Page 10 of Lovewell Lane (Honeyfield Dreamers #1)

Margo

Lila made it very clear that she had only been to this bar once since she’d moved to Honeyfield years ago. Even though it was only about thirty minutes outside of city limits. So, I was expecting that to mean the bar was loud, smelly, and gross.

Instead, I walked through the door to discover a live band.

They were playing a country song that I didn’t recognize, but the twang in it was stronger than any drink in the bar.

It was loud but in a joyous way. There was a good mix of men and women (always my first indicator for if it would be a good night or not), and I smelled no hint of piss or vomit.

A win in my book. I took Lila’s hand and practically skipped over to the bartender.

“What do you like?” I asked.

Lila waved noncommittally while surveying the bar. Was she looking for someone? “I’ll have whatever you’re getting.”

“Two vodka sodas please,” I chirped to the bartender.

We each grabbed a glass and headed to the corner of the bar furthest from the band. While I didn’t mind the music, (I quickly realized I did like country music) I came here for one purpose. To get to know my new friend, Lila.

I slid off my denim jacket— yes, I wore boots and denim, I did my research— and hung it on the back of my chair at our high- top table. Lila shrugged off her jacket as well, and we both made sure to pick seats facing the stage where the band played.

“So, what’s it like running an Inn? Are there any ghosts? Or mysteries to solve?” I asked.

Lila removed her lime wedge and squeezed it into her vodka soda. “It’s fun, honestly. It keeps me busy, which I really like, and business is good. The winter months are slow, but we still get guests that want to stay outside of Shellville.”

“Good. Any advice for me?”

She tapped her pointer finger to her lip in thought. “I think the best thing I did was stay on the town’s good side. There have been a few other Dreamers that moved to Honeyfield since I started, and they kind of wrecking-balled their way in. That method clearly doesn’t work.”

My eyes widened. “They all failed?” I’d heard Derek’s brother say the same thing, but I assumed he was exaggerating. “How long did they last?”

“None lasted even a year,” Lila said casually as if my hair wasn’t currently standing straight up out of my head in fear. “I guess they didn’t have savings. Or they didn’t want to waste time continuing to try.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” I said.

The Dreamer Initiative offered fifteen thousand dollars upon moving to Honeyfield to help get a business up and running.

While I never held down a job, I always had one, so on top of the Initiative bonus I had about five thousand dollars in savings.

Which didn’t seem like a lot if I wasn’t going to make a profit right away.

Lila laughed and set down her drink. “You seem to be doing well. The Weston’s helped me out a ton, honestly. We order a lot of our produce from them. Eggs, too. And everyone takes their word like the gospel around here, so anytime someone comes to town, or near it, they recommend me.”

“Oh.” That didn’t sound like the Derek Weston I knew. She must have been talking about Sam.

“It helps to be a necessary business too. There are only chain hotels or motels in Shellville, and some people don’t like that experience. I’m sure tourists would drive a little further to come to your diner. Not to mention locals.”

I needed to make sure my BLT was the best sandwich in a three-town radius, was what I was hearing. Instead of voicing my concerns, I choked them down with a big gulp of my vodka soda.

“I have time to figure it out. Tell me more about your daughter.”

That was how we spent the next hour. Going back and forth with a ping-pong-esque game of twenty questions.

It ended up being one-sided since I had a never-ending amount of questions for Lila.

I found out Lila identified as a Pisces, divorcee, and avid crocheter.

Who knew? I was just about to convince her to make me one of those cute strawberry hats when we were rudely interrupted.

“Hey, Lila.” Sam Weston’s charming smile was enough to brighten up the dimly lit bar. He rested a hand on the back of Lila’s chair before sliding into the one next to her. He spoke while still looking at her and only her, “Mind if I crash?”

I looked at Lila to see her reaction. A small smile tugged at her lips before she quickly hid her facial expression. “I don’t mind,” I answered for her.

“Nice to see you again, neighbor,” Sam greeted me.

“Where is it that you live again?” I asked. I knew he didn’t live in the main house with Derek. Or, I assumed . No grown man would willingly still live with his domineering older brother.

“If you follow the driveway but take a right instead of a left, that’s me. The trees cover it, but I live right on the property.”

“Ah, close but not too close.”

“Exactly,” he agreed while still glancing at Lila.

There was some serious underlying tension there, at least on his end.

He looked at her like she was on the verge of discovering the secret to the universe.

