Where My Heart Breaks Page 2

  It also led to therapy with Dr. Kreger and the final insult, banishment to the outer regions of nowhere to be babysat by Patrice for the summer. But a deal was a deal. My parents would still agree to fund my senior year of college if I played by their rules. No deviations. No exceptions. No fun.

  I got back in the car and started it up. I looked in the rearview mirror. Maybe he felt the vibe about me, the one that started all the chaos to begin with. I was a bad girl. Hadn’t I proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt? I was someone my mother said in my current state wasn’t worth of the time of day. I only seemed to pull toxic, unhealthy people into my orbit. People who didn’t give a shit about me. People like Trevor Franklin. That was more than enough to send most people running for the hills.

  “Thank you,” I said softly before turning my eyes back to the road in front of me. Then I started to hunt for the entrance to the Willoughby Inn. Unless I found a way to convince my parents otherwise, it was going to be a long summer.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The handsome stranger was right. If I hadn’t kept my eyes peeled on the left hand side of the road driving slower than the speed limit, I would have missed the small set of black wrought iron gates that marked the beginning of a paved driveway that had clearly seen better days. A small wooden sign that blended almost perfectly into the background foliage announced “The Willoughby Inn”. I turned down the single lane road, which jarred both my body and the Accord up and down along it for about half a mile. When the driveway finally opened up, and I saw through the large clearing in the trees, I gasped.

  Directly ahead of me was a large white house that looked freshly painted. House was an understatement. It was as if someone transported one of those old southern plantation homes from a movie set here to rural North Carolina. I saw the glittering waters of a lake beyond the house. I slowly followed the circular driveway around and brought the car to a halt outside what looked like a large white barn. I got out and walked across the driveway to the knee-high brick wall that lined the other side of the circle facing the lake. There was nothing but water and trees as far as I could see. It was eerily quiet and tranquil.

  I saw a small sign that said “Registration” and an arrow on it pointed toward a stone path leading around the side of the house. I gawked upwards at the tall roofline of the house above me. The pictures on the Internet didn’t do the place justice at all.

  Aunt Patrice bought the Willoughby Inn with her husband, John, after they both retired early from successful careers in finance in Charlotte eight years ago. It was their dream to own a bed and breakfast, and apparently, the Willoughby fit the bill. The Willoughby Inn’s claim to fame was that an author named Walter Moolen featured it prominently in his one critically acclaimed literary novel, Where My Heart Breaks. After he died, the book went on to sell a bajillion copies. The former owners, who had gotten on in years, couldn’t keep up with the influx of visitors who flocked every year to the Willoughby’s doors for their honeymoons and special occasions.

  My mother told me that Patrice wasn’t sure what she was going to do with the Willoughby now that John passed away. That was the cover story for why my parents sent me here. Helping Patrice would give her the time and space she needed to make a decision about her future. My parents also neatly ensured that I was away from all the bad influences that wreaked havoc on my social and academic life my junior year of college. How convenient. Now my parents were touring Europe for the summer without me. I was sentenced to Bleckerville.

  I rounded the corner of the house, and since I was staring at the lake I wasn’t paying attention to anything else. I promptly ran right into a guy who looked to be about my age. He caught my arm just before I tumbled to the ground.

  “Whoa, sorry,” he said with a warm smile. “I didn’t see you there.”

  Cursing my decision to wear heels, I finally managed to lock my knees to support my weight as I found my balance again. “My fault.” I held up my hands. “I was completely distracted.”

  He peered at me and then smiled again. “I’m guessing you’re Kate, right?”

  “How did you know that?” I asked suspiciously. I looked him over. Tall and lanky with wavy blond hair and hazel eyes, he didn’t look threatening. Then again, most potential stalkers didn’t. Yet another helpful tip I learned from the movies. In fact, he looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

  “I’m Sam,” he said, extending his hand. “For the summer, I am the bellhop and short-order cook at the Willoughby.”

