Elbow-deep in soap suds, Lucy mulled over her escape plan as she helped Kat clean up from breakfast.
She wanted to tackle her brother for roping Vick into helping her. She’d spent months getting over her schoolgirl crush, and spending one-on-one time together might undo all her efforts.
Somehow, she’d have to get out of it.
Before she made a fool out of herself or worse… had her heart broken.
After rinsing the last plate, she handed it to Kat to dry.
“Thanks, Luce.”
“No problem. I’m happy to help.” Lucy dried her hands on a kitchen towel, barely listening as she pondered various excuses to get herself out of this mess.
“I don’t mean the dishes.” Kat’s tone conveyed a seriousness that gave Lucy pause.
“Is everything okay?”
“I’m not sure.” Kat sighed, and for the first time in months, some of the sparkle left her eyes.
“Here, sit down.” Lucy ushered her toward the barstool, then refilled their coffee mugs before sitting beside her. “What’s on your mind?”
Kat toyed with the curved handle, and Lucy noticed her nails had been gnawed to the tips of her fingers. “I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but I’m nervous. Like, sometimes-I-can-barely-eat-or-sleep kind of nervous.”
“I had no idea,” Lucy breathed, her stomach twisting with empathy.
“I’ve tried to ignore it, but I can’t help thinking about all the people who’ve put their faith in me. Especially Jack. What if I fail?”
“You won’t.” Lucy placed a hand on Kat’s forearm and gave a reassuring squeeze. “I have no doubts, whatsoever.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Kat smiled weakly. “But our timing for the grand opening isn’t great. Tourism is always down in the fall and winter. At first, I thought that would be a good thing. That it would give us a chance to ease into a routine.” She glanced down at her hands, nervously wound around the ceramic mug. “But what if we open all the rooms and I can’t keep them filled?”
“What did Trudy say?” Lucy asked. No one would have better advice than Gertrude Hobbs. She and her husband, George, had owned the Morning Glory Inn for decades, and until recently, the small bed-and-breakfast was the only lodging option in Poppy Creek. The older woman had been acting as a mentor to Kat throughout the entire renovation and setup process.
“Trudy’s been wonderful. A lifesaver, to be honest. She said I needed to be patient. And it takes time to get off the ground. I suppose I’m just being overly anxious. But I know how much everyone’s invested in this place. Jack, you…” She met Lucy’s gaze. “That’s why I’m so grateful you agreed to do the videos. I know it won’t be a magic bullet, but if you can inspire even a few people to make the trip, it will go a long way toward easing some of my nerves.”
Lucy forced a smile.
Well, that settled it. She couldn’t back out now.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Sisterly affection stole over Kat’s features. “You’re a lot like Jack, you know.”
“You mean we’re both blond-haired, blue-eyed versions of the Brawny Man?” Lucy teased. Her brother had often been compared to the muscular, flannel-clad mascot of the popular paper towel company. Although slightly outdated, the comparison was still pretty spot-on.
“No.” Kat laughed. “But I’ll have to remember that the next time he compares himself to Thor.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “He would.”
“I was actually referring to what’s on the inside,” Kat said, her tone soft and sincere. “You both love others with your whole heart. And that’s rare these days. Most of us hold back, afraid of getting hurt. But you don’t. And that comes across in your videos, too. Which, I think, is part of the reason people are so drawn to you. Well, that and the obvious reasons,” she added with a teasing grin.
Lucy blushed. She was used to people commenting on her appearance. To the point she sometimes wondered if that’s all she had to offer. But Kat’s compliment meant more to her than she could ever know. Although, it wasn’t entirely deserved.
When it came to romantic love, she couldn’t be more terrified.
“Hello?”
Startled, Lucy glanced over her shoulder. Her good friend Olivia Parker strolled into the kitchen carrying a festive arrangement of chrysanthemums and plum-colored roses. “I thought I might find you ladies in here.”
“Liv! I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Lucy slid off the barstool and waited for Olivia to set the vase on the counter before greeting her with a hug. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the Apple Jubilee tomorrow?”
“Oh, I’ve been planning that for months. By now, it’ll practically run itself.” Olivia laughed.
Lucy didn’t doubt it. Before she moved back to Poppy Creek, Olivia ran an elite event-planning service in New York, specializing in luxury celebrations and celebrity weddings.
When she reconnected with her childhood friend, Reed Hollis, last spring, Olivia purchased the orchard adjacent to his flower farm and they merged the two properties into the Sterling Rose Estate—Poppy Creek’s premier event venue.
“Besides,” Olivia added. “When Reed mentioned he’d be delivering the arrangements you ordered, I remembered I had a couple more ideas I wanted to run by you for the Library Benefit Banquet in a few weeks.”
“I have to say,” Kat gushed, burying her face in the fragrant petals, “your beau sure knows how to arrange a bouquet.”
“Yes, he does.” A pretty blush swept across Olivia’s cheeks, and she self-consciously tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
Lucy smiled, her heart bursting with happiness for her friend. Olivia had been through so much in the past year, between the devastating divorce and the loss of her business, it made Lucy a little teary-eyed to see her so content and blissful.
And yet, somewhere deep down—in a shadowy corner of her heart—a pang of jealousy lurked behind the joy.
But she wasn’t sure what she envied more—the fact that both Kat and Olivia had partners to share their lives with or that they’d found their passions in life, something to give them drive and purpose.
Unbidden, her thoughts drifted to the business card buried in the bottom of her purse, and an unthinkable fear slithered into the back of her mind.
Even if she had both of those things, would it even matter anymore?