Holding onto her every facial expression.

I couldn’t tell if the feeling was reciprocated.

From what I learned about Lila so far, though, was that she kept her cards pretty close to her chest. “Has anyone invited you both to the Seedling Party yet?”

Lila and I both stared at each other with blank expressions.

Sam chuckled, “Of course not, you’ll have to excuse my brother. While he’s technically the leader of Weston Farms now, he’s not the most cordial. We host a party at the end of every January to plant the first seeds of the season. It’s mostly for fun rather than hard manual labor.”

Lila fluttered her eyelashes. “I might be busy with the Inn,” she wondered out loud.

“It’s usually an all-day affair, so you can stop by whenever. And you can bring Sienna with you, I’m sure Tessa would love that,” Sam said.

At the mention of her daughter, Lila perked up. Then she looked at me.

“I’m guessing it will be held on the farm?” I asked. Sam nodded. “Then I’m in, Lila you should come, too.”

“We’ll see.” She looked down at her phone which lit up her face. “One second, I should take this.”

She wandered off to stand outside in front of the bar. I turned to Sam. “What’s going on between you two?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not the most subtle person, are you?”

“Nope,” I blurted.

Sam glanced over to where Lila was standing through the window and didn’t take his eyes away from her. “When she came to town, it was just her and Sienna. I just like to look out for her, is all.”

I nodded. There was more to the story. Something sad, probably, from the way his eyes darkened while remembering it. But I didn’t push.

“Why hasn’t she ever been to this yearly party before then?”

“I always invite her.” His head finally turned back to look at me. “This is the first time I’ve seen her away from the Inn with someone other than Sienna. How did you do that?”

I cocked my head at him. “I can be pretty charming.”

He snorted and shook his head in disbelief. “I’m learning that. First my brother, now Lila. You enjoy collecting hard-to-impress people don’t you?”

Before I could answer, a very frazzled-looking Lila came rushing back in through the door. She started speaking to us before she even crossed the room. “I have to go. Sienna’s blood sugar crashed.”

I hopped out of my seat, but Sam beat me to it. “Is she okay?”

“She will be, yes, her babysitter got it regulated. I just need to be with her, she’s going to feel pretty shitty for the rest of the night.”

“I’ll drive you,” Sam volunteered. I looked down at my nearly empty glass. I wasn’t tipsy, but I was also planning on drinking a tall glass of water before driving to be extra safe.

“Okay, thank you,” Lila said. “Is that okay, Margo?”

“Of course, go be with your kid.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to leave you here.”

“I have a car and a perfectly good vodka soda. Please, go check on Sienna.”

They hurriedly headed toward the door as I stood up to grab my jacket. Time to make friends.

-

“The integrity of a grilled cheese lies in the quality of the bread. Anything you add to it after that is just the sprinkles on top. Trust me, bacon, diced tomatoes, and a blend of Cheddar and Gruyere. A bit of ranch slathered on the inside of two slices of freshly baked bread. To die for.”

The middle-aged woman I’d been chatting up for the last five minutes looked enamored at the idea. Despite her traditionalist view that only cheese belongs on a grilled cheese sandwich five minutes ago. If there was anything I could convince people about, it was a grilled cheese.

“I’m opening a new diner over in Honeyfield, show up sometime and I’ll make you one for free,” I insisted.

“Alright, I’m sold,” she said.

The tall man that sat on my left was dressed like he came straight out of 2014 Tumblr. He had on skinny jeans and a red flannel, and the outfit was accompanied by tasteful guyliner. He leaned over and asked, “You live in Honeyfield?”

I nodded. “Mhm. Just moved there.”

“Welcome, I grew up there.” He reached his hand across the bar and shook mine swiftly. “Michael.”

“Margo.”

“I didn’t know we were getting a restaurant. I must have missed one too many town hall meetings,” he joked. “I would have applied.”

“Applied?”

“I’m a chef. If you need anyone, I’m professionally trained.”

“Oh,” I said, fully turning in my seat to face him. “We definitely need to chat.”

-

“Have a great night!” I called, waving at nearly the entire bar. The band had left an hour ago, and I’d somehow turned myself into the entertainment for the night. It was like a drunken, jolly debate club, and I was the mediator.

I hurriedly got in my car and turned the key in the ignition. There was an extra nip in the air tonight, the Georgia weather was nearly as unpredictable as me. Frowning, I tried to turn the key again. Shit.