A high-pitched shriek jerks Presley out of a deep slumber on Thursday morning. She glances at the alarm clock. Eight o’clock. She overslept after being awake half the night waiting for a call from Everett. She’d hoped to get some work done before Chris arrives for their hike at ten.
Another scream and Presley is out of the bed and running down the hall, through the kitchen and living room and out the front door.
“Help!” Peaches screams from the front porch next door. She’s teetering on a rocking chair. Any second, she could lose her balance and crash to the floor.
Of all the rotten luck. Presley had to get stuck with Bridezilla for a neighbor.
Presley leaves her porch and stands in the small patch of lawn separating their cottages. She calls up to the hysterical bride-to-be. “Calm down, Peaches! Tell me what’s wrong.”
“There’s a rat in my bedroom.” Peaches covers her eyes with one hand and points at the cottage door with the other. The movement throws her off balance and she nearly falls.
“Come down off that chair before you break your neck,” Presley orders.
Peaches leaps off the rocking chair and darts across the yard to Presley’s porch. “Do something!”
Presley climbs the stairs to the porch. “Let me get my phone, and I’ll call maintenance.”
Peaches is on Presley’s heels as she enters the cottage and passes through the living room and kitchen. When she tries to follow her into the bedroom, Presley turns around and glares at her. “Do you mind? Wait for me in the kitchen. I’ll be out in a minute. There are no mice in here.”
Peaches lets out an incensed breath of air. “It wasn’t a mouse. It was a rat,” she says, and storms back down the hall.
Throwing her robe on over her shortie pajamas, Presley grabs her phone and punches in the inn’s main number as she heads back to the kitchen. When the operator answers, she asks to be connected to maintenance. She’s explaining the crisis to the woman in the maintenance department when she notices Peaches helping herself to Presley’s Keurig machine.
Presley ends the call. “Maintenance is on the way,” she says, popping an English Breakfast tea pod in her Keurig machine.
As the tea brews, she notices the file folders and papers littering every surface in the adjacent living room. She’d spent yesterday evening preparing her materials to begin her project. When she notices Peaches open a folder and thumb through the torn magazine pages, Presley grabs her tea mug and says, “Let’s wait for maintenance on the porch.”
Seated in rocking chairs, Peaches begins babbling about her wedding, the rat seemingly forgotten. She rambles on about such lavish ideas in such great detail Presley’s head begins to spin. She craves a cup of strong black coffee, and for the umpteenth time since learning she was pregnant, she wonders why caffeine is bad for the baby.
When Peaches pauses to breathe, Presley jumps on the opportunity to speak. “You’ll need a miracle to pull off the wedding you’re describing in seven weeks’ time. You don’t seem like the slacker type to me, Peaches. Why are you getting such a late start in planning?”
Peaches drops her smile. “I’ve only been engaged a few weeks. My fiancé lives abroad. All I want is to be with him. This long-distance relationship is killing me.”
Presley softens toward Peaches. She’s walked in these shoes before. She knows exactly how Peaches feels. “Then why not have a small wedding? Or, have you considered eloping?”
Peaches let’s out an exaggerated humph. “Seriously?” She jabs her finger at her chest. “I’m Peaches Dupree. My father is governor of the great state of Georgia. I’m American Royalty. Daddy’s constituents are counting on a grand event.”
Presley works hard to keep a straight face. American Royalty? “If your wedding is so important to his constituents, why aren’t you getting married in Georgia?”
“All the best venues in the state are booked. I was lucky there was a cancellation at Hope Springs.”
Presley notices the maintenance van pulling into the driveway next door. “Your rodent patrol is here.”
Peaches looks at the van and back at Presley. “Well?” she asks, as though she expects Presley to deal with the maintenance men. Peaches Dupree is a pampered young woman who’s used to others taking care of life’s inconveniences.
Presley rises from the rocker. “Sorry. You’re on your own. I’m going hiking soon, and I need to get ready.”
Peaches curls her upper lip. “Eww. That sounds hot and buggy.”
Presley laughs. “Hiking is good exercise. And the view at the overlook is worth the effort.”
Getting to her feet, Peaches sucks in a deep breath and leaves the porch. She flags down the maintenance man. “Yoo-hoo! I’m over here. I have a rat in my cottage. My daddy is Marcus Dupree, the governor of Georgia. I don’t do rats. Get it out this instant.”
So much for my peaceful summer, Presley thinks as she goes inside the cottage.
Presley hasn’t taken time to unpack. When rummaging through her suitcase for exercise clothes, she realizes she forgot to pack her hiking shoes. Maybe the sporting goods shop in the wellness center will have something suitable. She dresses in exercise pants, a dry-fit short-sleeved shirt, and a lightweight fleece. The morning air is crisp and the sky clear, and she takes her time in strolling down the curving gravel path to the wellness center.
