“Morning, Daisy,” Harper greeted me with a smile, her blonde hair braided back as she sat with the largest cup of coffee known to man at the reception desk.
I quickly covered my grimace with a smile. “Hey, Harp.”
Max’s younger sister was my only hurdle. She’d been working overnight at the reception desk all week, so I expected to see her this morning. As long as I navigated the conversation carefully, maybe she wouldn’t alert Max to my plans.
“How are you feeling? Max said you were staying back today?” She spun her stool and tucked her hands into the pockets of her oversized denim dress.
Not just today.My throat tightened, but I nodded.
“Harper? Oh! There she is.” An old woman with bright purple hair poked her head out from the kitchen, and seeing me, moseyed her hunched form over to us.
She moved slowly, giving me a chance to take in the whole picture of her. Over her clothes, she wore a polka-dot apron that looked to have more stains on it than patterned dots. Dark purple. Bright red. They covered the front like a piece of abstract art.
“Gigi, this is Daisy. Daisy, this is my grandmother, Gigi.” It was only a matter of time before I met the Hamilton-Kinkade family matriarch. She was as much of a staple in Friendship as the historic inn, the towering lighthouse, and Stonebar Farms.
“Daisy.” Gigi stuck out her hand, her knuckles knobby and her skin soft. Even with thick glasses, she still squinted at me. “Wonderful to finally meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you.” She smiled, adding another set of well-worn wrinkles to her face.
“Oh.” I flushed. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about my runaway husband with someone I hardly knew.
“You’ve been helping out my grandson this week.” Her head tipped as relief swept through me. Relief that quickly deflated when I detected pity in her next words. “You should come by the house for family dinner and bring Max with you. That boy works too much.”
If there was one envy Todd and I both shared, it was the way Max’s family was knitted together in a kind of unbroken seam. No matter how it stretched or strained, they were always there for one another, always held fast to family. Something neither Todd nor I had ever experienced. Something I foolishly thought we could build together.
“I’ll tell him,” was all I could offer. I wouldn’t be around to do anything more. Even if I were, I wouldn’t go. The best way to not want something you couldn’t have was to not put it right in front of you.
Gigi grinned, her eyes almost comically large behind her glasses. “I’ll see you soon,” she declared and hugged me without hesitation before returning to the kitchen.
“She’s making up some jars of Stonebar Farms jam as small welcome gifts for guests,” Harper started to explain her presence—and fruit-stained apron—when her eyes snagged on my bag. “Wait. Where are you going?”
I looked up and realized Harper had just noticed my bag. “Back to Portland. I can’t live at the inn forever,” I said, aiming for a breezy tone to my voice, but not sure it quite made it.
“But Portland?” She wasn’t buying it. “Does Max know?”
“He knows I can’t stay at the inn forever.” My phone vibrated in my hand. My driver was two minutes away. “My ride is almost here. Please tell Lou thank you for everything, and I’ll send back the clothes as soon as I get new ones.”
I backed toward the door as I spoke and then slipped through it as soon as I was done. Having a place to stay was first on the list. Getting some clothes would be next.
“Daisy?”
Crap.
“Hey, Lou,” I said, watching her wide eyes scan over me.
“Where are you going?”
Apparently, I couldn’t even get jilted without having to do a walk of shame.
“I just told Harper…I’m heading back to Portland for right now until I figure things out.” I hiked my bag higher on my shoulder.
Her warm eyes rounded. “I told Max you were welcome to stay here as long as you need?—”
“I don’t need a place to stay, Lou,” I insisted, softening my tone when I saw how my outburst hurt her. I didn’t mean to be harsh, but I needed to be firm. “I’m so grateful you’ve let me stay this week to…let the storm pass, but I can’t just live at your inn, as wonderful as it is. I need to figure out what I’m going to do and find something long-term for me and the baby.”
Leaving the inn wasn’t just for practical reasons. It was for emotional survival. Somewhere over the last few days, this place had come to symbolize everything I’d hoped—a wedding, a family, a man who would keep his promise to support me. And staying was like clinging to an inner tube in the middle of a hurricane. There was no hope left for that life. I needed to start on a new one, and in order to do that, I needed to leave.
