Page 11 of Somewhere You Belong

I twist to see her eyebrows reaching her hairline. “Is there another one?”

“No. Just odd for an out-of-towner to be meeting with Tim.”

“Well, like I said, I’m here on business.”

Dolly hums in thought. “Well, you best get along. Traffic will start to back up along the parkway at this hour—tourists headed toward the beach and all that.”

“Good to know. Thank you for the coffee and muffin,” I say, and the memory of the bar owner chastising me about my manners pops up. But I don’t have time to go down that road right now.

“Happy to oblige. Have a good day, Willow.”

With one last smile in her direction, I hustle out of the lobby and back down to my car. Once I’m settled, a loud growl from my stomach reminds me I should probably eat, so I break off the muffin’s crumble topping and plop it in my mouth.

“Holy crap,” I mumble around the bite, letting the sugar and fresh blueberries swirl around in my mouth. That is, by far, the best blueberry muffin I’ve ever had.

I guess there is one perk about this place after all.

Once I finish chewing, I carefully take a sip from the coffee that is still steaming hot. And when the liquid hits my tongue—smooth and not too bitter—I let out a moan.

Okay, make that two perks.

Now I can see why a Starbucks isn’t needed here.

“What kind of caffeine crack is this?” I take another sip, surrendering to some of the best coffee I’ve ever tasted before I start the car and pull out of the parking lot, following the signs to get back on the parkway.

And Dolly was right. It’s stop and go traffic for miles, which feels like an eternity as I slowly roll along the coast.

But I take the opportunity to stare out at the water when traffic’s stopped. Might as well.

In the distance, white reflections of light gleam off the dark-blue water. As my eyes veer closer to the shore, the blue lightens into patchesof light turquoise. Green brush and grass pop up along the coast too, giving way to white sandy beaches and kids running around near the water, full of energy and laughter.

A deep breath of relief hits me all at once.

I can’t remember the last time I saw the ocean, or felt the cool, salty water against my skin. I can’t remember the last time I took a few days off from work either.

Running a company means your personal life often takes a backseat since you’re more wrapped up in the lives of your clients and employees. And being one of the best in your field definitely means you don’t get much of a break. I’m constantly grinding, pushing myself and my company to be the best because my job is my life.

It’s the one thing that no one can take away from me.

But this trip is rattling the solid foundation I’ve built my life on, a realization that hit me hard as I fought sleep the night before.

When I arrive at Timothy MacDonald’s office with five minutes to spare, I flip down the visor to check my appearance once more. Every hair is in place, swept back into my signature low bun. My lips are painted a deep rose color today and the black, square-neck dress I chose is professional and appropriate, given the circumstances.

“I’m here to see Timothy MacDonald,” I say to the receptionist as I step into the office and up to her desk.

The woman, who can’t be much older than me, stares up at my face over the rim of her round, black framed glasses. From what I can tell between last night and this morning, this town probably doesn’t get many people dressed like me waltzing around here.

“And what is your name?” she asks with a slight southern drawl.

“Willow Marshall.”

She flicks her eyes at me one more time with an assessing stare, and then clicks through the page on her computer screen. “Ah, yes. I seeyou here. If you want to take a seat, I’ll let Mr. MacDonald know you’re here.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I say as she stands and steps down a narrow hallway.

A few moments later, a balding man in a blue plaid shirt and khaki pants walks into the reception area.

“Thank you, Mable,” he says to the receptionist as she returns to her desk.

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