Page 6 of Lovewell Lane (Honeyfield Dreamers #1)

Margo

Margo: I got invited to a messy family dinner already. I kind of love small town life.

Scarlet: Please tell me it was from Hot Farmer Man

Margo: His name is Derek.

Scarlet: !!! Call me ASAP! I need to know everything!

I put my phone away into the back pocket of my jeans. Despite it being late January, Georgia was warm enough to feel comfortable in a long-sleeved shirt and my favorite pair of Levi’s. My tote bag was heavy on my arm since it was packed to the brim with baked goods.

Since Derek helped me clean my new humble abode yesterday, I was able to go out this morning and buy all the necessities to bake treats that will win over the hearts of my fellow townspeople.

Introducing myself to people by driving down random driveways seemed like a bad idea, so I decided to start with local businesses.

The Lakeside Inn seemed like the perfect place to start.

Last night at dinner, the Westons said this was the first (and only) successful Dreamer operation.

I looked up at the building from the sidewalk, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was in a romcom.

The window boxes had flowers. I didn’t realize that planting window boxes was a thing real people did.

Ivy crept up the siding of the Inn, but in a purposeful way, rather than being unkempt.

This building was tucked away on a side street, and through the trees, I could see a giant lake in the distance behind it. Aptly named.

I walked inside to find a bell on the desk. A literal call bell. Adorable. Wondering if it was rude to use it, I decided to wait and looked around at the homely furniture. Wallpaper coated the room in a fun coastal pattern.

A stunning woman who looked very overwhelmed paced through the entryway before stopping to look at me.

I was immediately drawn to her sad-looking hazel eyes.

With light-colored hair and lashes framing her face and her dull-colored clothing, it was hard to look away from those eyes that shifted colors with the light.

“Oh, hello,” she blurted out.

“Hi,” I greeted with a smile. She looked stressed out and walked around her desk to peer at a book. “Oh, I’m not a guest,” I added.

She glanced back at me with a confused look. Like I was a puzzle and she couldn’t find the last piece. The people from this town had a certain suspicion around newcomers, I decided.

“I’m a new business owner here,” I clarified. I held up my bag and pulled out a wrapped package of pound cake. “I just wanted to introduce myself and get to know people around town.”

“Oh,” the woman breathed out. “It’s nice to meet you, you must be the new Dreamer.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah, I guess so. My name is Margo.”

She returned my smile with a shy smile of her own. “Lila, it’s nice to meet you.”

I decided at that moment that I would befriend Lila.

She reminded me of a deer who needed a little time and patience to warm up.

Scarlet was like that when we were in school— maybe less deer-like and more of a feral cat— and I adored getting her to open up over time.

She remained my best friend to this day for a reason.

I gently handed the pound cake over to Lila. “Can I pick your brain for a bit? I have so many questions about this town,” I said.

She laughed softly and nodded. “I’m technically a Dreamer too, but I’ve been here for over a year now. There was a lot to get used to,” she confided.

“Right?!” I whispered conspiratorially. “Like why are the road names straight out of a CandyLand board game?”

Lila straightened up at that question, but she kept her tone light. “Apparently, the founders of the town were madly in love, and Mr. Fields named all major buildings and streets after things that reminded him of his wife.”

My head tilted like an alert dog. “Woah, that’s actually really sweet.”

Lila nodded and then leaned in to add more quietly, “Some of the people here think there’s also a curse on the town since they separated.”

“The couple that created an entire town built upon their love— and named a street Lovewell Lane— separated ?” Proof enough that marriage was not worth it.

She nodded sadly at that. “Honeyfield has one of the highest divorce rates in the state.” She paused and considered her words carefully. “People also think it’s why the town has suffered so much economically.”

“Wow,” I said, dumbfounded. “I never would have guessed. Do you know why they split?”

“They both had ideas for the town. Sam told me this part, so I don’t know how true it is, but supposedly Mrs. Fields wanted to keep the town small, while Mr. Fields had bigger ideas and wanted to expand the city as much as possible.”

“Huh, typical man, then.”

“Yes,” Lila’s dimples creased as she laughed. “Typical.”

“You know Sam Weston?” I asked. There could only be so many Sams in a town this small.

