"Ooh. I'm so happy for you both!" Lola shrieks when I tell her about things with Buzz advancing to a new stage in our relationship. I skipped over the details of what happened that led to us having that conversation since the woman is like a mother to me, and there's no way she needs to know about any of that. The front desk bell dings. "Fill me in on all the details later."
"I will," I say, walking away with a smile I haven't been able to wipe off my face all day. "Good afternoon, welcome to the Clovelly Inn," I greet the couple at the front desk. "How can I help you?"
"Hi. Checking in for Mattheson," the man answers, and I bring up their reservation on the computer.
I have to admit, when I came back after the holidays and spoke to Lola and Manuel about helping out around the inn, I wasn't sure how it would go. I knew I'd love hanging out with Lola and finding new ways to tease Manuel, but part of me worried that I wouldn't enjoy working here on a regular basis.
Helping Grandpa Arnie out when I was younger was one thing. I'm a grown man now. A doctor. I worried that checking people in and helping out with housekeeping wouldn't feel as fulfilling or fun as it did back in the day.
It's totally different to my normal career, and maybe that's precisely why I'm loving it as much as I am. After the intensity of my African trip and with Dad giving me permission to take some time to think about whatIwant, being at the inn is just what I need.
I hand the Matthesons their room key, remind them that dinner service starts at five, and when I learn that Mr. Mattheson is a huge hockey fan, I encourage him to tellour French-Canadian executive manager all about it because if there's one thing in the world that annoys Manuel more than me, it's listening to some middle-aged white dude drone on and on about sports.
As they leave to go up the stairs, Lola rushes in. "Kate's Butter."
"Excuse me?"
"The new delivery guy is an idiot. He gave me Cabot Butter instead of Kate's Homemade Butter."
"What's the difference?" I ask.
Lola gapes at me like I asked what's wrong with murdering puppies. "Cabot Butter is made in Vermont. Kate's Butter is local."
"I'm sure no one will notice the difference."
Now she's staring at me like I just confessed I'm the head kingpin of a puppy-murdering ring. "I take it you want me to get you some?"
"Please. I'd ask one of my guys, but we're running behind as it is, and Manuel is about to take over from you."
"Why do I always shiver whenever I 'ear my name from one of your mouths?" Manuel shows up right on cue, adjusting his tie.
"I'd love to stay and chitchat, Big M, but we have a butter emergency on our hands, and there's just no time."
Even though it'sobviousI'm joking, Lola gestures frantically for me to leave, her eyes wide with panic, and Manuel is too wrapped up in fixing his stupid tie to even notice.
I bundle up in a jacket, scarf, and gloves and gladly take a break from the crazies.
Twenty minutes later, armed with ten tubs of sea salted and ten tubs of unsalted Kate's Homemade Butter—I got both just to be on the safe side—I'm walking back to my car when I suddenly spot a horse's tail swishing on the sidewalk.
Oops, my mistake.
That's not a horse. It's Zane.
Damn. I was on the verge of forgetting he even existed.
I groan when he sees me since it's now too late to run and hide, which would have been my preferred option.
Buzz has stopped talking about him so much, and even though I assume they're still in touch, it's been nice having him drift into the background of my life where he belongs.
"Courtland," he says, forcing a smile when we meet.
I bristle at him using my full name. Then again, I bristle when he uses Court. Guess I just don't want my name anywhere near his mouth.
"Zane," I say. "Happy New Year."
His dark-blond locks cascade in long waves from beneath his black North Face beanie. "And to you."
"Well, I should get going." I hoist the grocery bag higher against my side. "There's a pending butter apocalypse if I don't get back to the inn with these."
