Chapter 1 #3
“I’m excited,” Lynn said, expertly hiding her grimace in a grin, cheeks tight from the strained effort.
Unfortunately, being a downright bitch had always come naturally to her, something she had realized by the age of twelve had a habit of getting her in trouble.
She shifted in the passenger seat, catching the confused look Max gave her as they waited for the light to turn green.
“So, uh, your apartment is in town, right?”
Annie tapped the window behind her, indicating the cross-street. “A few blocks that way. We’ll give you the grand tour tonight for game night. It’ll only take two minutes. The place is so tiny.”
Lynn was surprised by the fondness in Annie’s voice, mentally forcing her to adjust her default assumptions in her head. The thing about her downright bitch setting was the company it kept with judgment and jealousy.
“I’m sure you two have gotten it all put together in a way that feels like home.”
Max laughed. “Yeah, actually, no. We still are only, like, half unpacked.”
The weight of jealousy lifted, replaced by bemusement. She grinned, her voice returning to the natural warmth it usually carried around Max. “Why does that not surprise me?”
They worked their way out of town, the volume of buildings dwindling, the landscape filling in with rolling hills dotted with farms, orchards, and rows and rows of grapevines.
A blur of green zoomed past her window, broken only by glimpses of turquoise water so clear it could be mistaken for tropical.
After a few minutes they slowed, Max turning the car onto a winding drive leading to a Queen Anne mansion settled high on the hill.
“Oh,” Annie said from the backseat. “I’m so glad you picked this place; Summer keeps telling us we need to come up here and now we have an excuse to.”
“It reminds me of your house,” Max added.
Lynn squinted at the house. The colorful pink and white ornate woodwork, sprawling wraparound porch, and tall turrets came into view the closer they got.
But she struggled to see the connection beyond her house being a Queen Anne style home.
In her opinion, Connecticut and Michigan Queen Anne styles were so drastically different, not even comparable. But that didn’t need to be said.
“I like old houses,” she said simply as Max pulled the car to a stop.
A teenage boy no older than sixteen appeared as they climbed out of the car, sandy blond curls bouncing as he bounded down the steps of the front porch. “Hi, welcome to the Orchard Inn. You must be Lynn. My mom and aunt told me to wait out here so I could get your bags.”
Lynn looked at Max, slightly confused.
“Hey Kieran,” Max said, waving to the boy, motioning for him to follow her to the back of the car to gather the bags from the trunk. “Kieran is Summer’s nephew,” she explained. “I’m guessing your mom’s around here somewhere?”
Kieran reached out, taking the bags from Max. “Yeah, she’s inside. Aunt Summer brought some fresh muffins and pastries over,” he called over his shoulder, disappearing up the steps and through the front door.
Max led the trio up the front steps onto the porch, holding the front door open for Lynn and Annie to pass through. The entryway of the inn welcomed them with dark wood tones and pale yellow wallpaper adorned with ornamental detailing.
“Oh cool, look up,” Max said, tilting her chin to the mural of swallows and cherubs painted onto the ceiling.
A cacophony of excited noise floated through the wooden archway leading to the parlor, where Lynn caught glimpses of Victorian furniture before her view was taken over by a rush of more sandy blond hair.
“Hi, hello, welcome!” came the high-energy greeting from a woman with long ringlets pulled back from her face.
“You must be Lynn. Max and Annie have told us so much about you. I’m so excited you’re staying with us.
Welcome to the Orchard Inn. I’m June, and this is my sister, Summer—she doesn’t work here but is somehow always around tinkering with something. ”
“Excited to be here.” Lynn smiled softly at June, turning her eyes to land on her sister, Summer, the woman of the hour as it would seem since everyone around Lynn couldn’t stop talking about her. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she said dryly.
“And I’ve heard so much about you,” Summer said confidently, extending her hand, looking at Lynn with warm green eyes—dark like the forest, not bright green like the first signs of spring.
Where her sister and nephew had wild curls, Summer’s hair was more relaxed, tied back in a low ponytail, loose blond waves—darker than her sister’s—falling over her shoulder.
She was tall. Taller than Lynn had built her up to be in her mind.
Not quite as tall as Max, but Summer’s height made it so Lynn had to look up slightly to meet her gaze—a fact she instantly despised.
“Summer King. It’s nice to finally meet Connecticut-me. ”
Not wanting to be rude, Lynn extended her hand, taking Summer’s offered handshake.
She shot a glance to Max, who grinned sheepishly, shrugging. “What? You two are really similar. I think you’re going to really hit it off as the week goes on.”
Doubtful.
The word popped into her head before she even had a chance to block it because, by all accounts, Lynn already disliked Summer King for the sole fact that she was actively trying to replace her in Max’s life, and she wasn’t about to go down without a fight.