The Innkeeper's House

by Elizabeth Bromke

  “I told her to wait until Friday to get started. Or Thursday at least. People want fresh food, but Fern is too dead set on being ready ahead of time. It’s like she’s not from here or something.”

  Maggie winked at Greta and rinsed the stranger’s head.

  “I meant when you said speak of the devil.” Greta set the newly naked corn cob in Fern’s pile and reached for another, averting her gaze now.

  “Well,” Maggie answered, “Rumor has it you don’t want to rent the Inn.”

  Greta let out a breath. At least Rhett hadn’t given away her other secret. That she might blaze out of town in pursuit of something better. She wasn’t going to anymore, so that little tidbit could die right now.

  “Well, I might. I just need to settle into my new job a little. You know?”

  Gretchen kept her gaze on the corn in her hands. Greta frowned. “I probably will, though. Who told you? Luke?”

  Fern gave her a look as if to say wake up and smell the pie, and Greta smiled. “Oh, right. You probably talked to...”

  Just then, Maggie secured a little towel around her customer’s head, and the woman stood up and whipped around.

  Liesel.

  Greta wanted to sink into the farmhouse floor right then and there.

  “Hi, Miss Liesel.”

  “Greta, dear, you don’t have to rent that place. We weren’t speaking ill of you. I understand. It’s a big deal to move.”

  The others kept quiet as Liesel moved to the table and took the last remaining seat. She covered Greta’s hand with hers. The woman’s neat red manicure paired perfectly with her crimson lipstick. Penciled eyebrows arched over pale blue eyes, and for a moment, Greta wondered how the woman could be a spinster. She was drop-dead beautiful, articulate. Severe, sure. Without all the makeup and attention to her appearance, she’d make a great nun, Greta suspected.

  “What will you do if I don’t?”

  Greta, in fact, wanted nothing more than to have a little place of her own. And the house on Overlook could be perfect. But the barn had become perfect, too. Perfect outside of Gretchen’s displeasure and the fact that it would never really belong to her.

  Then again, neither would the innkeeper’s house. Greta wanted something that could belong to her, even if it wasn’t hers.

  “We’ll figure it out, Greta. One of our relatives might be interested in purchasing the place, though Luke won’t stand for it. Maybe we won’t need to, though.”

  “Not if you let us help you fix up that sweet little Inn,” Maggie trilled from the sink, where she was tidying up her tinctures.

  “What?” Greta asked, more confused than ever.

  “Listen, honey. If Luke and I are going to keep that place alive, it needs a makeover. I’ve come to accept it with the help of Fern and company here.” She waved a hand around. “Someone to be on call at night, well, Luke and I can handle that for the time being. If we can bring more attention to the place, more draw, more guests... then people will be knocking down the door to live in that house.”

  “That’s what I said.” Maggie clicked her tongue and returned to Liesel’s hair, unfolding it from the towel to reveal bright blonde tresses.

  “I knew you could pull it off,” Fern marveled. “Blonde is the way to go.”

  “Oh, please,” Gretchen cut in, finally smiling a little. “Brunettes are taken more seriously.”

  “Classic Gretchen,” Maggie replied, laughing. She turned her attention to Greta. “We’re going to all help fix up the Hickory Grove Inn. Do you want to help? Or are you too busy juggling your new job and your little crush?”

  At that, Greta turned beet red.

  This was not what she wanted. Not to be treated like some teenager with a thing for a teacher. Indignant, she shook her head. What she said next, fell out of her mouth even though it wasn’t the whole truth. Not after her lecture from Rhett. Not after her come-to-Jesus about the search for happiness. Greta wasn’t going anywhere. Still, she said it to distract them. After all, Greta didn’t want Liesel to think of her as some doe-eyed groupie, looking to shack up in the Inn just to be near the woman’s precious nephew. “I got another job offer, actually.”

  Maggie’s jaw nearly hit the ground. A comb fell from her hand, clattering to the floor dramatically.

