Rallying the community behind me could start by spreading the word through a social media page. I frowned, staring at the app and thinking of the perfect username for the farm. I wanted something simple yet catchy enough to grab the attention of localsandtourists.
@StarHarborRoots
My hands shook so badly I could barely type as I set up the account. I chose the stylized photo and wrote my first caption:Legendary Roots, Fresh Beginnings. Coming This Autumn.
I added every hashtag I could think of, including the Star Harbor tourist board and even the local women’s historical society. Without hesitation, I hit “Post” and sucked in a lungful of fresh lake water air.
It was publicly official. I had only a few months to make this place ready for the families of Western Michigan.
I crossed my arms and took in the land. Amy’s parting words still stung as they snaked through my mind.
I need someone who can follow through, not just get excited about the next project.
Being excited wasn’t a bad thing, and I could prove to everyone that I had the follow-through it took to make this project not only happen, but become a resounding success.
Nothing and no one could stop me.
SIX
CALLUM
I had to stop her.
Irritation rolled through me as I watched my new neighbor leap off the top step of her porch and skip—yes, skip—across the lawn toward a truck that came to a stop near the road. For whatever reason, my new, unwelcome neighbor had burrowed under my skin. More times than I liked to admit, I found myself peeking out of the kitchen window toward the little crumbling cottage. Neither the storm nor the raccoons had scared her off yet, and I was starting to worry that nothing might get her to leave.
She wore dark, straight-leg denim, cuffed at the ankle, and a simple white T-shirt, streaked with dirt. Sunlight caught in her brown hair, highlighting strands of gold that wove through her soft curls. She threw her head back in laughter at something the man said. Despite my distance, I imagined the sound was bright and bubbly, the kind of laughter that had a melodic quality and tickled the hairs on the back of your neck.
Ideally, her laugh would be an ugly, grating sound like a honking goose or a wet, wheezing sound.
I laughed to myself at the mental image of those sounds coming from her as I rinsed a plate and stacked it into the industrial-size dishwasher.
“What, or should I saywho, has got you smiling like that?” Helen’s voice was laced with humor as it floated over my shoulder.
I fixed my face and wiped my hands on a dish towel before turning toward her. “I’m not smiling.”
A disbelieving snort pushed out of her nose. “Of course not.” She looked at the stack of dishes neatly arranged in the dishwasher. “I thought Levi was taking care of that this morning.”
“Yeah, well ...” I sighed. “Me too.”
Helen knew I was struggling to connect with him lately. For the past few months it seemed like my little boy was slipping further and further away and there wasn’t a damn thing I could seem to do about it. The more I pushed for connection, the more he pulled away, retreating further into himself.
The boy needed structure. Discipline. Trouble was, the last thing he wanted was to hear it from me.
She came up beside me, patting the back of my shoulder. “It’s all a phase. The good parts as well as the not-so-good parts. Don’t forget that.”
Levi used to follow me around like my shadow. Now? I felt like a stranger in my own damn house. Like I was watching my kid slip through my fingers and had no clue how to grab hold of him before he was gone entirely.
I hung my head, letting the weight of it settle over me. “I got it.” I offered a halfhearted smile. “Thanks, Helen.”
She shooed me away from the sink with a flick of her wrist. “Now go on. Get out of here. Aren’t you supposedto be taking the morning off?” She raised an accusatory eyebrow.
One day a week Helen left early to attend a meeting with the Keepers, and I filled in at the front desk if other staff weren’t available to greet our guests.
The Star Harbor Historical Society was a women’s group that had been going strong in Star Harbor since the late eighteen hundreds. Informally known as the Keepers, they were a pillar in our small community, bringing in fresh ideas, helping small businesses, and acting as the record keepers for all things related to the Lady of the Dunes—though no one outside of the group actually knew what went on during those meetings.
I looked at Helen and offered a small smile. It was nice that she had an active social life outside of the inn.
At least one of us did.
