Page 41 of Bed and Breakup (Dial Delights #15)

Molly

As our reno draws to an end, I feel myself growing more irritable and uncertain.

I don’t know where I’m headed next, what I’ll be working on, or for how long.

I mostly enjoy life on the road. It keeps my creative muscles in shape, and I don’t have to worry about anyone letting me down because I’m off to the next place before they have the chance.

But it’s been nice putting down roots in Eureka again for a little while.

Almost nice enough to make me want to stay.

In quiet moments, I find myself wondering what would happen if we made this temporary arrangement permanent.

If Robin and I didn’t get a divorce. If we reopened the Hummingbird ourselves.

Then I remember that we’re not the same people we were when we ran the inn.

The only reason we’re working together so well right now is because we know how it ends.

Neither of us is meant to stay in one place.

We can’t last here together without going stale or sour.

After this, I want to figure out how to visit Eureka more regularly.

Being around old friends— having old friends—is good for the soul.

Either that or there’s really something to all those claims about healing waters.

—

While trying to give Robin some space to avoid spats, I’ve been catching up on Key’s stained-glass window. It’s slow going; lots of tiny pieces and details. I want it to be absolutely perfect.

I’m deep in a section of golden hexagons when I hear a knock on the shed door.

“It’s me!” Key’s voice calls out when I turn off my sander.

I remove my goggles and open the door. “Hey,” I say, sliding off my gloves. “What’s up?”

“I’m finished,” Key says proudly, paint-covered hands on her hips.

“Already?”

Key nods. “Want to come see?”

I follow Key into the inn and up the stairs to the Snapdragon Room, where I’m greeted by her freshly painted mural of towering blossoms with billowing petals in vibrant shades of pink, orange, yellow, and red.

“It’s even better than the first time,” I say, smiling from ear to ear.

“I would hope so. I’ve been painting for a decade longer,” Key says.

“They’re all brilliant, and you did them in, what, half the time?” I hug Key, both of us unbothered by her paint or my glass-cutting oil. We’ve been covered in worse. “I can’t thank you enough. It’s not the Hummingbird Inn without your paintings,” I say, misty-eyed.

Key waves my compliments away. “It was fun revisiting my old stuff. It’ll be weird for them to be here with Clint in charge, though. They were, like, the genesis of our friendship.”

“He’ll take good care of them,” I promise. “And Clint’s a lifer. He’ll actually stick around.”

“I still wish it could be you, ” Key says with a sigh. “Or, really, I wish you’d stay. I want my bestie to be a part of the new Eureka I’m trying to build.”

I shake my head, a sad smile on my lips. “I’m turning the page. Besides, I hated running the inn without Robin. It doesn’t feel right with just me. This whole project is a chance to end it like we began it: together.”

Before Key can respond, my phone starts blaring Nelly Furtado’s “Maneater,” my ringtone for my agent.

“Roxie?” Key asks. “You better answer. She’s extra scary now that she’s a mom. She’s already got the ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ thing on lock.”

I accept the call. “Hey, Roxie! I’ve been meaning to call you,” I lie. I’ve been dodging her for a week.

“Molly!” Roxie’s strident New York accent booms through the phone. “Glad I finally caught you. You must be very busy in your studio lately.”

“I have been,” I reply truthfully. “And you must be busy with the twins. How are they?”

“Just started teething. Not a thing in my apartment is safe. And the diapers. Oh my god, the diapers.”

I keep her talking about the babies for a few more minutes while I watch Key pack up her supplies. But I can’t distract Roxie for long.

“So that guy with the mansion in Memphis,” she says, her voice shifting into business mode. “He wants that stained-glass triptych as soon as possible. When can I tell him you’ll arrive? A week? Two?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to leave here until next month,” I say. “I’ve still got to wrap up the sale of my property in Eureka and handle some other…legal matters.”

“And finish my window!” Key says, jokingly stern.

“Is that Keyana?” Roxie asks. “Put me on speaker.”

I comply. “Okay, she’s here.”

“Hi, Roxie,” Key says toward the phone while frowning at me like I’ve betrayed her.

“Key! That buyer in Austin has been blowing up my inbox. When will you have a sketch for him?”

“Soon. Nearly done,” Key promises while shaking her head at me and making a zero with her hand, I’m guessing to convey she hasn’t started yet.

“That’s what I like to hear! So, Molly,” Roxie says, turning her attention back to me. “Memphis. What can I tell Mr. Rydell? First week of November?”

“Second week?” I say meekly. “Tentatively.”

“All right. He won’t be thrilled. But some draft design concepts would tide him over, if you can draw something up.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I hedge. Working on the windows here in Eureka, with full creative freedom and in support of cool small business owners instead of rich jerks who always want the most boring stuff, has been a treat I’m not ready to give up yet.

“I know he’s a pushy guy. The richest ones always are,” Roxie says like she’s reading my mind through the phone.

“But might as well knock it out, collect the check, and move on to the next one. You’ll love what I have cooking up.

A resort in Cancún. Huge project early next year.

Almost as big as the Route 66 deal. And if I play my cards right, you’ll get to live on-site in one of the suites.

You could use a beach vacation. A working vacation. ”

“Sure,” I say, visions of palm trees and clear blue ocean less enticing than Roxie thinks, especially if they require me getting on a plane. “You’re the best, Rox.”

“When’s my working beach vacation?” Keyana asks loudly. “Does that resort need some murals?”

“You told me you weren’t available for travel for the next year,” Roxie says, clearly pleased by the question. “But say the word and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ve got to run,” I say, thinking of all I still have to finish here before I can leave town. “Thanks for the updates, Roxie.”

“Of course. I’m here when you need me,” Roxie says.

I say goodbye and hang up. Key must see the stress on my face, because she comes over and pats my shoulder.

“Memphis, huh?” she says. “That’ll be nice.

Only a five-hour drive from here. You can visit me for Thanksgiving.

And Cancún, wow. The refreshing start to a new year you’ll need after all this… reminiscing.”

“Mansions and fancy resorts,” I mumble, shaking my head. “I always feel so out of place working on them.”

“I get that,” Key says sympathetically. “I’ve painted more than enough murals for gentrifiers. But think of all the fun projects you can take on once you fill your bank account.”

“Hey, do you want to see how your window is coming?” I say, changing the subject. “I’ve got it laid out in my studio.”

“Obviously yes, but no.” Key throws her bag of paint and brushes over her shoulder. “I want to be surprised.”

I shrug. “Okay, then. How about java-chip cheesecake? Robin made it yesterday.”

Key’s eyes light up. “Now, that I want to check out.”