But what if it wasn’t?

That question floats in my head as I look out across Deep Lake from the end of the dock. I stand in the same spot as last night, needing to know if the feeling in my chest is just temporary.

“Hello, there!”

I spin around, startled by the sudden shout behind me on the dock. Then I bow my head at the old man and give him a smile. “Hello, Mr. Michaelson,” I say. “Good morning.”

He shuffles down the dock toward me, a folding chair beneath one arm and a book in the other. “Nice day, huh?” he asks.

“It is,” I say, stepping back as he sets his chair down. “Let me get out of your way.”

“No, no, no.” He waves dismissively as he sits down. “Don’t let me chase you off. There’s plenty of lake for both of us.”

I stop, happy to linger a little longer.

“How are you enjoying your stay?” he asks me.

“It’s great,” I answer. “You have a beautiful home here.”

“Thank you.” He takes a deep breath and smiles at the lake. “Been here a long time.”

“How long?”

“Almost twenty-five years now,” he says. “Give or take.”

“That is a long time.”

“Went by awfully fast, though,” he muses. “When my Myra and I first settled here, Mika was still in the womb.”

I smile at that.

“None of this was here,” he says, pointing around. “The lake was, obviously, but the house. The inn. We built all of it, she and I. The inn was her dream come true.”

I notice the way his eyes lowered when he said was. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir,” I say.

He waves it off. “I’ve got years and years of memories to keep me. And little Mickey. More like her mother every day, that one.”

My smile returns.

“Smart. Strong. Stubborn.” He chuckles as he shakes his head. “My only wish is for her to follow her heart once in a while. Get out of her head.”

“Easier said than done sometimes,” I say, relating to his words.

“It shouldn’t be,” he says. “Not in Kiss County, anyway.”

I nod, going quiet as he smiles at the lake again.

8

CARTER

Just before seven, I leave my room and make my way downstairs. I’m once again greeted by the warm and cozy sitting room just off the foyer, and I take a moment to admire the place a little closer. Finer details stand out this time, telling the story of a beautiful couple who settled here many years ago. Newlyweds. Pregnant.

Eying the photos on the mantel above the fireplace, I see one of Mika standing in the town square gazebo, holding a diploma and wearing a black graduation robe. Her face carries a stiff smile only used for photos, but her eyes shine with pride.

“Hey.”

Behind me, Mika hovers in the doorway, her golden hair let down to her shoulders. I turn to look at her over my shoulder, my attention instantly falling on her outfit: a loose, lavender sundress. Before now, all I’ve seen her wear is her waitress uniform and an old sweatshirt. Neither of which showed off her curves like this dress does.