I watched as Lila averted her eyes and quickly busied her hands. There was definitely a story there.

“Not well,” Lila said bashfully. “He’s very outgoing, most people here know him.”

I smiled knowingly. “He’s cute.”

She scoffed at my declaration. “Most women in this town fawn over those brothers, and I have a daughter, so,” her sentence trailed off into silence.

Despite my piqued interest, I decided not to push. “A daughter? I’ll have to meet her. But in the meantime, can you get a babysitter for Friday?”

“A babysitter? What for?”

I smiled like a Cheshire cat. “We’re going out, and I need a friend to show me what’s fun to do around here.”

“Oh,” Lila stuttered. “There’s not much to do in Honeyfield.”

“There must be something around it,” I pestered.

She turned back to me slowly and nodded with a small smile. “There’s a bar, and I haven’t had a night off in a while. Let’s do it.”

I patted her hand that rested on the desk between us gently. “Yes, let’s. Can I meet you here on Friday around eight?”

“Sounds perfect.”

-

After dropping by the car shop to introduce myself, I decided I couldn’t possibly wait any longer to see the inside of my own store.

Earlier that morning, I’d stopped by the quaint Town Hall building to meet the mayor in his office.

He was a kind-looking old man that was very excited to meet me.

He was the first person in my experience here so far.

It felt very official that the mayor of a town was giving me a key, but instead of the city, this key was for something even better– my own diner.

Shifting my tote to my left arm, I cursed myself for always overdoing things. I had only three places left to bring gifts to, yet the handles of the bag cut into my arm at the pressure. More for me, I guess .

The storefront had a classic small town feel to it.

It looked like it was once well-loved. The old brick building definitely needed a pressure wash and the glass windows could use a good cleaning.

Scrubbing even. The planters on either side of the door were abandoned long ago, and all that remained was dead shrubbery.

The deserted sidewalk in front of the store desperately needed to be blown off.

Leaves and dirt from the Dogwood trees planted throughout the sidewalk had built up over time and left quite a mess.

I had a lot of work to do.

But the bones were good. At least, they looked good to me. I wasn’t an archaeologist. Or an architect.

The key twisted in the lock and with a satisfying click, I was in. An overwhelming feeling of nostalgia hit as soon as I walked through the doorway. Which was confusing, because I had never been here before. But suddenly, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be.

The existing plain white walls and checkered floors were very traditional.

There was already a counter along the back wall leading into the kitchen area.

When the mayor recommended this place, I forgot to ask what it was previously.

He assured me it had all the structure for a diner, without any of the appliances.

I walked through the front of the diner slowly, it was empty, so there wasn’t much to look at. But I wanted to take in every inch of it. This would be my fresh new start. A project that would, fingers crossed, never get boring.

When I reached the entryway of the kitchen, I found a big puddle on the floor. That wasn’t good. The checkered tile surrounding the puddle looked dirty and stained. Then my gaze floated upward to the ceiling. Oh no.

A discolored brown circle was directly above the puddle. Also, per my estimate, above where my stove would go.

I rented this place with a no-maintenance clause. Which meant I was on my own for anything that went wrong. In my defense, I didn’t have many other options for storefronts to rent in Honeyfield since the mayor insisted this was the perfect one for me. And also, it was dirt cheap.

Ignoring the glaring issue for now, I continued walking through the rest of the store and checked out the tiny office— correction. My tiny office.

I turned around to face the leak again. Stumped on how to fix this problem, I meandered back to the front of the diner and hopped up to sit on a counter next to my bag filled with cookies, cake, and bread. I glanced over at it and saw a glaring loaf of sourdough staring back at me.

Ugh. Would it be stupid to ask Derek for help again? He did own a farm store, and from what I saw when I wasn’t running into his giant stupid chest, there were a lot of hardware-like supplies in there.

All morning while I was baking, I couldn’t help but think about his reaction when I would give him the bread.

Would he look at it like I’d offended his family name like he did when I handed him cookies?

Or maybe ignore my existence like he did while I was at his family dinner?

Perhaps freshly baked bread would be his final straw, and he’d kick me out of his guest house.

I cut off my dramatic line of thinking and decided to just get this out of the way.