Mountain Adventures has exactly what Presley is looking for and so much more. The boutique is packed with stylish apparel and the latest equipment for fishing and hiking. She pays for her shoes, making a mental note to come back later when she has more time to shop.
In the cafe next door, she places an order for grain bowls with grilled chicken for her picnic. While the staff is preparing her order, she ventures outside to the pool complex.
“This turned out exactly as I imagined it,” Presley says to the staff member collecting used towels from lounge chairs on the pool deck. When the woman straightens, Presley continues. “I’m Presley Baldwin. I was the event planner here for a short time last fall.”
The woman extends her hand from beneath an armful of towels. “Nice to meet you, Presley. I’m Olivia Hendrix. But everyone calls me Ollie. Stella invited me to a dinner party in your honor tonight.”
Presley furrows her brow. “Stella didn’t mention a party. I thought we were just having a low-key dinner.”
“She referred to it as a Girls’ Night Out,” Ollie says. “She sounded super excited about it when she called.”
“Oh well. It’ll be fun to see everyone.” Presley follows Ollie over to the dirty towel bin. “Cecily mentioned you’re from California. What brings you to Hope Springs?”
Ollie deposits the towels in the bin. “I needed a change.”
Presley waits for her to say more, but she busies herself with picking up empty plastic cups instead. She guesses Ollie to be in her mid-thirties. But she has a youthful air about her, and she’s a striking beauty with shiny dark brown hair, a rounded nose, full rosy lips, and crystal clear aqua eyes. Presley’s people reader goes into overdrive. She gets the impression Ollie is hiding something. Not something bad. Something sad.
“How’re things going?” Presley asks. “Are you liking your new job?”
With a vigorous nod, Ollie says, "Very much so. Everyone’s been so nice.”
Presley spins in a circle, surveying her surroundings. “Stella outdid herself. The wellness center is fabulous.”
“We’re working through a few challenges. I need to hire more staff. But overall, things are great. Stella is the best boss ever. She’s always so calm. Even in the most trying of circumstances.”
Presley knows Stella well. She isn’t always calm. She’s just an expert at hiding her emotions.
“I’ll let you get back to work. I look forward to seeing you tonight,” Presley says, waving at Ollie as she heads off.
Chris is waiting on the porch when Presley arrives back at the cottage. “Sorry. I forgot to pack my hiking shoes and had to buy new ones.” She raises the bag in her right hand and then the one in her left. “And I picked up some lunch for our picnic from Roots while I was at the wellness center.” She holds the cottage door open for him. “Come on in. Let me put on my shoes, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Can I help with anything?” Chris asks once they’re inside.
Presley sits down on the sofa to lace up her new shoes. “Sure! There’s a pink backpack cooler in the kitchen. You can pack our grain bowls in there along with some bottled water from the fridge.”
While he loads up the cooler, Chris eyes the file folders spread about the living room. “What’s with all the papers?”
“My summer project. I’ll tell you about it on our hike.”
When he’s finished packing the cooler, Chris slips the straps over his shoulders.
Presley finishes tying her shoes and jumps to her feet. “I don’t mind carrying that.”
He pushes her hand away when she tries to take the cooler. “No way! It’s heavy, and you’re pregnant.”
She raises an eyebrow at him. “You seriously don’t mind wearing a pink backpack?”
He shrugs. “Why would I mind?”
“Okay then. Let’s hit the trails.”
Exiting the cottage, they walk together down the gravel path to the end of Cottage Row. When the gravel turns to dirt and the path narrows, Presley takes the lead.
“I thought we’d hike up to the overlook,” Presley calls to him over her shoulder.
“I’m fine with whatever.”
Presley appreciates her brother’s easygoing nature, and they set out on the forty-minute hike in comfortable silence. When they reach the overlook, they sit down side-by-side on a rock, guzzling down bottles of water.
“Tell me about your summer project,” Chris says.
“Well . . .” Presley screws the cap back on the empty bottle. “I’m launching my own event planning firm in Nashville. I’ll wait until after the baby comes to go full steam, but I’m laying the groundwork this summer by designing my logo, building my website, and networking with old and new connections in the entertainment industry.”
“That’s cool. What does Everett think?”
“He’s fine with it,” Presley says, even though she hasn’t told her husband about her plan. Everett’s been too busy lately for a serious conversation about anything.
“This view is incredible,” Chris says staring down at the bird’s-eye view of Hope Springs Farm. “I love the mountains.”
She nudges him with her elbow. “Is that why you decided to go to Washington and Lee? Not that it’s a bad school. It has an excellent reputation. But I was hoping you’d come to Nashville.”
Chris had stayed with Presley and Everett when he visited Vanderbilt last January. They’d had a fun few days of visiting the campus and checking out all the tourist attractions.
