Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 105921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I stepped through the dark hole. Not a hole, a door, though a short, narrow one. Ducking my head, I blinked, giving my eyes time to adjust. Here in the dark, the light from Scarlett's tablet wasn't as blinding. Shelves lined the long room, a few cardboard boxes here and there. Scarlett stood over one, trying to angle the tablet so she could see the screen and aim the light.
"Want some help?" I offered, pitching my voice low in the silence of the closet.
Scarlett screeched, spinning to face me, the tablet held up like a weapon, the flashlight stabbing my eyes. She deflated as quickly as she'd snapped to attention, her shoulders sagging as she let out a laughing breath.
"Oh, my god, Tenn, I think I had a heart attack. Were you trying to sneak up on me?"
"A little," I admitted, "but not to scare you. Sorry." I looked around the hidden closet, scanning the low ceiling. "No light in here?"
"Not that I could see."
"I've got you." I pulled my phone from my pocket and tapped until the flashlight came on. "Good?"
Scarlett smiled. "Perfect."
Under the light from my phone, she unfolded the flaps of the first box, revealing neatly folded rectangles of fabric. Taking one out, she spread the snowy white linen over the open box. A napkin. Scarlett's face fell as she carefully dug through the rest of the box, finding only more white linen. She folded the top closed with a slump to her shoulders and moved on.
The next box was no more exciting. An ancient plug-in alarm clock. Equally ancient toothbrushes, still in their wrappers. A half-empty jar of face cream. The detritus left from guests long gone? We'd never know, and it didn't really matter.
Scarlett pushed the box away from the other and moved to the next. More junk. Another held what I guessed was the tablecloth to go with the napkins. Scarlett put that one beside the first.
With each new box, her eyebrows raised in anticipation. With each discovery of more useless junk, her shoulders rounded further. Was she disappointed by the lack of art? Or was it more? My gut insisted it was the second option. I knew it wasn't just me. Griffen and Hawk had seen the same thing. Scarlett was looking for something. And whatever it was, she hadn't found it here.
The last box examined and set aside, Scarlett handed me the tablet and picked up the boxes of table linens. "Savannah might want these," she said in way of an explanation, leading us out of the closets and back into the bedroom.
Rays of the setting sun flooded the room with golden light, drawing Scarlett to the windows facing the woods. She barely noticed me taking the boxes from her arms and setting them by the door.
"The trees go on forever, don't they?" she murmured. "It's so beautiful here."
I stood beside her, taking in the view. I'd lived here for most of my life and, unlike the house, I never got used to the views. Scarlett was right. Perched as we were on the mountain at the edge of the national forest, the trees really did look like they went on forever. Rolling waves of green rose to sharp peaks, stretching as far as we could see.
"I could look at this every day and never get tired of it," she said.
"I know," I agreed, leaning into her until her shoulder pressed my arm. "When I was a kid, I'd disappear out there for hours. I wish I had more time to hike these days. Quinn has it better than the rest of us." At Scarlett's questioning look, I explained. "She runs a gear shop and guide business. She gets paid to spend her days out there."
"Pretty sweet gig," Scarlett agreed. "Do you wish you'd done something like that? Instead of choosing the Inn?"
"No," I answered immediately. I didn't have to think about it. "I always wanted to run the Inn. When I was younger, I tried to hide it from Prentice. From my father—"
Scarlett drew her gaze from the trees and raised her eyebrows at me. "You called him Prentice?"
I laughed. "In my head. Not to his face. To his face, it was mostly, 'Sir.'"
"Why did you hide it? Didn't he want to raise all of you to run the family businesses?"
"He did, but only on his terms. I think he thought that if he gave us what we wanted, we'd be soft. Or not work hard enough. Or maybe he was just an asshole. When I look back, it's hard to find any logic in his decisions. But whatever his reasoning, it was a guarantee that if he found out you cared about something, he'd find a way to take it from you."
"I'll go with asshole, then," Scarlett said, her green eyes glowing in the golden sunset, warm and filled with sympathy.