The Inn of Second Chances (Preview)

Chapter One

Clearwater Ridge, Wyoming 

1870

Clara always woke up quite a bit earlier than she needed to, but as far as she was concerned, it was completely necessary.

She had somewhere she needed to go before she could truly start her day. She needed to go say good morning to her sister.

The Silver Pine Inn was a small hotel just on the edge of town.

It wasn’t anything huge, but it was big enough to keep her family busy. They could have as many as fifty guests, though they typically had twenty to thirty unless something was going on.

Clara walked away from the hotel toward to the tree line behind it, making a small stop in the garden to grab a few sweet peas before finally coming to a stop at the small stone that stood there. Clara knelt down at her sister’s grave.

“Good morning, Carrie,” she said softly, as if afraid she would wake her from her slumber. 

She smoothed her simple dark blue work dress as she knelt down on the soft earth where the other girl slept. “Hope you’re doing alright today. Things have been busy here. Sometimes I worry that I won’t always have time to visit you like this, but don’t worry, even if I miss a morning for whatever reason, just know that I’ll always be back and I’ll be sure to tell you why I couldn’t come.”

Birds sang in the nearby trees. Clara could hear the rest of the town waking up in the distance.

“I keep thinking how much easier it would be if you were still here. An extra pair of hands would really go a long way, you know? There’s always just so much to do between the cooking, the cleaning, helping the guests, and now the growing list of repairs. I try to help our father with them where I can, but there’s only so much that I can do.”

Clara smiled. “Do you remember how the two of us used to work together? Or, I guess it would be more accurate to say you worked and I chased after you. Sometimes when I walk down the halls I feel like I can still see you scrubbing the sheets, hauling trays up the stairs and scrubbing the floors. You always used to hum when you worked, though I could never quite place the song. Part of me isn’t even sure if there ever was a song or if it was just something you made up. Working with you always made the days feel so much shorter.” She let out a shaky breath. “I always thought the two of us would end up running this place together. I still remember how we used to talk about it sometimes, all the things we would change when it was ours, but that isn’t ever going to happen now because… you’re gone.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “We miss you. I hope that you know that. It isn’t just because we wish there were more of us to help work at the hotel. It’s because we miss all the things we never got to do together, the milestones we never got to share.

The person you used to be. You were always so smart. But you never bragged about it or tried to show off—you didn’t need to. It was obvious through your actions. I remember how at 14 you went through and redid all of our father’s ledgers. He was so mad until he stopped and actually read them. Then he made them your job from then on. You were so happy.” 

Clara let out a long breath. “That’s the thing. You weren’t just smart, you were hardworking. While the others were out playing in the forest, you always wanted to be back at the hotel working to make it better. I used to think you were such a stick in the mud. Now I just worry that I can’t live up to everything you left behind.” Clara turned her face to the sky. 

“I know you would hate it if you heard me say it, but it’s true. When we were younger, everyone always thought we looked identical, though I never thought that was true. I always thought you were the pretty one. Who knows, maybe if you were here, you would be the one Elliot is interested in—not that I would wish that fate on anyone, much less my own sister.” Clara let out a small half laugh.

She paused, taking a deep breath. “Well, I should get back. I need to get breakfast going before the guests start to wake up.”

She got to her feet and gave her sister’s grave one last look before laying down the flowers. Sweet peas had always been Carrie’s favorite.

They grew them to this day just for her. With that done, Clara went back, and walked through the halls of the hotel, taking note of some of the things she might want to remind her father to take a look at. There were some door hinges that still needed to be greased, a few nicks in some of the walls, and scuffs on the floor.

Finally, she made it to the kitchen. It was the room Clara spent the most time in, and in some ways, she had come to think of it as her own space in the hotel.

It was a large room, lined on one side by worn wooden counters, a heavy cast-iron stove, and a large oven in the center that sometimes seemed like it could warm the entire hotel. Cabinets filled with flour, spices, and jars of preserved fruit lined the far wall.

