Lovie Valentine

They say a woman’s heart is a fragile thing. Mine’s been locked behind the front desk, kept busy with ledgers and peach cobbler until a pair of dusty boots at the door reminded me that even the weariest heart can flutter. Run your fingers along the Topaz’s oak beams, and you’ll feel the history—the sweat, the loss, the slow climb back to dignity. I built this place brick by brick after my first husband left me with nothing but a head full of lessons and hands that know how to work. Now, when a man with a crooked smile and a voice like warm molasses starts asking questions about vacancies, well… let’s just say the Topaz might need a new wing.