  “Why?” Gretchen asked, her eyes wide.

  Greta didn’t expect her to react like that. Gretchen should be happy to learn there was a chance her precious barn might free up.

  Discomfort turned to anxiety in Greta’s stomach, so she blurted it out. The whole story. She began with how she’d been applying everywhere but no school district was hiring, and if they were, they weren’t hiring someone with a hodgepodge track record and a broken engagement, probably. She confessed her infatuation with Luke, and how it was painfully uncomfortable to know she’d have to see him every day. What if he didn’t return her sentiments? What if he did and it soured? She explained her mother’s adage and how Rhett slapped some sense into her. Lastly, she told them about the case of the missing teaching contract, and how it felt like a sign.

  “A sign!” Fern hollered. “It’s a sign that our local school district can’t get it together.”

  “Greta,” Becky cut in. She’d kept her distance, being less familiar to Greta. Her voice was low as she went on. “Do you really want to stay at the middle school? Do you want to stay in Hickory Grove?”

  Greta studied her, blinking. If anyone in the room knew her predicament, it was Becky. She’d been gone for decades, returning to make a beautiful life in the town she’d left behind for brighter horizons.

  The idea that you can’t really go home again had nagged at the back of Greta’s mind. Seeing Becky, though, brought that other, secondary fear to light. Maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe you could.

  Maybe Greta could stop running and start staying. “Yes,” she whispered to Becky.

  “Then we can find out about that niggly little contract right now.”

  “Brilliant,” Maggie added, her eyes flashing.

  Greta watched as Becky tugged her phone from her purse and put a call in.

  “No, no, no,” Greta hissed across the room, her arm outstretched to prevent the woman from humiliating her by calling the school.

  Gretchen grabbed Greta’s arm midair and read her mind. “Shh, don’t worry. She’s not calling the school.”

  “Who’s she calling, then?”

  Fern answered, “Her boyfriend, Zack. He’s the lawyer for the school district. He has an office there.”

  Greta’s eyes grew wide. She waited. They all waited, watching and listening as Becky navigated Zack over the phone.

  “It is?” Becky said after some pause. “You’re positive?”

  Giddy now, Greta looked at Fern, whispering, “Is that even allowed?”

  Becky ended the call before Fern could answer, and Greta looked at her. “Are you sure he can do that?”

  “He didn’t do anything,” Becky replied. “He was leaving his office and happened to see a document on the printer.”

  Her heart beat faster. A grin spread across Greta’s mouth.

  Maggie cackled.

  Greta let out a breath. “So, they do want me to teach there? They didn’t find a reason to wiggle out of it?” Her insecurities flooded out, but she let them, finding relief in the chance to vent. She could be herself, again. After a couple of years of trying to be perfect, of trying to find that perfect life that would erase her sadness, she could breathe.

  “No one wants you to wiggle out of here,” Maggie said, snipping the ends off of Liesel’s hair. “Don’t be silly!”

  Liesel smiled. “Listen, Greta. You don’t have to rent the Inn. Live where you want. But you just made yourself a group of girlfriends. And you do have to help us get ready for this darn fish fry.”

  Greta smiled, and the others laughed.

  But Gretchen held up her hand. “Actually, she can live anywhere she wants except for my sewing barn.”

  “Sewing ba
rn?” Maggie asked, scoffing. “Girl, you need a sewing machine first.”

  “I didn’t know you liked to sew,” Liesel commented lightly. “I’m a quilter, myself.” As their banter wore on, Greta felt more at home than ever.

  She excused herself to make a call, and by then, she knew she was making the right choice for once. The truly right choice. Greta glanced at the time on her phone before it began to ring. Just before five. She crossed her fingers that it wasn’t too late.

  A woman answered immediately, greeting her with a terse hello.

  “Hi, this is Greta Houston. We spoke a little bit ago about my application?”

