- Luke
Something felt off. The formal tone didn’t match the raw anger in his voice when he’d shoved his delivery against my chest. But maybe he’d calmed down. Maybe he’d realized, like I had in the hours after he’d driven away, that six years was too long to hold on to old wounds. That some things were worth salvaging.
That didn’t explain the odd delivery. I looked at the sealed box on my desk. The box was addressed to the Hendersons, but there wasn’t a guest by that name at the inn. Henry had even checked upcoming bookings, and there was nothing. And I’d been too much of a chicken to call Tapped Amber to follow up.
Because what if Luke answered?
“You look like you’re trying to solve world hunger with that computer.”
I jumped, slamming the laptop shut like I’d been caught watching porn. My grandfather stood in my office doorway, his white eyebrows raised in amusement.
“Just... checking emails.” Heat crawled up my neck.
Henry’s eyes softened with that knowing look I’d loved and resented since childhood. “Luke Merrick’s return to town has you tied up in knots.”
I’d never been able to hide anything from him.
“He emailed me,” I said. “He wants to meet for coffee.”
“And you’re going to go.” It wasn’t a question.
I opened my mouth to deny it, but what was the point? I’d never been a good liar, especially not to the man who’d raised me.
“It’s a bad idea. We’re not the same people anymore.”
“I’m sure you’ve both changed.” Henry’s voice was gentle. “But that kind of friendship, that connection, doesn’t disappear. Whatever’s between you two is still there. It started eating at you the minute he drove off yesterday. I bet you’d still finish each other’s sentences.”
“Not likely. He’s changed a lot. He’s got a fancy job in Boston and a whole other life.”
“A new job doesn’t change who he is,” Henry said.
I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my face. “I’m too old for this shit.”
Henry laughed. “Old? You’re twenty-eight, not eighty. But with that scowl, you look closer to my age.” He stood up, waving off my instinctive move to help him. “Take the dog for a walk. Clear your head. Then have coffee with Luke Merrick and figure out how to put an end to this ridiculous rift between you.”
“I’ve got work to do—”
“It’ll wait.” He cut me off firmly. “This place has stood for over a hundred years. It won’t fall apart if you take a morning off.”
I knew better than to argue when he used that tone. As he left, I reopened my laptop and clicked reply before I could think better of it.
I’ll be there.
I hit send, then closed the laptop before I could think the better of it.
“Come on, Rambo.” I whistled for my dog and grabbed his leash from its hook. “Let’s get some air.”
Henry had named Rambo as a joke, since he was about as far from a muscle-bound 80s action hero as you could get, with the stumpy legs and long, droopy ears of a basset hound, though we were pretty sure he was some sort of mixed breed. His favorite hobby was napping.
“Don’t give me that look. You need the exercise, and I need the company.”
Sighing, Rambo heaved himself to his feet, stretching elaborately before trudging over to me. I clipped the leash to his collar, and hegave a big yawn before bolting for the door, tail wagging, eager now that he’d committed to a walk.
The late November air was crisp, carrying the scent of wood smoke and fallen leaves as Rambo and I walked down the inn’s long driveway toward town. It was a classic early December day for Vermont; bright and sunny with zero warmth, the maple trees holding onto the last of their crimson leaves, and the distant mountains dusted with early snow.
A day Luke and I would have spent by the lake as teenagers, arguing about nothing and everything until sunset.
“This is stupid. I should just cancel.”
