It was ridiculous. She couldn’t stay here.
Everyone felt this way when they were on vacation. Who wanted to leave and go back to normal life?
Except Stella wasn’t going back to normal life. Boston was supposed to be her vacation. Technically, she should have been thrilled to finally be getting back on track.
But she wasn’t. She didn’t feel like she was back on track at all. If anything, Boston felt like the derailment now.
“More coffee?” It was the fourth time Georgia had asked Stella if she wanted more coffee, and her cup was still just as full as it was two minutes earlier.
“No, I’m fine, thanks.”
Georgia smiled for a second and began to turn away before she sagged forward with a sigh and dropped into the chair across from her. “I’m dying over here, darling. You’ve got to tell me how things went with Sam.” Before Stella could answer, Georgia gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my. I’m so sorry. I’m overstepping. It’s not my business. I’ve always been too nosy for my own good, but Alma and Gwen are bad influences. They’ve made me incorrigible. I’m so sorry.”
Georgia moved to dart away, but Stella reached out and laid a hand over hers. “Sam and I had a wonderful time.”
“You did?” Georgia was more hesitant to pry, but she was smiling now.
Stella quickly ran through the itinerary for the night, pausing so Georgia could interject.
“Romano’s is always a hit.”
“The cannolis are almost worth dying for.”
“The lagoon! I’m so glad he showed it to you. I usually keep it quiet from the guests, but you’re different.”
Stella didn’t mention the kiss. Mostly because she didn’t want to kiss and tell. But also, she was afraid to think about it too much.
The night before, kissing Sam had been like turning off the tap of her anxious thoughts and letting them all drain away. This morning, however, they were back in full force.
Would it be awkward seeing Sam after the kiss? Would they kiss again before she left town, or was that only reserved for after dates? Stella felt like a teenager fretting over a boy. It was silly.
She was leaving today.
“You’re leaving today?” Georgia’s smile faded, her lower lip pouting out. “I know that was the plan, but now that the time has finally come, I’m not ready to lose you.”
Stella smiled through sadness of her own. “Do you get this attached to all of your guests?”
“Only the special ones.” Georgia winked and then sighed again. “We’ll all be sad to see you go, I know that.”
“What? No!” said a voice behind them.
Georgia looked up, and Stella spun around to see Tasha standing in the doorway. She was in a pair of loose denim overalls with the cuffs rolled up a few times, and her curly dark hair was pulled up in two symmetrical buns on either side of her head.
“You’re leaving today?” She rushed forward, eyebrows pinched together in worry. “When? Right now?”
“Whenever Sam gets my car fixed,” Stella said.
“So, you have some time?”
Stella was about to answer, but Georgia interrupted, a warning tone in her voice. “Tasha. Ms. Pierce is a guest here. You can’t rope her into helping you.”
“I didn’t rope her in, Mom. She volunteered.”
Stella thought that was a generous way to explain her participation in the set painting the other day, but she would let Tasha have this one. It had been kind of fun, anyway.
“Nevertheless, you can’t come to the inn in search of free labor.”
Tasha turned her caramel eyes on Stella, hands clasped together in a plea. “I’m not in search of free labor. Just one generous artist.” She launched into a long explanation about how the volunteer painters she had were fine with using stencils for faux wallpaper and painting the trolley red and gold, but they were miserable with the more complex sets.
“We need a backdrop with the front of the Smith house and the front of the Truitt house next door. Sam promised me this morning that he would build the stairs and porch railings for the houses, but I want the houses themselves to be painted. No one else even comes close to your level of talent, Stella. And now that you’ve painted the other backdrops, no one else can match your style. I don’t want to keep you from your plans, but I’m desperate and—”
“I’ll do it.”
Tasha’s mouth hung open for a minute as Stella’s words became clear. Then, she clapped her hands together and grinned. “Really? You will?”
“You don’t have to do this, Stella,” Georgia said.
“No, I’m happy to. I enjoyed painting the other day. Do you think it will be done today?”
Tasha winced. “I’m not sure. Maybe? It all depends on how fast you can paint.”
Georgia sighed and shook her head. “Really, Stella, we’d love to have you with us longer, but don’t give up your plans for this. There are plenty of talented painters in Willow Beach.”
“Are not,” Tasha insisted. “Thank you so much, Stella. I’ll meet you at the theater in half an hour?”
Stella glanced at the clock. “I need to stop by Sam’s first to—”
“No need. He’s already at the theater, measuring the stage for the porch.”
“Sam, too?” Georgia shook her head. “You could be a dictator if you really put your mind to it, the way you have all these people working for free. Didn’t he already build you a trolley?’
“And a staircase,” Tasha said proudly. She turned to Stella and pointed, already backing towards the door. “Half an hour?”
Stella nodded. “Half an hour.”
Georgia clicked her tongue as her daughter walked away. “A cult leader. The woman I raised could be a cult leader.”
