Chapter 26
This wasn’t the right place, was it?
McKenna stared at the brick ranch-style home with an unattached garage, located halfway down a neighborhood street with scattered cars parked on both sides of the road. A basketball hoop sat on the slanted, cracked driveway.
Didn’t seem like the usual setup for a bed and breakfast. McKenna had expected a little more charm. A little more curb appeal. Then again, the website hadn’t exuded all that much charm and appeal with its broken links and blurry photos, so maybe this was the right place.
She looked down at the handwritten map and directions the guy at the gas station had scrawled out for her when she kept losing a signal on her phone.
She rubbed her tired eyes, trying to decipher the man’s chicken scratch.
Everything made sense when he was pointing and waving his arms in the directions she needed to go.
But now, after wasting all night in the airport only to find out further storms were keeping her flight grounded another day, then deciding to rent a car and slowly make her way out of Atlanta through insane traffic and heavy downpour, her nerves were frayed and her brain had trouble making sense of anything.
Probably why she’d traveled from Atlanta to Bugle, Tennessee, by way of North Carolina.
McKenna climbed out of the rental. Before she made it up the driveway, her phone started ringing. Shoot. Oliver.
“Hey, Oliver,” she answered in as casual a tone as she could. “What’s up?”
“They’re discharging me today.”
“What?” She froze by the basketball hoop.
He repeated what he said even though she’d heard him clearly the first time. What? “But I thought they said it’d at least be a few days.”
“It has been.”
“But you’ve only been there since Friday. That’s—”
“More than a few days. Why are you acting so peculiar?”
“I’m not.”
“Ma’am?” A woman with a short brown bob leaned out the front door. “Can I help you?”
“Who’s that?” said Oliver.
“No one.”
“Where are you?” Oliver asked.
“Nowhere.”
“Are you here to make a reservation?” The loudmouthed lady stepped further outside, letting the door slam shut behind her.
“A reservation for what?” asked Oliver.
“Let me call you back in two minutes.” With the ring in her hand. When she could explain everything. Without all the panic.
“Wait,” Oliver said. “I need a ride from the hospital.”
“Two minutes!” McKenna ended the call and smiled. “Sorry about that. My brother-in-law. Future brother-in-law. He’s in the hospital. You know how it is.”
The lady’s smile faltered. “My nephew called and said there was a gal at his gas station needing a place to stay. Was that you? Because I can have this place ready. Just give me thirty minutes.”
“Yes. No. Sorry. It was me, but I don’t need a place to stay.”
The lady’s smile vanished.
“I’m looking for the—” What was it called again? “Something Hicuppy Bed and Breakfast? Actually, I’m looking for Nate Lambert. There was a bench. A river. A ring mix-up. You know how it is.”
“You’re not here to make a reservation?” The lady clearly didn’t know how it was, so McKenna needed to just get to the point.
“No, sorry for the confusion. I tried explaining the situation several times to Gus and—”
“Gus!” The woman’s eyes sparked with fire. “Oh, let me guess. He’s been listening to Lottie.”
“Lottie?”
“And now he says I’m a self-checkout lane in a store full of employees who need jobs.”
“I don’t recall him using those words.”
“I’m a brown smear on a clean pair of underwear.”
“Pretty sure I would’ve remembered that.”
“It’s called living in the modern age, okay?
Not everybody wants to mingle with other guests.
Some of us are introverts. Some of us don’t like other people.
Some of us are introverts who don’t like other people.
Nothing wrong with wanting to be by yourself.
Not everybody wants to stay at a rundown bed and breakfast surrounded by chattering chickens and goats, okay? ”
“So just because I’m exhausted, I feel the need to clarify. You’re not the bed and breakfast I’m looking for?”
“I’m the Airbnb the town of Bugle needs.”
“I see.” McKenna didn’t see at all. “So no Nate Lambert then?”
“Nate? No. I don’t know Nate. But I’m pretty sure it’s his mom who runs that Happy Hiccup place out by the pond. Scummy-looking pond if you ask me.”
“And if I wanted to find this scummy-looking pond . . .”
“Head west of town.”
Oh goodness. She gave directions just like her nephew, only without the hand signals. “And if sunset is still hours away and I don’t quite know which way is west . . .”
She slammed a hand on her waist and jutted her arm out with the other. “That way.”
“Thank you. And good luck with your Airbnb.” She certainly had the friendly hostess part down.
“I’m not a pimple on this town’s nose, just so you know.”
“Noted. Thank you again.”
A text pinged through from Oliver as she climbed back into her rental vehicle. ???
She texted back. !!!
What does that mean? Oliver messaged a second later.
It means give me 2 more minutes. Maybe twenty. Hopefully no longer than that. McKenna was ready for this wild ring chase to be over.