Page 6 of Only Some Stars Fall

“I’ve been in the bathroom trying to wash the wine off my new sandals and inspecting my feet for glass…” She looks up and immediately stops talking when our eyes meet. Her mouth lets out the tiniest gasp and hangs open for a minute too long. My body betrays me, and I feel the slightest stirring below my stomach as my eyes watch those pouty lips. The feeling is quickly replaced with annoyance and panic. Is this my other new waitress? There is no way this girl will be able to handle a serving tray after what I have seen her do to a case of wine.

“Hux, meet my bestie, Everly Burke.”

“Please, don’t tell me you’re also waitressing here?” Once again, the brunette opens her mouth to answer, but nothing of substance comes out.

“Rude! But no, for your information, she is one of thehousekeepers here this summer. Ev is more of a morning person, very much unlike me.”

“What a relief,” I blurt out, throwing the bar rag over my shoulder and walking to the other end of the bar, purposely keeping my distance for the rest of the night.

FOUR

EVERLY

I’ve workedat a snobby country club for years and dealt with every kind of arrogant asshole you can imagine, but I have never in my life dealt with such a stubborn piece of crap like this before ten on a Monday morning.

I kick the washing machine for the third time.Seriously, I have been doing my own laundry my whole life and have a 4.0 GPA. This should not be the hardest part of my day. I look over the washing machine again, which looks like it was bought in the early 1960’s. Rhonda gave me a quick lesson, but the lady must be close to one hundred years old herself, and following her train of thought is a college class I haven’t taken yet.

I slam my hands down on the washer and let out a groan of frustration just as the machine comes to life. Go figure. I walk over to a bulletin board that hangs next to the right of the washers, dryers, and linen shelves. I run my finger down the supply lists and double-check that I have enough sheets, towels, and toiletries. Heading out to the housekeeping golf cart, I feel the sun finally peek out frombehind a cloud.

I’ve always been a morning person, but waking up at five a.m. to be at work for my shift at six a.m. when it feels like winter outside is not what I’m accustomed to. At almost ten, it’s just starting to get bearable outside. I zip my Anderson’s housekeeping jacket up a little higher and pull the sleeves down over my hands. Riding to work this morning on one of Mr. Croft’s bikes, I wondered how we could be only four hours from the Massachusetts border yet feel like we’ve moved to the tundra.

When I left our room, Alex was sprawled out across ninety percent of the bed, lightly snoring. I forgot how terrible she is as a co-sleeper. I’m not joking when I say the girl isn’t an early riser; it’s a miracle if she’s up before lunch. An entire stampede of zebras could come through the room, and she wouldn’t stir. Although I didn’t sleep very comfortably on my sliver of the mattress, I’m still giddy about spending the summer with her.

I really missed her more than I expected.

Luckily, after my terrible first encounter with Hux “I’m a jerk” Anderson on Saturday night, the evening got much better. Mostly because Elle, the other bartender, tended to us while we waited for dinner. I was relieved that he never came to our end of the bar again, but I’ll admit it was hard to keep my eyes off him from afar.

It’s like a car crash. You know you shouldn’t look, but you just can’t help it. My mind was already made up that Hux Anderson was a complete ass, but his actual ass? Inthosejeans? I wondered how old he was. His attitude is more fitting of a grumpy old man, but his blue eyes, slender but strong build, and dirty-blond hair make him look like he belongs on the red carpet.

It apparently wasn’t just me thinking these dirty thoughts, as I noticed a small crowd of women, some much, much older than me, watching his every move. They all had that dreamy, lusty look in their eyes. Clearly, they had never actually spokento the man, or I am sure those glossy-eyed gazes would have disappeared.

We had dinner in the dining room. Even with all the fancy restaurants in the city, this was one of the best meals I’d ever had. The food was simple but cooked to perfection. It didn’t hurt that the conversation was great also, instantly making me feel really comfortable with Alex’s dad. Bill seemed nothing like the picture her mother had always painted. He is engaging and hilarious, giving off a feeling of true sincerity. Watching him watch Alex as she talked about her first year of college, I could see the pride in his eyes, and I knew she could feel it too.

On the drive back to the house, I sensed Alex’s normal state of ease returning. I had meant to ask a little more about Hux when we were getting ready for bed, but I didn’t want to sound too curious, or she might get suspicious. Thankfully, she ended up talking with her dad in the living room until after I had fallen asleep.

Sunday, Alex and I mostly spent the day exploring the town of Silsby and unpacking. I was pleased to find that the local library has an up-to-date inventory, and there was even a charming coffee shop across the street, a place I could see myself holing up in on rainy days.

The weather hit the mid-seventies in the afternoon, which was a welcome surprise. I plunked myself down in the hammock at the end of the dock with a new book and a beer from the small stash Alex brought. I ended up falling asleep before long, while the quiet sound of waves raking the beach lulled me into a dreamless rest. I woke up more refreshed than I think I’ve felt all year.Maybe this trip is what I needed.

That evening, Mr. Croft fired up the grill to cook some delicious steaks. We stayed up late once again, telling stories of our childhood and catching him up on what he had missed. He seems to never tire of hearing about our stupid adolescentadventures, and I could tell hearing about losing my mom made him hurt inside.

Mr. Croft seemed hungry for it all. His smile expressed pure joy while hints of bittersweet emotion flashed through his eyes, depending on the topic. I could tell he knew how much he missed, but I could also see how determined he was to never let it happen again.

Before I even noticed, it was almost midnight, and with work starting at six a.m., I headed to bed to grab a little sleep. My wine disaster aside, I had to admit it had been a relatively smooth adjustment to Silsby.

So far, anyway.

Before drifting off to sleep, I reminded myself that no one knew me here. Well, other than Alex. I can be whomever I’d like and leave my insecurities, perfectionism, anxiety attacks, and history all back in Massachusetts. Maybe this is my summer to not overthink so damn much.

Now, I start up the golf cart, accidentally accelerating too quickly and spraying gravel as the wheels spin before catapulting me forward.

Awesome, I guess everything here is old and touchy.

I follow the path along the lake, passing dozens of small cottages, each with a little porch looking out over the water. Deciding to start with the most remote cottages and work my way back toward the lodge, I drive farther down the path. Many guests are already out on the water; I can see them floating peacefully in canoes scattered offshore.

The early bird gets the worm, right?

I slow down at a fork in the path and look at my map once more. The map was probably made around the time this place opened over a hundred years ago. There are some newly built cabins and some that have been slightly moved, making the map not all that accurate. I look around and see a cabin set pretty farfrom the rest of them. According to my map, it’s named Loon Cry and is available to guests, so I head that way to start working.

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