Chris’s shoulders sag. “Me too. I really liked Vanderbilt. And I got accepted, believe it or not. But I feel like I should be close to my mom.”
“I understand that. How are things at home?” Presley asks, and watches closely for his reaction.
“They suck.” Chris picks up a rock and hurls it down the rocky slope in front of them. “My mom is a straight-up bitch. I liked her better when she was popping pills.”
“I’m sorry, Chris. I know this is hard for you. But give her some time. She’s adjusting to life without the opioids. I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
“She doesn’t have to be so mean. She yells at me about everything. I’d move back in with my dad, except he’s taking the summer off. He calls it a ‘sabbatical.’” Chris uses air quotes. “I think he’s having a mid-life crisis. He’s hiking some wilderness trail out west. He’ll probably get eaten by a bear.”
Presley presses her lips thin to keep from smiling. “He’s not going to get eaten by a bear.”
Chris leans back, propping himself on his elbows and tilting his face to the sun. “Are all grown-ups this screwed up, Presley?”
Presley thinks about her adoptive mother who drank herself to death. And her beloved father who died from cancer. He was the most normal person she’s ever known. Then again, she’d been a young child when he died.
“It seems like it sometimes, Chris. We’re both lucky to have Rita. Your aunt adores you. And now you have me. Although I don’t consider myself an adult. I’m still learning the ways of the world. How about if we try to figure out life together?”
He jerks his head up as he looks over at her. “But you have Everett.”
“Everett is experiencing some growing pains too. We’re all on a journey, Chris. We need every bit of support we can get.” She grins at him. “I, for one, could use a younger brother to keep me in line.”
He smiles back. “And I definitely need an older sister.”
“Let’s make a pact. I propose that, for the rest of the summer, you and I focus on ourselves and not worry so much about the other people in our lives. I’m starting my new company, and you’re getting ready to go to college. Do we have a deal?” Presley holds out her hand, and he shakes it.
“Deal! Will you really be here all summer, Presley?” he asks in a hopeful tone that warms her heart.
“Yep. Until Labor Day.” Presley removes the grain bowls from her backpack, handing one to him along with a plastic fork and napkin. “Do you have any big plans for the summer?”
Chris removes the plastic lid from his bowl and sets it aside. “I kept my schedule open, so I could support my mom. But she’s made it clear she doesn’t want me around. I guess I’ll find a job. I need to earn some spending money for college.”
“Now you’re thinking.” A thought occurs to Presley. “The wellness center is hiring. You should reach out to Ollie, the manager.”
Chris cuts his eyes at Presley. “What would I do?”
“You’d have to ask her which positions are available. Maybe you could be a pool attendant. It’s not glamorous, but you could meet some fun people.”
Chris considers this while he shovels forkfuls of food into his mouth. “I’m eighteen. I could be a server at the pool cafe. They make good tips. I’ll talk to her after our hike.”
“I would love having you close. I could pop over in the afternoons, and you could serve me nonalcoholic daiquiris while I dip my swollen ankles in the pool.”
Chris looks down at her feet. “Your ankles look fine to me.”
“They won’t be by the end of the summer,” Presley says with a chuckle.
“You look good, Presley. You don’t even look pregnant.”
“You’re lying.” Presley leans into him. “But thank you.”
He takes another few bites and wipes his mouth. “Will you help me shop for college? I got this sick single room. I wanna fix it up.”
“I assume sick is a good thing. But why a single? Don’t you want a roommate?” Presley thinks back to her freshman year at the University of Alabama. How excited she’d been to meet her new roommate, Alani, a petite Hawaiian girl with shiny dark hair. They were complete opposites. Presley was outgoing and Alani shy. But they ended up being great roommates.
“Graham-Lees is the cool dorm. Most of the rooms are single,” Chris explains.
“I see.” Presley hands Chris a chocolate macadamia nut cookie for dessert. “In any case, I’d love to help you. We’ll have fun. I’ll start looking for some ideas.”
Presley studies her half brother while they eat. When Presley came to Hope Springs, she wasn’t looking for a mother to replace the one she’d recently lost to liver failure. She wanted to see something of herself in the face of another. She and Chris resemble their maternal grandmother, Rita and Lucy’s mother. Chris’s auburn hair is darker than hers, his gray eyes stormier. But their faces have the same oval shape with pointy noses.
He blots his lips with a napkin, a feminine gesture for a guy. Is it possible Chris is gay? Most masculine guys she knows would refuse to carry a pink backpack. And he’s interested in decorating his dorm room. His sexuality doesn’t matter to her. But he already has enough problems with his mom without having to struggle with his sexual identity. On the other hand, maybe he’s already out of the closet and waiting for the right time to tell Presley. Either way, she’s growing to love this kid. She’ll be here for him if he needs a shoulder to cry on.