Page 3 of Heart & Hope

She steps out into the central garden that sits between our high-rise and the next.

“You can tone it down in Montana. I’m assigning you to an inn opening. It’s been taken over by new ownership. And the owners want a stellar event to bring in commercial backers and then a grand opening for the public to fill the books for the following six to twelve months.”

I know I’m staring now. And the elevator door slams into my side where I jerked to a halt at the word Montana. It hits my shoe. Fuck. I jump from the doorway and vent a string of curses as I bend down to brush the scuffed side of my heel. When the mark doesn’t budge, I suck in a breath.

Okay, stay calm.

Maybe Olive is right?

Fuck that elevator door right into hell.

“Ruby?”

“If you want me to resign, just say so, Olive.”

She rubs the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes briefly. “No, that’s not what I want. I want you to succeed; you are a diamond in the event space. But at this level, you will end up crushed under the pressure of everything. You need perspective, hon. I’m handing it to you in the form of a small-town country inn. It’s a challenge. Not a punishment. I want you to find something else you love, workaholism aside.”

I count each breath that comes in. Not in the habit of burning essential bridges, I nod before thefuck youthat is sitting right there on my tongue flies out of my mouth.

Olive steps toward me in her gaudy, generic beige pumps that trim out her black pencil skirt and sheer pale pink top. “I will see you in three months. And the next time I look at this pretty face, it will be wrapped in that megawatt smile I know is in there somewhere.”

I try to find it. To prove to her that all this is a wild goose chase. A waste of my time, and her best planner to Hicksville.

But I can’t.

And it kills me to know she’s right.

I don’t remember the last time I smiled at work. Or on a weekday, actually.

Structure. Rigid, unbending structure has been hammered into me since I was a little girl. I wasn’t aware there was another way of working. If Olive thinks I can hunt it down in the mountainous west, who am I to argue? I mean, Adds will be there. How big is Montana, anyway?

“Fine, one stint in redneck world and one megawatt smile, and then I’m hightailing it back to the city,” I say to her.

She smiles at me as if there’s something she knows that I have to go figure out.

Fuck you, Olive.

I will find out what it is.

Montana, here I come.

At my desk, I take a moment to wonder at the glittering city outside before plucking my phone. I tap out a text to Adds before letting my phone fall onto the glass.

Guess who’s coming to Hicksville, babes. Ugh. See you soon.

The rental Mercedes rolls into the driveway of the Heritage Inn in the heart of Great Falls, Montana. And I jerk, snapping a foot onto the break when I remember I’m driving, not a passenger. It is not what I expected.

At all.

The impressive building is elegant and upper class. I slide the car into park and kill the engine, pushing open the door. Stilettos clicking on the stone-paved driveway, I head into the reception area.

I gasp, taking in the grand entrance. It’s all rustic yet gorgeous, oversized brass chandeliers and shining marble floor. Again, I was not expecting this. In the middle of some redneck town. But here we are.

When I reach the back of the enormous room and step up to the long, polished wood counter, I meet a bright-eyed young girl, maybe five years younger than me. I’m sure she couldn’t be any older than twenty-two. Brunette curls frame her face, her dark eyes studying my clothes. She reminds me of Addy a little.

“Checking in, ma’am?”

Ugh. I’m not that old. “Yes, and it’s Miss Robbins.”

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