Chapter 3
3
MIKA
I smile at Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, giving them my please-tip-me smile as I say my usual goodbye.
Hope to see you again soon!
Have a great day!
“What?”
The word is so pointed, I instantly turn to look. The handsome man in the last booth breathes a heavy sigh, one hand coming to his forehead as he speaks into his phone.
“A new part?” he asks. “What part?”
I pretend not to listen as I pick up the Henderson’s used plates and mugs and walk them to the kitchen.
“And how long will that take?” he asks. “Tomorrow?!”
I grab the coffeepot and brush Lottie and Tish on the shoulders to get them to stop staring. They glare at me, but move on to tend to their tables. I slowly make my way over.
“No, it’s not,” he says, his focus on his call. “Well, is there a car rental around here? A ride share service?” He furrows a brow. “Why is that funny?”
I bite my cheek, waiting patiently.
“Fine. Just...” He exhales hard. “Just call me when it’s done.”
He hangs up and drops the phone on the table.
I step forward to refill his mug. “Bad news?” I ask.
He leans back in the booth and looks at me. “Yeah,” he answers. “Sorry about that. That was… probably rude.”
“It’s okay,” I say with a shrug.
“The most important meeting of my career is — was — today in Big City, and I’m stuck here.”
“Car trouble?”
He blinks.
I smile. “Word gets around fast here.”
“Yeah,” he answers as he rubs his face, his long ring-less fingers running through his brown hair. “It needs a new part, which the mechanic apparently can’t get until tomorrow morning.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“It really does, Mika,” he says with a glance at my name tag. “It really does.”
“There’s a bus station east of town!”
His brows rise. “There is?”
“But…” I wince, “the last bus to Big City left at three. Sorry.”
He hangs his head. “Story of my life.”
I note his half-eaten cheeseburger. “Anything else I can get for you?”
“No, thank you. Uh...” He scratches his chiseled chin as he looks around the diner. “Actually, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
He shifts forward slightly. “Why is everyone staring at me?” he whispers.
I smile. ”First time in Kiss County?” I ask.
“Yes. Why?”
“People fall in love here.”
“I read that on the sign,” he says with a nod. “Still don’t understand what it means.”
“It’s just our thing,” I say. “Love at first sight and all that. We host a lot of weddings. Honeymooners. Big parade for Valentine’s.”
“People fall in love here,” he mutters.
“Some towns have corn mazes or the world’s largest fork. We have love and romance.”
“How’d you manage that?”
“Aphrodisiacs in the water supply.”
“Really?”
“No, that’s just a joke,” I say, and he smiles. “Some believe it’s magic. Some just call it superstition. Statistically, though… yeah. It tends to happen a lot.”
“What do you call it?” he asks.
“I call it a really good marketing campaign on behalf of the Kiss County Chamber of Commerce.”
“Gotta respect the hustle.” He scans the square through the windows. “I guess that explains the yogis.”
I follow his gaze outside, scoffing at the yoga studio across the street that just so happened to have their practice outside today. A dozen women in tights line the grass by the gazebo, bent over in downward facing dog with one eye on Bruno’s Diner.
“Yeah,” I confirm.
“Interesting.”
“All the single ladies in town are hoping you’ll make eye contact and fall desperately in love with them.”
“Why would they want that? They don’t even know me.”
“Do you own a mirror?” I joke. He chuckles. “Handsome guy with your jawline and no ring, just walking around? You’re lucky to still be alive.”
“Am I in danger?” he asks, amused.
“Stick to brightly lit areas and you should be okay.”
“Noted,” he says, looking me over. “You don’t seem all that excited to see me, though.”
“I got a lot of tables,” I say with a wave.
“Well, thank you, Mika,” he says. “This has been... enlightening.”
“You’re welcome. You sure I can’t get you anything else?”
“Actually...” He sighs, glancing outside. “If you could point me in the direction of a place to stay for the night, I’d really appreciate it.”
My stomach leaps.
“Oh, uh... sure! Let me draw you a map.” I spin back toward the counter and grab one of the many Small Town maps we leave out for tourists. Wiping off the thin layer of dust, I set it down on the table beside him. “Okay, so you are currently here,” I say as I draw a star on the square where the diner is. “From the square, you just go north a few blocks, take a right, and here is...” I mark it with a circle. “Two Hearts Inn.”
“Two Hearts Inn?”
“If you cross train tracks, you’ve gone too far.”
“The inn is next to train tracks?” he asks nervously.
“Totally defunct line,” I say, assuring him. “Hasn’t seen a train since the 90s.”
He nods. “Well, that’s fine, then.”
“It’s a really nice place. One of our most popular vacation spots. They usually book out months in advance.”
“But I can go there now and get a room?”
“Uh,” I pause, realizing the trip in logic. “It’s not very busy right now. It’s currently off-season. Very quiet.”
“Off-season?”
“Post Valentines, pre-wedding season. Not a lot going on in Small Town right now.”
“Right. Well, thank you,” he says, standing up. “I’ll head there now.”
“Great. That’s… great.”
He opens his wallet and hands me some cash. “You can keep the change.”
“Thank you…” I blink twice at it. “Sir, this is a fifty-dollar bill.”
“Right.”
“Your tab is thirteen dollars.”
“What can I say?” He shrugs as he picks up his suitcase from beneath the table. “I’m feeling generous today.”
I stuff it in my apron. “Thank you, sir.”
He takes a step forward, then stops, briefly turning back to me. “Are you wearing perfume?” he asks.