Everything had its place; Clara made sure of it. She moved through the kitchen with quiet familiarity, her fingers grazing the edge of the counter as she passed, as if to remind herself this was still hers.

She tied her white linen apron around her waist, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.

Breakfast was never anything too fancy. She liked to keep things simple in the morning with eggs, some bacon or sausage, and a grain if she had the time. Today, she was making potato cakes, sausage, and plenty of eggs. Something hearty.

The kind of meal that filled the belly and quieted the mind. Many of their residences were laborers who came to town to work on various construction projects before moving on. They were hard working men with big appetites, and it was her responsibility to make sure they were able to eat their fill.

She smiled fondly as she remembered the way she and Carrie used to work the kitchen together. Her sister had always been an amazing cook.

At thirteen, she could gut a fish, whip up a lemon custard, and handle the breakfast service without any help from their mother. She didn’t do it because she had to or had even been asked. They both knew that the hotel needed all the help it could get, and that was just the kind of person that she was. 

Sometimes when Clara stood at the counter, she could still see her sister standing there, brow furrowed in concentration as she diced onions or scrawled notes into the battered kitchen logbook. Carrie had loved that book, and had taken pride in keeping everything documented: how many eggs were left, which preserves needed restocking, what regular guests preferred with their tea. All of that had been left to Clara now.

Just as she was finishing up, her mother came in with a tired smile on her face. She always seemed so tired lately. Clara often worried that she was doing too much. She thought both of her parents were. She did what she could to step up and take a few things off of their shoulders, but the simple fact of the matter was that they needed more help.

“It smells like you did a great job with breakfast as always,” she said to her daughter.

Clara just shook her head. “I didn’t do anything special. I’m just helping out.”

“And that helps make our lives so much easier.” She picked up one of the plates of food. “I’ll go start bringing this out. Make sure you get something for yourself to eat.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” she called as her mother swept from the room.

As she was getting the next tray of plates ready, Eliza whirled into the room with a bright smile on her face. “Sorry I’m a bit behind this morning.”

“It’s alright. It isn’t like you make a habit out of it. Just get the trays out. We can’t keep them waiting for their breakfast.”

She nodded then raced to do just that.

The three of them handled the breakfast rush together in the kind of comfortable chatter that could only come about from people working together for a long time.

Stepping out in the dining room, Clara smiled as it buzzed with the sounds of morning she had become accustomed to. There was the soft clinking of silverware, the low murmur of guests chatting over coffee, and the occasional scrape of a chair on the old pine floor. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows that let in ample sunlight, giving the whole place a cozy, welcoming feeling.

Clara weaved between tables with practiced ease, balancing a tray on one hand. “Extra bacon for Mr. Abernathy,” she said, setting the plate down in front of the elderly man in the corner booth. “Nice and crispy just the way that you like it.”

He gave her a pleased hum and tipped his head. “You always remember.”

Clara offered a small smile before moving on. It hadn’t been easy to memorize the regular orders. It didn’t come naturally to her like it had to Carrie, but she made a point to do it. She wanted to make this place the best it could be, so she needed to be the best hostess that she could be.

Across the room, her mother was over by the self-service bar, refilling the coffee urn with steady hands. Her apron stained, Clara made a note to give it another good soak when she got a chance, and a stray curl of hair had escaped from her bun, but her face held the calm focus of someone who’d done this for decades. 

“Clara, can you check table four? They had a quick question,” she called as Clara headed past her, toward the kitchen.

“I got it!” Eliza said before Clara could answer, already sliding between tables with a bright smile. 

“Eliza, you’re a saint,” Clara murmured as they crossed paths, sharing a grin.

“Oh, I know,” Eliza replied, winking before disappearing toward the next table.

They worked in near perfect rhythm, each woman instinctively knowing when to step in, when to back off, and when to jump in to save a wobbly tray or smooth over a guest’s mild complaint. It was more than just breakfast. It was a dance they’d learned together over years of repetition, mornings strung together by coffee, conversation, and the unspoken comfort of familiarity.

