Will we be this happy when summer is over? I try to tell myself that there’s no point in worrying. We have to live in the moment.
“Ready?” I ask one evening as I enter the reception.
Bree looks up in surprise and then shoots me a beaming smile.
I want to grab her hand, spin her, and kiss her, but Delia has politely warned us about being too “friendly” in front of the guests.
“Just about—”
“Bree,” Delia calls from her office. “Would you be a dear and bring me the stapler?”
Bree skips into Delia’s office with the stapler and I follow close behind. We’re greeted by chaos. Though Delia’s office has slowly improved since she started handing tasks off to Bree, it seems that today is an exception.
Bright red tulle and polka dot scarves are strewn around the room. There are paper lanterns and boxes of fairy lights spread across the ground. A feather boa adorns the aerial photo behind Delia’s desk. The frog figurine has a tiny black hat.
“Can we help with anything?” Bree asks tentatively, assessing the sheer amount of fabric.
Delia looks up from the floor where she’s sitting with her legs spread open, hand sewing red fabric with a scowl. “Oh, hello Noah. It’s this darned roaring twenties party this weekend. If I could just get this table runner back together. I knew last year’s Moulin Rouge party got out of hand, but how did this even happen?”
Delia holds up the table runner in frustration and I see the problem. There’s an irregular hole directly in the center.
Almost instantly, Bree straightens next to me. “Maybe this can work to our advantage.”
“How do you mean?” Delia asks, her irritation apparent.
Bree steps forward and grabs the fabric delicately.
I cross my arms and watch her in action. I have full trust in whatever she’s got in mind.
“This’ll go on the food table, right?” she says. “What if we place the cake on a cake stand in the middle of the hole—”
“So it looks like the cake is raised on a red velvet pedestal,” Delia finishes the thought.
I half-smile while Delia stares at us through the hole. Her face relaxes into a beaming grin. “Brilliant, Bree! Once again, your idea takes the cake. Oh ha!”
Delia bursts into booming laughter. My heart is full of pride as I watch Bree shyly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for her smile. I can’t imagine feeling for anyone else what I feel for her.
Bree signs out of work and grabs my hand, pulling me towards the staff lot.
“We have to hurry!” She smiles with a twinkle in her eye. “I have a surprise!”
“Can I get a hint?”
“It involves fruit roll-ups.”
“That’s not much of a surprise.”
With Bree’s directions, we make our way towards the National Park. The air is electric. I beg Bree to tell me what the surprise is but she keeps her mouth shut. We reach the edge of the storm and the rain falls in sheets. I expertly turn on the windshield wipers.
“You’re getting good at that.” She laughs.
“Practice makes perfect.”
The first strike of lightning flashes. Thunder booms. We sit in silence, captivated by the scene. Each storm is different, beautiful in its own way. Experiencing them with Bree makes everything sweeter.
“Okay, ready?” Her expression is impish. She kicks off her shoes and dives into the backseat. She lowers the seats, revealing a stack of pillows and blankets, along with a box or two of fruit roll-ups. She lays out the blankets and grabs her computer from the pile, setting it up in the middle.
“Just like when we were kids.” She pats the spot next to her self-consciously.
I lay next to her on the blankets. She sets the computer in front of us and presses play. The title of a scary movie appears on the screen. Her face glows red with the color on the screen and I’m filled with a familiar feeling. Bree Lewis is the most amazing person I’ve ever met. When I’m with her, possibilities feel endless and the most mundane things feel exciting.
The truth is, I love her. I love everything about her — from her hilarious PJs, to her intelligence, to her dance moves. She inspires me every day, with a smile or a laugh or a wink.
A flash of lightning almost blinds me. Seconds later, a loud crash of thunder booms and Bree shrieks. The thunder goes on and on. When I open my eyes, Bree is curled against me, hugging her knees, and my arms are wrapped tight around her.
“If only a movie could scare me like that,” she says, fear in her voice.
“Well, you know I’ll always be here to protect you.”
The words are a joke but they’re actually true. Bree quiets and tilts her head to look at me. I gaze into her beautiful eyes, losing myself in them.
“I love you, Bree.” There it is, plain and simple. “You’re everything to me and you always have been. Even my mom knew it.”
Bree cuddles further into me.
I kiss the top of her head. “You bring me to life, you make me want to do things I’ve only ever dreamed of doing. You’ve flipped my world right-side up and you’ve changed me forever. I can’t imagine a day without you.”
She runs her fingers through my hair. She does it often and the gesture is insanely comforting.
“You are something else,” she whispers. “I didn’t think people like you existed — especially for a girl like me. You’re my home, Noah, you’ve always been my home. I love you, too.”
Her voice breaks with the force of her smile. My heart might explode and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I will always love her. She brings her hand to the back of my neck and I lean in to kiss her. Our lips meet. This is the start of the rest of our lives.