  The woman’s tone changed. “Greta, hello! Yes. So glad to hear back from you.”

  “Thank you,” Greta went on, forcing herself to keep from grinning ear to ear. “I have my answer.”

  Chapter 20—Luke

  After practice, Luke drove straight home, showered, and dove into bed, tossing and turning the whole night.

  He woke up expecting to dread the workday. No doubt she wouldn’t be there. How could he tolerate meetings and PowerPoints and a soggy sandwich for lunch if he didn’t have the new teacher to distract him? The potential tenant? The potential... everything.

  Since practice the evening before, Luke had missed no fewer than five calls from Liesel. He’d ignored them all, knowing full-well that if it was an emergency she’d text or leave a message. But she hadn’t. And he didn’t care.

  The Inn could fall into bankruptcy. Sudden depression threatened to descend on him. But it lifted a little by the time he showed up in the cafeteria. Mark held a plate piled high with eggs, two waffles drenched in syrup, and fresh cut fruit.

  “A breakfast upgrade?” Luke asked, setting his clipboard down at the same seat he’d used the day before. The one next to Greta’s, which stood empty.

  Mark plopped his plate down and pointed a finger to the buffet. “The D.O. put it on. Elementary and high school are joining us today, so, you know how it is. They blow it out.”

  Luke had forgotten. Day two was a little different, with a whole-district meeting then smaller breakout sessions.

  As if on cue, a rash of vaguely familiar faces flooded the doorway, converging on the buffet.

  Luke got in line, trudging his way toward the only thing that could cure a wounded heart: downhome food.

  Returning to the table, he found four new faces replacing the English department. He glanced at Mark who shrugged. “They said to sit with your kind.”

  “Our kind?” Luke laughed and shook hands with P.E. teachers from the high school and elementary school. The others shot the breeze until the conversation rounded to the football program. It snapped Luke out of his ongoing search for Greta. He tore his eyes away from one of the two tables where he’d spied Susan, one of the other English teachers, for a fleeting moment.

  “Good season ahead,” he agreed distractedly.

  “You all going to the fish fry before the game?” Mark asked the other coaches.

  They nodded.

  “Can’t. It’ll be too close.” Luke sipped on his coffee, burning the tip of his tongue and muttering a swear.

  “Aw, come on. We can grab a plate and take off after, right?”

  “Aren’t the boys going?” one of the others asked.

  Luke shrugged. “If they can get to the warm-up time.” He hated his own attitude but felt compelled to be irritated.

  Mrs. Cook’s voice blasted on the microphone as she welcomed the other two faculties to the middle school. Then she gave the mic over to the superintendent, who launched into a familiar welcome-back speech.

  Luke’s eyes never stopped scanning, but the crowd was too thick. He’d have to stand up to search for her, and that would be ridiculous.

  Then, the superintendent passed the microphone to the elementary principal, who started introducing her new hires for the year.

  Suddenly hopeful again, Luke eased back in his chair.

  With each name she called, a nervous head popped up, the person half-standing from their chair and waving a hand awkwardly at the recognition.

  The elementary school’s new hires totaled two.

  After that, the superintendent invited Mrs. Cook to return, but she waved him off as she whispered together with Barb. Luke frowned when the high school principal took over, calling out the names of three more new people, two of them custodians.

  Mrs. Cook, apparently, still was not ready, so the superintendent took the liberty of sharing his own new hires, one bus driver and a new technology assistant.

  Luke thought his head was going to burst. His heart was going to burst. His leg bounced beneath the table, consuming some of his overwhelming energy.

  At last, Mrs. Cook took the microphone again, twirling herself in front of the podium and flashing a broad smile. To Luke’s knowledge, she had only one name to introduce. One person. Was she going to say the name he was longing to hear? Or would she say that there were no new hires. Would she say there had been a new hire, but she flaked out? Had she found a replacement for Greta in those few hours since he’d seen her last? Had Greta called the school, cancelled her promise, and left town? And maybe Mrs. Cook dragged someone off the street to join the team? To make H.G.M.S. great!?