  I couldn’t resist smiling at his proud declaration. “Nice to meet you, Sam. Sounds like we’ll be working together this summer.”

  “Patrice is excited to have you here. She’s been talking about you for days,” Sam said.

  “That’s nice.” I felt anxious. I hadn’t seen Patrice in years, and I had no doubt that my parents filled her in on everything I had been up to at school before they intervened. Based on the hushed phone conversations I overheard between her and my mother, I doubted that she was half as enthusiastic to see me as Sam seemed to think. “Speaking of Patrice, can you tell me where to find her?”

  “Last time I saw her, she was in the office.” Sam pointed behind him. “Go through the front door and you’ll see the registration desk just inside. Stick to the left hand side and follow the hallway. The office is the second door on your right.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Let me know if you need any help with your bags. It’s part of the job description and all. Welcome to the Willoughby, Kate,” Sam said with a wink.

  Self-consciously I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and ducked my head with a small laugh. Sam seemed nice enough, but he wasn’t my type at all. I seemed to like guys who had an edge of danger about them. Guys like Trevor. I thought again about the man who changed my tire. He was exactly my type, which probably meant it was a good thing nothing else happened. My mother would so not approve. Still, there was no need to encourage anything with Sam, especially if we were going to be working closely together.

  I followed the path to a stone patio and paused to take in the view again. A long stone pathway led away from the door and down to the water’s edge. I could just make out several couples lounging in beach chairs down by the water. An expansive green lawn off to my left held several picnic tables and swings, each a comfortable distance from each other to guarantee privacy.

  It seemed the perfect getaway to share with someone you loved, or at least someone you were in lust with. For someone like me, single, and no hope on the horizon, it felt as if the walls of boredom were closing around me. I wondered if the handsome stranger lived close by. While a summer romance wouldn’t be unwelcome, my ability to pick men sucked, if Trevor was any indication. No. I needed to focus on why I was there and not on a guy, no matter how mouth watering he was.

  Sighing, I made my way up the steps and pushed open the massive wooden door. I found myself in a large foyer. A grand staircase curled up the right hand side of the room up to the second floor. A small desk sat in its shadow and based on the computer and small book lying open on top of it, I guessed I found the registration desk. A small bell rested next to the guest book, and a part of me wanted to tap it. I ghosted past the desk and into the small hallway behind it.

  Two doors down, just like Sam said, I found one with the sign ‘Office’ on it and knocked. The door swung open, and I started to say hello before I saw that Patrice was on the phone. She offered me a tight smile and motioned for me to come inside.

  “Frank, that’s not going to work. I have twenty people who will be here next Saturday expecting lobster for their lobster bake. You need to rearrange your weekend delivery route,” she said, frowning at the phone.

  I tuned out the rest of the conversation as I tried to find a place to settle. The office was slightly larger than a broom closet, and I thought that it was possible that it was a broom closet at one point. Every visible horizontal surface was stacked with paperwork. In the end, I decided it was
safer to stand than bother trying to find a place to sit down.

  “Fine, call me back. And don’t make me track you down, Frank. I mean it,” Patrice said.

  She hung up the phone, and I looked at her expectantly.

  “Kate, you made it!”

  It wasn’t as if I was expecting a hug and exclamations of joy, but Patrice just stood there and looked me up and down with her hands on the small of her back. Patrice was my mother’s oldest sister. Her hair was grayer than I remembered, and she had it pulled back into a small ponytail at the base of her neck. She wore a white blouse and khakis, perfectly appropriate attire for someone who probably ran all over the house all day.

  “I did,” I said, unsure of what to say next. From what I remembered as a kid, Patrice was direct and outspoken. I did not want to get our new relationship started on the wrong foot. Or more of a wrong foot. My whole reason for being there felt wrong.

  Patrice moved past me, and I followed her back out into the hallway. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?”

