Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
She doesn’t even blink when a confrontation presents itself. She’s a fighter.
I’m more of a nurturer. And while I would never call myself doubtful or pessimistic, I am very cautious. Pulling our lives back together after Mama died wasn’t easy and one misstep—one frickin’ misstep—and everything turns out different.
That’s what I learned from that experience. That successful people are careful. That’s not to say they don’t take risks—I know risk is a huge part of success—but successful people calculate their risk and can steer around the rapids.
Bryn just plows her boat straight through the whitewater. And it works—for her.
But not for me. I am slow and steady. (Says the girl who picked her truck up from a bar this morning.)
I snicker a little as I pull up in front of the inn.
Inside, the place is filled with people lugging boxes of pastel-colored spring décor and Jessica is too busy giving out directions to do more than wave at me and point to the kitchen when I pass by, as if Bryn would be anywhere else.
Indeed, my sister is in the kitchen. She’s flitting around a stove manning a skillet and the grill at the same time.
“Wow. Do you need help?”
She shoots me a look over her shoulder. “You? Cook?” We both laugh. I’m a terrible cook. Why should I practice a skill that my sister can do better? She cooked for us, even back when Mama was alive.
“Seriously, though. I can flip that burger.”
“I’ll have to cancel lunch.”
“What? No! You have to fill me in on last night!”
“There’s some wedding thing going on over in Revenant and for some reason the entire wedding party wanted to come here for breakfast.”
“Some reason?”
Bryn and I both look at the swinging door where the comment came from. Michael is standing there smirking. “The reason they came is for you, Bryn.” He directs his attention at me. “Apparently, some bigshot from Williamsburg with a cooking channel on YouTube was here a couple weeks ago and spent twenty minutes of his last vlog raving about Bryn’s French toast brioche and her avocado burger.”
I make a face. “That’s… an odd combination.”
Bryn sighs. “They do it on purpose.”
“Do what on purpose?”
“Arrive just in time to order both breakfast and lunch.”
“Apparently, it’s to see how well the chef handles the two meals.” Now Michael is beaming. “And our girl here did spectacularly. The inn is booked through July, Lowyn. Can you believe it?”
I smile at him. “That’s great, Michael.”
“I’m giving her a raise.”
Bryn snickers. “You can’t afford to give me a raise.”
“I can now.” Michael chuckles, then leaves the kitchen to resume his duties.
Bryn sighs, wiping her sweaty brow with the back of her sleeve. “What I need are a few more cooks in my kitchen.”
“And that’s not in the budget?”
“Nope.” Bryn plates the burger and the French toast, then pauses to look at me. “It’s great that we got all that attention, but we’re always booked through July at this time of year. Our problem is winter months. People just don’t want to make this trip in the winter. So he really can’t afford to give me a raise, let alone hire me some help.”
“Oh. Well, that sucks.”
“Yeah.” Bryn pouts a little. “But it’s fine. I mean, the inn has been here for fifty years. Surely it will be here for fifty more.”
“Surely.”
“Take my phone.” She points to her chef’s coat pocket. “All the evidence you think you want is in the message streams between you, and me, and Taylor.”
“Taylor Hill was the one who saw me last night?”
“Oh, boy, did she ever.”
“Great.” Taylor is the waitress here at the inn. But she’s actually from Disciple and runs the kiddie tent during Revival. So this means it’s gonna be all over town.
“Go sit outside, Lowyn. It’s nice. I can’t concentrate with people in my kitchen.”
I just shake my head, but go outside so she can boss herself around in private.
The Bishop Inn gardens are pretty spectacular. Even though this property is only about two acres, Mr. Maroo used every single square inch judiciously. Spring bulbs are blooming, the trees are budding, and the evergreen hedges have been trimmed to crisp, clean lines. He made a maze of sorts—not tall enough to get lost in like that kid from The Shining, the hedges are only about four feet high, but it’s kinda cool that you can go for a half-mile walk in the diameter of two hundred and fifty feet.
I enter the hedge maze flipping through Bryn’s phone to find my name.
Oh, my God. That’s my first reaction to the last text, which reads, He’s s0 h0t, Br4n, I’m g0nna take him h0me with me.
Only all my O’s are zeros and the Y in Bryn’s name is a 4.
I was wasted.
I scroll up, cringe as I read the entire conversation, then go looking for Taylor’s stream and find the vid of me cackling like a fucking high schooler as Collin just sits there and grins at me.