The speed limit dropped down to just thirty miles per hour, and every yellow sign she encountered had a different squiggle and speed warning. The closer she got, the more her gut twisted and turned like the mountain roads.
The poor little Mustang chugged up the steep inclines with everything she had.
She patted the dash.Come on, girl.
The road curved so sharply to the left Natalie held her breath as she gripped the steering wheel to stay on her side of the road.
Maybe it was to her advantage that it was dark, because she had a feeling the edge of that pavement fell straight off down the mountain to nowhere.
Driving these roads was going to take some getting used to.
Finally, her headlights reflected off a large sign between tall white poles. “Welcome to Fulton County” in bold, straight letters between the outline of green mountains and blue sky.
She let out a breath.I made it.
The speed limit dropped to twenty-five in town.
She took a sip from her water bottle to settle her nerves.
She and Jeremy had never discussed his will, just that he had one. His lawyer was from here, and he’d talked her through it step by step. She’d been surprised at how much detail had gone into it, especially regarding the property and the cabin. He’d made detailed provisions for the cabin to be maintained by someone local. She hadn’t even had to worry about it.
She couldn’t remember the caretaker’s name, and since all of her papers were gone she figured she’d just have to drop in on the lawyer and ask a few questions. How many lawyers could there possibly be in a town this size?
Certainly someone in Chestnut Ridge would be able to help her connect those dots.
At the next turn onto Main Street, it was a welcome sight to see streetlights.
Two blocks of brick buildings, all in varying styles of architecture, held a variety of merchants. She pulled into a parking spot in front of the Trout & Snout Restaurant to get her phone out and look for a hotel nearby.
Only two places popped up on the search. One was back about twenty miles. The other was just up the road.
She clicked on the link to the Mountain Creek Inn website. The beautiful white Colonial Revival–style home with colorful baskets of flowers on a Southern wraparound porch looked like more than she could’ve dreamed of. There was no online reservation system, but it did show pictures of the rooms they rented, and they boasted the best tea around. The tagline readFulton County’s Best-Kept Secret.
How did one prove they were the best-kept secret without giving the secret away?Sounded a bit of an overpromise to her, but the Mountain Creek Inn seemed to be her best bet. Hopefully they’d have a room available.
She pulled back onto Main Street and drove slowly down the block, looking for the address. From the numbers, it should be on the right-hand side.
On a well-lit lot, a huge magnolia tree graced the front yard, and there it was. It looked just like the picture. Single-bulb candlelight glowed from every window sill of the large house like she’d only ever seen at Christmastime in Colonial Williamsburg.
From the driveway she could see that mums in autumnaloranges and golds had replaced the pastel colors in the hanging baskets from the picture. A row of carved pumpkins lined the walkway to the porch. Not silly jack-o’-lanterns, but fancy designs of swirling paisley patterns glowing brightly. She’d seen similar projects on Pinterest and had thought to try making one herself. She’d never found the time, though.
I’ll have time now.
Although she had every intention of going back to work, and continuing painting her note cards on the side, she planned to maintain good life balance this go-round. Something she hadn’t been so good at in the past, but this was a fresh start. Yes, a fancy pumpkin was definitely in her future.
She pulled her keys from the ignition.
There wasn’t a sign, which certainly lent credence to this place being a best-kept secret, but with nothing indicating they still rented rooms, her heart sank.
That was the problem with the internet. Sometimes things were way out of date, and there was no way of knowing it until you showed up to find out in real time.
Suddenly tired and second-guessing her hasty plan, as she got out of the car she whispered a little prayer that they’d have a vacancy.
Halfway up the walk, she turned and pressed the lock button.Can’t be too careful.It would probably be a while before she could trust folks again after Marc’s betrayal.I’ll work on that.
A bird chirped from a tree nearby, and something, hopefully a little bunny rabbit, skittered into the pine straw just to her left.
She followed the walkway to the porch and reached for thedoorbell. Before she could press it, something flew around her head and then dipped down toward her shoulder. With a squeal, she stepped back, almost off the porch, before she realized it was simply a moth. She leaped toward the front door, away from the light where that moth still darted around like a drunken bat.
