Page 5 of Forty, Flirty & Fall Inn

Buttercup tilts her head, fixing me with those unnaturally intelligent brown eyes that seem to say, "Have you considered that your life choices are questionable?"

She's not wrong.

The goat yoga instructor was supposed to arrive tomorrow afternoon with Buttercup and three other goats for Saturday's inaugural class.

Instead, she called two hours ago in tears—something about a family emergency and a sick grandmother—and asked if I could pick up Buttercup tonight from her farm forty minutes away.

Because apparently, my evening wasn't complete without a livestock rescue mission in the pouring rain.

"At least you're cute," I tell Buttercup, who responds by bleating and somehow getting more of the rug into her mouth."Stop eating that.It's probably worth more than my car."

I turn back to the shower and give it one more valiant attempt.The ancient pipes groan in protest, and for a moment, I think I've actually fixed something.

Then the shower-head falls off entirely, clattering into the tub with a sound that perfectly encapsulates the current state of my life.

"Perfect," I say to no one in particular."Just perfect."

I stare at the now-gushing water pipe, mentally calculating how much this is going to cost.

Potential water damage to the suite below.Emergency plumber rates.

The fact that I'll have to put the Waterfall Suite out of commission just when I'm desperate for every booking I can get.

My phone buzzes with a text from Claire.

CLAIRE:How's the inn?Everything okay?

I look around at the flooding bathroom, the goat eating priceless antiques, and the foreclosure notice that represents the death of everything my grandmother built.

ME:Fine

ME:Everything's fine.

I type the message with the same ease I used to lie to myself every time Derek came home late smelling like expensive whiskey and excuses.

Because the last thing my pregnant younger sister needs is to worry about me on top of her own complications.

I turn off the water at the source and grab my bundle of clothes from the dresser.

There's no point in trying to sleep in here with the steadydrip-drip-dripthat's now coming from the pipe.

I'll crash on the couch in the office and deal with this disaster in the morning.

"Come on, Buttercup," I say, fashioning a makeshift leash from an old scarf."We're relocating."

Buttercup mewls in what I choose to interpret as agreement, though she's probably just commenting on the scarf's fashion choices.

I scoop up my clothes, grab the goat's leash, and head for the door.

The inn's hallways are dimly lit, casting long shadows that would be atmospheric if I were in the mood to appreciate them.Instead, they just remind me of how much this place costs to heat and how far behind I am on the electric bill.

My bare feet are silent on the hardwood floors as Buttercup and I make our way toward the main staircase.The old building settles around us with creaks and sighs that usually comfort me but tonight sound ominous.

Like the inn is complaining about the state of its care.

"I'm doing my best," I whisper to the walls."Grandma Rose, if you're listening, a little divine intervention would be really helpful right about now."

The universe responds by having Buttercup suddenly decide she wants to investigate every single piece of furniture we pass.