Page 3 of Furever Bound (Hollow Oak Mates #7)
SERA
A silver-haired woman emerged from the inn's front door before Sera could even reach for the handle, as if she'd been watching from the windows. Half-moon spectacles perched on her nose, and her smile held the kind of genuine warmth that had become foreign to Sera's carefully networked world.
"You must be Miss Quinn. I'm Miriam Caldwell." Her voice carried the soft lilt of someone who'd lived in these mountains her whole life. "Welcome to Hollow Oak."
The greeting was like a warm hug after months of industry air-kisses and calculated pleasantries. When was the last time someone had looked at her like she was a person rather than a brand opportunity or cautionary tale?
"Thank you so much for accommodating the last-minute booking." Sera's professional charm kicked in automatically, but it felt less practiced here, more genuine. "I know mountain inns can get booked up quickly this time of year."
"Oh, we always have room for folks who need what Hollow Oak offers." Miriam's eyes twinkled with understanding. "Come on in, let's get you settled. I've got apple cider warming on the stove, and you look like you could use something to chase away the road chill."
The inn's interior wrapped around Sera like a cashmere blanket.
Exposed wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, and a stone fireplace crackled with flames that seemed more alive than any gas logs she'd grown accustomed to.
The scent of cinnamon and cloves made her stomach rumble, reminding her that gas station coffee had been her only sustenance since leaving Nashville before dawn.
"This is absolutely beautiful." Sera breathed in the atmosphere, already mentally cataloguing details.
The lighting was perfect—soft and golden without feeling artificial.
Her remaining audience would respond to this kind of authenticity, assuming she could figure out how to package it without destroying whatever magic made it real.
"Been in my family for three generations.
" Miriam moved to a sideboard laden with mismatched teacups that somehow looked more elegant than any coordinated set Sera had ever featured.
"My late husband Henry helped me renovate when we took over.
He had a real eye for making spaces feel like home instead of just looking pretty. "
Something in her tone suggested deep loss but also contentment, the kind of peace that came from building something meaningful with someone you loved. Sera found herself genuinely curious rather than just hunting for content angles. "How long have you been running the inn?"
"Coming up on forty years now." Miriam handed her a steaming mug that seemed to warm Sera's hands beyond what physics should allow. "You'll find Hollow Oak has a way of keeping folks longer than they planned. Something about the mountain air, I suppose."
Sera sipped the cider and nearly groaned with pleasure.
It tasted like autumn distilled into liquid form, complex and warming and absolutely perfect.
Not the artificial pumpkin spice flavoring that dominated her old sponsored content, but something that spoke of real apples and actual spices chosen for flavor rather than Instagram appeal.
"This is incredible," she said, meaning it completely. "Family recipe?"
"Trade secret." Miriam winked, settling into a chair across from her. "Now, what brings you to our little corner of the world? The autumn colors are past their peak, but there's still plenty of beauty to capture if you're here for photographs."
Here it was. The moment where she had to spin her spectacular failure into something that sounded intentional and inspiring. Sera had rehearsed various versions during the drive, but sitting in this genuinely warm space with this genuinely kind woman, the polished explanations felt suddenly hollow.
"I'm working on a project about authentic mountain culture," she answered. "Stories, folklore, that sort of thing. I want to document the real heart of places like this, not just the surface beauty that everyone photographs."
It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie either.
After three months of watching her follower count plummet while lifestyle influencers with half her experience swooped in to claim her abandoned partnerships, Sera had realized something crucial: authenticity wasn't just marketable, it was essential.
Her audience was hungry for real content, real stories, real connections.
The success of cottage-core creators and small-town storytellers proved that people craved genuine experiences over manufactured perfection.
The folklore angle had emerged during late-night research sessions fueled by desperation and too much coffee.
Traditional stories, local legends, cultural heritage—content that felt meaningful while still being shareable.
If she could position herself as someone who preserved and shared important cultural narratives rather than just selling lifestyle products, maybe she could rebuild her brand on something more substantial than ring lights and sponsorships.
"Ah, stories." Miriam's smile deepened, and something in her expression suggested she understood more about Sera's situation than seemed possible. "Well, you've come to the right place for those. This valley has more legends than trees, and that's saying something."
"Really?" Sera leaned forward, her interest genuine. "What kinds of stories?"
"Oh, the usual mountain folklore. Spirits in the woods, creatures that come out when the mist rolls in, families with gifts that skip generations.
" Miriam spoke casually, as if discussing the weather.
"Most outsiders think it's just quaint superstition, but mountain folk know there's truth in the old tales. "
Sera's pulse quickened. This was exactly what she needed—authentic local folklore with real cultural significance.
Content that felt meaningful while still being engaging enough to rebuild her platform.
"Is there anyone in town who specializes in collecting these stories?
A local historian or cultural preservationist? "
"Funny you should ask. Professor Thorn lives in the old Victorian at the end of Maple Street." Miriam's eyes sparkled with what looked suspiciously like matchmaking intentions. "Knows more folklore than anyone has a right to. Lovely man, very scholarly. Bit of a hermit, but brilliant."
Sera's influencer instincts immediately latched onto the potential.
A local expert could provide the academic credibility her content needed while adding human interest through his personal connection to the material.
"That sounds perfect. Is he... accessible?
Some academics can be particular about their research. "
"Maddox is particular about everything," Miriam chuckled. "But he's got a good heart under all that scholarly intensity. Just mind your manners and don't expect him to be overly social. He's more comfortable with books than people."
"I can work with that." Sera had charmed her way through interviews with far more difficult subjects. An antisocial professor actually sounded refreshing after years of networking with people who treated every conversation like a potential collaboration opportunity.
Miriam showed her to a room on the second floor that looked like it belonged in a design magazine spread about cozy retreats, except everything felt genuinely lived-in rather than staged.
A four-poster bed dominated the space, covered in quilts that appeared hand-stitched.
Diamond-paned windows offered views of mountains that seemed to glow in the afternoon light, and a stone fireplace waited with kindling already laid.
"Bathroom's through that door, and there's a small sitting area if you need space to work." Miriam gestured around the space with obvious pride. "Breakfast is served from seven to nine, but I can arrange something earlier if you're an early riser."
"This is perfect." Sera pulled out her phone to capture the room's charm, then paused.
Something about photographing this space felt wrong, like reducing its magic to mere content.
"Actually, would you mind if I asked about your policies regarding social media?
I don't want to overstep any boundaries. "
"Take all the pictures you like, dear. Just remember that some things photograph better than others, and some stories are meant to be lived rather than just shared." Miriam's words carried weight that suggested deeper understanding. "You'll figure out the difference while you're here."
After Miriam left, Sera sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her phone.
The room's peaceful atmosphere made her usual content planning feel suddenly artificial.
This Professor Thorn could be exactly what she needed—if she could convince him to share his knowledge, she might finally have content worth rebuilding her career on.
But as she opened her notes app, something made her pause. The way the afternoon light slanted through the windows, the distant sound of wind in the trees, the scent of woodsmoke drifting up from the fireplace below—it all felt too precious to immediately translate into content strategy.
For the first time in years, Sera closed her phone without posting anything and simply sat in the quiet beauty of the moment.
Tomorrow, she'd hunt down this mysterious historian and see what stories Hollow Oak was willing to share.
Tonight, she'd try to remember what it felt like to experience something without immediately planning how to package it for an audience.
The mountain mist swirled outside her windows, and something about its movement made her think that maybe, she'd finally found the place where she could stop performing and start living again.