Page 23

Colleen shakes her head. “Look, honey, I’m sorry but⁠—”

“I’ll compensate you for your inconvenience. Just name your price, and I’ll pay it.”

“It’s not about the money, dear⁠—”

“Please, there’s got to be something to get you to reconsider?” I plead. “This is the only lodging in a fifty-mile radius. There’s nowhere else I can go. The price is no object…”

“As generous as that is, I still can’t give you that room.”

I blink at her, confused. “What? Why not?”

Her smile is genuine this time as she pats my hand and gestures toward the old man behind her. He’s snoring softly, sunk so far into the chair he nearly disappears into the upholstery.

“I’m sorry, dear, but I can’t help you. My husband, Melvin, is highly allergic to dogs. Cats too.” She cuts her eyes at him over her shoulder. “If you think his snoring is loud now, having a dog around here would keep the whole Inn awake all night. Not to mention the hives he gets on his undercarriage.” The way she adds that last part tells me it’s happened before.

I stand there, blinking.

I don’t know why, but out of all the things I’d worried about going wrong, being turned away because of a dog wasn’t something I’d even considered.

I’ve never had a problem that couldn’t be solved by throwing money at it.

“You mentioned you were visiting your sister. Maybe she can put you up?” Colleen suggests, as if I hadn’t already considered that obvious solution.

“Yeah…I hope so…”

I apologize for inconveniencing Colleen and make my way outside, pulling out my phone to text my sister.

Kira

So…bad news. I can’t stay at Inn with Matilda

Greer

Fuck, I forgot Melvin’s allergic to dogs

Kira

Wait, you knew that? Why didn’t you warn me?

Greer

You do know what forgetting means, don’t you?

Kira

Sorry. I’m just stressed out trying to figure out what to do now

Greer

Obviously, you can stay with me

Kira

Are you sure?

Of course, Greer would offer for me to stay with her, but I don’t want to impose on her family. She has her hands full enough with my niece and nephew, and all their activities. She doesn’t need another person in her house. Not to mention a dog.

“No offense,” I tell Matilda, as if she’s capable of hearing my thoughts. She turns her nose up and looks away toward a squirrel crossing the street, like she’s far too busy to worry herself with my judgment.