The Complete Legacy Inn Collection: Four Sweet YA Romances

by Sara Jane Woodley

  Mom: Working late, sorry sweetie. I left a frozen lasagna from Colman’s in the fridge. Directions are on the back. I should be home before you go to bed. Love you.

  Too late for lasagna.

  I toss my phone onto the counter, rolling my eyes. I didn’t actually expect her to be here tonight, but I’m still disappointed. As the COO of Echo Home Builders, my mom is always mid-project, finishing projects, or dreaming up new projects. It would’ve been nice to have a last dinner together before I go away for three months.

  Sebastian ambles to the center of the kitchen and dramatically flops to his side.

  “Looks like you’re my dinner date again.” I poke his belly with my foot. He instinctively stretches out his claws and clutches my sock. After a brief skirmish, I pull away.

  Glancing towards the dining table, I spot an issue of Glacier Journal lying open from yesterday. I shove it to the floor.

  I’d received my rejection letter earlier today.

  The Glacier Journal is a major publication in our town. Their features and editorials are circulated and shared around the world. In their last issue, they had a riveting six-page feature on a climbing expedition to Glacier National Park. The photos were unbelievable. I’m lucky to live in one of the most beautiful areas of Montana — or so people tell me — and the Glacier Journal is at the forefront of the tourism industry around here. Getting my photos published in their magazine would’ve been a massive step-up for me.

  Awards, photo prints, and framed originals adorn the walls of our house — all work I’ve done over the years. This past year, I even had a couple photos featured in our town’s gazette. I win awards for photography with our school’s newspaper every year. Actually, this year’s award sits heavily at the bottom of my backpack. The photo was a particularly engaging shot that went viral in my high school — or as viral as can be in Edendale. And, as with anything that goes viral, it caused a few problems, which I choose to ignore.

  I applied for Glacier thinking that I’d be a shoo-in. I sent them my best and brightest photos taken around the area. Once, I set up my camera as a storm rolled in and captured photos as the storm hit. Unfortunately, the rain came much sooner than expected, and I squelched home as wet as if I’d showered fully clothed. The other photo I sent was of a herd of elk. I sat in my car for 10 straight hours, waiting for the shot, sustained by Pepsi and Nacho Cheese Doritos.

  Glacier Journal was the first major magazine I’d applied to. And it fell flat, to my utter disappointment.

  I finish making my mac and cheese, then take a seat at the table. My dinner date, Sebastian, remains on the floor, snoring gently. I dig into my bowl of steaming mac and cheese and flip open the Legacy Inn’s marketing brochure, perusing the photos. They aren’t bad photos by any stretch of the imagination, they just seem outdated.

  I chuckle at a photo of a big fish and remember my conversation with Ava earlier today.

  “You? Going out in nature?” Ava laughed and closed her locker for the last time this year. She lugged her violin in one hand and the rest of her gear in her other hand.

  “Is that so hard to believe? Wait. Don’t answer that.” I grabbed Ava’s violin while she juggled the rest of her stuff. Ava is my best friend at Edendale High School. We have a similar love for art — me for photography, her for music.

  “Legacy Inn is my chance to strengthen my portfolio,” I said as we walked the halls. “It’s surrounded by lakes, forests, mountains, all that outdoor stuff. I’ll be able to take some killer nature shots!”

  Ava laughed again, her curly hair bouncing with every step. “Says the girl who only visits the mountains on an annual basis.”

  “What’s the rush? It’s not like they’re going anywhere.” I smirk, but I know she’s right. “I’ll visit the mountains everyday if it means becoming a photographer and getting the chance to travel the world. Plus, there’ll be weddings and events. Av, think of the floofy white dresses.”

  Ava snorts. “The girl who loves the indoors and despises formal wear is heading out for a summer of mountains and marriages.”

  “Mountains, marriages, and photography. Don’t forget the most important part.”

  Photos are my everything.

