Eve: There’s still furniture in 3C.

Sawyer: Your old room. It’s padlocked. Is there a key somewhere? If not, I can get a locksmith and clear it out for you.

She had been in denial about the room. His offer should have been tempting. Why wouldn’t she want someone to just…handle it? She could return to town, and the Pink Room of Pain would be gone. Well, it would probably still be pink. But the stuff inside it would be gone.

And was it even painful anymore? She and Sawyer had gotten past their junk. She smiled. They’d gotten way past it. She no longer felt like memories were assaulting her when she walked through town—these days, she could bend over and drink from the fish fountain no problem. So didn’t it follow that the room would also have lost its power over her?

Eve: I actually was going to leave that room alone. I know it looks like a seven-year-old dipped it in cotton candy, but…

Ugh. How to explain when she couldn’t make sense of it herself?

Sawyer: But maybe the new owner will have a seven-year-old who likes cotton candy?

She smiled.

Eve: I guess I’m just attached and had told myself that it would be a fun owner’s room. Or it could be storage—it’s so tiny it’s barely useable as a proper guest room. But I’m being an idiot. So, yeah, have at it—thanks. The key is in the silverware drawer in the kitchen.

Sawyer: No, if you don’t want to touch it, we won’t. Anyway, it’s small enough that if the new owner doesn’t like it, it will be easy to change.

The new owner. The idea of a new owner had, for so long, been theoretical. But it was getting closer.

Sawyer: How’s Toronto?

She replied reflexively.

Eve: Great.

Sawyer: How was the interview?

Eve: Great.

Right? It had been great to see her old professor. Eve had told her about Moonflower Bay, and they’d agreed that inheriting the inn was almost like something that would happen in a Hallmark movie.

Eve: I think I’m going to get the job.

Sawyer: When would you have to start?

Eve: I don’t know. Since it’s a new position, they said it would be flexible.

On paper, everything was working out better than she could have dared hope. When the year was up, she’d sell the inn and be back in Toronto with a pile of cash and the spanking new job of her dreams. If she had to go back early to take the spanking new job of her dreams, she could do that. Sawyer would probably keep cracking the whip on the reno, and she could check in on the occasional weekend.

But, damn, she was going to miss…

The lake. She was going to miss the lake.