CHAPTER SEVEN

April"s steps slowed as she neared the front desk, her eyes settling on the trio that had seemingly sprouted from nowhere. The two men and the woman were unmistakable in their attire; binoculars swung from their necks like pendulums, and their backpacks loomed like hunchbacks clinging to their frames.

A smile, practiced yet sincere, found its way to April"s lips. "Can I assist you?" she inquired, her tone the perfect blend of warmth and professionalism.

The response was immediate, a chorus of affirmation that they indeed had reservations for the weekend. April"s heart hitched, a cold wave cascading down her spine. She searched their faces, hoping to find a hint of jest, but found only earnest expectation.

Her voice wavered, betraying the turmoil brewing within. "I"m sorry, there must be some mistake," she managed, the words tasting bitter. "You see, we"re hosting a wedding this weekend. The whole place is reserved for family. I personally ensured all bookings were suspended."

Disappointment creased their brows, an unspoken dialogue of confusion passing between them. April felt the knot in her stomach tighten, the weight of the looming ceremony pressing down upon her. This island sanctuary, once her escape, seemed in this moment to close around her with the suffocating grip of unforeseen chaos.

The man"s fingers danced across his phone screen, swiping until the reservation confirmation presented itself in glaring clarity. April leaned forward, her pulse throbbing in her ears as she glimpsed the familiar layout of the third-party website.

There it was, a digital footprint she had crafted with Kristy—the vibrant pictures of sun-dappled rooms and promises of island tranquility. But among the carefully curated images was the stark reality of oversight; she hadn"t disabled the bookings for this all-important weekend.

A tinge of nausea stirred within her as she straightened up, nodding with feigned calmness. Her fingertips brushed over the keyboard of the laptop perched at the reception desk. The screen blinked awake to her touch, revealing the virtual fa?ade of her bed and breakfast—a digital welcome mat she had forgotten to pull in.

Her eyes flitted over the web page, each click a silent prayer for some mistake, some loophole that would free her from the bind. But there, staring back at her in unforgiving text, was the confirmation: two rooms, three guests, check-in today. She swallowed the rising panic, acutely aware of the birdwatchers" expectant gazes upon her.

In her mind's eye, April saw the looming threat of a bad review, the cancellation notice like a scarlet letter on her profile. This website had become a lifeline to an audience beyond the reach of Dune Island"s whispers, and she couldn"t afford the stain of displeasure. A reputation tarnished online was a verdict broadcast to the world.

She exhaled slowly, schooling her features into a mask of composure, even as her heart fluttered against her ribs like a caged bird desperate for release. April measured out the seconds, allowing her well-practiced poise to settle back over her shoulders, a cloak woven from necessity and past courtroom battles. It was a dance of diplomacy she knew all too well, one more step in the ever-shifting sands of her new life.

April leaned against the desk, the cool edge pressing into her palms as she sought a moment of levity amid the chaos threatening to unfurl. "So, what brings you all to this little slice of paradise?" Her voice was light, a hint of curiosity threading through the words that cloaked her simmering anxiety.

The trio exchanged glances before the woman stepped forward, the binoculars swinging gently from her neck like a pendulum, marking the seconds April didn"t have. With an earnest tilt of her head, the woman gestured towards the panoramic windows that showcased the island"s rugged beauty—a backdrop to their unexpected predicament. "We"re here for the bird migration," she said, her eyes alight with a passion that mirrored the very birds she chased. "There"s a rare opportunity to spot some elusive species this weekend. I"m Rebecca, this is Lincoln and Liam."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of April"s lips. Birdwatchers. Of all the guests she could host amidst wedding pandemonium, nature enthusiasts on a quest seemed almost serendipitous. She watched them, their gazes already drawn to the skies beyond the glass, yearning for the wild dance of wings against the horizon.

In those hopeful faces, April glimpsed a reflection of her own journey, once caged by courtroom walls, now soaring in the freedom of Dune Island"s open spaces. How peculiar and wondrous were the threads that wove together her life since leaving the law behind. Each guest a different color, a different texture, adding richness to the pattern.

It dawned on April that with their eyes skyward, these birdwatchers would spend the bulk of their time out among the whispering reeds and wind-kissed dunes. The prospect of them being away during the day, perhaps only returning to rest at night, eased a fraction of the weight from her shoulders. They would be like the migratory creatures they sought—transient, present but not imposing upon the rambunctious celebration of family.

She imagined them traversing the island"s trails at dawn, binoculars ready, while her relatives slept off the previous night"s revelries. By the time the wedding guests stirred, the birdwatchers would likely be dots on the horizon, distant and unbothered by the cacophony of preparations.