  I scrape the bottom of the bowl to catch the last piece of lingering macaroni. I’ll miss Ava when I go to Legacy Inn, but I know she’ll be busy with band camp this summer. All she has are her big dreams and violin, but when you have determination like hers, that’s all you need.

  I flip through the Inn’s brochure again, my anticipation building. The Legacy Inn and it’s surrounding area are stunning, even if the photos in the brochure are outdated. I can only imagine the amazing lifestyle and nature shots I’ll be taking this summer with my pro camera. Glacier will be knocking down my door for photos.

  Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life.

  I’m counting down the minutes.

  2

  Jonathan

  “This is your chance to shine, Jonathan,” Dad’s voice reverberates around our dining room table.

  I have one piece of pasta left on my plate and I shift it around in circles, gazing at it as though watching the best soccer match of the season. Usually, these dinners go by quickly if I keep my head down and nod frequently. I tune in and out of the conversation, knowing that the topic is about me but doesn’t necessarily include me.

  “Alan, he knows that.” Mom flips her blonde bobbed hair over her shoulder. She’s still wearing her work clothes. The meal feels more like a college interview than a family dinner. And I would know, with all the training they’ve been putting me through. “He’ll work hard at soccer camp this summer. Won’t you, Jonathan?”

  “Definitely,” I say robotically. I toss the final piece of pasta into my mouth. The cheesy pasta dish we had for dinner was a “reward” for all of my hard work on my school’s soccer team.

  Mom whipped up the meal while she was ranting about how summer training camps groom high schoolers for college soccer. When I got home, I didn’t have time to drop my backpack in my room, or tell her about my last day of school. My parents are determined to make sure I’m ready for training camp tomorrow. Apparently, this means emphasizing how much this will change everything and set the course of my life in a new and exciting direction. They’ve memorized the marketing material verbatim.

  “All I’m saying is that, if you do well, we could be looking at a phenomenal scholarship. You had a great junior year — state champion MVP. But this is the next step. Show them what you can do as a midfielder and you’ll get a full-ride at the best colleges in the country.”

  With the amount of times I’ve heard my dad say this over the past month, I’m starting to think I’m living the movie Groundhog Day.

  Meanwhile, he has pasta stuck in his mustache and I’m keeping tabs to see when it falls off.

  My acceptance letter for Momentum Soccer Camp came in the mail a month ago, and my parents have hardly spoken of anything else since. The past few weeks have been all about Momentum and how this is my big break. There was one day that we didn’t speak about Momentum, but it was only because my parents were fawning over our win in the State Finals. The Edendale Eagles brought home the gold once again.

  The funny thing? I never applied for Momentum — my parents applied for me. If I had my pick, I would have done any number of things this summer that did not involve soccer. My love for soccer died around the time my junior coach mentioned I had a future in the sport and my parents started forcing me into regular 6am workouts.

  Given their excitement, I didn’t want to let them down by opting not to go to Momentum. So I said I’d go. And I meant it.

  At least, I did until three days ago.

  A break comes in their conversation about the glory of Momentum, and I take advantage of the silence. I jump up from the table, clear my plate and put it in the dishwasher, then grab my backpack off the counter.

  “Going to my room.” I swipe a chocolate bar from my mom’s h
idden stash. I’m supposed to regulate sugar intake, and my mom is monitoring my diet for optimal performance, but there’s only so much grilled chicken and broccoli a guy can take.

  The chocolate bar is out of the wrapper and in my mouth before I even make it to my bedroom. I close my eyes and savor the rich taste, grateful that I can have as many cheat days as I want this summer.

  My room is sparkling clean and my suitcase is open on my bed, soccer cleats carefully positioned on top. Looks like Mom got a head start.

  With a sigh, I open my phone and see a message from Troy, my best friend.

  Troy: Yo, have you told your parents?

  Jonathan: No way. Dad’s head would explode and Mom would launch into her classic “after everything we’ve done for you” guilt trip. No thanks. As far as you know, I’m at Momentum this summer.

  Troy: K, have a good time bro, keep in touch.

