Page 12 of Key West Homecoming

“So,” Tess said, “tell me where you’re staying tonight.”

“I haven’t figured that out yet.”

“I thought so. Leah, we’re solving this. You want somewhere clean and pretty and not too far?”

“I do.”

“Winslow’s Bungalows, on Truman. Little conch cottages set around a garden with pools. Family-run feel even though it’s a proper inn. My friend Marisol works the desk on weeknights.” Tess was already reaching for her phone. “Do you want me to call?”

“I can find my own room.”

“I know.” Tess was already dialing.

Leah leaned an elbow on the bar and looked at Emma with something close to an apology. “She’s like this. It’s easier to let her.”

Emma opened her mouth to protest and closed it again. She’d spent years telling herself and anyone who’d listen that she didn’t need help. Today, she found she didn’t have the strength to fight it.

Tess spoke into her phone for less than two minutes. When she hung up, she slid a napkin toward Emma with a name written on it in blue ink.

“You’re set. Marisol has you down for the small bungalow, king bed, its own little patio. Ask for her by name when you get there. Straight down Truman, you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“You’ll come back and see us? That’s the deal.”

“I can manage that.”

Emma reached for her wallet. Tess held up a hand.

“The fritters are on the house.”

“Tess.”

“You’re family now. Connie remembered your grandmother. That’s enough for us.”

Emma set her card down anyway, and Leah reached over and pushed it back to her.

“Next time,” Leah said, “We’ll charge you double.”

Winslow's Bungalows sat behind a tall white wall on Truman Avenue, hidden from the street by a curtain of bougainvillea. Emma pulled into the small lot, retrieved her one suitcase from the trunk, and walked through the arched entrance.

The property opened up in front of her like a garden. Winding brick paths ran between clusters of small conch-style cottages painted in the pale yellows and soft whites of the local architecture. There were three pools tucked among the greenery with a soft breeze rustling through the palm trees.

The front desk was in the main house, and the young woman behind it looked up and smiled when Emma came in.

“You must be Emma. I’m Marisol. Tess called about you. She said to take extra good care of you and I plan to.”

“Thank you so much.”

Marisol tapped through a quick check-in, took a copy of Emma’s credit card, and handed her a small key on a wooden fob shaped like a palm leaf.

“Bungalow Four, straight down the path, past the middle pool and it’s on your left. It’s the yellow one. We have a continental breakfast which starts at seven, and there’s coffee and water in the main house any time. If you need anything at all, you come find me.”

“Will do, thank you.”

“Tess and Leah are good friends. It sounds as though they’ve adopted you. I’m not surprised at all. That’s the kind of thing they do, especially when there is someone who has never been to Key West before.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve been told I’m family now, and I’ve known them for less than two hours.”