Clara poured a cup of coffee for a haggard traveler near the window. The poor man was probably one of the guests who came in on the early morning train, checking in less than two hours ago. Some people never seemed to learn to sleep on the trains.

She caught a glimpse of her mother and Eliza chatting quietly by the sideboard. Her mother’s hand rested briefly on Eliza’s arm as they laughed over something Clara couldn’t hear.

She smiled to herself. They had worked hard to build their life here and Clara was determined to do whatever she could to keep it going.

Once breakfast was taken care of, Clara and Eliza started on the dishes while her mother went off to check in some new guests.

“You seem tired,” Eliza remarked with a frown.

“It’s nothing,” Clara said, shaking her head. “I just haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

She leaned in closer. “Elliot isn’t still giving you a hard time, is he?”

Clara shook her head. “He’s nothing worth worrying about.”

But Eliza didn’t seem convinced by her friend’s words.

“Really, I know how to handle him,” she tried to insist.

“So he isn’t coming to try to talk to you anymore?”

Clara grimaced, looking away. “Well, he still stops by every now and again, but I can handle him.”

Eliza’s eyes continued to search her face, “But you shouldn’t need to. You’re not alone in this, you know?”

She smiled at her, rolling her eyes. “It’s fine, besides, what can you do about it?”

“When he comes in, let me serve him,” she offered.

Clara frowned. On the one hand, it would make her life easier, but the idea of forcing her friend to serve that man made something in her stomach twist. She couldn’t help but think back to the last time he had been in.

It had been a normal Thursday evening, and the dining hall was crowded as usual, though it was nothing that she and Eliza couldn’t handle.

They had raced among the tables, bringing and clearing plates, taking orders, and making small talk. The moment he walked through the doors, Clara could feel his eyes snap to her.

Clara’s spine stiffened, but she didn’t turn to look at him. She didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. But when she saw him sit in her section out of the corner of her eye, she knew there was only so long that she could put it off. When she finished with the table she was serving, she had taken a deep breath before walking over.

Each step had felt like it took a mile to cross. Soon, she was standing beside his table, his eyes gazing up at her with undisguised lust that made her skin crawl. He might not have physically put his hands on her, but he was making it perfectly clear just how much he wanted to.

“Good evening, sir. What can I bring you tonight?” she had asked, struggling to keep her tone even and pleasant.

He had leered at her causing her skin to crawl. “Come on, darlin’, you know there’s no need for you to be so formal with me. I’ve told you to call me Elliot.”

He reached for her, but she took a step back. The smile on her face made her jaw ache. “I don’t think that would be appropriate. You’re a customer here.”

“But I’ve heard you call some of the others by their first name, so why do I get called sir?” he frowned, shaking his head. “It just doesn’t seem very fair, does it?”

She suppressed a groan. It was clear that he wasn’t going to drop this. “What can I get you tonight?”

“Given how well you know me, I think I want you to pick my dinner. It only makes sense since we’re so close, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m sorry, but as I don’t know your tastes, how would I know what to bring you?”

Elliot just grinned. “I think you’re going to do just fine. Now run along. You don’t want to keep me waiting, do you?”

She had let out a long breath as she turned and headed back into the kitchen. Grabbing a bowl of beef stew for him, she had turned her attention to the other guests once again.

However, she never seemed to make it far before he would call her back over once again.

Each and every time she would have little choice but to go back over with a smile on her face. He stayed for three hours that night, never leaving Clara alone for more than five minutes.

 From the moment he laid eyes on Clara he seemed set on having her, and even after all this time he didn’t want to take no for an answer. Her thoughts turning to the present, she realized that Elliot had never shown even the slightest interest in Eliza, so maybe letting her cover his table would be fine. 

“You wouldn’t mind?”

Eliza lit up. “Of course not. If it makes your work a bit easier, then why not? It seems like it would make everyone’s life a lot easier.”

“Then I would appreciate that. Thank you,” Clara smiled.

