I sit in the booth next to my cousin Lance, staring between him and my other cousin Brinley. I don’t understand how they think they can help. Lance is a businessman, and yes, he’s worth millions, maybe even billions, but last I checked, he knows nothing about writing. And Brinley is now a tattoo artist. A super talented one, but she’s not a writer.
“You could probably use some peace and a change of environment, right?” Lance asks, digging out his wallet and putting enough money on the table to cover more than what’s been eaten. He glances over Brinley’s shoulder and leans closer. “But Easton can’t know, so just wait until he leaves, and we’ll explain.”
“Cryptic.” Brinley laughs.
Easton returns from the bathroom, not bothering to sit back down. “I have to get going. I’ve got training at the sports complex. This is my year, I know it.”
We all smile making it abundantly clear we’re keeping something from him. He stares at us for a long moment, and we widen our smiles, making the situation even more awkward.
I wave and sign good luck while our other cousins say bye and huddle their heads in the middle of the table after Easton leaves.
“He knows we’re keeping something from him,” I say.
Brinley looks over her shoulder and shoos me with her hand. “I’ll make something up if he asks.”
Lance raises his wrist to check the time on his expensive watch. “We gotta go now because I have a meeting in an hour.” He turns to Brinley. “Can you text Calista?”
“Why Calista?”
Brinley slides out of the booth. “You’ll understand when we get there, but I’m supposed to open the shop, so we gotta go now.”
“That’s what I said.” Lance hip-checks me to get me moving.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
She wraps her arm around me. “It’s a surprise, but a great one. I promise.”
We leave Lard Have Mercy, and since we all have to be places afterward, we each drive our own cars. Lance leads the way, heading toward the back part of Lake Starlight, where the lake isn’t as deep and the houses are spread out from one another. The roads are narrow, causing me to grip the steering wheel tightly when another car comes from the opposite direction. I glance at the clock to see that there’s plenty of time before I have to pick up Adley.
Eventually, they put on their turn signals, and I question what for until Lance pulls into a small driveway. When the trees clear, I see a little cottage tucked away in the forest. We barely fit all three cars on the gravel driveway, so when Calista drives up before I even get out of my car, she has to park sideways at the end to fit. I groan because I’m blocked in now. There’s no fast getaway in my future.
“Hi!” she says, waving her hand with the heavy diamond ring. She opens her back door and grabs her four-year-old son, Jaden, from his car seat. He squirms to get down and runs toward us.
We each give him a high five, Brinley trying to snatch him up. Calista rounds the cars, and her swollen belly tucked under a maternity shirt is the first thing I notice about my eldest cousin.
“When did I miss this news?” I ask. “Where’s Buzz Wheel when you need it?”
She laughs. “Then you definitely aren’t keeping up with it. It was reported at, like, month three. I guess you show earlier with your second one.” She rubs her belly, and the blush that fills her cheeks is completely envy-worthy.
I don’t want to ever get married, but seeing some of my cousins—the three here right now—all settled down sometimes makes me wonder if maybe marriage could be for me someday. Especially when I see the glow on Calista’s face. But I had that glow, too, when I was pregnant with Adley.
“And why isn’t Mr. Jaden in preschool this morning?” Brinley asks, reluctantly letting him go since he refuses to be held.
“We leave for Chicago next week.”
Calista’s family spends their off months here, and during her husband Rylan’s soccer season, they live in Chicago. She’s told the family many times that once he retires, they’ll be back in Lake Starlight for good, especially since her husband is from the Greene family in Sunrise Bay. At least she has Easton there in Chicago when it’s baseball season.
“Already? That seemed short,” Brinley says.
I get between them and raise my hands—I’m tired of talking today. Why am I here in front of some creepy cottage in the middle of nowhere?
They laugh. I’m fortunate that most of my family has learned how to sign. Although I can read lips, and with my cochlear implants, I can hear them, I still sign a lot of the time. When I was younger, I only communicated through sign language, and each of my cousins, aunts, and uncles took classes. I never take that for granted. Some are more fluent than others, but they can usually get the gist of what I’m saying if I don’t sign too fast. If not, someone else translates for me.
“Come.” Lance swings his arm around my shoulders, guiding me toward the house.
He passes a key to Calista, who uses it to open the cottage. We each walk through the cute, rounded door that has a small window on top. There’s a sofa with a quilted afghan lying across the back and a kitchen with what appears to be the necessities in the far back corner.
“This was Great-Grandma Dori’s hideaway,” Lance says, taking the key back from Calista.
I turn in another circle, soaking up the space differently knowing it belonged to my great-grandma. I’ve always hated that Adley will never get to meet her. All of their eyes are on me.
I don’t understand.
