MEETING SARA

Charlene smiles shyly and then focuses on her salad, spearing a piece of avocado with her fork. Her gaze falls on the lone brass key in the box, and I know she’s dying to ask questions.

“Technically, we don’t own it yet,” I reply. “We’re negotiating the price, and then there’s closing. The couple that owns it are excited to retire early. None of their children are interested in running the place. It’s a good location.”

“What about security?” she asks, eyeing the few diners seated at random tables.

“The river protects one side, and security can stay in the inn. You don’t have to open it to the public. You’ll be safe here as long as you don’t forget who you are.”

Charlene puts down her fork and looks around the charming antique interior with exposed beams and wood plank floors. A large stone fireplace crackles and fills the room with warmth. The walls are a mix of wood paneling and stone accents. In the corner is a bar stocked with local craft beers. Old, framed prints and maps of the a