44
Bree
“A severe weather warning is in effect in the County of Bonnyton, forty-five miles west of Edendale…”
I turn up the volume on my portable radio. That’s not far from here. The automated voice describes the possibility of heavy rainfall, lighting and thunder.
In other words, my bread and butter. My stomach flip-flops in anticipation of seeing Noah when our shifts are over. It’s another great night for a storm — whether we choose to leave the Inn on another road trip, or stay here and watch a horror movie in the loft. My favorite is when he tells me a scary story while the rain falls on the roof.
An elegant older woman sweeps into reception.
“Bonjour.” She places her passport on the desk dramatically. “I would like to check in. Mme. Dubois.”
“Let me help.” I open the rooming list. The portable radio is blaring weather updates and I hastily turn it down. “Mme. Dubois, you’re staying with us for a couple of weeks. Where are you visiting from?”
“Paris, of course.”
I smile cordially. “I was thinking of going there.”
Mme. Dubois purses her ruby red lips. “Whatever you do, don’t come in the summer. Far too many tourists! You won’t be able to appreciate the beauty of the city.”
I laugh, choosing to ignore the fact that I would be one of those dreaded tourists. I swiftly finish checking her in and she leaves with a passing “adieu.”
An uncomfortable feeling nags at me. I’d forgotten about the plan that I had just two months ago — live in Paris to piss off my parents. That was the future I saw for myself.
Since that time, it’s like I’ve entered another life. At Legacy, I’ve discovered a new side of myself. I’ve grown and flourished on my own terms. The staff are close friends and I take ownership of my role and solve problems.
The reception runs like a dream and Delia’s stress levels have decreased steadily as she’s trusted me with more tasks. Coordinating the events and celebrations is my favorite part of the job. Whether it’s placing paper butterflies on a baby shower banner, or a red bowtie on a quinceañera cake, adding a unique twist is one of my favorite things to do.
Aside from spending time with No
ah. We’ve been together for a month and a half and, every day, I fall for him a little more. I’ve never felt so happy to be myself, to explore what I want to do and how I want to do it. His quiet, tentative nature brings me down to earth. For the first time, I understand how people can spend years with someone without getting bored.
I try to rid myself of the nagging feeling threatening to spoil my current happiness. I leave the mail in Delia’s office and, on a whim, I check the Wall behind the door. The lovely pink cowboy hat sits untouched and unruffled. Delia has cycled through a few cowboy hats this summer, but I haven’t seen her wear this one.
I return to my desk and turn up the volume on the radio.
“You lovely girl.” Delia dances into reception carrying a bike helmet, a sandwich, and a lightbulb. “I ran into Mme Dubois and she raved on and on about you. I didn’t know you could speak French!”
“Un petit peu.” Delia stares at me with a confused expression on her face. I burst out laughing. “A little bit!”
“You have done exceptionally well this summer, my girl.” She swoops into her office, her brown cowboy hat tipped backwards on her head and her green dress reminiscent of peacock feathers. She swoops back out again with her hands behind her back. “I think it’s about time you were rewarded for your work.”
With a flair, Delia whips her hands around. She holds my favorite pink cowboy hat.
“What?” I gurgle.
“This is for you!” She places the hat on my head. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done. I know you have a bright and exciting future ahead of you, but should you ever choose to go into the Inn business, you have my vote.”
I blush and give her a warm smile. For every time that my parents have ordered me to run the Inn one day, never have I truly considered it as a real possibility.
“I know I’ve said this a few times,” Delia continues. “But you do remind me of myself. You’ve grown up so much this summer and have come so far. I know your parents would be proud.”
Delia exudes warmth and kindness but my smile falters. The nagging feeling returns. Right, my parents. The two people I’ve ignored all summer. Isla and I have kept in contact so they know I’m alive, but that’s the extent of our communications.
“Thank you.” My voice is robotic.
Delia squeezes my hands and sets off, leaving the reception in a hurry. I stay where I am, letting the uncomfortable moment settle over me. In two weeks, I’ll be back in Edendale, back at school, back at our house. I can’t fight a very persistent, unappealing thought. If I make my parents proud, won’t they forget about me?
I try to stand strong, but doubt consumes me. What am I doing here? Is any of this real? Is this truly who I am, or am I just acting out who I wish I could be?
I picture this pathetic caricature. A flighty, irresponsible girl of sixteen, standing alone in the reception of a mountain Inn wearing a frivolous pink cowboy hat. Playing pretend. Playing like she belongs.
The music changes on the radio.
No, let’s not go there. It’s fine, everything’s fine.
I center the hat firmly on my head and sit at my desk. But the computer screen blurs.
What am I doing at Legacy Inn?
45
Noah
It’s an unusually quiet afternoon and Fernando and Carrie let me go early. I hang up my apron, thinking of Bree. These past couple of months have been nothing short of amazing. I feel like we could spend forever together. She’s my future, just like we’ve fit into each others’ pasts.
For the first time in years, I’m making time for the things — and people — I love. I’ve written over half of my book. I write after our dates, before work, or in the loft while she’s sleeping and a scary movie plays in the background. I have time when I’m with her.
