If It Makes You Happy(58)

“Right. Who wouldn’t want a sixteen-year-old friend?” I deadpan.

“No, you called her dad your friend.”

I slide the pendant over my necklace chain. “Oh. Well … because he is.”

“I can’t wait to meet him!”

“Are you guys coming to town?”

“Yeah, Dad’s talked about it.”

I freeze on the spot, licking my bottom lip and squeaking my shoes together. I haven’t asked about Dad once. I disappeared into Copper Run, like I’d intended. But now I’ve gotten lost in the woods, so enraptured by making the inn thrive, immersing myself in Copper Run, and getting tangled in work, like I always do.

“How is he?” I ask.

“Better. No more show reruns. He’s going on walks.”

I let out a breath. “That’s amazing.”

“It’s been great,” she says. “So, I was thinking I could come over when my school is on Thanksgiving break.”

“That would be great.”

“And I could meet Hot Dad Neighbor.”

I laugh, but it fades off. “You know what? You’d probably really get along with him. He’s funny. I think he might like blondes.” I don’t know why that left my mouth. It was so quick, like a jumble of words I basically tripped over.

Cliff is my friend. He hasn’t dated since he divorced two years ago. My sister is like bottled sunbeam. He needs a bit more sunshine.

“Really?” Sara asks. “Nothing is going on between you two?”

My chest tightens. “No. Seriously, nothing is going on.”

“I mean, if he’s cute,” Sara says on a giggle, “I wouldn’t say no.”

“I’ll ask him about it, then.”

I’ve never set up a friend with my sister before. I’ve never had a guy friend available to even consider it. Maybe that’s why my stomach is churning. Because of my lack of matchmaking skills. I don’t want my sister to get hurt, and I don’t want Cliff to get hurt either.

The kitchen door swings open, and Carol pokes her head in.

“God, it’s too loud out there,” she says, already removing her pack of smokes from her pocket.

“Where’s Cliff?” I ask.

“At the bakery,” she says, fumbling the pack open and frowning. “We closed early. He has lots of last-minute Halloween party orders.”

I smirk. “Can’t help himself.”

“No, but”—Carol tosses the empty pack in the trash and settles at the table with Brittany—“I’m here to relieve you of your babysitting duties.”

The door bursts in again, and this time it’s the woman with the two boys.

“I’m so sorry. What was your name again? It wasn’t Birdie, but—”

“Michelle,” I say quickly.

“I’m so sorry, Michelle. Are there towels upstairs?”

“Yes—”

“I’ve got it,” Carol chimes in, walking through the door before I can argue.

“I’m gonna call you back in a couple of days,” Sara says on the phone.

I blink back to our conversation. “No, wait—”

“Yes. You’re busy. I’m hanging up now. Don’t argue. I love you.”

I nod even though she can’t see me. The tight coil in my chest is pulling taut with heat springing all the way down to my fingertips.

“Love you,” I answer, and the moment I do, I hear the dial tone.

I hang up the phone right as Carol walks in with Lisa and Emily on her heels.

Lisa touches my shoulder, her eyes like tiny marbles behind her thick glasses. “How’s it been today?”

“Hectic,” I answer.

“Big families?”

“Big families,” I echo. My stomach rumbles, and I place a hand over it. “Ugh. I think I forgot to eat lunch.”

Carol’s eyes shift from my stomach, to me, then to Lisa. She and Lisa exchange a knowing nod.

“Get out of here,” Lisa demands.

I lift an eyebrow. “What?”

“Go,” Carol throws in. “Get a sandwich at Betty’s or something.”

I snort. “I can’t leave.”

“Yes, you can,” she says. “Get away from this house for an hour. We’ve got this. Emily too.”

Emily gawks. “Wait, I’m working? But what if Josh calls?”

Carol nudges her and nods to me. “Go, Michelle. I’m kicking you out. How about this? You’ll be helping me because”—she digs in her pocket and pulls out a five-dollar bill—“you can buy me another pack. See? Helping.”

Lisa sniffs. “Carol, dear, that’s a terrible habit.”

I lift an eyebrow. “I’m not supporting it either.”

“You both sound like Cliff,” she says dully. But she waves the five at me anyway. “Go. Now.”



My feet knew where to go before I did. Ten minutes after leaving the inn, I knock on the locked glass door to Burke’s Bakery.

I tuck my hands in my leather jacket pockets and look out at the square while I wait. The park is prepped for trick-or-treaters this Friday. Black wrought iron fences line the sidewalk with speared pumpkins, and plastic skeletons lounge in the gazebo rocking chairs. Papier-m?ché ghosts glide from tree branches, bumping into the sparse leaves of maroon and gold.