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“When I was in India recently, I fell in love with a girl from Hollygrove,” the young man explained without a hint of embarrassment. “I lost my phone shortly thereafter, and she has no social media presence. I thought I’d come here and track her down.”
“Any luck?” Maya asked.
The young man’s eyes were shadowed. “The problem is, I only ever knew her first name.”
“What’s her name?” Felicity appeared in the living room, drying her hands on her apron and peering at the young man curiously.
“Sarah.” The man shook his head with devastation. It was the most common name in the world.
“Oh, goodness.” Felicity scratched her eyebrow. “Sarah Waters? Sarah Ferguson? Sarah Peters?”
The young man shook his head. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I just don’t know.”
Felicity announced it was dinner time. The guests followed her to the living room, where they sat together at a long antique table heavy with pork chops, mashed potatoes, green beans, kale salad, bottles of wine, pitchers of iced tea, and pitchers of ice water with lemon. As Maya filled her plate, she imagined how she would write about this particular spread. It had been a long time since she’d eaten such homey, heart-warming food prepared by such skillful yet unassuming hands like Felicity’s. She didn’t call herself a world-renowned chef. She just wanted people to go to bed with full bellies.
“Does anyone mind if we pray?” Conor asked, reaching for Felicity’s hand.
The guests bowed their heads as Conor said a brief yet gorgeous prayer. “Bless us, oh Lord,” he began, “as we thank you for these bountiful gifts. Today, you’ve brought six marvelous people safely to our bed and breakfast. We pray that they find hope and renewal in the town of Hollygrove and that they find comfort here at the Hollygrove Bed and Breakfast with Felicity and me. Amen.”
As Maya opened her eyes again, she thought of Nick, who’d often made fun of people who prayed before they ate.
Maya was seated across from Winnie and directly next to the thirty-something, who eventually introduced himself as Tom. Tom filled his plate twice in the same amount of time it took Maya to eat one helping. He seemed to have a zest for life Maya had forgotten possible.
“Tell us more about this aunt of yours,” Tom urged Maya.
Maya raised her shoulders. “I don’t know much at all,” she said. “She’s my mother’s older sister, but I never met her. My mother died when I was six, and I was raised by my neighbors, who eventually adopted me.”
Tom frowned, and a wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. “Are you close with your adoptive parents?”
This wasn’t a question Maya had fielded in a while. She paused, her fork laden with mashed potatoes. “They had four other children,” she said softly. “I don’t think I was a burden they necessarily knew how to deal with.”
The truth, of course, was that Maya’s adoptive mother hardly called, not even on her birthday. Her adoptive father had died ten years ago, and when Maya had gone to the funeral, she’d been left out of all family meals and activities. It hadn’t felt right to force herself into their mourning rituals. And she hadn’t had many fond memories of him, anyway.
“What’s your aunt’s name, sweetie?” Felicity asked.
“Veronica Albright.”
Felicity set her fork down with a clank. Shock marred her face. “Goodness.”
Conor clucked his tongue, and a hush came over the table. Maya had the sensation that she’d said something wrong.
“That’s quite a family,” Felicity offered.
“And you’re up for the inheritance?” Conor asked.
“Only if I follow my aunt’s instructions,” Maya said. “To be honest with you, I’ve never had much money in my life. My expectation is I’ll fail my aunt’s tasks and be left with nothing. But I figured, what the heck? Coming here is an adventure. And I’d run out of luck in New York.”
Tom smiled warmly. “It never gets easier, does it?” He said it with a soft laugh.
“Life, you mean?”
Tom nodded.
“Never,” Maya agreed. “But you have to make your own fun. It’s the only real way to get through in one piece.”
“Wonderfully said.” Conor raised his glass of wine. “To making our own fun! And celebrating when we can.”
ChapterFour
