Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
MEYER
Have you ever had that feeling? You know, the one that says you’re exactly where you belong.
I hadn’t known that feeling until I clocked in for my first shift at Dog Days Inn when I was fifteen. Long before that, I haunted the halls, following my mother around as she demonstrated what it meant to be a fair but firm business owner. But it wasn’t until I started working at the inn myself that I really understood.
I thought the feeling would fade over time. Perhaps I would get tired of catering to the public. But if anything, it's only gotten stronger—the notion that this inn is my destiny.
Maybe that's a little dramatic, but what else do you call the thing that feels so inherently like home?
I won’t pretend it doesn't feel like work. A job is a job after all, though it’s one I take on each day with pride. The business ebbs and flows, but the one constant is my commitment to showing up for my guests and my employees.
I run my hand along the wall as I walk down the corridor leading from the main entrance to the attached restaurant. The floral wallpaper is somewhat outdated. One day, I’ll get around to upgrading it, but for now, it serves as a reminder of Mom and the mark she has left on this place.
Just outside the entrance to the restaurant, I straighten the picture frame hanging on the wall. It’s a photo of my mom and her best friend the day she bought the inn. They met years before when my mom was just an employee here, and they were friends up until the day Cherie died.
I don’t pretend to know why a woman like Cherie, who grew up in Toronto and travelled the world, ever gave our little inn the time of day. I don’t think even Mom knows. But it’s an indisputable truth that Cherie will be missed by us all.
Cherie is the reason that my mother even owns the inn in the first place. She encouraged Mom to buy it from the previous owners—the owners both my mother and her mother had worked for as housekeepers once upon a time.
Taking over this business was a full circle moment for my mother, and the fact that she is getting ready to hand it down to me is nothing short of nerve-wracking. Because failure is not an option, but right now, it’s all I can see. Every night when I try to sleep, I’m bombarded with all the ways I could potentially let her down.
In the empty corridor, I let my stress swallow me like a storm cloud. But as I gear up to enter the restaurant, I steel my spine. I take a deep breath. I outwardly become the confident businesswoman that I pretend to be.
As they say, fake it ’til you make it.
“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” I call.
Behind the bar, a harried Pippa scowls down at the worn rag in her hand. I round the bar and grab my apron, tying it around my waist as I wait, well-adjusted to my best friend’s mannerisms. Many think that Pip is shy, but really, she just chooses her words very carefully.
Her scowl turns to a frown as she meets my gaze. “Sorry I had to bring him again, Meyer,” she says. “His regular sitter has the flu. I called Tommy’s mom for a playdate, but they’re out of town. And I tried to get Shawn to come over, but he’s…busy, I guess.”
Ignoring the anger I feel toward her shitty boyfriend, I set a hand on her arm. “It’s fine, Pip. You know that. What’s really bugging you?”
The restaurant is experiencing its typical Sunday morning lull before the after-church crowd starts to trickle in. I watch Pippa scan the room for anyone who is sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong—par for the course in Fraisier Creek—but we’re essentially alone.
“My parents have been sniffing around again,” she finally says.
I suck in a breath. At the same time, we both cast sidelong glances at a nearby table. Pippa’s son Atticus sits forlornly on a chair much too large for his five-year-old body, halfheartedly maneuvering a T-Rex across the tabletop.
“Assholes,” I mutter, turning back to Pippa. “They don’t know where you are, do they?”
She shakes her head. “No, not as far as I can tell.”
“ Good . They don’t deserve you. Either of you.”
Her frown deepens. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing, keeping him away from them.”
“Pippa… ”
She twists the rag in her hands. If I were her, I’d be pretending it was my parents’ necks to practice wringing them. But that’s just me. Pippa Rhodes doesn’t have a violent bone in her body.
As quickly as her frustration manifests, it disappears. She sets her shoulders and tosses the rag back onto the counter.
“Whatever.” She shakes her head, her russet tresses swishing with the movement. She tips her chin, standing tall, and her pretty green eyes hold a fire in them that I’m damn sure going to watch burn. “We don’t need them. I’m more than enough for Atticus.”
I grin, slapping the counter. “Hell yeah, you are!”
At my outburst, Atticus perks up, just now realizing I’ve arrived. He smiles. “Auntie M&M!”
I move toward his table, holding out my fist for Atticus to bump. He does, and then we both make explosion noises with our mouths.
“Attie, did you keep our pinky promise?” I ask.
He nods emphatically. “I was good all week. I brushed my teeth when Mommy asked and I didn’t sneak out of bed once!”
I tug the package from the back pocket of my jeans. Atticus’s eyes glitter when he spots the iconic M&M’s branding.
“Knew I could count on you.”
As soon as he could chew them, I’ve been sneaking him packages of the coated-chocolate candy. It’s my go-to bribe and special treat. Atticus knows it, too, which is why I’ve been known as Auntie M&M ever since he could properly speak.
Pippa shakes her head, but a smile tugs at her lips. “Are you planning to come hang out while he’s bouncing off the walls later?”
I turn toward her with a winsome smile. “You see, I would , but I kind of have an inn to run.”
Now she rolls her eyes. “The inn would still be standing if you took a day off, Meyer.”
I shake my head. “I’m not in the business of tempting fate.”
Pippa goes to reply, but her attention snaps to her son instead. “Atticus, one at a time! You might choke.”
“S’okay, Mommy. I’m a pofessional ,” he insists, shoving another handful into his mouth.
