April sighed. No way around it, really—sooner or later people would notice there were vacationers in her house and she wasn’t frequenting the city square quite as much.
Goddamn small towns.
“Actually,Penny,” she said, voice probably a bit too saturated with attitude, “I’m headed to Cloverwild myself. Going to teach an art class there this summer.”
Penny’s brows shot up. “And you’relivingthere? Why in god’s name would you do that?”
April gave her a toothless smile.
“Although, maybe you’ll meet a nice hot thing while you’re there,” Penny said, her voice dripping with meaning. “It’s been, what? Three years?”
April’s smile dropped away. “Not you too,” she said.
Penny presented her palms in surrender but proceeded to surrender absolutely nothing. “I’m just saying. Elena what’s-her-name was always too big for her britches. And Ramona’s got her true love now, living her dream. It’s your turn, isn’t it?”
She smiled beatifically at April, who refused to show any emotion whatsoever on her face. Absolutely not.
“And on that horrifying note,” April said, taking her coffee and tucking her phone into her pocket. She hopped off the stoolwhile Penny tutted, Owen cracking up behind the counter. “Have a lovely day, everyone.”
She walked to her car and opened the door, but as she slid inside, the lid from her coffee cup popped off, and half of the heavenly brew spilled down her favorite Paramore T-shirt. She fell into her seat, Bianca hissing as the searing liquid soaked through the cotton to April’s skin.
“Fucking figures,” she said, then started the engine and drove toward Cloverwild and all of her bright new opportunities.
Owen had beenright—Cloverwild was gorgeous.
The lodge itself was a huge two-story craftsman facing the lake, with a large patio area built over the water that contained a firepit and several Adirondack chairs. Cabins dotted the property in the distance, along with a pier and a dock where canoes and kayaks bobbed in the lake. Carrying both Bianca and Bob, who were growing quite restless by this point, in their carriers, April walked up the white-and-gray pebbled path to the wraparound front porch, which was filled with cushioned furniture, rocking chairs, and tiny rustic tables the color of maple syrup. A string of lights circled the porch, already lit and dancing softly in the early-afternoon breeze.
She climbed the stairs and set the cat carriers behind a chair, hoping they’d stay quiet while she checked in with Mia and got her cabin key. She hadn’t exactly cleared housing her cats with Mia, but she had no other options at this point.
“Be right back, babies,” she said.
Bob mewled pathetically, and Bianca simply glared at her through the slats in the carrier, her ice-blue eyes disdainful.
“Yes, yes, I know, I’m a mess,” she said, straightening and catching sight of her warped reflection in the wavy glass set into the large oak door. She tucked the front of her coffee-soaked shirt into herfaded black jeans, hoping it hid most of the stain. Her hair fell just shy of her shoulders, and her most recent color experiment—purple and teal streaks through her natural dark—was starting to grow out a little, giving her locks a faded iridescent look she loved. Her makeup was on point—winged liner and dark red lips—despite the slight shadows under her eyes.
She took a breath, the scent of espresso wafting around her as she did so, then pushed the door open.
Inside the lodge’s lobby, it was just as immaculate. Rustic wooden beams crossed the twenty-foot ceilings; squashy couches were arranged by a stone fireplace, their buttery brown leather accented with plaid-patterned pillows in navy and hunter green and burgundy for a bit of color. An enormous wagon wheel chandelier cast a warm amber light throughout the room, in addition to the watery glow of a single stained-glass lamp on the oak reception desk by the staircase. It was simple and decadent all at once.
The space was busy, full of preparations for opening day, which would kick off with a party tomorrow evening. People hurried about, carrying luxury sheets and towels to guest rooms upstairs, as well as outside to the larger guest cabins near the lake and the smaller staff cabins around back toward the woods. Others filled rustic shelves with colorful books and knickknacks, carried racks of clear glasses to the bar, straightened paintings on the walls.
She even spotted two people walking by in light pink leotards and leggings, sheer skirts around their waists, hair in tight buns at the napes of their necks. April remembered hearing Cloverwild would have dance instructors à la Patrick Swayze inDirty Dancing, as well as gourmet meals served in a huge dining room complete with a shiny dance floor, waterskiing, guided midnight hikes to Moon Lovers Trail, spa treatments, watercolor classes, and pottery. You name it, Cloverwild was probably offering it.
For the right price.
April spotted Mia Gallagher behind the front desk, her phone cradled between her ear and shoulder while she tapped away on her iPad. Mia was in her midforties and had brown skin and long dark-and-silver braids. Her family’s grocery store—which had started as a stall at the Clover Lake farmer’s market back in the 1940s and was now a statewide chain, soon to go national if the rumors were to be believed—had given her the means to invest in prime lakefront real estate and open a resort like Cloverwild.
“Hey there,” Mia said as April approached the desk, taking her phone off her ear and tossing it—a bit violently, if you asked April—onto the desk. “Good to see you.”
“Everything okay?” April asked as Mia took a slug from the largest coffee cup April had ever seen. It was like a Big Gulp from 7-Eleven.
“Ask me tomorrow,” Mia said. “No, wait, ask me next month. Maybe even September. Hell, ask me in five years.”
“That good, huh?” April asked. She knew opening a new business was hard as shit—she couldn’t imagine getting one of this scale off the ground.
Closing a business, however…
April shook her head, ignoring the sudden spike of panic and sadness in her gut.
