Page 17 of Lovewell Lane

She smiled as I climbed the ladder. I wished she would stop doing that in my direction. “Are you superstitious?”

“No.”

“So you don’t believe in this supposed curse on the town? Because the founders broke up? Is that even true?”

“So many damn questions,” I mumbled. “Yes, it’s true. They split and Shellman moved on to start a complete disaster.”

“Shellman? I thought they were called Fields.”

“They were. When he left Honeyfield, Dean Fields changed his last name to Shellman; he no longer wanted to be associated with Honeyfield or his ex-wife.”

Margo blew out a gust of air. “Wow. Any name, and he choseShellman?”

I ignored her. “The curse is bullshit, though. It’s just greed that caused all this. Nothing mysterious or magical to it,” I said.

“Hm,” Margo pondered. “So he left the town abandoned? Couldn’t the wife run it?”

I sighed. “It’s a lot more complicated than that. He didn’t just leave. He still had the liquid cash to do what he wanted, since his wife only took their properties in Honeyfield in the divorce. Instead of fucking off, he established another city nearby. Renamed it and everything.”

“Oh, Shellville? Isn’t that the big city near here?”

“Yes,” I answered through gritted teeth.

“Horrible name,” Margo said. “Why is it always men that want their names plastered everywhere?

I let out a short laugh and hummed in agreement.

“So, the shitty city is negatively affecting Honeyfield? That’s why the Dreamers Initiative exists?”

“The mayor is an optimist,” I said through the nail that I held between my teeth.

“When did this all happen? Can we parent-trap them back together to save the town?”

“Way before I was born. Maybe fifty years ago? Honeyfield wasn’t immediately like this, though. It happened over time. When I was a kid, it was still pretty nice.”

“Oh,” Margo mumbled. She sounded genuinely disappointed. “We can still turn it around.”

“You just worry about your diner. Saving the world can come after that.”

“I can multitask.”

“Why a diner anyway?” I asked.

She was quiet. Possibly the quietest she’d ever been since she entered my life. Except maybe when she joined us for family dinner. She just directed twenty questions my way, and suddenly she couldn’t answer a simple one about herself? I couldn’t help but lean back to look down at her from the roof. Her head was down and she diligently inspected her shoes.

“I like baking, obviously,” she said. Another long pause. I could tell she was still working something out. “My dad ran a diner. He was a pretty cool guy, and I’d like to carry on the tradition.”

“Oh,” I said dumbly.Was. I knew a thing or two about dead parents. “How long ago did he pass?”

“It’s been, like, six years,” she answered.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“It’s okay. It’s kind of stupid, but there was something about being in that diner, though, that felt like home. My dad seemed happy. I’d like to have that one day.”

“Not a bad reason,” I said. Honeyfield was the only home I’d ever had. I couldn’t imagine not knowing what or where home was. Must be lonely. “What about your mom?”

“A total mess,” she answered with a wet laugh.Fuck, was she crying? I debated putting down my nail gun to climb down the ladder and help her. But how the fuck do you comfort a stranger?

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