“Not yet,” she says. “We were waiting for you.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to. I’ve seen it.”
“You’re going to want to see this,” June says with a wink. “But first, food.”
I go to grab some ChapStick out of my purse, but when I pull it out, it’s completely empty.
Like it’s been broken off.
“Okay, you guys. Little things have been happening lately that totally irritate me. Like, I forget that I was out of something and don’t replace it. Or things are in different places than I remember putting them. Is this memory loss menopause? I’m in the middle of menopause, aren’t I?”
“I don’t think menopause happens in your early thirties,” Darla says. “So I don’t think it’s that.”
“Ugh, I’m so sick of this. This morning, I went to finish the painting I did for Tanner, and my brushes were moved. Then, I went to start my car, and all of my gas was gone, and I’m sure it wasn’t on empty. Just now, this ChapStick is gone. Like, I broke it off at some point, but I have absolutely no recollection of doing that.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Mira suggests.
“It could just be stress,” June points out. “You’ve had a lot going on, Sarah.”
“That’s true.” I sigh, but then grin when Mira slides a plate loaded with apple turnovers. “We’re starting with dessert?”
“We’re starting withbreakfast,” she says and passes plates to the others. “This will be a breakfast option every day. It’s easy for guests to take on the go or to grab as a morning snack.”
“Holy shit, I just had an orgasm,” June moans, and I laugh but totally agree with her.
“These aredivine.” I wipe my mouth with my napkin and take another bite. “So buttery and light. And the apple filling is just the right amount.”
“Does it need more brown sugar?”
“No!” we all exclaim in unison.
For the next hour, we devour everything from the turnovers to turkey sandwiches and so many other delicious things that my stomach doesn’t know what to do with itself when we’re finally finished.
“I may never walk again,” Luna says, patting her stomach. “That was delicious.”
“Wait until next time, when I show off the seasonal and rotation recipes,” Mira promises with a satisfied smile. “Now, let’s go see the inn and daydream, shall we?”
“Yes, let’s walk off all of those calories,” I agree.
The walk from Luna’s house to the inn only takes a few minutes, and once inside, June flips on the lights.
“There’s paint,” I say in surprise when I see the pretty light blues on the walls that accent the white.
“There’s still alotof work to do,” June says, then looks around, taking it all in. “But we’re coming along, and it’ll be done by this fall, like Luna wants.”
“What’s that rag on the wall?” I ask, pointing just left of the main entrance.
June and Luna share a smile.
“Why don’t you take the rag down?” Luna suggests.
“Uh, okay.” I eye my friends as they all share a look, and then I pull on the rag, uncovering a plaque.
Three young girls played and dreamed here.
Luna, who is the lighthouse and inn keeper.
June, who built the inn with her own two hands.