Sitting back, she sighed. Would she ever get the chance to work on projects she was passionate about while employed by Gail? Would she get to demonstrate what she could do? Or would she constantly be striving to prove herself without the end rewards she really wanted?

The downstairs doorbell ringing made her frown. Who was here this late?

Grabbing her cardigan, she slid her arms into the sleeves and pulled it around her body as she left the bedroom and descended the stairs.

The doorbell echoed throughout the inn again.

“I’m coming,” she said as she hurried to the door. She peered out through the window in the side of the door and saw a vehicle parked in the circular driveway, but she couldn’t see anyone. She cautiously unlocked the door and opened it.

Lia Jameson stood on the step, two large suitcases behind her. What the hell was she doing here? The reunion wasn’t for another two weeks.

“Surprise!” Lia said, opening her arms wide for a hug.

It was indeed a surprise. And not entirely a good one.

…

His beer untouched on the table in front of him, Wes shifted his weight on the wobbly barstool near the back of Trent’s Tavern later that evening. Carmen had stopped by to work on some accounting for the business and had offered to babysit, so he could accept his brother-in-law’s last-minute, late-night invite for drinks.

The local hot spot on Main Street was quiet for a Sunday evening, and Wes appreciated the low-key vibe as his thoughts continued to return to his conversation with Marissa.

A stepmom. Wow.

“You okay, man?” Dustin asked, sliding his gaze away from the SportsNet game recap playing on the flatscreen above the bar.

“Yeah,” he said, then turned his cell phone toward Dustin now. “Check out this app.”

Dustin’s eyes widened over the rim of his own beer bottle, and he coughed as he choked on a mouthful. “I’m sorry, did you just say app? I would have bet big money that you didn’t even know the term.”

His brother-in-law might have won that bet a few weeks ago, but lately he was really making an effort to get on board with the whole technology thing that Marissa was so caught up in. He was starting to understand more of the appeal.

“It’s the one Marissa designed for coaches,” he said. He’d bought it and downloaded it that evening and was still trying to figure out exactly how to use it, but so far he’d entered in all the names of his Little League players and the dates of their upcoming fall games.

Dustin took the phone, and his smile was wide as he scrolled his finger over the screen. “That little girl of yours is a genius. She must have gotten it from my sister,” he said.