Page 66 of Here With You

“Only the best for my girl,” Miles said.

Cricket scooted into the booth next to Emmaline and kicked her feet up on the seat next to him. On the bottom of her shoe, drawn in thin, black, permanent marker, was a middle finger.

“Are you tired, or is that for me?” He stared at it again. It seemed freshly drawn.

“Oh, that’s for you all right. I hear you’re a millionaire, and the last time you dined in my fine establishment, you left me a twenty percent tip.” She made a throaty growl. “Cheap bastard.” She turned to Emmaline. “You need to teach this boy that when you have more, you give more. He needs to tip better.”

Emmaline smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do my best, but some men are hard to train.”

Cricket glanced under the table at Ollie. “I bet he’d leave me a bigger tip than you.”

Miles laughed. “Right after he stole your shoes.”

Cricket cocked her head. “You think he knows what happened to my blue high-tops? I left them by the door after the morning shift, and one day the left one was gone. Who takes just one shoe?”

Miles stared at his dog. “Ollie?”

The pup covered his head with his paws.

“I think we owe you a pair of high-tops,” Emmaline said. “How about one in each color of the rainbow?”

Cricket smiled. “Will you draw the finger on them for me? My arthritis has been acting up.”

Emmaline reached for the honey. “Put this on it. It’s a cure-all.”

Cricket grinned. “I knew you listened to me. Now, what will it be?”

Miles looked at the menu and then pushed it aside. “Do we get a choice?”

Cricket laughed. “Not really, but I like for you to think you do. Two blue-plate specials are coming up.”

Emmaline raised four fingers. “Make it four. We’re expecting guests.” Just as she said it, the door opened, and in walked Brie and Carter.

Cricket rose from the booth, and the two filled in the empty seats. In Carter’s hand were the plans for the open space left behind by the fire. In Brie’s, was the local paper. Miles caught a glimpse of Trixie’s Travels headline.

“Which should we see first, the plans or the critic’s review?” Miles asked.

Emmaline sat up straight. “It posted?”

Brie smiled. “It did. Do you want to see it?”

“Do I?” Emmaline appeared uncertain, but in the end, she nodded. “Just rip the Band-Aid off quickly.”

Brie cleared her throat and began reading Trixie’s Travels article.

“Dear Traveler,

“This week’s travel review is of one of our own. As you know, nothing is hotter than a Texas summer except maybe the week The Brown Resort burned down. Sadly, this review is a posthumous nod to The Brown and a pat on the back to its neighbor, The Kessler. Without further ado, here’s what H. Thorne had to say about our little town.

“The Thornes have been at it again, only this time, we went coastal which is a far better experience than going postal. (A little disgruntled postal service worker humor for you.) We were blessed to land in the quaint little town of Willow Bay where, outside of camping and staying at an Airbnb, there are two options. Visitors either come to The Kessler or The Brown. If you wait too long to reserve, you don’t have much choice. You get The Kessler. At first, we were disappointed to stay there as we wanted to experience one of the lovely bungalows on The Brown property. It’s widely known the two resorts have been in competition since both families broke ground. However, what greeted us was a surprise. We were able to get the best of both worlds as The Brown and The Kessler have joined forces. No bungalow for us, but we had a warm, friendly staff managed by Miles McClintock and access to the culinary magic of chef Tilly Beck, who runs the kitchen at The Brown. Emmaline Brown educated us on the local wildlife. We were as happy as a flock of seagulls pecking at a plate of quiche. Next time you’re heading south, put Willow Bay on your itinerary and stop in at The Brown and The Kessler and tell them the Thornes sent you.”

Brie smiled. “They gave us four and a half stars.”

“I taught Miles everything he knows,” Emmaline said.

Miles laughed. “Maybe we would have gotten five stars if you hadn’t fed her to the seagulls.”

Emmaline’s shoulders shook. “Maybe Mr. Blackthorne would have insisted we get ten if we let the birds carry his wife away.”

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