The pair finished up their work and moved on to their next tasks, going their separate ways for the time being, but it wouldn’t be long before they would be reunited once more. Mealtime, regardless of which one it was, was always all hands on deck.

Later that day, Clara went up to the laundry room. It somehow managed to be even hotter than usual in there. The air was thick with steam and the sharp scent of lye soap. Clara’s hair was slowly fighting its way out of the bun while sweat had the collar of her shirt sticking to her neck. A line of damp linens drooped over the nearby rack. Usually, she would take them outside to dry, but they were expecting rain soon.

She fed another pillowcase through the hand-cranked wringer. It had seemed like such a blessing when her father first brought it home. It made the clothes dry so much faster, even if it was torture on her arms.

A sudden clink from the wringer made her freeze. Cautiously, she attempted to continue turning it only for it to let out a snap before the wringer lurched. She paused for a moment before attempting to turn it once more, but it wouldn’t budge.

Clara frowned, putting more force behind it, but still nothing. She stepped back with a frown. She could see that it was completely jammed.

The pillowcase had stopped halfway through the rollers, still dangling there, limp and dripping.

“Dang it,” she muttered, stepping back and wiping her hands on her apron.

She crouched beside the wringer, inspecting the device. It didn’t take her long to find the culprit. The teeth on one of the gears had worn down so low that they couldn’t catch anymore, rendering the hunk of metal useless.

Clara stood and pressed her hands to her hips, breathing through her frustration. There were still two full baskets of linens to go, and she would rather not have to hang them up dripping wet.

“Of course you’d choose to fall apart now. Do you have any idea how many guests we have this week?” she muttered to the contraption, as if she could make it see reason.

Eliza’s voice called from somewhere in the hall. “You okay back there?”

“Wringer’s dead,” Clara called back. “One of the gears wore down.”

There was a pause, then Eliza poked her head around the doorframe. “You want me to call your father or just bring you a sledgehammer?”

Clara let out a huff of a laugh despite herself. “Both, maybe.”

She reached down and carefully began pulling the pillowcase free by hand, wringing it out with slow, deliberate twists. Her fingers ached already, but she knew what needed to be done. If the machine wasn’t going to help her, she’d finish the job herself by hand. It wasn’t like she had never had to do it before.

Once she was done, she went off to give her father the news and to add yet another thing to his ever growing to do list.

He was in the kitchen, fighting with one of the cabinets that had once again broken.

When he saw her face, he grimaced and let out a sigh. “What broke this time?”

“The wringer.”

“Alright. I’ll take a look at it when I’m done here. Is the laundry line still fine?”

“Of course. We’d be up a creek without a paddle if it wasn’t.”

“Good. Just stick with that for now until I get around to fixing it,” he said with a sigh. “But it might be a while.”

Clara nodded, not surprised by that.

“I’ve put out a notice looking for a handyman. Lately it seems like there’s more and more that needs to be fixed and it’s getting to be more than I can keep up with.”

“I think that’s a good idea. It would take a lot off your shoulders.”

“Those were your mother and my thoughts too. I’m glad to hear that you’re on board.”

“How could I not be? Anything to make our lives here a little bit easier.”

Then the pair went their separate ways. There was far too much that needed to be done for Clara to linger anywhere for long.

Later that night, when they were starting to bring out dinner, Clara grimaced, all but racing back into the kitchen, all but slamming into Eliza.

Her friend frowned at her. “He’s back, isn’t he?”

“Don’t worry,” she dismissed, shaking her head. “I just wasn’t expecting to see him. It’s fine, I just need a second to get my mind in order so I can deal with him.”

“Or hear me out, we do what we already discussed. I can go out while you stay in here or handle another section. I knew he was going to come in and I was already planning on handling him for you.”

“Are you sure? I know he can be difficult, and I’d hate to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“This is the second time I offered. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to. Now, give me that plate,” Eliza said, taking it from her hands. “And stay in the kitchen until he’s gone if you can help it.”

