Chapter 4
My eyes flutter open at the sound of heavy footsteps and whispers. I stifle a groan.
What time is it?
The light filtering in through the curtains suggests it’s morning. It can’t be morning already.
My head hurts.
My body hurts.
“But I think my slipper is in there,” a small voice whisper-whines outside the door.
“I’ll get you socks. Don’t go in there. Willow is not a pretty morning person. You’ve been warned.”
Oh. The kid. Right.
I twist out of my cocoon. It’s been a while since I’ve been a guest anywhere. Is it polite to sleep in? I don’t know, but it can’t be polite to wake your guest either.
I huff and twist back under the covers.
“Put these on, then come downstairs. Quietly,” Rose hisses.
Poor kid.
I’m a slipper girl myself. Can’t imagine having restricted access to continuous warm hugs for my feet.
I sit up and look around for it. Sure enough, a single pink fluffy slipper is tucked under the private bathroom door.
I must have been too exhausted to notice it last night.
Slipping out of bed, I reluctantly tiptoe over and pick it up.
Moving to the bedroom door, I stand behind it, twist and pull on the knob slightly, and drop the slipper just outside. It lands with a soft thump.
I hear a small gasp on the other side and quick quiet steps draw closer. “Thank you,” she whispers, a smile in her voice.
I close the door without a word and smile back.
Thirty minutes later, I slip on my own blue-green hand-knitted booties and follow the coffee aroma downstairs.
“Morning, sunshine,” Rose calls from the kitchen. “Coffee?”
The little girl’s silky wild curls are the first thing I see when I step in. They frame her bright blue eyes and tiny knowing smirk, like we share a secret of some kind.
I give her one that matches. “Morning. You must be Ellie.”
She nods from her seat at the table and lifts up her foot to show me the slippers. I lift mine right back.
“Why were you in Dallas’s room?”
My brows shoot up. “Dallas?”
Rose gives me a pointed look as she sets my coffee down.
“Oh right, well. Your—Dallas, was kind enough to let me use it while I’m here.”
She frowns. “But I heard him tell Uncle Wilder that he doesn’t plan on bringing women to his room.”
I laugh. “How old are you?”
“Seven. But I’m a young seven.”
“Is there an old seven?”
“I turned seven last month.”
“Well, happy belated, Ellie. My birthday is next month. So you could say I’m an old twenty-four.”
She giggles. “Dallas says he’s just old.”
I laugh from the pit of my stomach. “He sounds funny.” I stand and meet Rose at the stove and raise a brow.
“She hasn’t started calling him . . . anything else yet,” she whispers.
“I got that. Maybe someone should tell her what you call men who gave you life,” I mumble.
She shushes me. “And what are you calling your ‘man who gave you life’ these days?”
“Not the point,” I grit. I glance back at Ellie. “I’m no therapist, but in my opinion, the longer he lets this first-name basis go on, the longer she’ll believe he’s fine with it.”
“He obviously isn’t,” Rose argues.
“Obvious to who?”
“OK, you need more coffee, lady. And food, sit down.”
I huff and take a seat across from Ellie. “So what do you do for fun around here?”
“Rose and I went apple-picking yesterday. And Grandpa Connor takes me on pony rides after school sometimes. On weekends, Wesley takes me to the kitchen and we bake cookies.”
I narrow my eyes but don’t call out the obvious. Instead, I rest my chin in my hands, elbows propped on the table. “And what do you like to do?”
She shrugs. “I like soccer, unicorns and princesses, making bracelets, and I’m on book four of The Magical Woods. Oh, and I like to sing.”
I sit up. “Now you’re talkin’ my language. I love to sing. I play piano too.”
Ellie’s eyes light up. “You do? My grandma plays too.” Her smile fades at the thought of her grandmother, who I know from Rose’s stories is ill. “She said she’d teach me one day.” Her head drops. “I don’t think she will.”
Uh-oh.
I look for my best friend to step in with all her early-development education and help me out here.
But Rose is pre-occupied like she received terrible news on her phone.
“What is it?”
She blinks, setting her phone on the counter. “Oh, nothing. I, um, hey, Ellie, let’s go grab your backpack and put your shoes on. I’ll take you to school in the golf cart.”
“OK.” She jumps up.
I perk a brow. “Is this the golf cart?”
“The one and only. Wanna ride with us?”
“Sure.” I grimace after another sip of the dreadful coffee. Pushing off my seat I dump the rest of the it in the sink. “You got a Starbucks around here?”
“Wilder’s not big on coffee. That French press over there is Dallas’s, but between him and me, we finished all the good stuff. We can grab a better brew at The Shack, that’s the ranch bar and kitchen.”
“Good enough for me. I’ll just clean up and catch up with you two outside.”
The second they’re gone, I pick up Rose’s phone. I wouldn’t put it past my ex to start harassing my best friend, trying to get to me.
But it’s not Eric that’s got her upset. It’s a text from Wilder.
Wilder: Hey Blue, just checked in with Ginger and we’re fully booked on guest cabins until next Friday, then closing for the season.
Rose: Can we keep one open for her?
Wilder: I would, but that would mean keeping staff on. How close is she with Wesley? Close enough to crash on his couch?
Rose: No. Maybe I can get her a room at the Inn.
Wilder: I’m sorry. I’ll cover it if you can get her a room there.
My stomach sinks. First my mother agrees to take me in with pity, now I’ve become a burden to my best friend. Well, that’s not going to work. I read on.
Wilder: By the way, Dallas decided to stay through the weekend, but I’ll be home Friday.
Rose: Oh. Then she can stay in his room through the weekend.
Wilder: Or you can book her a hotel, drop off Ellie with Ginger and we can finally have a night alone.
Rose didn’t reply but I saw the conflict in her expression.
Maybe I can sleep in the airport for two nights. If Tom Hanks’s character in The Terminal can get away with it, I sure can.
I meet them outside. “Hey, good news, my mother’s photoshoot got canceled so I’m going to head back Friday.”
Rose frowns. “Oh. Are you sure? We can find you something here.”
I shake my head as I climb into the golf cart. I’m not a good liar, but I do need to up my game when it comes to Rose so I give her a playful brush-off and a wink. “Don’t be silly. Besides, I’m not sure how long I can put up with all this peace and quiet.”
Rose laughs. “Give it a few days, you might just fall in love with it all.” She pulls on the lever and turns the wheel, pulling us out of the gravel driveway and down the hill, with the rich green land stretching ahead and the mountains just behind us.
Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised if I did.