caregiver, their romance might have happened earlier. But the fact that they’d always maintained their closeness through all of those trials only made their love stronger and more steadfast. Practically every woman in town wanted to trade places with Addie.
As they watched the sun rise through the fog, they discussed how different but so much better their lives were. The new normal was working out, it seemed, for everyone involved.
“I agree,” Justine told Addie. “I never would have believed we would all be doing so well after everything that happened. But it would be better if Scott suffered a little more,” she said with a grin.
“True,” Addie said, “but maybe we should actually thank him. His bad choices forced us to make good ones.”
“I’ll never thank him for being such an idiot,” Justine said. “But I am happier than I’ve been for a long time, and they do say living well is the best revenge.”
“Here’s to living well!” Addie said as they both laughed.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Country Guesthouse by Robyn Carr.
The Country Guesthouse
by Robyn Carr
1
Owen and his Great Dane, Romeo, walked around the lake and up the road to Sully’s store. Sully was sitting on the porch with his son-in-law, Cal Jones. His little granddaughter was sitting on the porch steps. The moment three-year-old Elizabeth saw them, she clapped her hands and yelled, “Womeo!” The Great Dane paused, turned his big head to look up at Owen. “Okay,” Owen said. Romeo took off at a gallop, looking like a pony, loping across the yard to his welcome party. Sully’s yellow Lab, Beau, met Romeo at the porch steps and the two dogs treated themselves to a trot around the yard.
Owen leaned his walking stick against the porch, doffed his backpack and ruffled Elizabeth’s hair as he took the steps.
“Hey, neighbor,” Sully said. “How’s the shootin’ today?”
“I only see the good stuff if I leave the camera at home,” Owen said. He shook Sully’s hand, then Cal’s. “Looks like the campground’s filling up.”
“It’s always spring break somewhere,” Sully said. “At least I get the outdoorsy types instead of the drink-till-you-puke types.”
Owen laughed. “Good planning, Sully. Is it too early for a beer?” he asked, looking at Cal’s beer.
“I hope not,” Cal said. “Maggie’s in Denver. I’m holding down the fort with Elizabeth’s help.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Owen said.
“That’s nice, but unnecessary. Now that Elizabeth can actually talk, nothing is sacred.”
“What’s a sacwed, Daddy?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Cal said.
Owen got himself a cold bottle of beer from the cooler inside, left a few dollars on the counter and wandered back onto the porch. He sat down, stretched out his very long legs and took a long pull on his beer. Romeo and Beau wandered back to the store porch. Romeo treated Elizabeth to a full face wash, cleaning her off with a few hearty licks. She squealed with delight and said, “Oh-oh-oh-oh, Womeo! I love you, too.”
The men all laughed. “Why can’t the weather be like this all year?” Owen asked.
“Because we need that snowpack,” Sully said. “Don’t need those summer fires, though. You just coming home or you getting ready to go away again?”
“I’ve been back a week,” Owen said. “Next is Taiwan in about a month, but they’ve been having some serious weather issues right where I plan to shoot. I’m keeping an eye on that.”
Owen, a photographer, was a freelancer. When he was younger he did a lot of portraits, school pictures, weddings, family Christmas cards, that sort of thing. When he was in his thirties he began doing more artistic photographs and sometimes more political photos—war-ravaged villages, citizens of impoverished countries, the poverty or decadence in his own country, as well as interesting or beautiful landscapes, mountains, wildlife. Then he wrote accompanying essays or blogs for his photos and became something of a travel writer, with a twist. He would expose the blunders, chaos, humor and