Clara smiled. “I will. Thank you.”

Then Eliza headed back into the dining hall. Clara couldn’t help her curiosity. She hung close to the door, watching as her friend approached the man in question.

It was too loud for Clara to hear much of their exchange, but it was easy to see that Elliot wasn’t happy. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, a scowl on his sharp, rat-like face. Clara grimaced, hoping that he wasn’t being too hard on Eliza.

This his voice broke through the volume of the room. “I saw that she was here when I came in, so why can’t she be the one to serve me?”

She grimaced and ducked back into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Eliza finally joined her.

“Sorry,” Clara sighed. “I knew that he was going to give you a hard time.”

“It’s fine,” she waved her off. “I knew that he would be difficult. I’d rather deal with him myself then send you over to him. We don’t want him thinking he can come here and demand to see you whenever he wants.”

“You’re right,” Clara admitted with a sigh. “The last thing we want is him thinking he can order us around.”

“Hopefully this was enough to get him to leave you alone, at least for a little while, and if not just go ahead and send me back in there.”

“Hopefully I don’t need to take you up on that,” Clara muttered as she got back to work. Even so, her mind stayed fixed on Elliot. She knew she needed to do something about him, but sometimes it felt like she had already tried everything.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. She would find a way to deal with him. She didn’t have another option.

Chapter Two

James stepped off the train with a heaviness in his chest. His heart ached at the familiar sights and sounds of the train station. He hadn’t even made it into town, and he already knew just how hard it was going to be to turn around and leave when the time came.

James knew he had no business coming back here after all this time, but if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure what else to do with himself anymore. With his parents gone, all he had was his brother, but knowing he wasn’t coming back any time soon, James couldn’t help but feel a bit like there was nothing holding him in place anymore.

Besides, maybe it would give him the closure he needed. As he looked around the bustling trading town of Clearwater Ridge, James was struck by just how little had changed.

The train station still opened to the main town square, a busy place, lined on all sides by shops and restaurants. He was pleased to see that many of them were the same ones he remembered so fondly. He had only lived there a few years when he was a teenager, but they were easily the best years of his life, even as more bloomed up around them, transforming the already bustling town even further.

There was the general store that looked like it was still run by the Nelsons, and a little bakery owned, ironically, by the Bakers. There was the little tailor’s shop as well as the butcher. And then there were new ones, including a little candy store that made him smile.

There had been one like that near where he had lived in Pittsburgh. His mother would take him and Sam there whenever one of them did a particularly good job at something or for special occasions like birthdays. She never made much money after their father passed away.

That was part of why they had to move in the first place, so they could be closer to her family, allowing them to help make sure she had enough to comfortably make ends meet. Despite all that, she made sure James and his brother never knew they were having difficulties. She did whatever it took to make sure they had everything they needed and a little extra when the time called for it.

As he looked around the street, James smiled to himself. Even with all the changes around town, it still felt just like the town where he and Samual once lived all those years ago.

He took solace in the sense of familiarity that permeated the place, even though he had been gone for so long, it didn’t feel he had ever left.

His clear blue eyes were immediately drawn to the hotel right on the edge of town. It wasn’t close enough for him to get a good look at the place, but it stood on the edge of town, drawing him like a moth to a flame. As soon as he saw it, James frowned.

He wondered if Clara was still working there or if she had settled down after she got married.

Something twisted in his chest at the thought of her marrying someone else, but he pushed it away. All that mattered was that she was happy.

Taking a deep breath, he turned away from the hotel and walked into one of the nearby saloons. He didn’t need to see her. He wouldn’t go that far. There was no need for him to barge in and disrupt her life. He just needed to see that she was happy, then he could go. 

No one paid him much mind as he stepped up to the bar and ordered a coffee. It was only when the bartender was setting the glass in front of him that he spoke.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” he remarked with a friendly smile. “Are you new in town or just passing through?”

“This place seems a little big for you to know everyone who comes through.”

The man laughed. “You might have a point there, but I do try.”

