Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(3)

“I’m the chief of police,” she said. “You know Eloise Eden, right?”

“Um . . . yes?” Had I told her that?

“Full disclosure. Memphis is a unique name and Eloise is my sister-in-law.”

“Ah.” Damn it to the moon and back. This was my new boss’s sister-in-law, and I’d just made an epically horrible first impression. “Er . . . what are the chances?”

“In Quincy? Pretty good,” she said. “You’ll be working at the inn?”

I nodded. “Yes. As a housekeeper.”

Before Winslow could say anything else, the front door to the house opened and a pretty brunette rushed outside, smiling and waving.

Eloise. Her blue eyes sparkled, the same color as the cloudless September sky.

“Memphis!” She rushed my way. “You made it.”

“I did,” I breathed, shifting Drake to extend my hand.

Whatever makeup I’d put on two days ago at our hotel in Minnesota had worn off from fatigue and tears. My blond hair was in a sloppy ponytail and my white tee was stained orange at the hem from an energy drink that had exploded on me this morning. I looked nothing like the version of Memphis Ward who’d done a virtual interview with Eloise weeks ago. But this was me. There was no hiding reality.

I was a mess.

Eloise moved right in to my space, ignoring my offered hand to pull me in for a hug.

I tensed. “Sorry, I smell.”

“Not at all.” She laughed. “You met Winn?”

I nodded. “She was kind enough to help me when I got lost.”

“Oh no.” Eloise’s smile dropped. “Were my directions bad?”

“No.” I waved it off. “I’ve just never driven on a dirt road. I didn’t expect it.”

Up until this trip, I hadn’t driven much at all. Yes, I’d had a car in New York, but I’d also had a driver. Thankfully, I’d spent enough time behind the wheel going to and from the Hamptons to feel comfortable making this journey.

“Can we help you get unpacked?” Winslow asked, pointing toward the loft.

“Oh, that’s okay. I can manage.”

“We’ll help.” Eloise squeezed the trunk’s release button.

The duffel bags and suitcases I’d shoved inside practically jumped out. Yes, all of my belongings fit into my Volvo. But that didn’t mean it hadn’t been a chore to stuff them inside.

She hefted a backpack over her shoulder, then lifted out a suitcase.

“Really, I can do this.” My face flamed red at the sight of my new boss hauling out my things. The bag she carried had my underwear and tampons.

But Eloise ignored me, marching to the garage’s steel staircase.

“Trust me on this one.” Winslow walked to the trunk. “The sooner you just go along with Eloise, the easier your life will be. She’s persistent.”

Like how she’d refused to listen when I’d had to decline the job offer. She’d ordered me to get to Montana, promising we’d have a home once we arrived.

“I’m learning this.” I giggled. It was the first laugh I’d had in . . . well, in a long time.

I held Drake closer, breathing in his baby smell. Standing there, with my feet on the ground, I let myself breathe again. For one heartbeat. Then two. I let the soles of my shoes be warmed by the rocks. I let my heart sink out of my throat and return to my chest.

We made it.

Quincy might not be our forever home. But forevers were for dreamers. And I’d stopped dreaming the day I’d started ranking my worst days. There’d been so many, it had been the only way to keep moving forward. To know that none had been as awful as the first-worst day. To know that if I’d survived that one, I could endure the second and the third and the fourth.

Today marked the fifth.

It had started at a gas station in North Dakota. I’d pulled over last night to get some sleep. Twenty minutes, that’s all I’d wanted. Then I’d planned to get back on the road. Drake had been zonked and I hadn’t wanted to wake him up by hauling him into a seedy hotel.

Napping in the car had been a reckless decision. I’d thought I was safe beneath the parking lot’s bright lights. My eyes hadn’t been closed for more than five minutes when a truck driver had knocked on my window, licking his lips.

I’d sped away and, hopefully, run over his toes.

My heart had hammered for the next hour, but once the adrenaline had worn off, soul-deep exhaustion had burrowed under my skin. I’d been afraid of falling asleep at the wheel so I’d pulled over on the interstate to hop out and jog in place under the stars. I’d stretched for all of thirty seconds before a bug had flown under my shirt and left two bites along my ribs.

The sting had kept me awake for the next hour.

At dawn, I’d found another turnoff to stop and change Drake. When I’d lifted him out of his seat, he’d spit up all over my shirt, forcing me to give myself a baby-wipe bath. Any normal day, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. But it had been one more straw and my back was close to breaking.

During our last gas station stop, he’d started crying. With the exception of a few short naps, he hadn’t really stopped.

Hours of that wail and I was fried. I was weary. I was scared. I was nervous.

My emotions were battling each other, fighting to take first place. Fighting to be the one that pushed me over the edge.