Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Silence hung in the air like the already stifling humidity.
Cassie shot a glance at Noah. The adrenaline was starting to subside, and fatigue crept into her bones. But Noah looked like he had been plucked from a fresh grave and given the keys to a truck. His eyes were hooded, and a fog of weariness wafted from him.
“The Bay Breeze, right?” He grunted.
“Yes. Thanks,” she said.
He definitely didn’t want to make small talk. Which was a bummer because she was starving and didn’t know anything about this town beyond—well, she wasn’t ready to think about that yet.
Huckleberry had been a welcome distraction, even though he had forced her into close proximity with a snake in a man’s body.
What was Noah’s deal, anyway? She’d prevented a catastrophe, but he’d treated her like she had driven her U-Haul straight through his living room wall.
Even though he was the one who had set a tiger loose in downtown Aster Hollow.
Maybe he was exhausted. Maybe he was angry at himself.
Or maybe he was just an asshole. Whatever the case, she had no interest in interacting with Noah again for the rest of the weekend.
She would help Huckleberry and do her therapy homework, and then she would beeline for Baltimore and figure out where to go from there.
The sun was rising, and she was finally able to take in the town now that there wasn’t an apex predator on the loose. It was beautiful—classic small-town Americana with beautiful storefronts, burgeoning flower gardens, and a main street dotted with small businesses.
She squinted. Did that sign say something about seafood pierogies? She’d try anything once.
Something stirred in her. Maybe it was just the distance from the horrors of the last few years, but there was a palpable sense of peace here.
Friendly neighbors lifting a hand in greeting as they strolled down the sidewalk, probable proximity to fresh crab cakes.
It was easy to see why someone would make this place their home.
She squared her shoulders as Noah pulled to a stop outside a charming pink house with a sign —the Bay Breeze Inn. Thank god the awkward ride was over.
She turned to him and caught a glance of his sinewy forearms flexing as he held the steering wheel. Jesus. He must channel all that rage into serious weight lifting.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said with a hand on the door latch.
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but snapped it shut.
Instead, he offered a nod, and she nearly fell out of the too-tall truck in her haste to get away.
Yeesh. Would it have killed him to say thank you?
If she hadn’t pulled up when she did, Huckleberry might not have seen the sunrise.
Whatever. In a few days, this weird side quest would be over, and she would probably never see him again.
Her mind turned back to Huckleberry as she climbed the winding driveway to a small parking lot where her U-Haul was already parked, thanks to backward hat guy.
She hadn’t seen a big cat that malnourished since a zoo medicine rotation had brought her face-to-face with a wounded wild lion in South Africa. It had been the first—and until this morning, last—time she had sedated one in the wild.
She needed to start his nutrition plan, but her brain was fuzzy with fatigue. Clinical decisions should not be made while sleep-deprived.
Thankfully her purse, shoes, and overnight bag were still inside the truck, along with the keys to the vehicle. And her Range Rover was still safely tethered to the back. She didn’t know much about the people of Aster Hollow, but at least they weren’t thieves.
She slid into the driver’s seat to swap Noah’s muck boots for her heels, then ducked inside and approached the front desk.
“Good morning,” a motherly-looking woman said. She folded up her newspaper and set it down. “Dr. Thompson?”
“Yes. Thank you for the early check-in.” She handed over her credit card and ID.
“It’s the least we can do since, from the sounds of it, you saved the entire town from a loose tiger. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
How had this woman already heard what happened? She hadn’t even been in this town for two hours.
“Small town. Word travels faster than a ghost crab in steam-pot season,” the woman explained. “I’m Fran Hill. My husband and I have run this inn for twenty years.”
“It’s beautiful. And it smells amazing.” Cassie sniffed appreciatively. Was that sausage?
“Breakfast is served from eight to nine,” Fran said. “Enough time for you to get a little rest in. You must be exhausted.”
Cassie’s eyelids might as well have been coated in cement. “Just a little.”
“Let’s get you to your room.”
Fran led her up two flights of stairs to an adorable room with a balcony overlooking a butterfly garden and stable. The smell of honeysuckle drifted into the room like a sleep tonic.
“We’ll see you for breakfast.” Fran shut the door quietly, and Cassie was left to her thoughts.