“Uh, yeah.” I sniff my wrist. “Why? Is it too strong? I kinda had to rush out the door this morning.”
“No,” he says. “It’s nice.”
I blush. “Well, thanks.”
He walks off, taking the map with him.
“Have a good day!” I say as the entrance bell chimes behind him.
I rush to the window to watch him cross the street, his head going up and down as he orientates himself with the map.
Then, I run.
“Bruno!” I shout, bolting into the kitchen toward the back door. “I’m taking my break!”
“All right, hun,” I hear him mutter as Lottie and Tish whisper, “Where is she going?”
I don’t bother explaining. I run out the back and through the alleyway, taking a right turn as I reach the sidewalk. With an eye on the square, I watch as the handsome man attempts a wide berth away from the yogis, who eagerly wave to summon him in their direction.
Yes, horny, bendy ladies!
Keep him busy!
Crossing to the next street over, I sprint through lawns and backyards to reach the inn before he can.
Two Hearts Inn.
The family business.
“Papa!” I plow through the front door. “Red alert!”
He’s not at the front desk, nor is he in the sitting room. I rush around the desk, hoping to find him in the back office.
I throw the door open. “Papa!”
He startles from the corner comfy chair, reaching up to remove the large over-the-ear headphones he wears to listen to podcasts. “Huh? What’s that?”
“Red alert!” I repeat, taking the second to catch my breath. “A guest is coming. He’ll be here any minute. Are the sheets washed?”
“Uh... yeah,” he says with a severe lack of urgency. “They’re washed, but none of the beds are?—”
“Grab a welcome basket!”
“All righty. Just give me a minute.”
“We don’t have a minute, Papa. He’s coming now!”
I move, sighing with frustration as I launch down the hallway toward the linen room. I pile a set of sheets, a few pillowcases, and a fresh comforter in my arms and bolt back out past the desk toward the stairs. The linen mountain in my arms threatens to topple over as I ascend, but I at least keep it all off the floor as I rush into Room 1.
“Mickey?”
“In here, Papa!” I shout as I pull the fitted sheet flat on the bed, only for the far corner to spring up again.
Papa appears in the doorway with a welcome basket. “Room 1?” he asks.
“Yes, Room 1.”
“This a fancy guest?”
“He’s the only guest we’ve had for two weeks,” I say as I tuck the top sheet beneath the king-sized mattress. “Yes, he’s fancy. Help me.”
Papa sets the welcome basket down on the writing desk and walks over to help me finish making the bed. Afterward, I work to get the pillowcases on, stacking them and the throw pillows just right, and he topples onto the loveseat to catch his breath.
“Downstairs, Papa,” I say. “He’ll be here any second.”
“In a minute,” he says, waving his hand with a chuckle. “I’m not as springy as you are anymore, honey.”
I look down, wanting to ignore that fact. Wanting to shove the implications into the repressed depths where they belong.
Papa glances around the room, his eyes soft with nostalgia, and I already know what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth. “You know, honey,” he says, “a lot about this place isn’t what it used to be.”
“I know, Papa,” I say calmly. “But we’ll be fine. I’m taking care of it. You know I’m taking care of it, right?”
“I know, I know.” He pauses. “It’s just that?—”
“Not this again, Papa.”
“— maybe it’s time for us to have the talk again.”
“It’s going to be okay,” I say firmly. “I’m going to make this work. I’m going to get us to the summer, and then everything will be fine. It’ll work out. I promise.”
“You’re working too hard, honey,” he says, shaking his head.
“I can handle it, Papa. Just a bit longer.”
He takes a breath, sitting up strong. “I think it’s time?—”
“No.”
“To sell the inn.”
The words cut deep, threatening to drop me to my knees. Instead, I shake my head, banishing the thought before it becomes too much. “No, Papa.”
“Why not?”
“Because I grew up here,” I say. “You raised me in this inn.”
“I know that.”
“It’s the only home I’ve ever had. There are twenty-three little notches on the wall of the kitchen downstairs!”
He laughs at that. “We haven’t measured your height since you were fifteen.”
“We’re not ready yet,” I say.
“You’re not ready yet, honey. I am.”
I close my eyes, unable to ignore the age in his voice. “Papa...”
“Look at me, Mickey,” he says, and I do. “You know how much I love this place, but... without your mother...”
“Papa,” I whisper, my heart breaking.
“It’s time to let it go, Mika. And it’s time for you to move on.”
“I don’t want to move on.”
“Go out and find somebody to share your life with,” he says. “Build yourself a life of your own.”
“I don’t need that,” I say as I give the bed a last glance, quickly smoothing a wrinkle out of the corner. “All right? I have everything under control. And sure, things are tight. But I can get another job!”
“You’re spread too thin already.”
“Hot Beans is always looking for baristas.”
Papa chuckles. “Oh, Mickey. I love you, but your coffee is awful.”
“I’ll learn.”
“You’re a young woman! You should be out there socializing. Dating. Men! Remember men?”
“Yes, I remember men, Papa,” I say dryly.
“You should be out there falling in love and getting into trouble. Not cooped up in here with your old man.”
“I have everything I need here and?—”
The bell at the front desk rings downstairs. “Hello?”
“It’s him,” I say, my chest fluttering with panic. “Okay. You go check him in. I’ll finish up here.”
“All right, honey.” Papa stands up slowly. “But we’ll talk more about this later,” he says by the door.
I don’t reply, far too preoccupied with making sure the room is perfect.
Everything is fine. Everything is going to be fine.
I got this.