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“Hence the reno,” she said, but she knew how he felt. Looking around at the once-lush yard, now practically barren, the one she used to bolt into every morning, picking roses for the guest rooms and searching for snails in the garden, her heart felt soft. Too tender.

“Look,” Simon said, sighing heavily, “we need this to go well, okay?”

“Need what to go well?”

“The renovation. The redesign. Grandma’s been worried about it, about the inn in general.”

Jordan frowned. “What do you mean, Grandma’s worried about it?”

He shook his head, but Jordan knew her brother.

“Simon,” she asked, “what’s going on?”

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. So there was definitely something going on. Dread pooled in Jordan’s gut.

“What is it?” she all but snapped when he did nothing but project angst at the peeling railing.

“Grandma didn’t want to tell you. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Simon, I swear to god, if your tongue doesn’t start spitting out some sense, I’m going rip it out.”

He presented his palms. “Fine, fine, Jesus.” He turned toward her, his voice low. “The inn’s in trouble. Real trouble.”

“Like... money?”

He nodded. “Guests have been few and far between for over a yearnow. Grandma’s tired, Jordie. She owns the house outright, but without any revenue, she can’t run the place. She doesn’t want to lose the inn, but if something big doesn’t change...”

“Hence the televised reno,” she said.

“Hence the televised reno. Unfortunately, the network doesn’t pay for the reno itself, so Grandma took out a huge loan to fund this whole thing, counting on the boost in business to make it all back and then some. If this doesn’t go well, if we don’t get a lot of eyes on this episode that’ll bring in a shit ton of guests, then—”

“Fuck.”

“Exactly.”

She pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to keep her insides in place. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He gave her a look. “You know why, Jordie.”

She clenched her teeth and turned away. Yes, fine, she’d been a bit off-kilter for the last year. Maybe she’d let a lot of things in her life go off track. What of it?

“You think I’m going to fuck it up,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

His mouth fell open, but no protestations fell from his lips. Not right away, at least. The words sat there between them for a good five seconds, a thundercloud ready to drop rain.

“That’s not it,” he finally said.

She sucked at her teeth as she gazed out into the side yard, a mess of overgrown flower beds and weeds.

“I just need you and Astrid to work together,” he said. “Work well. She’s the only design gig in town and Grandma likes her. Plus, she’s good, so just—”

“Don’t start any fires, is what you’re saying.”

He winced. That was exactly what he was saying, and they both knew it. He wanted her on this job, but only to a point, is what he was saying. They could joke about her cat eating her face, about how Jordan’s life was a mess, but when it came down to it, her family wasworried.They loved her, she knew that, but that didn’t mean they believed in her talents.

“Got it,” she said, then turned away before he could see the hurt in her eyes.