Page 18 of Lovewell Lane

Margo continued, “She’s a likable mess sometimes, but as a whole, I’m more her mom than she was ever mine. If that makes sense.”

It did. “Slick takes more effort to parent than Tessa ever has,” I confessed. That was the right thing to say. She laughed again, and I heard her voice even out.

“He seems like quite the character,” Margo said.

“That’s one way to put it.”

I finished up my work while she continued keeping a hand on the ladder. Not that that would do anything in the case it collapsed, but something told me she just didn’t want to be alone. So we fell into silence.

My feet back on solid ground, I turned to her again while folding the ladder with my right hand. “You don’t have to stay here if you have things to do, I can handle the rest inside,” I said.

“I have to take measurements inside anyway. Falling off of a roof is one of the most common accidents where people getseriously hurt, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t die.” She paused. “For insurance purposes.”

“Right,” I said suspiciously.

Margo and her tape measure kept me company while I started working on her ceiling where the leak left damage. She turned up her music once again to fill the silence. This time, it was a mix of rock music and some guitar-heavy pop-like music that was, to my dismay, very catchy.

I took a break from my saw and climbed down to grab a drink from my bottle of water. Her hips swayed to the music, much like last night when she was dancing alone in her guest house.

Her eyebrows scrunched in to form a cute V between them while she focused on measuring the front wall of windows from top to bottom. “Are you going to need more counter space than this?” I asked.

She jumped at the intrusion of my voice. Then she turned to stare offendedly over at the measly counter against the back wall. “I’d like to have a bartop. So people can sit for a cup of coffee. And it’d be nice to put the register on a counter facing out into the store, so I don’t have to turn my back to people.”

Whenever she went on one of these tangents, it seemed like she was talking to herself, so I let her continue. “I don’t know if I can afford it though. Most of my budget is going to the kitchen appliances, but I need to leave room for decorations, tables and chairs, and a sign! I want one of those cool retro ones out front.”

I nodded. She looked at me expectantly. “Any thoughts?”

“I can help with the bartop,” I said.

“Oh, I meant about the decorations,” she said. “It’s more fun to talk about. How much do I owe you for this leak situation anyway? Like I said, budget is king.”

“Nothing, I’ll just charge you for the supplies to build the bartop. How big do you want it?”

She looked at me with wide eyes. “I can’t do that. I’m sure you have more important things. What about your business or your daughter? And your dad apparently needs–”

“I can multitask.”

7

Margo

Lila made it very clear that she had only been to this bar once since she’d moved to Honeyfield years ago. Even though it was only about thirty minutes outside of city limits. So, I was expecting that to mean the bar was loud, smelly, and gross.

Instead, I walked through the door to discover a live band. They were playing a country song that I didn’t recognize, but the twang in it was stronger than any drink in the bar. It was loud but in a joyous way. There was a good mix of men and women (always my first indicator for if it would be a good night or not), and I smelled no hint of piss or vomit. A win in my book. I took Lila’s hand and practically skipped over to the bartender.

“What do you like?” I asked.

Lila waved noncommittally while surveying the bar. Was she looking for someone? “I’ll have whatever you’re getting.”

“Two vodka sodas please,” I chirped to the bartender.

We each grabbed a glass and headed to the corner of the bar furthest from the band. While I didn’t mind the music, (I quickly realized I did like country music) I came here for one purpose. To get to know my new friend, Lila.

I slid off my denim jacket— yes, I wore boots and denim, I did my research— and hung it on the back of my chair at our high-top table. Lila shrugged off her jacket as well, and we both made sure to pick seats facing the stage where the band played.

“So, what’s it like running an Inn? Are there any ghosts? Or mysteries to solve?” I asked.

Lila removed her lime wedge and squeezed it into her vodka soda. “It’s fun, honestly. It keeps me busy, which I really like, and business is good. The winter months are slow, but we still get guests that want to stay outside of Shellville.”

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