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Chapter1
Ava
My eyes were gritty with fatigue and dread as I climbed out of the taxi in front of the Honeysuckle Inn.
I’d dozed on the hour-plus drive from the Nashville airport, knowing I’d need every bit of strength to face this place and the memories steeped within it. My red-eye from the West Coast had landed at just the right time to be slowed by rush-hour traffic, and I had to admit I’d welcomed the delay.
Time to face the music though.
All I wanted was to get in, figure out exactly how I was going to handle the inn, and get out emotionally unscathed, but I suspected that was a long shot.
As the driver retrieved my suitcase from the back, I stood on the damp pavement, the rain down to a barely noticeable sprinkle, and took in the century-old building, attempting to see it through objective eyes instead of as someone who’d once lived in the innkeeper’s cottage.
The hand-carved welcome sign above the double wooden doors of the main building had its summer cloak of sunflowers and wildflowers draped over the top. The porch welcomed guests with rockers and Adirondack chairs, giving the place a quaint, homey feel. The landscaping in front of the porch, however, was barren in spots and in need of new plantings. As I walked closer, I noticed the exterior paint was past due for a refresh. Both issues would be easy enough to spruce up.
For the nine-hundredth time since I’d received the call from Loretta Lawson telling me of my dear aunt Phyllis’s unexpected death, I shoved away the threatening steamroller of emotions and focused my brain on all the pressing practical matters.
I pulled my determination around me like a protective cloak, went up the two steps to the porch, and pushed open the door of the inn.
The first thing that hit me was the smell.
Banana muffins and cinnamon, plus a hint of humid lake air.
Oh, God.
How was it that, out of all the things—thoughts, memories, sights—a smell could be what nearly leveled me?
I held on to the door for an extra couple seconds and greedily sucked in a breath, loving and hating the aroma at once.
“Good morning. You must be Ava.” It wasn’t the full, sixty-something voice I’d expected but a younger woman’s.
I turned my attention to the familiar check-in counter straight ahead. A woman with long strawberry-blond hair had her gaze fixed on me and a questioning look on her pretty face. She looked to be close to my thirty-seven years old, maybe a little younger. Her expression was neither warm nor chilly, more guarded, and I realized I hadn’t replied.
“Yes,” I said as I strode across the area toward the desk. “Ava Dean, Phyllis’s niece. I’m sorry, I expected Loretta or one of the other ladies in the Diamonds to be here. But thank you. Thanks for covering.” I glanced around the area, which was deserted at the moment.
“I’m Magnolia James.”
She came around the desk and extended her hand. I took it, racking my brain for why the name was familiar. She must be a townie. I’d known a lot of them at one time, but since moving away, I’d let as much of Dragonfly Lake go from my memory as possible—with the exception of Aunt Phyllis.
“Are you an employee here?” I asked, knowing Aunt Phyllis didn’t have many. She’d always been one of those people who kept her costs down by doing as much as she could herself. It was only recently I’d convinced her to hire someone to man the front desk overnight, but I thought she’d hired a man for that position.
Though this wasn’t a bed-and-breakfast but more of a boutique hotel—with a central common area and two wings of twelve rooms each that jutted out from either side, providing each room with a lake view—Aunt Phyl had worked the front desk, baked and served the breakfast goodies, ensured the guests had whatever they needed, and had been known to help with housekeeping even though she had Gretchen Morris as the head of Housekeeping and, last I knew, a handful of part-time cleaners. Her other longtime employee, Halstead, was the head of Maintenance. I’d known the man who was probably close to seventy now since I was a kid, but I still wasn’t sure whether that was his first or last name.
“I’m a friend,” Magnolia said. “Just trying to help out.”
I was trying to wrap my head around thefriendbit. My aunt had a tight-knit group of the dearest ladies, the Dragonfly Diamonds, as they called themselves, a nod to their weekly poker nights. They were all in their sixties or thereabouts. Loretta Lawson, Dotty Jaworski, Kona Powers, Rosy McNamara, Darlene Lionetti, and Nancy Solon had been her tight friendship circle for years, since before I’d moved out, but as far as I knew, those ladies didn’t hang with the under-forty crowd.
My confusion must’ve shown on my face, because Magnolia continued, “I’m sort of in the Diamonds. A recent addition. It’s a long story.” She flashed a smile that was full of nervousness. “I…don’t have a lot of friends. Not super-close ones, for, well, reasons. When I went through a rough patch a few months ago, Dotty gave me a job at the Lily Pad and leased me the apartment over the store. She was so sweet, knew I was mostly alone, so she invited me to poker night, and”—she laughed—“I had so much fun. They were all so kind to me and welcomed me in and, well, it stuck.” Sobering, she said, “Phyllis was such a sweetheart. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Magnolia’s eyes teared up instantly, telling me the loss was also hers.
“She was,” I said. “A sweetheart.” Exactly the type who would welcome Magnolia into the group if she knew she was lonely or alone. I didn’t allow my mind to go too far down the road of how wonderful my aunt was, because I couldn’t afford to break down. “I’m sorry for your loss too. Everybody’s loss.”
Magnolia let out a sob that took me aback for a second, and then I couldn’t help but hug her. She accepted it, wrapped her arms around me, and held on, her body heaving silently for a few seconds. I tried hard not to let it get to me, but my eyes filled with tears and my chest welled up with grief.
After a few moments, Magnolia pulled away with an embarrassed half smile as she swiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s been a quiet night here and it’s just…sad, and I’ve tried to be strong, but then—”
“No apologies,” I said. “Have you been here all night?”
