Page 15 of Somewhere You Belong

I could pay someone to take care of this for me. I could have been on my way back to D.C. an hour after I picked myself up off the sand, but one thing stopped me—Mr. Sheppard.

So, after a quick Google search, I found the one hardware store in town and plan to stop by to talk to someone today to see if they can recommend a contractor. I know I can get cleaning supplies from there as well, so I figured it was the best place to get the ball rolling so I can get back to my life—my life that is growing increasingly more stressful the longer I’m away from my business.

Katrina and I spoke on the phone this morning, but I feel helpless being so far away. I know she’s got things handled back at the office, and we’ve pushed my appointments to next week, but now I have to decide what to do about this house and how that’s going to affect my schedule.

I snap back to the present, remembering Dolly had asked me a question. “Just out to run a few errands,” I reply.

“Are you staying past tomorrow?” she asks, knowing my reservation only extends through tonight. At least Katrina knew that I could be gone through Monday due to the uncertainty of this trip, and now I’m glad that I took that extra time. However, I need to decide how much longer I’m going to stay, and if I’ll stay in the house instead of the inn. Perhaps after someone looks at it and confirms it’s safe, that’s where I’ll sleep. After I get a bed, that is. I ordered one online last night—just in case—and Timothy graciously agreed to let me have it delivered to his office.

“I’m not sure yet. Can I let you know this afternoon?”

“Of course.” Dolly smiles and then takes a sip of her coffee casually. “I’ll be here, as always.”

“Thank you, Dolly.”

With a parting smile, I head out to my car and then plug in the address for the Sunshine Bakery.

Priorities, Willow. Muffins, then house.

In five short minutes, I’m driving down a small street lined with shops that look like something out of a movie set, the glistening water of the cove as the backdrop. Signs for small businesses hang from the eaves of the joined shops, and sidewalks are littered with people. Park benches are evenly spaced out among tall lampposts and potted planters. It’s exactly what you would imagine finding in a small tourist town, or on the set of a Hallmark movie.

Honestly, I always wondered if places like this existed in real life.

I find a parking spot along the street very close to the bakery, and then speed-walk to the door.

As soon as I step inside, sugary, buttery goodness hits my nostrils, instantly making me salivate. And then I see them—those little blueberry mounds of heaven sitting on a shelf in the display case, just waiting for me to devour them.

I swear, I’m not normally this passionate about baked goods, but these muffins are making me act out of character.

Hell, I feel like this entire town is.

“Good morning.” A cheery voice pulls my eyes from the display case to the owner of the voice, a woman that looks vaguely familiar.

“Hello. Can I get a half-dozen of the blueberry muffins, please?”

“Absolutely.” The woman moves with an elegance as she pops open a box and starts loading my breakfast inside. I’m not going to eat all six today, obviously, but I know I’ll at least have some for tomorrow and the day after, just in case. “Anything else I can get for you?”

“No. That will be it.”

The woman moves to the register, so I meet her there. “That will be ten dollars.”

I hand her my card. “Thank you. I’m not proud to say I nearly had a panic attack this morning when I missed out on these at the inn.”

“Oh, you’re staying at the inn?”

“Yeah, just for a few days.”

“Vacation?”

“More like attending to some business,” I reply as she hands me a receipt to sign, feeling like a broken record each time I answer that question.

“What kind of business would bring you to Carrington Cove?”

“The kind I wish I could avoid,” I answer honestly.

“Well, at least you’re getting a little vacation out of the deal. And some fantastic blueberry muffins.” She hands me a copy of my receipt and then the box.

I tap my finger on the top of the box. “No, this is a problem. I live six hours away and now that I’ve tasted these little bites of heaven, I’m not ashamed to say I might have to come back a few times a month just for more of these. Or pay for a very expensive delivery.”

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