“It’s going to be okay.” Her bony hand grips mine tight. “I’ve already made up the guestroom upstairs. It’s not a penthouse in Manhattan, but it’s yours for as long as you need it.”
“Thank you.” My heart squeezes as she wipes my tears away.
I was so lost after Dad died. I isolated myself from the world, ignoring calls and canceling plans. But Grandma never gave up on me. I was days away from being kicked out of the penthouse when she insisted I come to Cherry Hollow, threatening to drag me here herself if I didn’t answer. It was exactly the kind of tough love I needed—a lifeline that pulled me out of the dark.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I tell her softly. “As soon as I find a job, I’ll pay you back for everything.”
She pulls a face. “Don’t be silly. I don’t want your money. But if you’re looking for a job, the tavern’s hiring.”
“Really?”
“You bet. Hazel’s on maternity leave, so I’m dangerously short on servers. You’d be doing me a favor.”
“That would be awesome.”
The weight in my chest eases a little.
I’m not planning to stay in Cherry Hollow forever. I just need a little breathing space—a chance to get back on my feet, savesome money, and figure out my next move. Once I do, I’ll go back to New York and try to rebuild my life. At least, that’s the plan.
“We’ll talk through the details some other time,” Grandma says. “I want you to take a couple of weeks to settle in first.”
I nod and squeeze her tight, trying to pour all my gratitude into the hug. As I pull away, Savannah reemerges from the kitchen with three plates of cherry pie. She sets them in front of us and climbs onto the bar stool next to mine.
The pie is even better than I remember. Sweet, flaky, and delicious. I tuck in as Grandma and Savannah tell me everything that’s happened in Cherry Hollow since I last visited. I don’t talk much. Just listening to them feels comforting, like I’ve been wrapped up in a warm blanket after hours in the cold.
“Are you planning to visit the cabin soon?” Grandma asks me during a lull in the conversation, scraping up the last of her cherry pie. “Might be a good idea to get it out of the way.”
“Yeah.” My stomach pinches at the reminder. “I was hoping to go sometime today.”
Savannah looks between us. “What cabin?”
“Aria’s dad left her a little log cabin up on Cherry Mountain,” Grandma says.
“Really? I never knew that, Ari.”
“Grandma’s exaggerating a little.”
“Me? Exaggerating? Never.”
I bite back a smile before addressing Savannah. “He didn’t leave me the cabin, just a fifty-percent share of it. It only half belonged to my dad. That’s why the bank couldn’t seize it when he passed.”
She nods. “So…who owns the other half?”
“Long story, honey,” Grandma says, cleaning her glasses on the sleeve of her blouse. “Your grandpa built the cabin back in the seventies with his buddy Craig Dalton. They used it as alogging shack in the winter months and split the ownership in half. When Craig died, his share of the cabin went to his son, Thorne.”
“And Grandpa’s share went to my dad,” I finish.
“Exactly. But your father never had much interest in country stuff.” Grandma sighs disappointedly. “He moved to Manhattan the first chance he got. God knows why! What does New York have that we don’t? Apart from noise…traffic…crowds…”
Before we’re forced to hear the whole list, Savannah butts in.
“Does Thorne still use the cabin?”
“He lives there,” Grandma says. “Made it his home a few years back, but legally, it’s still fifty percent Aria’s.”
Savannah looks at me. “So, what are you going to do? Sell him your share?”
“Yeah, if he agrees to it.” The words stick in my throat. I’m not crazy about the idea of rocking up at a stranger’s cabin and declaring that it’s half mine. Thorne must know about the shared ownership already, but it still feels unfair. The cabin is his home. I’ve never even seen it in person.
