The Inn at Willa Bay - Nicole Ellis Page 0,3

to find an affordable place to live when she’d taken the job at the Lodge. Finding this place had been a stroke of luck, and she was thankful every day for her good fortune.

She unlocked the door and tossed her purse and jacket on the sofa under the front window before going into the bedroom to change out of her work clothes. She dressed quickly in a comfortable pair of jeans she’d had since high school and a long-sleeved T-shirt, then went out the front door, shutting it tightly behind her without locking it. Around here, raccoons were a bigger problem than burglars so she rarely locked it unless she’d be gone all day.

The driveway continued on past the other cottages, but she walked in the opposite direction, following a well-worn path that wound through a thicket of blackberry bushes. Soon, the dirt under her feet turned to sand. The tide was out, exposing barnacle-covered rocks and beds of kelp and seaweed that clung to thick mounds of pebbles. Unlike the sandy ocean beaches she’d grown up with, the terrain here was much rockier and sloped down sharply at one point, revealing a drop-off that would surprise anyone wading in the water after the tide came in.

A dark cloud hung over Whidbey Island, depositing a sheet of silvery rain on the other side of the bay. She stopped in front of a beach log and sat down on the sand, hugging her knees up to her chest. It may have been sunny, but a stiff breeze blew off the water, making her wish she’d brought her jacket.

She always came to the beach when she needed to think. Besides Willa Bay being the self-proclaimed “Wedding Capital of the Pacific Northwest,” its proximity to the water had been a big draw when she was deciding where to live after graduation. She’d grown up in Haven Shores, a small Washington town located on the Pacific Ocean, hours away from Willa Bay. Pops, her grandfather, still lived there, and her brother, Luke, had settled in the neighboring town of Candle Beach.

She stared at the surf. The waves in Willa Bay were different from back home – smaller, but just as mesmerizing as the giant ocean waves she was used to. She blinked back tears. Work at the Lodge had been crazy-busy lately, and it had been too long since she’d last seen Pops and Luke. Thank goodness she’d be going home in a few weeks to celebrate Pops’s eighty-fifth birthday.

That thought raised Zoe’s spirits, and she tore her gaze away from the water, her eyes landing on the aging gazebo near the main structure on the property. She loved how the gazebo stood guard above the beach. Secretly, she’d dreamed of what it would be like to be married there, practically standing on the beach as she recited her vows. Not that such a thing was likely to come to pass.

She’d had a handful of relationships over the years, but they hadn’t progressed much beyond a few dates. The men she’d gone out with hadn’t liked the hours she devoted to work, so she’d long ago decided that a serious relationship wasn’t in the cards for her. Once she took over Joan’s job, the hours would be even longer. Zoe was up for the challenge, but she wondered if she’d ever regret giving up so much for her career.

She eyed the gazebo’s sagging roofline and sighed. It was more likely to fall into the bay than ever bear witness to her wedding.

The ominous gray cloud she’d seen earlier had edged closer to the mainland, and a fat raindrop plopped down on her head as a warning, followed immediately by dozens more. She leapt to her feet and jogged back to the trail leading to her cottage as tiny wet bombs pelted her in quick succession. When she reached the shelter of the trees, she slowed to a walk to enjoy the stillness. The pine needles underfoot cushioned her feet with every step, and the air held the tang of rain, much like it had earlier in the Pergola Garden.

Zoe’s thoughts cleared as she approached her cottage. Tomorrow, she’d ask George about the promotion. Once things were settled with that, she’d feel a lot better.

2

Cassie

Cassie Thorsen reread the email from her son Jace’s third-grade teacher, then pushed back her chair and stood from the small desk she’d set up in one corner of her kitchen. She paced the short distance between the sliding glass door