  I stash my phone and haphazardly stuff clothes into my suitcase. I fold my soccer jersey, cleats and other gear nicely on top, in case my mom opens my suitcase later. I know my parents mean well, but the next three months can’t come fast enough.

  Troy is the only one who knows where I’m going this summer. He’s the best defender on the Edendale Eagles, and he’s planning on applying for Momentum next year. This summer, he’s sticking around town and doing recon for me, making sure no one finds out my secret.

  As my parents said, I am leaving tomorrow.

  But what they don’t know is that I won’t be going to Momentum Soccer Camp.

  3

  Kiara

  The rumble of the bus lulls me into a daydream. I left the house early this morning to catch the first bus out of town. Now, looking out the window, music blaring through my headphones, the landscape changes before my eyes. The city of Edendale gives way to the foothills, and the foothills to mountains. Periodically, I lift my camera to my face and snap a photo of the scenery.

  An hour later, I’m standing in a rustic cabin at the secluded Legacy Inn.

  If you can call it a cabin. It’s a small A-frame structure with a bed, a dresser, a desk and two big windows with blackout curtains. It’s so cozy, I took photos of the cabin before moving in. Nothing like minimalistic Montana decor.

  It takes me all of 15 minutes to unpack my bags and make myself at home. I change into my jean shorts and an old T-shirt before layering on the bug spray and sunscreen.

  I step onto my tiny balcony and assess the small community I’ve joined. Six cabins are set up in a semicircle near the edge of the grounds. Five students are coming this summer, so the sixth cabin is likely an office or storage space. Three of the cabins have their doors open, meaning that three students from Edendale have already moved in.

  “Please don’t let them be chatty,” I mutter to myself.

  There are about 500 students in my grade at Edendale High School. While I know everyone by their faces, I make a point not to know them on a personal level. Putting down roots in Edendale has never been a part of the plan. In recent years, I have made only one exception — Ava. And she’s the only exception I intend to make.

  I skip down the steps leading to my cabin and stroll along the gravel path that leads to the main building. Despite the threat of bugs, it’s a lovely spot. Flowers line the path and little copses of trees create a sense of seclusion. The trickling of a creek in the background adds to the serene ambiance.

  A pink wildflower stands through the gravel, the color vibrant compared to the surrounding grey. I kneel to take a photo.

  The Inn looms in front of me. It’s a magnificent 2-level structure made entirely of rich redwood and built to resemble a gigantic log cabin. Two wings with guest rooms shoot off from either side of the main building. The main building itself has big, sleek windows and a large open-air balcony. On the lower level, the porch opens onto a beautiful garden with an outdoor bar.

  The garden weddings must be wonderful. I walk tentatively through the garden and note the beautiful flowers in pots all around. A lady tending to the flowers waves at me, a friendly smile on her face, and I hesitantly wave back.

  The whole place buzzes with energy, fueling my mission to find Delia, the Inn’s manager. She told me to come and find her after unpacking my stuff. I walk over the porch and into the Inn, bypassing the man and woman playfully bickering about a broken panel on the deck.

  Inside the Inn, I wander through the games room before finding my way upstairs to the event room. Finally, I spot a slim woman with work jeans, a colorful top, and hair pulled into a tight white bun. She’s speaking to one of the chefs.

  “A cheeseburger taco? I LOVE IT! Feature them in the July menu, please and thank you, Fernando.” Delia gestures wildly as she speaks. The chef — Fernando? — ducks under one of her waving hands and disappears towards the kitchen.

  “Delia?” My voice is timid. I clear my throat and stand straight, remembering what my mom taught me about appearing confident even when you don’t feel it. I try again. “All unpacked!”

  Delia whips around, her hands flying through the air.

  I duck. It’s a good thing — if I hadn’t, Delia would’ve accidentally slapped me.

  “Ah, yes! Kira.”

  “It’s Ki-ara, actually.”

  “That’s the one. Come!” Delia abruptly turns, making a beeline for the balcony. “We are in dire need of a strong pair of hands.”