  “No,” I replied. She appeared to be on a mission as she made her way to the stairs and started to climb them. Patrice moved fast, and I tried to keep up. “I did have a flat tire. The guy who helped me told me where to find the place which was helpful.”

  “What guy?” Patrice asked.

  “Late 20s, blue pick-up truck, tattoo on his arm,” I said, picturing him in my mind and trying not to drool. I thought about his toned biceps and pictured them curling around my body and pulling me closer to him. I was going to have some pleasant dreams tonight.

  “So you met Reed Black,” Patrice said coolly.

  “I didn’t quite catch his name,” I admitted. Reed. The name fit him.

  At the top of the stairs, Patrice turned to the right and proceeded toward the open door on the left. “Not surprising. He doesn’t talk much,” Patrice said. “Mandy? Are you done in there yet?”

  A girl who looked like she was still in high school emerged from the room with her arms piled high with sheets. “Almost, Ms. Collins. I just need to run these sheets upstairs and remake the bed.”

  Patrice looked at her watch and frowned. “You’re behind again, Mandy.”

  The girl looked as if she was going to cry, and I instantly felt sorry for her. It wasn’t a surprise to me that Patrice ran a tight ship. A person doesn’t retire from an executive level position at forty-five without being disciplined.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Collins. I’m going as fast as I can.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to start going faster, Mandy. Starting next week, we’re going to be fully booked almost every week through August,” Patrice said. “By the way, this is my niece, Kate. Since you’re on your way upstairs, you can show her to her room. Then right back to work.” Patrice turned back to me. “I’ll let you get settled in, but I’d like to get started on your training first thing in the morning. Eight a.m. sharp.”

  I almost clicked my heels together under her stare. “Got it,” I said.

  As if she read my mind, her eyes wandered down at my feet. “I hope you brought more sensible shoes than that, Kate.” She sighed and then was on her way back down the stairs before I could say anything.

  I looked around and found Mandy already on her way toward the staircase to the third floor. So much for social time and getting to know my fellow employees. I hurried after her.

  “Hey, so I’m obviously new in town. Is there a place where the younger crowd hangs out?” I asked Mandy. I could barely see her face behind the tower of sheets. I knew that I should be staying in and doing something innocent like reading a book tonight, but I couldn’t stand the idea of being confined to my room for the rest of the evening.

  “I’m not old enough to go to the bars,” she squeaked.

  We reached the top of the stairs and her fingertip emerged from beneath one corner of the pile. “Room five, at the end. It’s unlocked.” Mandy turned the other way. “I have to go before I get in trouble again. Welcome to the Willoughby.”

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling a little let down. I wondered if Patrice told her employees any of the bad stuff about me. I started down the hallway when I heard Mandy’s voice again.

  “My older brother hangs out at Lula’s on Main Street. I think they’ve even got dancing on Saturday nights.”

  Dancing sounded promising, even in Bleckerville. “I appreciate the tip,” I said. Then I made my way to my room. As promised, the doorknob turned with no trouble and I pushed it open. I was greeted by a double bed with a drab beige blanket, an antique dresser, and a standing mirror. The open doorway on the right revealed a small bathroom. I sighed. Apparently, there were no five star accommodations for the staff.

  The only thing notable about the room was the view. It looked out over the backyard and offered a breathtaking view of the lake. An unremarkable chaise lounger sat beneath it.

  Looking out at the wide expanse of water, I felt the warring parts of me. For the past six months, I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in my system, but then I had been under the eagle eyes of my mother. Something about me possibly not graduating from college really rattled her cage, and she insisted that when I was back under her roof I abide by her rules. Rule number one was no drinking. Rule number two was no boys. Rule number three was that I was home by midnight. Her rules sucked. If I hadn’t had Millie to hang out with, I would have gone insane.

  For six long months, I played the part of the good girl. I told myself there was nothing wrong with it, but my body and mind burned for some excitement. Reed Black had unwittingly stirred all of that up with his smoky green eyes and dark good looks. I missed the casual freedom that I’d for the last three years.