Leaning out the window of his Jeep, Vick pressed the pound sign on the keypad and waited for the long iron gate to swing open.
His landlord, Bill Tucker, owned a myriad of animals, from chickens to miniature goats to alpacas, and he let them all run loose on his farm, which made the gate a necessity.
Vick eased down the dirt road, being mindful of four-legged pedestrians.
Peggy Sue, a rotund, pot-belly pig with a fancy pink collar waddled across his path. Vick paused, idling until she made it to the other side, then continued toward the back of the spacious property.
While Bill treated all of his animals like beloved pets, Peggy Sue was undoubtedly his favorite, and she accompanied him everywhere.
At first, Vick found it strange, even somewhat worrisome. But when he learned Bill’s late wife had weaned the pig from birth, he understood the sentimental attachment.
Shifting into park, he glanced at the eagle tattoo on his forearm. Most people assumed it had ties to his military service, and he never bothered to correct them. The true meaning wasn’t anyone else’s business.
Unwanted thoughts crept into the forefront of his mind, triggering a familiar tension in his chest. His breath quickened, and his lungs worked overtime.
Leaning against the headrest, he inhaled for a count of seven, then exhaled following the same pattern.
His heart continued to pound.
Unclenching his fist, he tapped his thumb against his pinky finger, then his ring finger, then middle, then pointer, repeating the process in a slow, methodical rhythm until his pulse returned to normal.
The first time the therapist taught him the calming technique, he’d scoffed, refusing to try it. Then, later that night, his nightmare returned, and he’d rocketed awake, dripping with sweat, his heart revolting against his rib cage.
Desperate for relief, he’d tossed aside his pride and tried the therapist’s hokey trick. While it wasn’t a miracle cure, his panic had eventually subsided.
The tension gone, Vick climbed out of the Jeep and strode toward his temporary home.
He’d agreed to rent it from Bill, sight unseen, but the second he laid eyes on the converted grain silo, he knew he’d made the right decision.
The quirky, cylindrical living space only had one bedroom and a half-bath with an enclosed shower out back, and the kitchen consisted of a microwave, mini fridge, and hot plate, but it suited his simple lifestyle. In fact, the glorified tin can had everything he needed, especially since he brought most of his food home from the diner. And when he cooked on his day off, he used the barbecue out on the patio.
Plus, it came with an unofficial—though somewhat ornery—roommate.
“Hey, Buddy.” Vick knelt and extended his hand.
The miniature goat trotted toward him, nuzzling his palm with the top of his head.
“Sorry I missed breakfast this morning.” Vick gave him a few scratches behind the ear. “But better late than never, right?”
That’s when he noticed one of his boots by the front door—mangled within an inch of its life.
Vick sighed. Apparently, Buddy didn’t agree with his better-late-than-never philosophy.
“Why is it always the expensive boots?” Vick asked, lifting the drool-covered footwear. “Why can’t you destroy my ten-dollar sandals instead?”
He glanced at Buddy, whose black and gray markings gave the appearance of a perpetual smile.
“Oh, you think it’s funny, do you? We’ll see if I share my apple with you now.”
Even as he pushed through the front door and tossed the boot in the garbage, he knew he wouldn’t make good on the threat.
Buddy must’ve known, too, because he pranced around the kitchen while Vick brewed a fresh pot of coffee.
Most mornings, he woke up at 0600, went for a run, then sat with Buddy on the front porch, sipping coffee and sharing apple slices.
Today, he’d been anxious to talk to Jack, so he’d skipped their ritual and headed straight for the inn.
Clearly, Buddy hadn’t appreciated the change in plans.
Steaming cup of coffee in hand, Vick settled in the rickety rocking chair with a view of the bucolic farm.
Buddy waited by his feet, his dark eyes locked on the apple in Vick’s grasp.
“First, apologize for ruining my shoe,” Vick said in as stern a tone as he could muster.
The little goat placed his chin on Vick’s knee, his tiny nub of a tail wiggling.
“All right, apology accepted.” Vick chuckled, flipping open his tactical knife. He cut a generous slice and tossed it to Buddy.
The impish goat gobbled it down.
Vick usually spent his days off helping Bill around the farm. But today, he had an important task to check off the list.
After they finished the apple, Vick overturned an old milk crate and spread out a worn map of the United States.
Red circles marked all the places he’d lived since leaving the Marines.
So far, he’d stuck to small towns but had noticed a troubling pattern. The friendly townspeople inevitably tried to corral him into their close-knit communities. He needed a larger city, somewhere he could blend in and keep to himself.
An image of his mother flashed into his mind, dragging his thoughts back in time.
He could still smell the rancid leftovers and pungent liquor bottles abandoned in the dumpster directly below their apartment window. Sirens wailed in the distance. A baby cried in the unit next door.
“One of these days, we’ll live in a place like this.” His mother had unfolded a glossy brochure for a small mountain community up north, gazing fondly at the idyllic photos of a family boating on the lake, roasting marshmallows around a campfire, and enjoying funnel cake at a county fair.
Despite being abandoned at nineteen by her husband of one year, left to raise an infant on her own, and working multiple jobs to make ends meet, his mother had managed to keep her sense of optimism.
Right up until the day she died.
A loud rip yanked Vick back to the present.
Buddy munched on a mouthful of map with an unsurprising air of nonchalance.
“Buddy,” Vick groaned, assessing the damage.
A huge chunk of Alaskan wilderness now resided in Buddy’s stomach, but the mischievous scamp had sparked an idea.
There was just one obstacle standing in the way.
His ties to Poppy Creek were a lot stronger than he wanted to admit.