Brinley and Lance look at Calista. Meanwhile, Jaden is jumping on the couch. Calista digs her phone out of her coat pocket and puts him in the chair. Once he’s settled, she returns to us.
“You weren’t here, but do you remember when my friend Aubrey was getting married?” Calista asks.
I shrug.
“Yeah, it was when you were off exploring the world.”
I roll my eyes.
“She was getting married, and Rylan returned to town to be Declan’s best man, and I was the maid of honor. I hadn’t seen him in so long—”
“Get on with it. I have to get going.” Lance glances at his watch again.
“Anyway, Alice, Aubrey’s grandma, brought me here, then a lawyer Great-Grandma Dori hired showed up and said the cabin was mine. He handed me a letter from her and a key. Told me I could do what I want with it, so I chose to keep it a secret from the family. Although I’ll warn you, I think everyone’s parents know about it, but I’m pretty sure they don’t know which one of us is occupying it at any given time.”
Lance blows out a frustrated breath.
Calista gives him a beseeching look. “She doesn’t know any of this.”
“Give her the short version.” He sits in one of the kitchen chairs.
“When Brinley needed to get out of her apartment when Van first moved in, I gave the key to her. The lawyer guy left me the letters for each of our cousins, and so I gave her her letter.” She digs into her purse and holds out a white envelope with my name scrolled across it in our great-grandma Dori’s handwriting.
Air rushes from my lungs. I clutch the envelope hard and stare at it, unsure how to feel.
“Brinley gave the cabin to me when I returned to town with Kenzie, and she was supposed to marry that asshole,” Lance says.
“It’s supposed to be a place where you have some alone time. Peace away from everything else. A place to find yourself. Find the right path,” Brinley adds.
“When you said you couldn’t concentrate, we thought maybe you could try to write here. Away from Adley and Hudson.” Lance holds out the key.
“And when you’re finished with it, if you find another one of our cousins who needs it, pass it along.” Calista smiles, taking the phone away from Jaden and picking him up. “Now, I have to get back. Jaden is spending the day with Rylan’s parents. The week before we head out is always the hardest. Especially with this one’s due date being while we’re gone.”
I sign Thank you and hug her.
“You’re welcome. I do hope you find what you’re looking for here. And don’t forget to read the letter.”
“I will.” I kiss Jaden’s cheek, and he squirms to get away.
Brinley and Lance are quick to leave with smiles on their faces. After I back out of the driveway to let them get their cars out, and I return to the cottage, the door shuts, and I stand there in silence. I swear I can almost feel my great-grandma’s arms around me. I walk around and admire the pictures of her and my great-grandpa, who I never met. The love between them shines bright in each one.
There’s a small bedroom off the kitchen area and a bathroom, but that’s it. The cottage is quaint and cute, and I can’t believe my great-grandparents had a secret house. Well, actually, I can believe Great-Grandma Dori did. Maybe my great-grandpa was as secretive and spunky as her.
I sit on the couch, sinking so far down into the cushion that I fear I might not get up. Yeah, I could totally see myself writing here during the day, especially when Hudson has Adley. The more I imagine myself sitting at the small kitchen table or sitting on the couch or chair, I like the idea even more.
The envelope in my lap begs me to read it. The last words my great-grandma wrote to me are hidden away in that letter. The last advice from her I’ll ever get because I know she wouldn’t fill it with how proud she is of me. Guiding me to some end is more her style.
My finger runs along the top, and I pull out the paper perfectly folded in threes. Opening it, my heart swells when I see her writing fills the page. I read the first line.
My Dearest Palmer…
I drop the letter in my lap, not ready to read her last words. Quickly, I fold it back up and stuff it in the envelope, which I place on the coffee table. I’ll spend time in her world first, this cottage, the place where she found refuge when life was crazy—or probably when she wanted to screw my great-grandpa. I have to push that mental image from my mind.
The alarm on my phone buzzes, reminding me it’s time for me to grab Adley, so I rise from the couch and stare around the room before walking out and locking the cottage behind me. Tomorrow, after I drop off Adley at school, I’ll come here, and maybe if I’m lucky, I won’t have to call my editor and tell her I don’t have a manuscript.
My phone dings as I climb into my SUV. It’s my cousin, Harper.
I roll my eyes. My cousin is such a hornball.
I drop my phone in the center console and back out of the driveway to head toward the school, but what Harper said echoes through my thoughts as I drive. Do I need to have sex to get me in the mood to write this book? And if so, Matt Peterson would be perfect. His reputation makes it clear he doesn’t want anything serious, so it could be a one-and-done or maybe even a fling while he’s here.
No. I don’t need to sleep with a man in order to write a romance novel. Everyone knows book boyfriends are so much better than the real thing. What could a playboy snowboarder teach me? Nothing.