“Have you ever asked someone that to find out that they’ve lived here their whole life?” James smiled as he began to banter. 

“Once or twice, but it’s still more rare than you think. People tend to stop in here not long after they get off the train and I’m pretty good with faces, so I tend to remember people pretty well.”

“That’s pretty impressive.”

“Thank you, I like to think it’s part of why people come back to see me, but you didn’t answer my question. Which one are you?”

James hummed, taking a long drink of his coffee before he spoke. “Neither. I grew up here, but my family moved a while back. I thought I’d make a little trip out here and see how the old place had changed.”

“What do you think of it so far? Was it worth the trip?”

“I think so,” he nodded.

“I’m glad to hear it. Did you have to come far?”

“Pennsylvania.”

The bartender let out a long whistle. “That’s a long ride just to see the old place.”

He shrugged. “I have my reasons.”

“I bet you do,” he said. For a moment, James was worried that he was going to ask if he had any family here, or worse yet a girl, but instead, he just said, “Do you have anyone you plan on visiting while you’re here?”

James grinned. Now was his chance. He could try to learn a bit about how Clara had been without having to see her, without risking igniting old feelings more than he already had. “As a matter of fact, there was a family I was pretty close with when I was younger. Do you think you would know if they’re still around?”

“I can’t make any promises, this place might not be New York City, but it’s hardly what I would call a small town. Try me. I’ll do my best.”

“I think they were the Bennett family,” he said even though he knew that was their name, he was a little worried about coming across as too eager. “They ran the local hotel.”

“The Bennetts,” the man smiled and nodded. “Yes, I know them. Their daughter Clara must be about the same age as you.”

“She and I were good friends when we were younger. How has she been?” He hoped his tone came out conversational and not too eager.

“She’s been good. She’s still working at her family’s hotel.”

“Really?” he frowned. “I would have thought that she would have stopped once she got married.”

“She might still, but she hasn’t met anyone yet. If you want my two cents, even if she does settle down, I can’t imagine that she would leave the place any time soon. Her family needs all the help they can get to keep the place up and running. Especially since Carrie passed away, when that fever came through town. I’m just glad it didn’t take both of the girls. Clara got so sick too… it really seemed like a possibility. 

James sucked in a breath. Carrie and Clara had been close. He remembered how badly that had hurt Clara. “I remember Carrie well, she was awfully sweet. I’m sorry they lost her.”

“You know, her father was just in here the other day asking me to let people know that he was looking for a handyman.”

James perked up a little at the mention of that. “They are?”

“Yes, they are. Why? Are you thinking of staying in the area?”

“I might be.”

“Then you should go talk to them. I’m sure they would be more than happy to have the help.”

“I just might have to go do that.”

They continued to talk for a little while, but James wasn’t listening much after that. His mind was still on Clara. He had assumed that she would be married and settled by now.

When he finally went back outside, James could no longer resist his growing curiosity. He started walking the short distance to the hotel. As he got closer, he couldn’t help but frown. When he had first stepped off the train, it had seemed like time hadn’t touched the town, but it was clear that the same could not be said about the hotel.

It would be going too far to say that the place was run down, but it was certainly showing its age. The paint on the sign out front was starting to peel, and the gutters needed to be cleaned.

The garden out front was relatively well maintained, but he could see a few weeds that needed to be pulled. It made sense that things had started to pile up, if it was just Mr. Bennett trying to take care of all of it. It would have been hard for him in his prime and it only would have gotten even harder with age.

“James?” a voice called from behind him.

He turned to see a man who, though he looked familiar, he couldn’t identify. He was tall with curly brown hair and matching eyes and was grinning ear to ear. Like he had just been given a puppy. James frowned. “Do I know you?”

He just laughed. “I know it’s been a while, but I don’t think either of us has changed that much, have we?”

James squinted his eyes and tilted his head, and when the man laughed out loud, a distinct barking sound, James slapped his knee and grinned right back.
“Will? That you? Well I’ll be. You sure look different.” 

