Page 12 of The Inn Dilemma

I try not to smirk. “Hey, the guys know I’m not in it for the long haul.”

Holt’s expression changes from amused to annoyed.

“What if the right guy comes along? I mean, it’s not likely that you’ll find him at your age, but you never know.”

“I’ve already accepted that I’ll be in a loveless marriage someday just like Mom and Dad. The Price kids aren’t humans to be loved but bartering tools to be used for business.”

Holt looks at me sadly but says nothing. He knows everything I’ve said is true. There’s no point in arguing with me. Just like there’s no point in arguing with Dad.

Chapter Four

Nova

My footsteps echo in the open room of Mom’s Denver art gallery. The room is painted an eggshell white with white marble floors making it the perfect canvas to showcase the eclectic art pieces dotting the walls.

As I study a painting of a purple sky and rolling hills, out of my periphery, I see someone coming out of a door at the back of the gallery. I turn and find Mom practically gliding toward me with her arms open wide, waiting for a reunion hug.

“Darling, you look wonderful.” She embraces me and kisses both of my cheeks before gripping my shoulders and taking me in up close.

She eyes my outfit with approval. I’m wearing a short sleeve cranberry dress paired with a matching flannel and dress boots. The temperatures have dropped considerably since I arrived in Denver, and the high is only supposed to be sixty today.

I take the few seconds I have to soak her in. She’sbarely aged since I left home, and her hair is expertly dyed to her natural dark blonde, keeping the gray strands covered. As usual, her makeup is flawless, enhancing her best features and nothing more. The contrast between her and Dad is jolting. Is there more to his changes than age?

“You look amazing, Mom.” I do my best to choke back the emotions that have refused to leave since first laying eyes on her coming toward me.

She primps her hair and waves me off. “Oh, you’re just saying that.”

I smile at her antics and am both grateful and concerned that there isn’t an ounce of tension between us. When will the other shoe finally drop? And when it does, will I be able to survive it?

The only tease of tension was when she didn’t return my voicemail for several days. When she finally called me back, I apologized for all I put her through. It took less than two minutes for her to pretend like it had all been forgotten. As if I never left. It’s not what I expected, but probably should have anticipated. Mom has always dusted things under the rug instead of facing them head-on. It’s probably why her and Dad’s marriage has been hanging on by a string for as long as I can remember. If they just talked through their problems, they could overcome the hurdles they face instead of locking them all away inside.

She claps her hands together, successfully pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. “So, how about brunch? I know this fabulous place within walking distance that serves the best crepes and bacon.”

“Sounds perfect.”

The next several days consist of me waking up early, reading my Bible, going to lunch with Mom, and coming back to the Storybook Inn and working either in the kitchen with Emma or cleaning up around the main house. Aunt Birdie and I have dinner each night out on the covered back porch even when it rains. She has space heaters on either side of the table, keeping us warm on these chilly autumn nights.

I don’t mind the monotony, and I love feeling useful, but Holt has been MIA. Even though we only live a sidewalk away, we’ve been like two ships passing in the night. He’s been away from the inn more than he’s been at it, so I don’t even get to chat with him between tasks. He’s never back in time for dinner, and according to Aunt Birdie, when he returns for the evening, he scarfs down each meal as if it’s his last and then goes straight to bed.

Holt has always been a huge part of my life—with the exception of when I was in Paris—but there’s something about being around him now that we’re both all grown up that has excitement pulsing through me even when he’s nowhere near me.It’s unexpected yet makes sense since it’s been years since I last saw him.

He’s kept himself busy, and it’s making me wonder if he’s trying to avoid me. He looks at me differently than he used to. Similarly, but not exactly like so many other men who have asked me out. There’s no lust, just…adoration, maybe? Appreciation? Either way, it’s different, and I like it.

“Welcome, ladies,” the restaurant’s doorman greets us, pulling me back to the present. Mom slides her arm through mine as we step through the door of what she claims to be her favorite restaurant. We haven’t been here yet since they’ve been booked until today.

“You are going to love this place. Their pancakes are just divine,” Mom says.

A lanky man in a tailored suit walks toward us, and his smile grows as he approaches. I grip Mom’s arm tighter as unease slithers down my spine.

“Amanda.” The man leans forward and places a kiss on Mom’s cheek, right next to her lips, lingering there a second too long.

My back goes ramrod straight.

“Trevor, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Nova. Nova, this is my…”—she visibly swallows—“my work friend Trevor.”

His smile widens. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Nova. Your mom has told me so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” I mumble under my breath. Trevor must not hear my words or care that I’m even standing here with the way he looks at Mom. His eyes are full of an insatiable hunger as he looks at her.

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