The real problem was she didn’t know Carly’s full plans. Last night, they only went over the remodel for the rooms and common areas, nothing more. It had been late by the time they finally sat down to discuss Carly’s intentions for the inn. The new design was modern, and straight off one of those television makeover shows that Simone fussed about. She said the inn needed character, something special to make it stand out from the others because no one wanted to leave their home only to travel and stay in a place that was similar. The inn was supposed to be a getaway, a retreat from reality. Brooklyn agreed, but Carly held fast and strong to her concept. She loved the newer, fashionable look, and she was, as she reminded both women, the owner.
Brooklyn had yet to venture into the kitchen to see the state of the equipment, almost fearful of the ancient appliances and to see the repairs the galley would need. No doubt everything would need replacing, and she wasn’t sure the funds were there, at least not until the inn started pulling in a steady income. The two went hand in hand. It was going to be hard to open the inn and not offer the full-service menu customers had grown accustomed to. Carly had long since let her staff go and shut everything down. Brooklyn wasn’t even sure if she should broach the subject with Carly or ask Simone, who seemed to have a tighter grasp on what needed done around the inn.
“Brooklyn?”
She froze at the sound of her name. She was facing the cans of condensed soup and thought briefly about ignoring the person to her left. How could anyone recognize her? Her hair was longer than it was the last time she was here and back to its naturally dark color. Her hat sat so low she had to tilt her head back to look at items higher on the shelf, causing her neck to strain. She’d kept her head down since arriving and hadn’t spoken to anyone. And no one outside of her family knew she was here, which was how she intended to keep things. In and out, like every other job she did.
“Brooklyn Hewett, is that you?”
The woman wasn’t giving up, leaving Brooklyn two choices: ignore her and move on or confront the person blowing her cover. Unfortunately, she made the decision when she turned her head slightly to see who was blocking her cart. Monroe Whitfield stood there with her long strawberry-blonde hair styled impeccably in a ponytail, her floral dress fitting like a glove, and the most perfect smile she could muster. She’d seen her yesterday, standing on the street corner and looking radiant, just as she was now. Brooklyn averted her eyes, looking down at the yoga pants she had on. Her muddy shoes had likely left a trail behind her as she walked through the store, and her sweatshirt had holes and paint stains all over it. She was dressed like a slob. More so, she felt like one.
“It’s me, Monroe.”
There was a hint of desperation in her voice, forcing Brooklyn to react. She wanted to run, to leave her cart behind and go back to the sanctuary at the inn or at least in her SUV. But even she knew that slipping in and out of town was going to be a challenge despite her hopes otherwise; Rennie had told her as much. She set the can of soup she was holding back onto the shelf and turned fully to give Monroe, the woman she’d once considered to be one of her best friends, her full attention.
“Of course, I remember you,” she said, pasting on a smile. “I’m sorry—I’m just caught off guard; I didn’t expect anyone to recognize me.” Brooklyn slipped her sunglasses off, then set them in her purse.
Roe, as Brooklyn used to call her, was the second person she’d met after starting at Cape Harbor High and they had most of their classes together. They became fast friends and confidantes. Roe’s sister, Mila, had been an aspiring actress at one time, something that Monroe hated but still had encouraged her sister to fulfill her dreams. The Whitfield sisters were as thick as thieves, and at the time Brooklyn considered herself lucky to be in their fold. It took only days for Brooklyn and Monroe to become best friends. When she wasn’t with Austin, Brooklyn was with Monroe, and sometimes Mila. They would spend hours gossiping about everyone. Monroe regularly complained about her parents and how they treated her and her sister differently, often feeling they favored Mila because she was “going places.” Weekends were spent on the beach, at the lake, and dancing in the back of Austin’s pickup truck to music from the ’70s and ’80s. Plans were made for after graduation. Mock weddings discussed, with Brooklyn marrying Austin and Roe marrying one of the Chamberlain twins. It hadn’t mattered which one, as both were equally hot. It was Monroe who had known Brooklyn’s deepest and darkest secrets, and likely the reason she had left town when she did.