  What I didn’t miss was waking up in Trevor’s bed tasting ash and worse in my mouth with no recollection of how I got there or what I had done the night before. I didn’t miss stumbling home and having to explain why I missed yet another class to Millie, who became progressively more concerned about me as the semester wore on. I didn’t miss being surrounded by beautiful people who loved to party, but couldn’t care less about what happened to me after the party. Trevor never even bothered to call me again when I told him about my parents’ ultimatum during Christmas break.

  There was something seriously messed up inside of me. What I craved, I had yet to find. Even as I told myself that I wasn’t going to do anything dumb, I cataloged the scant inventory of clothing that I brought along with me to the Willoughby. Surely something would do for a small town bar on a Saturday night.

  CHAPTER THREE

  My excuse to go into town was brilliant in its simplicity. “Patrice, I need to get a new tire for my car right away. I can’t drive it around on that spare. The driveway will eat it up. Plus, it’s a safety hazard.”

  My aunt was straightening the paperwork in her office and looked up in surprise at my sudden arrival in her small space. “The only place in Bleckerville where you can get something like that done is Bud’s.” She pointed at the clock. “I don’t know that you’re going to get that fixed today. It’s already five.”

  “How about I take it into town and check? My dad always told me not to drive on those tires for too long. Better safe than sorry.” I kept my eyes downcast and shuffled my feet trying to look innocent. Having changed into jeans, a thin grey pullover, and tennis shoes, I knew that I looked about twelve years old. There was no reason for her to doubt my story, but regardless I knew she still did, was which was annoying.

  Patrice sighed. “I’ll call Bud and tell him you’re coming. When you get into town, his shop is on the far end of Main Street. You can’t miss it.”

  It was hard not to smile at how easy it was to pull the wool over her eyes, but somehow I managed it. I was so close to freedom that I couldn’t mess it up now. I nodded. “Do you need me to grab anything for you while I’m in town?”

  “No,” Patrice said.

  I turned and had only gone two steps when her voice carried out to me. “Eight o’clock sharp tom
orrow morning, Kate. I wouldn’t make it a late night if I were you.”

  Apparently, my ruse was more transparent than I thought. I’d have to watch myself around Patrice. Of course, she and my mother were genetically related, so it made sense. I might have gotten a thing or two past my dad, but I don’t think my mother believed a single word that came out of my mouth anymore. I knew that was my fault. I had become a pretty good liar during my “crazy phase” but it still rankled.

  I made my way out to the car and looked back up at the Willoughby. I couldn’t deny that it was beautiful and romantic. There was something about it that called to me, but I wasn’t in the mood to listen. I was in the mood for a drink.

  As I crawled back up the driveway, I dug out my phone and was delighted to see that I had two bars. I hit speed dial on Millie’s number.

  “Where have you been? I expected a call hours ago.” Millie’s mock reprimand instantly brought a smile to my face. She and I rarely went a day without talking. Usually we spoke several times a day.

  “I am in the middle of nowhere. I miss you,” I said.

  Amelia St. John and I had been best friends since freshmen year of college. Millie was everything I longed to be, tall, beautiful, popular, and rich. We didn’t hit it off right away until we discovered our mutual love of all things Joss Whedon. Since then, Millie and I were inseparable. At least, we were until my parents decided that they knew better about my future than I did. As much as she loathed what I did to my life while Trevor was in it, Millie hadn’t deserted me like other friends. I considered her the sister I never had.

  “I miss you too! Especially since my dad is driving me crazy. We totally should have booked a flight to Hawaii after our last class and conveniently missed the return flight,” Millie said. “He won’t stop talking about Rick.” Fredrick Malone III was Mr. St. John’s desired choice to marry his only daughter. It was almost archaic how hard he was pushing Millie to get engaged now that she was ready to enter her senior year of college. Millie, for her part, wanted nothing to do with it.