Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Old lady, my ass,” Grams says. “I’ll be wet and ready till the day I–”
“Oh my God,” I say, halfway between horror and amusement. I put my hands over my ears and shake my head like a dog trying to get something out of its ear. “Nope. No. I didn’t hear those words, and I will purge them from my memory.”
I can still see Grams’ mouth moving as I leave her and Edgar to their nonsense in the lobby. I go to my bedroom to get money for Cade.
I catch myself in the mirror, noticing I look just a touch like a train hit me. I take two seconds to try to tame down my hair, realize it’s pointless, and lean over Walker in his crib to check on him. I know I always have the baby monitor with me, but I still like to swing by and lay eyes on him every ten or twenty minutes, just to be sure.
I’ve learned that babies sleep way more than I expected. If it wasn’t for him keeping me up at all hours of the night, I’d almost go as far as saying it was an easier job than people make it out to be. Well, that, and the hormones, the unexpected difficulties of breastfeeding, the diaper explosions, and constantly needing to slip away for feedings. Okay, yeah. Babies aren’t really that easy, but I love the crap out of him.
“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” I say softly as I look down at his sleeping form.
I kiss his forehead, smile, and then dig out some twenty-dollar bills from my wallet to pay Cade for his help. I pause in front of the framed picture of my mom hanging by the door inside my bedroom. There’s a familiar weight in my chest when I look at it.
It’s a picture of her hugging me from behind. She has both arms around me, and she’s beaming wide. I’m trying not to smile in the picture, but it’s obvious how much I love her and how much she loves me. It’s my favorite picture of us, but it never fails to make me feel the weight of responsibility she left on my shoulders when she passed away.
My mom was this town. Frosty Harbor orbited her like the planets orbit the sun, and I know I’ll never be able to replace what she was to everybody here, but I also know I’m not going to forgive myself if I don’t at least try.
So I wake up early every morning, just like she did. I start the day with homemade breakfast for my guests, schedule fun games and events for the bed and breakfast and the town, and make sure I’m always doing it all with a smile. I do it all because that’s what my mom did and what she would still be doing here if life was fair and hadn’t taken her away from us before it was her time.
“You don’t need to worry, Mom. I’ve got this. And now I’ve got Walker, just like you had me.” I look sadly toward his crib, feeling the fresh sting of wishing my mom could meet him so much it physically hurts. But I know I will love him enough to cover for both of us, and I will make every moment count because I know sometimes parents don’t get to choose how much time they have with their kids.
I kiss my fingertips, press them to the picture, smile softly, and then head back to the lobby. Maybe my life isn’t perfect. And maybe one particular mistake in recent memory looms above everything else. But I’m doing my best, and that’s what I’ll keep doing as long as I’m breathing. If nothing else, I can be proud as hell of that.
My smile fades when I see a man in a suit waiting by the front door.
I don’t have any check-ins left for today, but it’s not completely unheard of for someone to walk in and ask for a room. I put my fist on my hip. “Hey there. You’re in luck. We’ve got one vacant room, assuming you’re okay with mountain views and the most powerfully flushing toilet in the whole building.”
“Bullshit,” Edgar coughs. “I clogged that toilet last week. It was barely even a turd, too. I’d suggest you get yourself a good poop knife if you plan to use that john.”
I know I shouldn’t engage, but I turn toward Edgar. “What the hell is a ‘poop knife’?”
Edgar shrugs. “It’s what it sounds like. Look it up if you want. I ain’t gonna explain the birds and the bees or poop knives to you. I ain’t your daddy.”
I give him a hard glare, then smile back at the man in the suit. “Sorry about him. The toilet is fine. I promise.”