Page 4 of Dream a Little Dream

“Well, the good news is that Dreamer’s Bay has been welcoming new people from far and wide since that special aired on the Travel Channel. More queer women are surely marching into town in curvy little lines as we speak.”

One year ago, our very own small city had been featured onSmall Towns of America, in which seven towns were heavily showcased and explored. They’d included visits to Amazin’ Glazin’, the donut shop, Bountiful Park, and even the grocery store I proudly managed: Festive Foods. Since then, people had arrived in seasonally driven spurts from all over. Some to buy and put down roots, driving up property values. But the majority were short-term visitors, staying for a week at a time to soak up the small-town culture before heading back to their big-city lives. The infusion of new people had been fortuitous and profitable for everyone, and the influx showed no signs of slowing down.

I glanced at my watch and grinned. “Any time now, right? Cue the lesbian stampede. Please, God?” And then I went still, struck by one of my fruitless moments of genius. “‘The Lesbian Stampede’ sounds like a great title for a folk song.”

Jonathan nodded. “I’ll tell Linda the Lesbian from the movie theater. She loves a good open mic night.”

“Not sure anything will top her last song, ‘Sinfully Sapphic Stephanie.’”

“God. Nor should it,” he said seriously. “Stephanie and her sinful ways will always haunt me.” He leveled a gaze and sighed. “And I do meanhaunt.”

Jonathan was dry in his judgment, also known as wonderful. The best kind of friend.

“I can affirm that it was quite the night at Ronnie Roo’s. I’m not sure we want to feed Linda any more titles.”

I ran a fingertip across the gray and white marble counter, coated in a notable layer of dust. Time for a house-wide scrub down. I’d call Elizabeth Draper at On the Spot, the odd jobs company, and see if she had any part-timers who could tackle a deep clean. There were two housecleaning businesses in town, but Elizabeth was a good friend, and I liked using her services whenever possible. We were three years apart in high school, and I’d spent much of my freshman year looking up to Elizabeth, a senior then, and wanting to be as much of a go-getter as she was. It was impossible, but I tried anyway. In fact, I owed a lot of my successes to role models like her. I harnessed ambition like a lifeline and usually figured out how to achieve my goals as I went, which in hindsight seemed out of order. But I preferred to be self-taught and relied on myself as much as possible. There were no guarantees in life. I’d learned at eleven years old to not count on tomorrow being the same as today. Jonathan thought I had trust issues because of losing my parents so young. He was often accurate, but there was no need to encourage him.

“Charleston, huh? Savanna in the City.”

I scrunched my shoulders to my ears. “I have a feeling this trip is going to make a big difference. I don’t know what it is, but it feels like an important step on my way to…something.”

“Then it will be.”

Chapter Two

The City

As much as I loved small-town life, the big city got my blood going. The constant movement most anywhere you looked, the hum of conversation, the angry traffic, the amazing aromas wafting from restaurants, and the idea that something important was happening around every corner made me feel like I was on the edge of my seat for a really amazing show.

The seminar turned out to be more of a conference with an entire day’s worth of classes on various topics. I soaked up information in sessions covering: amenities that will set your property apart from the competition, knowing your rights as host, and pricing your property for maximum earnings. I was a happy little sponge, taking notes down the side of my pages, energized by the collective vibe of the room. I’d always thrived at the hospitality side of my job, greeting customers, learning their buying preferences, and developing relationships that made them want to come back time and time again. Now I had the chance to apply those same skills to this new venture, and that made me want to dance on top of one of those cocktail tables at the back of the room.

After eight long hours, separated only by a quick half turkey sandwich and a shaken espresso with oat milk (okay, two), I headed up to my room for a quick shower before dinner somewhere downtown. I had a couple of restaurants in mind, having researched the surrounding area like a burglar planning a job. I loved food in all forms and was not about to miss out on the opportunity to sample some of Charleston’s most talked about options. Give me the little plates of all the things, a craft cocktail, and a view of something unique and I’m as happyas a penguin with a personal iceberg. It’s one of the reasons I loved working for the grocery store. Surrounded by all of that fresh produce, interesting ingredients, and a variety of interesting customers to study made me thrilled to get to work each day.

After selecting a pair of dark blue jeans and a long-sleeved red blouse that set off the highlights in my hair, I made one quick change to my outfit. I dumped my standard brown boots for off-red pumps because I was in a big city, and why not? Tonight should feel special after such a successful day.

Currently, my mouth watered. There was a much-regaled restaurant just three blocks away, known for their handmade pastas and creative desserts. I was hoping to unwind with a dirty martini and the short rib pappardelle at the bar. Maybe I’d partake in a little people watching between noodles. Woot! I was on a high just thinking about the carb buzz when I caught the flowy side of my blouse in the hotel room door as I exited my room. I paused and stared, unable to move forward. That was a new one. Okay, okay, not a problem. I’d just grab it and give it a pull. Except it didn’t budge, and I certainly didn’t want to rip my new favorite top, purchased for the trip specifically and out of my normal price range of under $40. I turned to my crossbody bag for my keycard only to find that in my haste to get to the pasta, my crossbody bag had been woefully forgotten inside.Crimson and clover!I exhaled loudly and peered down the empty hallway for any benevolent human who might be willing to assist a trapped, carb-starved woman. When a door somewhere behind me opened as if hearing my thoughts, I jumped in happy surprise.

“Thank God. Hello? Excuse me,” I said to the brunette with the thick ponytail and long bangs swept to the side. Impressive, the finesse of that swoop, but I didn’t have time to get into it. My expensive top and martini-evening hung in the balance.

“Hi,” she said, breaking into a smile that came with a question mark. She scanned the scene as she moved closer. “Well, this is certainly interesting. Are you…stuck?” She squinted trying to make sense of me, the door, and our Velcro status.

“Yes. Woefully.” This was now embarrassing. Did my happenstance savior have to be beautiful? What were the odds that the one person to witness me in this predicament would look like her? My face went hot.Stop that now. I shoved my thoughts to the side and focused on my mission, not the gorgeous dimple on her right cheek. “Would you have a phone I could borrow to call the front desk?” I asked.

“Sure, but do you have your key?” This brunette was astute. She also had big aquamarine eyes that could lean either green or blue depending on interpretation. Taller than me. Not important. But God, yes, itwas. I could wrap my arms around her neck and go up on my tiptoes and—Cease and desist.

“No. That’s the additional dilemma.” I indicated the room behind me with a toss of my head. “I left my bag inside, probably scared and alone.”

“Well, that’s the most tragic thing.” She crossed her arms in thought. It was a leisurely move that I liked very much. Her, leisurely. Me, watching. “So, you were sitting here, stuck and stranded, hoping someone would come along.”

“Yes. And just like magic, you have.”

She lifted her shoulders and a remarkable smile blossomed. “That’s me. Tada.” She pulled her phone from her bag and scrolled. “Now, let’s see if we can get you good and saved.” She offered her phone. “I pulled up the number. Just activate the call.”

I accepted the phone with the sleek blue case and connected with the front desk, explained my predicament, and requested help as if this was the most casual occurrence in the world. I could pretend if I wanted to. After a sympathetic apology and muffled laugh, the front desk attendant assured me someone was on the way. “All will be well soon, Ms. Potter. I’m sending someone with a key.”

“Thank you so much,” I said serenely, slid off the call, and handed the phone back to my attractive savior. “They’re on their way.”

“Great. So, besides the obvious snag, how’s your day been?”

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