She unpacked the bare necessities, set an alarm on her phone, and fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.
In her room, Cassie shoved the manila envelope from the private investigator and her handwritten notes on Huckleberry’s dietary requirements into her purse.
It had been weirdly fun to work on his plan.
At the zoo, most of the tigers had been healthy, so there hadn’t been much opportunity for clinical work.
It was refreshing to flex those muscles.
She smoothed her hair back into a ponytail and glanced in the mirror.
With a nap, a shower, and a belly full of Fran’s legendary lemon blueberry waffles, things were looking a lot brighter.
Even though she was still exhausted, as evidenced by the bags hanging under her green eyes, the day suddenly seemed full of possibility.
Maybe this wouldn’t be a disaster. Maybe the can of worms she was about to crack open would lead to something wonderful.
Or maybe it would be another terrible, life-ruining mistake. Time would tell.
She left the Inn on foot and strolled down the street, ducking into shops and perusing the local wares.
Aster Hollow had a surprising number of amenities—a half-dozen restaurants, a nautical museum, a gift shop with artisanal soap bars that inexplicably smelled like Old Bay seasoning, even an art gallery featuring a local artist. Everywhere she went, people greeted her with warm smiles and curious glances.
Towering oak trees shaded the sidewalk that led to the harbor.
The view was spectacular—boats bobbing lazily under a brilliant blue sky while gulls swooped overhead.
The temperature was climbing by the minute.
It was only May, but there was no ignoring the oppressive humidity.
It wouldn’t be as bad in Baltimore, but it was undoubtedly another thing she’d have to get used to, being back on the East Coast.
She took a deep breath and pivoted, facing the waterfront street. It was time to stop procrastinating and face this head-on. A world of possibility would forever hang in the balance if she didn’t woman up and go into that café. They were closing in an hour, so it was now or never.
Nothing behind the door could break her any worse than she already was.
“I am safe,” she whispered to herself. She clasped her hands and ran a finger over her left index finger. The indentation had finally faded, but the memories were as stubborn as an Akita.
On the patio, a dozen people were gathered around tables adorned with fresh flowers. Sandwiches and fresh-looking salads were on their plates. She’d have to stop back for lunch—if this didn’t go horribly wrong.
A bell rang as she pulled the door open and stepped inside. It smelled wonderful—like cinnamon, yeast, and hot, strong coffee. Board games and tarot decks were piled on a hutch by the door.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she stepped up to the counter and smiled at the woman behind the register. She zeroed in on the name tag, but it said Emily.
Her stomach fell. It wasn’t her. That was just as well. At least she could still get some muffins, maybe bring them to the refuge and get off on a better foot with the grumpy lumberjack and his mom.
“Good afternoon. What can I get for you?” the cashier asked.
“Could I have half a dozen muffins and your biggest, blackest coffee?” Cassie asked.
“Absolutely. Which muffins?”
Cassie indicated her choices, then looked around the café. The weathered oak floorboards creaked as she shifted to take it all in. Golden sunbursts and constellations dotted a ceiling that was painted to look like the night sky. Star-shaped pendant lights hung down, creating a cozy atmosphere.
“What brings you to town?” the cashier asked as she carefully placed the muffins in a box.
Cassie jumped at the question. “Um, I’m just visiting.”
Just ask her, idiot. Say the words. She hadn’t come all this way and done all this work to give up at the last hurdle.
“Is the owner in?” Cassie’s voice shook. “I just wanted to say hello.” She didn’t want Emily to think she was making a complaint.
She gripped the back of a velvety mauve chair for support.
I am not in danger.
“I think so. Let me check.” Emily disappeared through a curtain, and Cassie’s heart galloped like she had run here.
She was standing on a precipice. Maybe it was stupid to confront her at work. But it was too late.
Emily emerged from the curtain, followed by a tall, slender woman with shiny auburn hair pulled back into a knot.
“Hi, how can I help—” The woman stopped when she met Cassie’s eyes.
Crash. The metal bowl she had been clutching clattered to the floor, making them all jump.
Cassie extended a hand over the counter and did her best to smile “Hi. I’m Cassie—Cassiopeia. I think we might be half sisters.”