She tips her head to the sky. “I’m going to go grey prematurely.”
Although she gets exasperated with the best of them, there’s no doubt she was meant to be a mother. The love she has for Atticus, and the love he has for her in return, is the most wholesome thing I’ve ever witnessed.
And I’ve been lucky enough to tag along for the ride. They came into my life when Pippa and I were both nineteen and a little lonely, so we became fast friends. The three of us have been a tight-knit trio ever since.
I make a face at Atticus. “Your mom is a drama queen.”
“Don’t I know it,” he replies with an exaggerated huff.
Pippa chooses to ignore her son’s dig. Instead, she asks me, “Any idea when it might happen?”
As my best friend, Pippa knows all about Mom handing the business down to me. And how bittersweet it is.
I shake my head. “Not sure, but I think soon. Mom’s arthritis is flaring up more often than not these days, so the inn isn’t something she needs to worry about.”
Pip offers me a soft smile. “I’m glad she has you. At least with you taking over, it won’t feel like she’s giving the place up completely.”
“It’s going to be strange, having no one to answer to but myself.”
She nods, chewing on her lip. “Who’s going to replace you as restaurant manager?”
I bite back my grin. My first order of business as owner of Dog Days Inn: promoting Pippa to restaurant manager. There is no one I would trust more with my former role. I know if I tell her now, she’ll try to refuse it. So I’m taking the ask for forgiveness, not permission route.
“We’ll see” is all I say.
As I wait out the lull, I spend the next ten minutes straightening the supplies that Pippa has already meticulously organized. I’m miraculously caught up on paperwork for once, so I need something to do with my hands.
“Hey, Dec!” Pippa calls.
I pause my unnecessary tidying to look up at the newcomer. Declan Rhodes looks, at all times, like he’s just stepped off a cover shoot for Working Man Monthly . His strawberry blonde hair is shaggy, and his stubble makes him look rugged. He completes the look with work pants and a pair of Timberlands. And, just like always, he flashes me that megawatt grin that softens his face, giving him the countenance of a lovable golden retriever.
I only met the guy a couple months ago when he showed up on his sister’s doorstep looking for a place to stay, but he’s quickly wormed his way into my heart. In a totally platonic, younger brother sort of way. Much to his chagrin.
It’s no secret that Declan has been harbouring a small crush on me. He knows nothing is ever going to happen between us, though that doesn’t stop him from laying on the charm.
But the fact is, Meyer Ellison doesn’t date. The only love I have is for the Dog Days Inn. I don’t have time for picnics and candlelit dinners and whatever else nice guys like Declan do to woo a woman.
“Uncle Dec!” Atticus yells. “Look! Auntie M&M brought me M&M’s!”
Declan plucks the bag of chocolate off the table and spins away from his nephew’s grabby hands, stealing a couple candies for himself.
His gaze finds mine. “Thanks, Auntie M&M .”
I roll my eyes. “Stealing candy from a child. Pretty sure that goes against your saintly ethics.”
He shrugs. “Hey, we can’t all be perfect.”
I tip the backwards baseball cap off his head, covering his eyes. “What are you doing here?” I ask. “Shouldn’t you be helping old ladies cross the street? Or getting someone’s cat unstuck from a tree?”
In his short time in Fraisier Creek, Declan has become a legend of sorts. All over town you can hear whispers of that nice young man , and whether you like it or not, you’ll soon know everything about his latest altruistic exploit. Just yesterday, he was spotted fishing a pair of sunglasses out of the gutter for a perfect stranger.
He gives me his charming grin again. “Do I need an excuse to come see my favourite ladies?” He reaches out to ruffle Atticus’s hair. “And my favourite nephew.”
Atticus’s brows furrow adorably. “I’m your only nephew.”
“Which automatically makes you my favourite .” Declan turns back to me. “I’m on my lunch break. I was hoping a generous inn owner would take pity on me and feed me.”
I may not be the owner yet, but hearing it still sends a little thrill down my spine.
I smile despite myself. “Fine. What do you want?”
“Surprise me.”
As Declan sits down at the table with Atticus, I put an order in to the kitchen for a burger and fries. When I return, the uncle and nephew duo are in the middle of an argument over which is better: M&M’s or Smarties.
“Definitely M&M’s,” I interject. “The chocolate tastes so much better.”
Atticus nods enthusiastically. “ See , Uncle Dec? I told you!”
“Somehow I feel like this is an argument I’m not going to win,” Declan says with a shake of his head.
I leave the two to their chocolate debate when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. The new front desk clerk needs help, so I spend fifteen minutes on the computer with him, troubleshooting a booking issue. By the time I return, Declan is eating his burger and playfully slapping Atticus’s hand when he tries to steal a fry.
I smile as I survey the room. It’s almost time for the lunch rush to kick in. Still, I’m surprised to find an extra customer seated at a table on the far side of the room.
“Who’s the suit?” I ask Pippa.
Like many other women, I’m partial to a man in a suit. This suit, in particular. Although he’s sitting, I can tell the material hugs his body in all the right places. The matching tie hanging from his neck adds to his air of composure.
The man’s face is clean-shaven, and his dark hair is styled to look intentionally tousled. He looks like the type of guy whose appearance is carefully curated each day when he wakes. He’s probably even a morning person.
Pippa shrugs. “Never seen him before. Can you bring him this water?”
I take the glass she extends toward me, put on my customer service smile, and then I head across the room.