  I jog after Delia as she strides across the event room floor. She can’t be younger than 50, but I’m practically out of breath trying to keep up. She maneuvers through the tables with the grace of a swan while I stumble along with the grace of a four-year-old trying to wear their mom’s high heels.

  Delia stops abruptly by the far wall, which is made almost entirely of windows.

  “Is that a spot?” She peers at one of the panes and rubs her thumb over the glass. I’m not sure if she’s speaking to me. She leans in closer and I almost lean in with her before she pops back up again. “I’ll get Vin on that right away.”

  Delia opens the door onto the massive balcony and strides outside with me in tow. “So, Kira-”

  “Ki-ara.”

  “Do you see that gazebo down there?” She points to a gathering of trees in the distance.

  “Not quite?” I squint to see through the trees.

  “Ah, it’s down there.” She swats her hand in the general direction of the gazebo. “We need to hang some fairy lights in the gazebo in preparation for tonight’s Welcome Bash.”

  Her green eyes sparkle over her half-moon glasses and a smile comes over my face. This lady is chaotic, but in the best way.

  “Right, the Welcome Bash.” I’m not looking forward to the event, but I know it will be an opportunity to take photos of everyone milling about and celebrating.

  “It’s all hands on deck here, my dear!” Delia casts a glance over the grounds of the Inn. “The fairy lights are just down by the gazebo. All you have to do is hang them up. Okay? Okay. If you have any questions, just pull me or Vin aside. Now Vin… where did he go?”

  As dramatically as Delia first appeared, she strides off, back into the event room.

  Blindsided by the Inn manager’s energy, I take a moment to gaze out over the grounds. The gathering of trees — where the gazebo should be — is right next to the lake.

  Guests must spend their days canoeing or rafting on the lake before coming back to shore and relaxing on the private beach. A pathway snakes along the lakeshore, continuing around the periphery of Legacy Lake. In the distance, white mountain peaks jut elegantly towards the sky.

  It must be such a cool place to spend a summer. A bolt of excitement flies through me as I realize that this very spot might hold the key to my future.

  4

  Kiara

  After almost getting lost trying to exit the Inn, I finally emerge onto the porch. I stroll through the garden, smiling at the lady with the flowerpots, and head towards the lake.

  By the shore, I spot a girl I recognize from school — I think h
er name is Anaya. She’s standing next to the dock, looking lost. I give her a little wave and she waves back.

  The trees by the lake all look the same to me. After looking back and forth for some clarity, I catch sight of a sign and thank my lucky stars. Goodness knows I have no sense of direction.

  I follow the signs all the way to the dainty white gazebo by the lake. The gravel path continues past the gazebo and I realize that this is the path I took to enter the grounds. It will take a lot of work not to get lost here. My head is already spinning.

  A cardboard box sits next to the gazebo, with tangled fairy lights inside. There are hooks around the ceiling, and I decide to take some creative liberties with hanging the lights.

  I stand on my tiptoes to hang a strand of lights, but I’m too short. I’m comfortable with my height of 5’7”, but it won’t do me any good today.

  There’s a step ladder off to the side, and, with its help, I hang the first string of lights. I make my way around the gazebo, carefully stringing the lights and humming. The final string of lights will require some acrobatics — I want to braid it through the others to create a doily shape.

  I carefully place my camera on the railing. I’m absolutely not going to risk dropping it.

  I climb to the highest level of the stepladder. It wobbles slightly.

  “Careful, Kiara, careful,” I say. I stand on my tiptoes. The lights are almost braided through—

  And that’s when I lose my balance.

  I yelp as my foot rolls, and I slip off the stepladder.

  I tumble towards the balcony railing, holding my hands out instinctively as I fall.

  I brace for impact, squeezing my eyes shut.

  Suddenly, an arm circles my midsection. Shocked, I open my eyes in time to see my hand hit my camera, knocking it off the railing and sending it hurtling towards the ground.