games, books, and puzzles. Side tables, lamps, wall art, pillows, throws, and decorative knick-knacks. Each box a trove of goodies.
Alex’s ankle was sore, but midweek she’d switched to the boot anyway. The crutches hurt her armpits and were worthless on the rough trails that lined the campground. She drove the ATV more than usual, and somehow it all worked out.
She hadn’t factored in the ankle sprain, which made everything take twice as long. But with Lauren’s help, they filled the shelves with books and games. They stocked the wood rack next to the hearth with firewood and hung pictures of rustic landscapes on the walls.
Together, they set up a mixture of round and rectangular folding tables and chairs. Then they made centerpieces out of gourds, mums, and fake autumn leaves, placing them on fall-colored tablecloths.
Friday morning, they finished the final touches and stood to admire their work.
“It’s fantastic,” Alex said, surveying the room. “Exactly like I pictured it.”
Soft leather couches and wingback chairs circled the huge stone fireplace. Throws, pillows, and low-light lamps made for a cozy ambiance. The kitchen was stocked with microwave popcorn, water bottles, and K-cups for the coffeemaker.
“Yeah,” Lauren said. “It’s ironic that it takes so much effort to make things look effortless.”
Alex laughed. “Yes. But in the end, it came together perfectly, and right on time.”
That afternoon, the writers’ group arrived one after the other. Women of all ages, creeds, and backgrounds, with only one thing in common—their love of romance.
Unfortunately, from the second they found out Alex was single, she got the impression she had somehow become their collective new “project.”
When she hobbled over to the rec cabin later that evening to check on them, she overheard them talking on the porch over drinks.
“This is the perfect setting for a meet-cute,” one said.
“Yes,” another agreed. “And the trapped in a cabin trope is so hot right now.”
“And don’t you think that pretty little cabin manager makes the quintessential heroine?” The speaker switched to a dramatic TV announcer voice. “Beautiful and independent, but secretly and desperately searching for love.”
Alex covered a laugh. What?
“Well, you’ll never guess who’s in the cabin next to mine,” another woman said, pausing to create exaggerated suspense. “The hero! I only talked to him for a second, but he’s got it all. Looks, brawn, a brooding hint of desperation. He recently lost his job and his girlfriend. What baggage!”
“He’s aimless and starving for purpose.” Another faceless voice picked up the thread. “Just needs the love of a spunky woman to heal his broken heart and give his life meaning. I love it.”
Alex backed away slowly. This was all hypothetical, right? They were just excited about the prospect of a new story and brainstorming ideas while seeking some real-life inspiration. Surely, they weren’t implying she was the one who could fix Brody!
Not about to find out, she skirted past the rec cabin and down to the parking lot. As she popped out of the trees, she saw Brody carrying something big and bulky to the boathouse. Now what?
She limped down to the lakeshore. He was attempting to coax Daisy into a little house. At least that’s what she assumed the monstrosity of lumber was supposed to be.
“Where’d you get that?” Alex asked, causing him to jump. Again.
“What the…?” he said. “Do you wait till I’m down here and then purposely sneak up on me? One of these times you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”
“I think you need your hearing checked, old man. And be more aware of your surroundings. What is that?”
“I built it,” he said proudly, not really answering her question.
It resembled a mini doghouse, patched together from odd-sized boards. No two pieces were the same length, which caused the ends to stick out every which way.
“You built Daisy a house?” Her eyebrows jumped in surprise at the same moment her heart warmed and picked up pace. What a thoughtful thing for him to do.
“The construction guys hadn’t done it yet, so I figured, why not?”
“I totally forgot to ask Lyle about it,” she said. “It looks, um, amazing.”
“I didn’t have the right tools to do a proper job of it, but you gotta admit, it turned out pretty good for using only a hammer, nails, and some wood scraps.”
It looked like something a blindfolded kindergartner had glued together, but she couldn’t quash his sweet pride.
