Page 30 of Touch the Sky

“Seems like you’re off to a great start.”

I nod. “I hope so.”

I don’t sound very hopeful. My cheeks are aching from smiling so much today, but out here, with a couple hundred feet of perspective between me and Balsam Inn, I can’t keep the nerves from dragging my mouth down into a frown.

I need this to work.

I need the inn to do well. I need it to bring more customers out to La Grange Rouge. I need more time to take care ofMamanand the horses and the million little things I have to do around the farm, but I can’t get more time if I don’t make more money, and I can’t seem to get more money without more time.

Lately, life has felt like an equation so impossible even my math whizz cousin Maddie wouldn’t be able to solve it.

Something’s gotta give.

That’s what I keep telling myself, but I can’t figure out what thesomethingis.

I should be back there with everyone soaking up the moment. I should be handing out flyers and yapping with tourists. I should be getting one of those terrible face paintings done so I can jump around and make everybody laugh.

I should be bringing Balsam Inn to life, but instead, I feel like a shadow, like some creepy Grim Reaper hanging over the place.

“You okay?”

I didn’t even realize we’d reached the barn. Tess is standing with her shoulder propped against the brand new sliding door, watching me with this soft look on her face that jolts me straight out of my pity party.

I don’t want soft looks from strangers. I don’t want to be the problem. I don’t have time to be the problem.

I’m the one who solves the problems.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I reach to haul the heavy wooden door open so I can show Tess the studio. I need the distraction, but I pause after sliding it open just a crack.

Tess is still watching me, and this time, I hold her gaze.

Maybe this is thesomething.

Maybe I need to get over Tess’s carabiner being bigger than mine and see her arrival in La Cloche for what it really is: an opportunity I can’t risk losing.

Maybe I need to start doing everything I can to make sure she signs the lease.

“You know what? You’re right,” I say.

Her forehead wrinkles. “About what?”

“We should talk. How about tonight? I know a good place for a drink.”

Chapter 8

Tess

The wooden sign above the door spells outMACK’S BISTROin thick block capitals. There’s a flickering neon open sign in the window, along with a faded menu taped to the glass.

The bar is a stark contrast to most of the establishments on Rue Principale, La Cloche’s main street. There’s no trace of hippie health products or small batch artisanal concoctions. The menu has a section for vegan burgers, but besides that, the place looks like somewhere you’d pop in after a fishing trip or on your way to go raise a barn.

It’s also packed. Even standing on the sidewalk, I can hear the thrum of voices inside.

I glance up and down the street for any sign of Jacinthe. I’m five minutes early. Dusk has fallen, and there’s a bite in the air that reminds me we’re hurtling towards the end of September. The days have remained warm enough to feel like summer, but I can smell autumn creeping in tonight: wood smoke, rustling leaves, and cold, still water.

“Salut. You made it.”