Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Cassie
I’ve only been walking for five minutes when the first raindrop hits my face.
Great, just what I need. As I trudge through town towards The Dragonfly B&B, my t-shirt grows damp with a mix of sweat and the light rainfall.
I packed light when it came to clothes, but my small suitcase is still surprisingly heavy—I blame it on my toiletries.
The last-minute decision to bring my guitar is one I currently regret.
My inspiration dried up months ago, so it’s not like I’ll have any need of it for writing new songs while I’m here.
At least there’s some comfort to be found in having it with me when everything else is unknown territory, even if the extra weight is slowing me down.
Given the disastrous start my trip is off to, the grey sky and drizzle are an appropriate accompaniment to my walk.
So much for quietly arriving in town and flying under the radar.
I can’t believe I crashed Liam’s car. The worst part is that I know if I tell him what happened, he’ll happily pay for the repairs.
Hell, he’d even pay for the damage I caused to that intimidating, growly guy’s beer garden, but he’s already helped me out so much with this trip. I can’t, I won’t ask him for more.
Besides, I’m supposed to be discovering what it’s like to live life on my own terms. How am I supposed to figure out if that’s something I’m even capable of if I go running to Liam on day one?
No. While waiting tables is hardly what I had in mind for my solo adventure, it’s a perfectly reasonable solution to the mess I’ve found myself in, and one I came up with all by myself.
The B&B finally comes into view, and my shoulders slump in relief. It’s bigger than I expected, more like a small hotel rather than a large home repurposed to accommodate paying guests. There’s a cute sign and flowers out front that add a touch of charm I’m too stressed to appreciate fully.
With some awkward manoeuvring, I shoulder my way inside and out of the drizzle. The entrance hall is warm and welcoming, with a cluster of comfortable chairs in front of a window to my left, and a small reception desk at the centre of the back wall.
I set down my bags, then ring the little bell on the desk and look up when a bright, cheery voice calls out from the wide staircase off to the right.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” A woman I’d place somewhere in her mid-fifties appears, slightly out of breath, and offers me a welcoming smile. The silvering curls of her natural hair are styled in a tapered pixie cut, and a striking pair of purple cat-eye glasses frame her brown eyes.
“Don’t worry, I only just got here.”
“Oh, good.” Her relief allows her to take in my bedraggled appearance properly, and her warm smile dims as her eyebrows knit together. “Was the car park full?”
“Sorry, what?” I ask, confused by the sudden change in direction of our conversation.
“You look like you were in the rain for a while, but we have a car park right outside…”
“Oh, no,” I say, understanding. “Well, I mean, I’m not sure. I had an… accident and had to leave my car behind and walk here. I’m fine though,” I hasten to add at the older woman’s wide-eyed look of concern.
“You poor thing. Do you need me to call the mechanic?”
“It’s already taken care of, thank you though.”
“Alright then. Let’s get you checked in so you can change into something dry. I’m Esther, by the way. What’s your name?”
“Cassie St. James.”
Her brown eyes scan the computer screen, brightening when she finds my booking.
She unlocks a cupboard on her right, then fishes out a set of keys.
“You’re in room eight.” The wooden keyring is smooth and lightweight.
“Breakfast is served between seven and nine every morning. We also have tea, coffee, and an assortment of cakes and biscuits available throughout the day. You’re welcome to enjoy them anywhere in the B&B, but we ask that you return any crockery to the dining room when you’re finished. ”
“Of course.”
At my nod, she continues, “We lock the front door at nine every evening.” Esther points to my keys.
“There won’t be anyone at the front desk after that time, but one of those is for the front door, so you’ll still be able to come and go as you please.
Your room is upstairs, second door on the left.
If you need anything during your stay, there’s a phone in your room so you can call down or come back here and ring the bell, and one of our team will help you. ”
“Great, thank you.” I bend to pick up my belongings.
“Would you like help taking your things up?” she asks, eying the collection of bags at my feet.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” I ask sheepishly.
“Of course not.” She waves me off, stepping out from behind the desk. “What am I carrying?”
“If you can take my guitar, I’ll be fine managing the rest.”
Esther takes it from me, then waits at the foot of the stairs while I gather the rest of my stuff. I join her, and she leads the way up the wide wooden staircase. A slightly worn baroque-patterned runner prevents the walnut steps from being too slippery.
“Have you played for long?”
“Guitar?”
She nods.
“Yeah, since I was little.”
“My husband, Thomas, plays too. He was in a band when I met him. Won me over with a song he wrote just for me.” She smiles fondly. “He was such a charmer. Still is.”
