“Yes. Sorry I’m a little late. There was traffic coming through Charleston.”

She waved her hand. “No problem. We don’t really follow time too closely around here. I’m Henrietta. We spoke on the phone?”

Emma nodded. “Oh, yes. Nice to meet you.”

“Why don’t you follow me, and I’ll show you to your new home.”

Before Emma could respond, Henrietta was high-tailing it down the gravel driveway toward a small cottage. She quickly followed behind her, a trail of small pebbles popping up under Henrietta’s chunky high-heels.

The cottage was nice enough from the outside. It was brick painted white and mainly just a little square building. Nothing fancy, but that was okay. The simpler the better as far as Emma was concerned. Her life had been far too complicated for too long. She needed air and space and calmness.

Henrietta keyed the door and opened it, standing back so Emma could walk inside first. She was surprised at just how nice it was. They had obviously redecorated the place recently as it had a farmhouse look to it with whitewashed walls and distressed wood floors. Emma was pleasantly surprised.

“It’s very cute.”

“Isn’t it? Just adorable. Now, there’s one bedroom, one bathroom, living room and kitchen. All the basics.”

“Great.”

“The kitchen has been stocked with pots and pans and so forth. We did a small grocery run just so you’d have some stuff here. Milk, eggs, those kinds of things.”

“Sounds like you thought of everything.”

“We try. Well, here’s your keys.” She handed Emma a small keyring, her big pink nails almost scratching Emma’s finger. “Now, Roger will contact you tomorrow about doing a lighthouse walkthrough. We have a whole script you can use for the tours, and those won’t start for another week or so.”

“Got it.”

“Better run. I’m meeting my friend, SuAnn for lunch. She owns the bakery over the bridge. You might want to try it some time. The best poundcake you’ve ever put in your mouth!”

Emma forced a smile. She was too tired to care about poundcake right now. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As she watched Henrietta drive away, she wondered if she’d made the right decision coming to Seagrove. The town seemed nice enough, but was she ready to finally look at her life and deal with everything that had happened in the last year?

“I don’t understand this…” Dylan groaned as he stared at his math worksheet, He laid his forehead on the paper and sighed. “Can’t I just quit school and work for you?”

Dawson chuckled. Although he did need help around the inn, it probably wasn’t the best idea to let his nine-year-old son quit school. “No, buddy. You need to finish school so you can become something important like a doctor.”

Dylan looked at him. “I don’t want to be a doctor.”

“What do you want to be then?”

“I want to be a race car driver and a chef.”