His old friend William had filled out… grown into himself in the years since James left. He couldn’t help but wonder how much Clara must have changed in that time too. If he did get a chance to see her, would he even be able to recognize her?

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?” Will laughed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You were just some scrawny kid the last time I saw you.”

James crossed his arms. “I’d like to remind you that we’re the same age, and we were both seventeen when my family moved away.”

“And we were both scrawny,” he laughed. “But one of us seems to have grown into themselves a lot better. I’m talking about me, of course.”

James looked away. It was too much like old times. And so much had changed. It had been nearly 6 years since they had last seen each other. They’d been boys then, and now they were men. 

Will had no way to know what kind of person James had grown into. He could have gotten into anything while he’d been away. He could have changed into someone Will wouldn’t recognize or want to associate with, and yet he spoke and laughed with him with such ease. As if only a few days had passed since the last time the two saw each other.

Would he be this welcoming and friendly if he knew what I’d been up to in our time apart?

“Have you had a chance to go see Clara yet?” Will asked as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Uh, no, Will,” he rubbed the back of his head. “Not yet.”

“You should. The two of you were always so close I’m sure she would love to see you again.”

“Maybe.” James frowned, changing the subject. “Were you coming from the hotel?”

He nodded. “I am. I just got done dropping Eliza off. She started working there a few years back. Originally, it was just supposed to be for a little while, to help them get through their busy season, but she realized that she loved it and decided to stay on after that.”

“I see. Business must be good if they need that much help.”

“I’m sure it is, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder if it’s too good for them to handle.”

“So do you work there too?”

“Me?” he shook his head. “Oh no, nothing like that. I’m sure it’s a fine place to work, but I have my hands full back on the farm. Though, I do worry that if they can’t find a handyman soon, I might have to fill in for a little while until they can, or at least until things are a little bit more under control.”

James frowned. “If you’re working the farm, what are you doing her in town?”

“Same old James. Only half listening. Like I said… I was just bringing Eliza to work. I know she can get here by herself, but I just worry about her. Ever since the railroad came through, there’s constantly travelers coming and going through here. We’ve become something of a frequent stop for those making their way out further west, probably part of why the hotel has been so busy. I’m sure you know how sometimes you feel a little more protective than you probably need to, since you’re an older brother too. Speaking of, did little Sammy come with you? But then again, I guess he’s probably not that little anymore either.”

James grimaced. It hurt to see just how excited he was at the prospect of seeing his brother. He hadn’t thought about how hard it would be to answer questions about him. He should have thought about what he was going to say when people asked about him before he got here. “I think I’m going to head over to the hotel. Take a look at the old place.” James hoped he didn’t find the shift too jarring or off putting.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem bothered by the sudden shift in subject. “That sounds good to me. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” James smiled despite himself. “I’ll see you around.”

Once William walked away, James couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. Running into William had made James think that it wouldn’t be the end of the world to see some of the other people he knew growing up. Before, he was so worried seeing them would stir up old emotions or that they wouldn’t want to see him, but William—no, Will—had been so welcoming, so accepting that he didn’t feel like he had anything to worry about anymore.

With that thought in mind, James turned his attention back to the hotel he had spent so much time at in his youth. He could remember playing in the garden, sitting with Clara and the others in the kitchen and so much more. He took a deep breath and started walking toward it.

When he got inside, James was greeted by a man behind the counter. He was older than he had been when James last saw him, his dark hair was streaked with grey, but he had the same green eyes as Clara. James immediately recognized him as Edward, her father.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Edward said with a bright smile. “What can I do for you today?”

“I just thought I would stop in and see the old place.”

Edward blinked at him, recognition dawning across his face. “James, is that you?”

“It is, Mr. Bennett. It’s been a while. How have you been?”

“Things have been just fine. It’s good to see you again. And you can call me Edward now. Did your family move back to town?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid that it’s just me this time.”

“That’s more than alright. We’re still happy to have you. Where you coming from?” 

