Hailey:

I am not having a good day.

“So…” I smooth my hands down my skirt, cross my fingers under the table, and look at my accountant, Ted Byers. “Give me the good news first.”

“There isn’t any,” he says soberly. “Your ad revenue is down. Your subscriber count is down. Your savings account is empty. You don’t have enough money to keep this magazine going, Hailey.”

Ouch. Ted’s a rock-solid accountant, but his bedside manner needs work. I knew this day was coming, but hearing those words out loud… it’s not good.

I bite my lip. Girl Power has been my baby for the last seven years. I need to figure out a plan to save it. I’ve done it before; I can do it again. “What if we cut expenses?”

“How?” he asks bluntly.

Damn it. My budget is already pretty bare-bones. Last year, I took a salary cut of twenty-percent. The year before, another ten-percent. I’m barely making ends meet, and to make matters worse, I got a letter from my landlord this morning. He’s increasing the rent on my tiny studio apartment by three hundred dollars. Three hundred dollars I don’t have.

“There’s nothing I can do, is there?” I’m trying not to tear up. I can’t believe this is the end.

He looks uncomfortable. Ted’s a nice guy, and he hates giving bad news. He probably can’t wait to get out of here. “Not unless you cut your salary again, Hailey. Even then…” His expression turns gloomy. “Unless some of the underlying fundamentals change, you’re just delaying the inevitable.”

What a day. Thankfully, I’m meeting my best friend Lana for a drink tonight. God knows I’m going to need it.

“I know the solution to your problems,” Lana announces once I fill her in on what’s going on. I haven’t seen my bestie for nearly two months. Goat, the quirky small town she lives in, is a four-hour drive away. Not an impossible weekend trip, but she’s been busy becoming a best-selling author, and I’ve been trying to keep the wolves at bay.

“You do?”

“Yup.” She takes a bite of pizza, and her face fills with bliss. Goat, I know from listening to her complaints, does not have good pizza delivery. “Yeah, it’s perfectly logical. You should move to Goat.”

My first, reflexive reaction is a snort of disbelief. “I’m a city girl, Lana.”

“Whose rent is about to go up by three hundred bucks,” she replies pointedly. “Who lives in a studio apartment that isn’t much larger than this booth. Goat’s cheap. Plus,” she adds, seeing that I’m about to voice a protest, “I’m quitting my job. You can have it. The salary’s not much, but the benefits are good, and the hours are flexible. You’ll make some money, and you’ll still be able to run Girl Power.”

I snag an olive and mushroom covered slice and stare at her. “You’re quitting your job?”

She flushes. “I’m doing really well with the cozy mysteries. I don’t really need the cash…” Her voice trails off awkwardly and she bites her lower lip.

Yes, I’m totally broke, and Lana’s hit the goldmine, but it couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. “I’m really happy for you,” I reply sincerely, and I mean every word.

Six years ago, I’d discovered, a week before the wedding, that my best friend, Skylar, had been having an affair with my fiancé Matt. I never thought I’d be able to trust anyone again. But Lana is nothing like Sky ever was.

“I’d have quit sooner,” she continues, “but I don’t want to leave Connor in the lurch. But now that I’ve found a replacement…” She beams widely. “Ta-dah.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely positive, Hailey. Trust me.”

I chew on my crust, hope surging in my heart. Could this be the way I keep Girl Power afloat? I’ve never thought about moving to a small town, but to be honest, Portland’s kicked me in the teeth again and again, and I’m tired of fighting this battle. A fresh start somewhere else sounds… magical.

“I don’t know… I’ll need to find a place to live.”

Lana snaps her fingers. “Elvira was saying last week that she needed to do something about her cottage. It’s a bit of a dive, but on the plus side, it’ll be dirt cheap. C’mon, Hailey. What do you have to lose?”

Nothing. I cross my fingers in my lap and hope that I’m making the right decision. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

She does a gleeful wriggle on her chair. “Yes!” she shrieks, loud enough that heads turn all throughout the restaurant. “My best friend is moving to Goat. This is going to be epic. There’s only one downside…”

“What’s the catch?”