I barge into reception, smiling.
Bree looks up in shock and her pink cowboy hat almost flies off.
“That’s a great look!” I say.
She smiles and I can’t look away. One glance from her can take me down.
“Thanks.” Her voice is distant. Instead of signing out for the day, Bree remains at her desk, her brow furrowed.
“Ready to go?” I watch her face carefully.
She blinks a few times like she’s been snapped out of a dream and shifts her papers around. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a nervous tick, an avoidance technique.
But then, she looks at me and her expression brightens. “Let’s do it!”
She gathers her things, chattering about her morning. I file away her strange behavior — I must’ve imagined it. She comes around the desk and I grab her hand, but it hangs limply in mine. I try to catch her eye, but she heads towards the door.
“Come on, Sawyer! We don’t have all day.”
We reach Garth and Bree carelessly tosses her cowboy hat into the backseat. I frown. Something is definitely off. The hat means everything to her and her throwing it away is definitely a red flag. We get on the road and silence falls between us. She stares out the window at the passing trees, her hands clasped in her lap.
“Everything okay?” I ask hesitantly.
“Of course!” Her voice is bright. Too bright.
“You can talk to me, you know.”
“Always do.”
But the car remains silent. We turn onto the gravel road and I park. Bree stares out the window without making any moves to open the door and I wait patiently, wondering if she’ll open up.
She turns towards me and her eyes are guarded. “Do you think I’m too irresponsible?”
Her voice is careful, like she’s been rehearsing the words in her head.
The question trips me up. I know my answer matters — a lot. What is it that she wants to hear? I opt for the truth.
“No,” I say slowly, “I think you’re exciting and carefree. I love that about you.”
Her eyes go dark. Without a word, she turns back towards the window and my stomach twists into a knot.
I don’t think that was the answer she was looking for.
46
Noah
A rose detaches from the wreath, hitting me on the cheek. With a touch of frustration, I attempt to re-attach the flower. The thorns poke me viciously as I stick the tape around the stem. I pull my fingers away and I get a sliver from the exposed wood.
I glare at the wreath — what a piece of work.
It’s a Saturday and I’m spending my shift in the games room, attaching flowers to a wreath for a wedding. But, I’m working with Bree, so I don’t mind.
“This rose really pricked a fight,” I say with a half-smile.
Bree isn’t looking at me or at the rose that tried to decapitate me. She’s staring determinedly at the flowers she’s tying to the wreath, her face blank and her eyes unfocused.
The gnawing feeling in my stomach grows stronger. I’ve been trying all morning to get some reaction out of her.
When she asked me to help earlier, I couldn’t say no. She looked so impassive, it was just another hint that something is bothering her. I was hoping to talk to her now, but she’s distant.
Nath enters the room and drops another heaping basket of flowers on the table.
“Thanks, Nath.” Bree mutters distractedly.
“Y’all had better use these flowers for good! They’re my pride and joy.”
“You better be-leaf it!” I quip. Not my best work.
While Nath gives me a light, sympathetic giggle, Bree continues working.
I hold back a sigh. For the past few days, her mind has been elsewhere. She rarely visits the kitchen, and Fernando and Carrie exchange worried looks when they think I’m not paying attention. I go to reception on my breaks to spend time with her, but she insists she’s too busy and sends me away. On top of that, we haven’t been storm chasing in days.
“I’ve heard that you two have been gallivanting all around the area,” Nath says to me warmly as Bree works. At least I’m not the only one s
he’s ignoring. “Have you any plans for the rest of your day?”
Nath’s expression is friendly and open, but she shoots a worried glance towards Bree.
I force a smile. “We’re headed to the meadow.”
“The one towards Edendale? Your mom loved to bring you kids there.”
“I remember,” I say. “She used to make us sandwiches while we ran around the meadow and climbed the cliffs. I think she liked it there because we tired ourselves out.”
Nath pats me on the shoulder. I don’t mind talking about my mom anymore. It feels good to remember her.
“Both of you will be going… Bree?” Nath’s question hangs in the air and we turn to Bree.
“Wha?” she mumbles, coming down to earth. “Yeah, yeah. The meadow.”
With that eloquent answer, she returns to what she was doing. Nath offers me a sad smile and places her hand on my shoulder.
“Talk to her. She feels safe with you,” she whispers.
Nath leaves the room and my eyes travel over Bree’s face while she continues to tape the stems. She’s wearing jean shorts and a black top today, her hair in a cute bun. But there are dark circles under her eyes and a crease in her brow.
Something is bothering her and I want to find out what. But, I also know Bree. I can’t push her too hard or I might lose her forever.
47
Bree
“The alternator’s out.” Noah wipes his hands on a cloth and tucks it into his back pocket before closing the hood. He leans forward on Garth and every arm muscle pops.
The Complete Legacy Inn Collection: Four Sweet YA Romances Page 12