“Pennsylvania,” James grinned as he said it, knowing the reaction he’d get.

“Well that’s quite the journey!” Edward commented, then hesitated. “Plan on staying around? Do you already have a job lined up?”

James thought for a moment. Originally, he wasn’t planning on staying. All he was going to do was stop by, see Clara, then go off to build his own life, but things were far less settled than he had been expecting. “Not yet. But maybe it would be a good idea to stay for a bit… and to earn some money while I’m here.” He added the last part before he could think better of it.

Edward lit up. “Well, I don’t know if you’re interested, and it’s perfectly alright if you’d rather find something else, but I do need a handyman. The pays alright and it comes with free lodgings and meals made by my wife and Clara.”

How was he supposed to say no to that?

James smiled, offering him his hand. “Thank you Mr. Bennett… Edward. I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Edward came around the front desk to clap a hand on his shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear. Come with me and we can get you settled in.”

James smiled. “Please… lead the way.”

James followed a step behind Edward as they walked through the large hotel. The creak of their boots echoed softly on the polished floorboards. The place smelled faintly of lemon oil and old pine. It was the same as it’d been all those years ago. It felt like all he had to do was turn the corner and he would see Sam, still young and chubby cheeked, Eliza and Clara sitting close together, whispering secrets, any sign of his old life.

Edward moved with a quiet confidence, nodding toward the sunlit dining room. “We opened up that back wall last year. Clara insisted it would make the mornings feel less crowded.”

Clara. Just hearing her name was enough to make James’s chest hurt, but he couldn’t let that show. He couldn’t let her father see just how badly he needed to see that she was doing well. He kept his expression neutral, polite. Focused. “It looks like she was right. I remember just how packed the dining room could get, especially at breakfast time,” he said in what he hoped was a neutral voice.

“She usually is,” he chuckled as they continued down the hall.

James smiled, eyes catching on trim along the wall, painted blue, a little bit of it getting on the wall above. “I helped you paint that trim, didn’t I?” he asked, motioning toward it.

Edward chuckled. “Yes, you did. How can you tell?”

James rubbed the back of his head. “It isn’t that hard to recognize my own work.”

“I suppose you have a point. I did what I could to clean it up, but it sure was the sloppiest paint job I’ve ever seen.”

“I still can’t believe you paid me for it.”

“It might not have been perfect, but you did your best, and I wanted to make sure you learned that it counts for something.”

James smiled, faintly. His hand brushed against the wooden doorframe as they passed into the parlor, tracing the grain. Some things hadn’t changed. The shape of the rooms, the way the light fell in the late morning, the hum of quiet life around every corner. He could see Clara’s touch in it, even if he hadn’t seen her yet.

“She’s been running the place more and more these days,” Edward said, as if sensing his thoughts. “I don’t know what we would do without her.”

“I’m not surprised there.” James nodded, his throat tightening a little. He didn’t ask where Clara was. It felt too direct, too obvious. Besides, he wasn’t ready for what seeing her again might stir up. 

Edward led him down the back stairwell and into the part of the hotel reserved for staff so they could keep the place up and running. “The wringer in the laundry room just gave out yesterday. It’s rather perfect timing on your part.”

“I’ll take a look as soon as we’re done with the tour,” James replied, glad for something to do with his hands.

“You don’t need to rush. You just got done making a long journey. Take some time, get settled, rest, get something to eat. You can start in the morning.”

“I’d hate to make you wait that long.”

Edward waved him off. “It’s waited this long. Another day isn’t going to do any harm.” He clapped a hand on James’s shoulder. “We’re happy to have you here.”

James could only hope that everyone there would feel the same way.

He was well aware there was a decent chance that Clara would be less than thrilled to see him. He was expecting it if he was honest. Edward’s earlier reminder that Clara was a stubborn girl rang in his head. She was the kind of person who once she formed a bad opinion of you it was hard to change her mind.

Given the way he left, he doubted she had much nice to say about him. He could only hope that time had cooled her temper.