The duck waddled in, ate the bread crumb Brody had placed to lure her in, and quacked.
“Well, Daisy doesn’t seem to mind its architectural abnormalities.”
“Now she can stay dry in the rain.” Brody stood and brushed his hands on his pants.
“You really do have a lot of free time. Sure you’re not just avoiding something?”
“I have no job, no home, and no purpose in life.” He sighed. “I am absolutely avoiding something.”
“Hey,” she said. “Don’t pull an Ernest Hemingway on me.”
“I won’t. I promise.” He laughed, holding up a hand as if taking an oath. “I’m gonna head up to the rec cabin for a drink with the ladies. When I told my neighbor I was thinking about writing a book, she invited me to come pick the brains of all those authors. You coming?”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” Alex hemmed.
“Why not?”
She didn’t want to or know how to explain that “those authors” were looking at Alex and Brody and trying to piece together a romance story using them as muses.
No way she was going to be analyzed for and then immortalized in someone’s novel. Although, it would be kind of funny to send Brody into the middle of their nonsense.
“Never mind,” she said. “It’s just that I already have plans. Juliet’s picking me up to watch our friend’s show tonight. You go ahead though.”
“Your friend’s show?”
“Maddie Reed. She was on our team and is one of our best friends. She stars in the comedy show, Chance of Rain.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard of it, but never seen it. That’s pretty cool. Small-town girl makes it big in Hollywood.”
“You should bring that up with the writers. They love a good trope.”
He gave her a funny look, but left. Daisy settled into the box and quacked at her. “He’s the one who built it,” Alex mumbled. “Thank him.”
Juliet arrived to pick her up, and they drove to Faith’s for their weekly watch party.
This would be their first time at Faith’s. Until now, Jenny had hosted the get-togethers at the inn. But with Jenny’s funeral scheduled for the following day, they obviously weren’t going to ask Max to keep up the tradition.
Earlier that year, Faith and Nick had moved into their recently remodeled dream home. It had a huge living room that easily accommodated their group.
“This is weird, right?” Faith asked. “Not being at the inn with Jenny.”
“Bittersweet for sure,” Juliet said.
“I feel guilty laughing,” Tess said midway through the show.
“Me too,” Alex said. “I’m torn between supporting Maddie and respecting Jenny.”
“Is it bad that I’m dreading tomorrow?” Faith asked. “I love Jenny, but I hate funerals.”
They nodded. Cancer had taken Faith’s mom a little over a year ago. That had been the last funeral they’d attended.
“Ditto,” Juliet said. “It’s especially hard to think about poor Max and Lilly.”
“Y’all want to ride together?” Tess asked.
“I can’t drive yet,” Alex said. “So if someone could pick me up, that’d be great.”
Juliet offered, and by the end of the commercial break, they’d made a plan to meet for breakfast and ride to the service together afterward.
Alex still couldn’t believe Jenny was gone.
Because of the circumstances—being tied to the escaped prisoner—it had been all over the national news.
For two days, journalists from all over the country had descended on Green Valley Falls.
A hungry plague of locusts looking for a scoop.
They’d done their stories and scurried away, leaving the town to mourn.
An hour later, she got a text from Brody.
You couldn’t have warned me I was heading into the lion’s den?
Alex bit back a smile, picturing Brody surrounded and heckled by women dying to discover what made him tick. It had been kind of mean. Especially after he’d built little Miss Daisy a home.
Sorry. They wanted a muse, and you need a purpose. Seemed like a win-win. Get any good writing tips?
As a matter of fact, yes.
Glad it all worked out then. She added a thumbs-up emoji before hitting send.
Juliet drove Alex home, and she fell into bed. As she replayed the day, she couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the cattywampus duck shelter Brody built.
It made her curious. Was his over-the-top altruism because he was a genuinely nice guy? Or did he just really not want to face his troubles? Not that it mattered to her. He was the renter in cabin twelve. Nothing more, nothing less.