“Actually, I got here early. You’d mentioned in one of your emails that I could check in as early as this week. I texted you that I was coming yesterday afternoon.”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you yesterday afternoon.” June mutters something about bathing that I don’t quite hear as we pass the guesthouse where that bachelorette party must be staying. It’s super cute, and I can only imagine our cottage will be similar.
Final-fucking-ly, things are looking somewhat up.
“Excuse me?” I say. “I’m sorry, I missed that.”
“I was forest bathing,” she says, louder. “In the forest. No devices.” As if this makes perfect sense.
I’m now unfortunately picturing the seventy-six-year-old woman in front of me naked in a wooden bathtub in the forest, and pretty sure I have no idea what “forest bathing” actually is.
Before I can decide whether to ask for clarification or not, she says, “Where did you stay last night? There isn’t a vacancy in town.”
“Uh, I was fortunate enough to meet the owner of Sea Haven Bar and Grill,” I manage to say without making a face. “Mason. He and his friends showed me some hospitality. So, it worked out okay.”
June snorts with derision and mutters, “I’m sure they did. Those swinging dicks think they run this town.”
So ... the hostility goes both ways.
“Uh, speaking of which,” I venture. “There seems to be some kind of confusion. Mason seems to think that he was going to lease Pier Seven for a pop-up of his own this month. Is that true?”
She frowns deeply. “Of course not. You have exclusive use of the space. It’s in your lease agreement.”
“Right. That’s what I thought. Mason just seems really ... unhappy that we’re here.”
She makes ahmphsound. “I’m sure he is. But whatever claim on Pier Seven any member of the Grant family might think they have—I can assure you, they do not.”
“Okay . . .”
June eyes me sidelong. “You’re a smart young woman with a nice little business. And ideas. Andgrit. I saw that as soon as I met you last year.”
Really? I thought all she saw was my “curious branding” and “is that the actual menu?” menu. She seemed to think my entire business model was a gimmick. I was stunned when she invited me to run my pop-up in her town. I’d never heard of Sunshine Fest, but once I looked it up, it seemed like a brilliant opportunity to have a summer getaway with Kyle. Go glamping. Take long walks on the beach. Rekindle our love.
Now, it seems like a terrible joke—that this woman might actually be my biggest supporter right now.
“So,” she concludes, “take it from an old woman who’s learned tomindher own business over the years. You ladies would do best to focus onyourown business while you’re in Orchard Cove.” She stops abruptly and I almost bump into her. She fixes me with her pale-gray eyes. “And stay away from Tommy Grant, his grandsons, and their assorted associates.”
I exchange a look with Sophie. “Yeah. That won’t be a problem.”
We continue onward, past some farm buildings and work sheds, Sophie and I hauling our luggage along the gravel path thatis just a bit too rocky to use the wheels on our suitcases. We circle a rambling, gorgeous, old yellow farmhouse, tall and proud, with intricate gardens wound around it. June’s home, I imagine.
Then we come to a stop. The path has led us past the landscaped backyard toward an entanglement of trees, through which I can see a decrepit shack.
“Here we are,” June says.
“Here . . . ?”
“Your lodging. That was part of our deal.” She eyes me with disappointment, like:You should really have read that lease agreement. “I’m providing you with lodging at my cozy cottage.”
“Yes, I know,” I say.
“So, you ladies just let me, or Lee, know if you need anything.” I feel her steely gaze on me, judging. “Are you alright, Sara? You look a bit ill.”
“Uh . . . it’s Sierra.”
Sophie loops an arm through mine. “She enjoyed a little too much of the local cider last night.”
I definitely did. But that’s not why I look like this right now. “Cozy” my ass. The so-called cottage looks more like a glorified outhouse than that dreamy retreat Mason’s brother has next door.
