Doing It Over (Most Likely To #1)(18)

“I quit cheer my sophomore year,” Melanie reminded her.

Margie waved her hand in the air. “Splitting hairs, Melanie. Once on the squad, forever on the squad.”

That wasn’t how she remembered it. Instead of offering an argument, Melanie pulled out the key for Margie and Jonathan’s room and set it on the registration counter. “Miss Gina has you down as staying through Sunday.”

“It’s so nice of you to help Miss Gina out. Poor woman isn’t getting any younger.”

Don’t let her hear you saying that sat unsaid on Melanie’s lips. Let Miss Gina overhear Margie and see how fast it would take for Margie and her suit-wearing fiancé to find themselves at the RV park inside their car.

“Do the rooms have Internet access?” Jonathan finally spoke.

“The house has Wi-Fi access throughout,” Melanie told him.

“Is there a code?”

Melanie forced herself not to laugh. “No one is concerned with stealing Miss Gina’s Internet service.”

“I told you it was a small town, darling,” Margie said.

Jonathan let his eyes wander the foyer without an ounce of amusement.

“It’s only a few days.”

Melanie clicked a few keys on Miss Gina’s computer and removed a receipt for Margie and her reluctant fiancé’s room.

“Breakfast is from seven to nine thirty. There are refreshments in the sitting room throughout the day, and a wine and cheese reception between five and six thirty on Friday and Saturday.”

Margie offered a plastic smile to match her plastic breasts. “That’s lovely . . . isn’t that lovely, Jonathan?”

Jonathan didn’t comment as he grumbled and let Margie pull him away.

“The garden view room is on the second story, first door on the left.”

Jonathan said something about a lack of a bellhop, and Margie tugged on his arm.

“Thank you for waiting.” Melanie addressed the young family standing in the space Margie and her squeeze had just vacated. A boy, not more than six, attempted to climb up onto the counter.

“Is it our turn?”

“Samuel . . . get down.” The young mother removed her son from Miss Gina’s desk with an arm around his waist. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay . . . been there.”

“He’s been in the car for hours.” The man Melanie assumed was Dad removed a wallet from his back pocket as he spoke.

“My daughter’s the same way after a long car ride.” Melanie took his credit card and checked his name. “Wait.” She snapped her eyes back to the man. “Mitchel Giesler? Holy cow . . .” The man was no longer the boy. He had an extra thirty pounds and a beard.

“Melanie Bartlett,” she said, pointing at herself.

“Oh, hey . . . how are you?”

“Good. Not bad.” She looked down at the boy again. “Is this your son?”

“Yeah, and my wife, Letty.”

Melanie glanced between the three of them. “Wow, how much we’ve all changed. Last time I saw you was at graduation . . . you were really . . . celebrating.”

“Yes,” he said with a knowing smile. “I certainly was.”

Samuel was pulling out of his mother’s arms with enough energy to power the house.

“Settle down.”

“I wanna go outside,” the child whined.

Melanie glanced at her old classmate and lifted her voice to the back of the house. “Hope, honey?”

“Yeah?” her daughter answered.

“C’mere, sweetie.”

Hope ran from where she was perched in Miss Gina’s kitchen. Her hair in a ponytail, the smile she’d worn since they’d arrived in River Bend painted on her lips.

She moved alongside Melanie’s leg and glanced at the guests.

“Hope, this is Samuel.”

Her daughter gave a little wave and Samuel smiled.

“Why don’t you take Samuel out back and show him Miss Gina’s garden.”

Samuel wrinkled his nose. “Flowers? Yuck.”

Hope shook her head. “No, silly . . . dirt and worms.”

Samuel’s eyes grew wide.

“If it’s okay with you?” Melanie glanced at Mitchel.

Mitchel placed a hand on Samuel’s back and shoved. “Go, buddy.”

That was all the encouragement the kids needed before they were running out the back door. The sound of the screen slamming had both parents releasing long-suffering breaths.

“Kids and cars don’t mix. Now, where were we?”





CHAPTER SIX




The guests were checked in, the rooms were all clean, and Melanie sat on the back porch watching Hope and Samuel do their best to ruin their clothes with dirt.

“There you are,” Zoe’s voice rang from inside the inn. She pushed through the back door and let it slap shut.

Melanie swatted her palm against the double swing she was perched on in invitation. “I thought you were going to spend the day with your mom and sister.”

“I did, too, but she didn’t bother asking for time off work while I’m here and Zanya’s pregnancy is kicking her butt. Guess I’ll just squeeze in a few hours when I can.” Zoe stretched her long legs out and dropped her purse on the deck. The long expanse of the lawn held a large maple tree with a lone wooden swing. The forest bordered the grass without a single fence blocking the view. A pathetic attempt at a vegetable garden sported mostly weeds and a pile of dirt. The beginnings of a tomato plant, one probably volunteering its efforts from the previous year, sprang from the earth. The only thing that had changed from her childhood was the size of the tree. “It’s so quiet here. Was it always this quiet?”