Christmas cards—people don’t send them like they used to.
Power washer—Gus can’t remember who borrowed his. He’d like it back.
Roads—the potholes by the Piggly Wiggly aren’t as bad as the potholes near Lottie’s house.
Weather—wouldn’t mind a little rain, but not too much.
The new pottery shop—overpriced. Lottie predicts store won’t last.
The stray cat hanging out around the B&B—four out of six members think she’s pregnant. One thinks she’s fat. One refuses to vote.
The Golly girls—still looking for dates to the Dominoes Dance if anyone knows anyone.
This wasn’t the right place, was it?
McKenna stared at the brick ranch-style home with an unattached garage, located halfway down a neighborhood street with scattered cars parked on both sides of the road. A basketball hoop sat on the slanted, cracked driveway.
Didn’t seem like the usual setup for a bed and breakfast. McKenna had expected a little more charm. A little more curb appeal. Then again, the website hadn’t exuded all that much charm and appeal with its broken links and blurry photos, so maybe this was the right place.
She looked down at the handwritten map and directions the guy at the gas station had scrawled out for her when she kept losing a signal on her phone. She rubbed her tired eyes, trying to decipher the man’s chicken scratch. Everything made sense when he was pointing and waving his arms in the directions she needed to go.
But now, after wasting all night in the airport only to find out further storms were keeping her flight grounded another day, then deciding to rent a car and slowly make her way out of Atlanta through insane traffic and heavy downpour, her nerves were frayed and her brain hadtrouble making sense of anything. Probably why she’d traveled from Atlanta to Bugle, Tennessee, by way of North Carolina.
McKenna climbed out of the rental. Before she made it up the driveway, her phone started ringing. Shoot. Oliver.
“Hey, Oliver,” she answered in as casual a tone as she could. “What’s up?”
“They’re discharging me today.”
“What?” She froze by the basketball hoop.
He repeated what he said even though she’d heard him clearly the first time.What?“But I thought they said it’d at least be a few days.”
“It has been.”
“But you’ve only been there since Friday. That’s—”
“More than a few days. Why are you acting so peculiar?”
“I’m not.”
“Ma’am?” A woman with a short brown bob leaned out the front door. “Can I help you?”
“Who’s that?” said Oliver.
“No one.”
“Where are you?” Oliver asked.
“Nowhere.”
“Are you here to make a reservation?” The loudmouthed lady stepped further outside, letting the door slam shut behind her.
“A reservation for what?” asked Oliver.
“Let me call you back in two minutes.” With the ring in her hand. When she could explain everything. Without all the panic.
“Wait,” Oliver said. “I need a ride from the hospital.”