I chuckle. “That’s musicians for you.”
Her brown eyes twinkle with amusement as she looks over at me. “Does that mean you’ve got someone special waiting back home?”
“Oh, no. I think the charm skipped me. Besides, I’ve given up on dating.” I didn’t mean to share something so personal—it just slipped out. Esther’s dangerously easy to talk to.
Her eyebrows arch towards her hairline. “You’re, what, twenty-something?” she guesses.
“Twenty-four,” I confirm.
“Now’s the time to be out there breaking hearts and falling in love.”
“Maybe.”
Sensing my discomfort, she switches back to our original topic of conversation. “What kind of music do you play?”
“Country, mostly.”
“Really? There’s a country music festival just outside of town every July. Your booking said you might like to extend your stay with us—you should check out the festival if you do. There’s always an open-mic tent too if you’d be interested in performing.”
“No performing for me, but I’ll be sure to check out the festival if I’m still here by then.”
“Well, here we are, room eight.” Esther takes the key from me and unlocks the door, pushing it open so I don’t have to battle with my bags again.
I drop them just inside the door, then turn back to take my guitar and room key from her. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Enjoy your stay.”
The door clicks shut behind her, and then I’m left alone, truly alone for the first time in years.
No bodyguard in the next room. No glam squad staying across the hall.
No eager fans waiting out on the street hoping to catch a glimpse of me.
For a few breaths, I simply stand with my back to the door, letting that sink in.
I’m alone. A giddy giggle rises up my throat like champagne bubbles, and I instinctively slap a hand over my mouth to smother my reaction before remembering there’s nobody around to hear me.
I push myself off the smooth grain of the wooden door at my back and slowly take in the details of my new accommodation—after all, there’s no reason to rush.
For the first time in a long time, my schedule is wide open instead of tightly packed and dictated by my mother.
I can take as long as I want, and nobody will say a damn thing.
The room is cute, if a little old-fashioned.
Floral-patterned paper adorns the top half of each wall.
Matching dusty-rose lampshades trimmed with cream fringing cover a set of lamps on the small tables either side of the double bed.
Cream and pink bedding and four perfectly plump pillows make the bed look inviting, and the sturdy walnut frame fits the rest of the B&B’s homey aesthetic.
It’s a far cry from the swanky hotel rooms I’ve called home these past few months on tour—I love it.
The bed is calling my name, but I’ll only feel worse if I give in to sleep so early.
Besides, now that I’ve dropped off my bags, I should go back to Bowman’s and help clean up the mess I made.
After a quick rummage through my suitcase, I pull out a fresh t-shirt and change.
A glance inside the wardrobe reveals a small safe. Perfect.
My coat is at the top of my backpack, taking up most of the space, with a book, an assortment of snacks, a couple of cross-stitch kits, and my stash of cash nestled underneath.
Knowing I’ll need the coat if I’m heading out again, I leave it on the foot of the bed, then put eight hundred pounds in the little safe.
The remaining two hundred pounds goes into my handbag to give to Austin.
Maybe I should give Austin more upfront, but the cash I brought with me was supposed to cover all my meals outside of breakfast for the next month.
I don’t eat lunch often, usually opting for a light snack instead, but I’ll still need dinner every night, whether I eat out or bring something from the store back to the B&B.
I have no idea what tips might be like at Bowman’s, and the last thing I need is to run out of money. It’s best to be cautious.
Now my money is secure, I toss my backpack into the bottom of the wardrobe so it’s out of the way.
Part of me wants to unpack and settle into the space I’ll be calling home for the foreseeable future, but I won’t be able to relax until I start making things right with Austin and Abby at the bar.
I close my suitcase and leave it propped in front of the wardrobe to deal with later.
I grab my coat and keys, then make my way out, waving at Esther as I pass the reception desk.
The rainfall is heavier now, matching my mood perfectly, so I pull up my hood and shove my hands in my pockets.
Hopefully helping Austin clean up the aftermath of my accident will be a good start on getting into my new boss’s good graces.
A wry laugh escapes me. This trip is turning out to be a complete disaster.
The only bright side I can see at present is that working at Bowman’s is the last place my mother will think to look for me.
Assuming I can hold on to the job, given I have absolutely no experience—unless you count playing a waitress on TV.
Hopefully joining whatever training Austin’s putting the rest of his team through will prepare me for my first real shift without it being too obvious that I have no idea what I’m doing.
If not, whatever goodwill I might garner by returning to help today will disappear in the blink of an eye.