The notion was a small comfort, a silver lining in the looming cloud of logistical nightmares. Yes, April thought, there was space here for all kinds of people—birdwatchers, brides, and beleaguered innkeepers alike. A sanctuary for the fleeting and the rooted, where even an accidental booking could find its place under the wide, embracing sky.

April clasped her hands together, a nervous energy pulsing through her veins as she faced the trio. Their eyes, so keen on spotting distant feathers, now rested upon her with expectant patience. She inhaled deeply, the scent of freshly baked scones from the kitchen mingling with the salt-kissed air that seeped in through the open windows.

"So, actually," she began, her voice steady despite the clamor of her racing heart, "there"s a bit of a mix-up. We"re hosting a wedding this weekend—my wedding, in fact—and it seems there was an oversight with the reservation system."

The birdwatchers exchanged glances, their posture remaining uncomfortable, tilting from foot to foot, but remaining calm in all other appearances.

"Of course, I"d be more than happy to have you stay," April continued, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. " I want you to be comfortable here and don't want to hang you out to dry. I just wanted to forewarn you that things might get a little... cozy around here with all the festivities."

‘Cozy' felt like an understatement, considering the impending invasion of cheerful relatives and loud friends. The corners of the room seemed to close in on her, each family photo and carefully placed vase a testament to the personal space about to be encroached upon.

To her relief, the birdwatchers nodded in unison, their expressions softening with what April could only interpret as genuine understanding.

"Of course. We appreciate the accommodations," the one named Lincoln replied. "There weren't many options during booking, so I'm sure we wouldn't be able to find anything else. And we'll probably be outside most of the weekend anyways, so we'll try to stay out of the way."

April observed them, these strangers-turned-guests, who navigated the unexpected with such grace. Their kindness was a balm to her frazzled spirit, and she found herself smiling in earnest for the first time since discovering the reservation mishap.

"Thank you," she said, her gratitude resonating within the warmly lit foyer. "I appreciate your flexibility. Please know, throughout your stay, if there"s anything you need—even amidst the chaos—I"m here. Don't feel like a bother, you're very welcome here."

Their appreciation was palpable, a silent exchange of goodwill that bolstered April"s resolve. She would make this work, she decided. After all, wasn"t life at the bed and breakfast about embracing the unpredictable, finding harmony in the discord?

As the birdwatchers settled into the plush chairs of the lobby, their backpacks resting beside them like trusty companions, April allowed herself a moment to revel in the serendipity of it all. Her life—once ruled by statute books and courtrooms—now danced to the rhythm of rolling tides and whispered vows. It was a dance she had grown to love, filled with unexpected partners and surprising steps, each one leading her closer to a place that felt like home.

April"s fingers danced over the keyboard with a practiced precision, her gaze flitting between the screen and the reservations book splayed open on the desk. The old pages rustled in protest as she flipped through them, confirming room assignments with a furrowed brow. In the system, names shifted like pieces on a chessboard, family members hopping from one digital square to another until the puzzle clicked into place.

Two rooms materialized on the second floor, her swift keystrokes solidifying their reality. Uncle Eamon"s boisterous laughter seemed to echo in her mind at the thought of Jackson sharing his space; the mere idea was a recipe for mischief. And Caroline—ever the matriarch set in her ways—would surely have opinions about the smaller room now allotted to her. April could almost hear the chorus of grievances that would follow, each one delivered with the sharpness of a lawyer"s closing argument that would compare to her own.

But these were small waves in the ocean of responsibilities that commanded April"s attention. The alternative—an empty bed and breakfast haunted by the specter of bad reviews—was a tempest she was keen to avoid.

"Please, feel free to relax here while I ensure your accommodations are in order," she said, offering a gentle gesture toward the lobby"s welcoming embrace.

As the birdwatchers obliged, their binoculars and field guides creating a tableau of adventure amidst the coastal decor, April sensed Jackson"s presence before she saw him. His frame filled the doorway, the sunlight casting a golden outline around his rugged silhouette.

"Jackson," she began, her voice a quiet tide pulling him closer, "we"ve had an unexpected flock land on our doorstep."

His eyes widened—a silent reflection of the storm clouds gathering in her own mind—and without a word, he stepped forward, his arms encircling her in the safe harbor of his embrace. Here, in the eye of the prenuptial whirlwind, they found a moment of stillness.

"Let"s make sure upstairs is ready for our guests," she murmured, her head resting against his chest. "Before Uncle Eamon"s... exuberance becomes part of the welcome package."

Together, they turned toward the staircase, a united front braving the unpredictable winds of hospitality and family, knowing that whatever awaited them in those rooms, they would navigate it hand in hand.