Page 1 of The Inn

PROLOGUE

I slowmy car as I wind around the bend. These damn potholes are going to be the death of this car. Yes, technically it's a Jeep. But it’smyJeep and that means it was never intended to see an actual off-road adventure. My Jeep is more of theholds many shopping bags in a single triptype. Yet here I am, officially in the outdoors.

Ugh,the things I do for my job.

Spending time in nature has never been my thing, but it sure is nice to look at. I come around the bend and as far as the eye can see an endless sea of grass sways lightly in the breeze. The sunshine pokes through the clouds, streaming down over the trees like golden light shining through a stained glass window. You don’t get views like this in the city.

I take a deep breath and grip the wheel tighter as I make my way to the infamous Findlay Farm. I can't help but feel a thrill when I think of the article I'm about to write. Of course, I don’t care about the farm itself. In fact, every time I think of spending time there my city-girl heart pounds with a mantra ofget back in your lane.

My excitement comes from the fact that this is my last domestic assignment. Pending everything goes well, my lifelong dream of international reporting is just a few days away. So far on this road trip, my anxiety has stayed at bay which is a nice change.

When the ranch comes into view, it doesn’t disappoint. The iron gate attached to a split rail fence is wide withFindlay Farmsscrawled in the iron. I pull in with caution. It’s a total stunner of a property.

The main house is an old farmhouse two stories high with large windows and a wrap-around front porch that looks like it was built to sit and drink sweet tea. To which I say,yes, please. I’m more of a coffee girl under normal circumstances, but I hope that I’ll get the chance to watch the sunrise over the rolling hills on the edge of the ranch tomorrow morning before I leave.

I have a vision of myself fully in my cottage-core Instagram era. I can picture it already, the soft golden light will hit the fields at just the right angle so it looks like something straight out of a fairytale. It’s surprisingly cold out now, so I imagine tomorrow morning might be jacket weather. But maybe I'll find some sort of floral dress in my bag, I have about twenty outfits packed for the occasion.

Maybe tonight I’ll take a picture of myself with the sun setting behind me in the distance and oh, maybe a cow just for good measure! Yes. The final picture of me in the United States will be aSummer Bradley cottage-core girl. And then when I get my new assignment in Europe I will reinvent myself like the goddess herself Taylor Swift. This is my personal Evermore moment right before I start my Eras tour.

Before I can make any decisions on costume and lighting for my photoshoot an older woman with graying hair pulled into a loose bun on the back of her head comes toward me. Her face is soft and wrinkled with a grin that stretches from ear to ear. There's no doubt in my mind that this must be Maisie Finley.

I walk toward the house hauling my suitcase behind me. “Hi, you must be Maisie. It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

“Summer, hello dear. I’m glad to meet you too, we feel like regular penpals at this point. I was worried you might not be able to find the place but you have. Oh and you’re beautiful, aren’t you?” Maisie skips the handshake and goes in for a hug pressing her bony body against my round curves.

In the city, I’d be sketched out by a stranger pulling me in for a hug. But in the cottage-core context of Findlay Farm, I give her a pass. I love this woman already. “I didn’t have any trouble.”

Maisie looks me up and down then gives a sharp nod of her head. “Yes, this is wonderful. You’re going to help us share the Findlay story. Preserving our narrative for years to come in writing means everything to me. It’s been a long time coming I’ve been pushing my son Jameson to let me do this. He runs things around here these days. But if you ask me, the gates need to be open.” She holds my gaze for a moment and I try to read between the lines.

I squint, tilting my head. I’m not picking up anything other than very much an Elsa vibe. This is odd for me, I’ve made a career of decoding the unsaid. But I’m drawing a blank. I move past it with a shrug and a smile. It must be the farm air and my thoughts of Europe clouding my judgment. “I appreciate you letting me into your world. Our readers will love to get the inside scoop on all things Findlay Farm. This place is famous around here.” I reach into my bag and pull out my notebook. “If I remember correctly, this was your grandparent's farm.”

Maisie shakes her head. “Not my grandparents, but my late husband’s parents. Frank and Fanny Findlay.”

“Right, I love alliteration.” I punch the names into a notes tab on my phone then slide it back into my purse. “It’s a beautiful farmhouse. I assume the big one is all yours.” I gesture to the glorious farmhouse behind her that has pride of place in the center of the property.

“That, oh no. It’s beautiful but it’s too much work for my taste. I have a small place on the back half of the land behind the stables. Three of my children live on the farm, but my eldest son Jameson gets the big house and all the work that comes with it. You will be out and about with him most of the day. I thought it might be nice for you to experience some parts of farm life first hand. But only if you promise not to let him scare you off.” Maisie lets out a gentle chuckle. “He can be particular about things at times. But he’s a sweetheart deep down. Now, let me show you to the guest inn so you can get comfortable. We only have one up and running, so he’ll know just where to find you.”

“Thank you, that sounds lovely.” And it sounds fast which means me hopping a plane for Europe is a closer reality than ever. Besides, how hard could it be to work with Jameson Findlay? If he’s anything like his mother, I’ll have this piece written and be on the road to my new life in twenty-four short hours.

CHAPTER1

SUMMER

With a quick nodof her head, Maisie leads me on a path away from the main house. We walk several yards into the fields behind a line of oak trees. Their branches form an impressive canopy. I walk in their shade, but it doesn’t keep me from sweating through my clothes even with the off-season cold front that’s rolled in.

I don’t know if it’s the impromptu exercise, the wide open spaces, or the heat that has me off kilter, but my chest grows tight. It isn’t a total surprise, my anxiety follows me around like an unwanted party guest. But usually, I can keep it at bay. I swallow back my nerves and inhale.

You’re fine Summer, it’s just a new place with wide open spaces. No one is trying to kill you. Take another breath. Notice the smell of hay.

When an inn with a thatched roof dotted with succulents comes into view, it’s something straight from a storybook. My breath catches for a whole new reason. Ivy climbs up the swaying white picket fence and the small garden in front is alive with every color. My racing heartbeat slows.

I follow Maisie up the cobblestone path toward the door and a sense of calm washes over me. The distant sound of a babbling brook is soothing. My chest loosens and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe.

Ha! Take that, panic attack. Nature one, anxiety zero.

We step onto the quaint front porch adorned with a creaky wooden rocking chair and it’s like time stands still here. I think I’m in love. The front windows are draped with antique, lace curtains and underneath the massive flower box bursts with wildflowers in full bloom.

“Here we go.” Maisie opens the front door. “I’ll let you get settled in but do call if you need anything.”

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