She takes another bite of her pizza. “There aren’t a lot of single guys in town.”

Not a problem at all. “Because you’ve cornered two of the most eligible ones, you mean?” I tease her. “That’s okay. I’ll be fine. You know I don’t date.”

After the Great Wedding Debacle, I made some rules to protect myself, and I’ve followed them for the last six years.

Booty calls? Yes.

One-night stands? Sure.

But an actual date with a man that might end up breaking my heart all over again?

Never going to happen.

Once the decision is made, things move faster than the speed of light. My landlord, who has a long waiting list of tenants willing to pay far more in rent than I could ever afford, is happy to waive my two-month-notice. I tell the small freelance team that works on Girl Power that I’m moving, and they take me out for farewell drinks.

Lana checks with Elvira Grantham, who is happy to rent me the cottage for the dirt-cheap price of three hundred dollars a month. “I drove out to look at it,” Lana tells me on the phone. “It’s in worse shape than I’d thought. It’s been empty for more than ten years.”

But all I can hear is three hundred dollars a month. “Are there spiders?”

She laughs. “Nope.”

“Then I’m in.”

Two weeks later, on a warm Friday evening, I arrive at my destination. “Welcome to Goat,” a sign on the outskirts of town announces. “Embrace your weird.”

I slow down as I hit the main downtown stretch, and take in my new home. Hanging baskets overflow with pink and red geraniums. Black metal sculptures of goats dot the sidewalk. The local businesses have crazy-ass names, just like Lana said.  Goat Morning, Goat to Eat, Udderly Delicious, Randy Goat. If there’s a goat-related pun to be made, they’ve made it.

The cottage is ten minutes outside the downtown core. I talked to Elvira Grantham on the phone earlier this week, and she’d promised she’d leave me a key in the mailbox so I could move in right away.

I drive down the curvy, tree-lined driveway. The first glimpse of the cottage makes me gasp. It looks like something out of a fairy tale. It’s painted a creamy white, and the front door is moss-green. Two rose bushes grow on either side of the door, the yellow flowers scenting the air with their perfume.

Inside, however, is a very different story. Lana wasn’t kidding. This place needs a lot of TLC. The paint is faded and peeling. The hardwood floors are badly scratched. The kitchen counters are stained yellow, and the stove looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in decades.

I don’t care. The money I’m saving on rent is keeping Girl Power going. That’s all that matters.

For the next two days, all I do is clean. I dust, vacuum, and scrub. I find the grocery store in town—Goat Food—and buy some basics, a carton of eggs, bread, milk, and coffee. Lana, Declan, and Blake drop by with a couch, a bed, and some other odds and ends, stuff they had in their garage. It’ll do for the moment, but at some point, when my bank account looks healthier, I resolve to buy myself real furniture.

By the time Sunday evening rolls around, I’m sick of cleaning, and I’ll scream if I have to eat toast and scrambled eggs again. I’ve earned a real meal. Beer, even.

I drove past a bar as I arrived in town, on the edge of the main stretch, across the street from the bed-and-breakfast. The Randy Goat. Suddenly, a big, juicy burger is all I can think about.

I hit the shower for a quick wash and then pull on my favorite dress, dotted with cheerful yellow and blue flowers. Once I’m ready, I jump into my car and head into town. Burger and fries, here I come.

As I drive, I see green lawns covered with purple ‘Hardy for Mayor’ campaign signs. There must be an election in town. It’s also later than I’d realized, almost ten at night. Most of the stores are closed.  When I pull into the Randy Goat’s parking lot, there’s only one other car there, but thankfully for my rumbling stomach, the lights are still on inside.

The bartender looks up when I push the door open, as does the only other customer in the place.

Nick and Sean.

When I see them, my heart stutters. Six years fall away, and I’m back in their hotel room on the day that should have been my wedding day, about to have a threesome for the first time in my life. Because I needed to forget everything, and my choices were either falling into bed with them or chugging down a bottle of vodka.

Sean speaks first. “Hailey?”