  “I’m so happy to introduce our newest team member,” Mrs. Cook cheered into the microphone. “A big-city transplant, we convinced her to give little Hickory Grove a shot...”

  Luke winced, squeezing his eyes shut, then opening them again to scan the crowd.

  “Joining our English department this year is...”

  Sweat broke out along his spine. His leg froze mid-bounce. Deafening silence filled the cafeteria as though every other person was also awaiting that moment.

  “Miss Greta Houston!”

  A spunky blonde head shot up beneath a slender arm. As she waved across the cafeteria, her eyes fell on Luke.

  They stayed there after she sat down and the school leaders moved on to the next item of business. They stayed there for some moments, until at last, Greta and Luke smiled at each other.

  A smile that could move mountains. Perform miracles. A smile that could end his football program if he were a lesser man.

  But he wasn’t. And at that moment, Luke Hart knew every aspect of his life was about to have just a little more meaning. That smile meant Luke was going to become a better man. A P.E. teacher who could inspire even the laziest student. A football coach who could win championships. A nephew who could help his aunt turn their shared investment into something to be proud of.

  A grandson who would turn his mamaw’s old house into a home. If not for Greta, then for himself. And for whoever would one day share that home.

  Liesel may never be ready. But Luke was.

  Chapter 21—Greta

  The week was a blur. Between setting up her classroom and attending obligations, Greta barely caught her breath before the first day of school, which was Thursday.

  Every opportunity to see or chat with Luke was stolen. Tuesday was a bust, as they were shuffled immediately into departmental meetings before she had to spend the afternoon in HR, filling out new hire paperwork and finding her way down to the county offices to have her certificate stamped.

  Wednesday was classroom prep then home to get ready for back-to-school night, which lasted well past seven.

  She had dawdled in the parking lot afterwards, hoping to catch a glimpse of him only to realize he was probably at football practice by then.

  When they wound up at the same water fountain after first hour on Thursday, they exchanged a smile, and there it was. That feeling. Greta knew he shared it. They tried to make small talk over student heads, but the bell rang, sending them apart yet again.

  Every single night, Greta thumbed her phone, going back and forth over whether to be the first to make a move.

  Gretchen had shown up in the barn Thursday, after her shift. She didn’t bring up the barn, but that didn’t matter since Greta had made up her mind already
. It was just a matter of sticking to the plan and seeing it through. There’d be no argument.

  When Greta mentioned how she couldn’t seem to connect with Luke, Gretchen had just shrugged. “Fry-day.”

  “What do you mean?” Greta asked.

  “The fish fry. He works every single one. Just show up. Like last time, right?” The girl had grinned and winked, leaving Greta with another book in exchange for nothing. She was a sweetheart. Greta didn’t deserve her friendship.

  But the advice was solid.

  Anyway, Greta was already helping out with the fish fry. Liesel and Fern roped her into joining the Ladies Auxiliary.

  So, there she was on Friday. As soon as school had let out, she scrambled over to help set up. Once her tasks were done, Greta asked the others if she could slip away to freshen up before the festivities began.

  They agreed easily, giggling behind her back as she all but darted to her car, scrambling home and back in a fresh sundress, with her hair in soft waves about her face. Pink lip gloss and strappy sandals. A summer tan and the boldness that came out of a week of wanting. Wanting to see him. Wanting to talk to him. Wanting, especially, to apologize to him. Set him straight. She was in town to stay, and he’d have to deal with it, and...

  But he never showed up.

  No one saw him, either. Greta checked. None of the football players she’d asked, as they rushed to get their plates, gobbled down a supper before heading into souped-up pickups and speeding off down the dirt lane and out towards the high school.

  Not Fern or Maggie or Gretchen.

  Liesel, however, assured Greta that he was at the game. Liesel argued that Greta’s best bet was to go there, cheer the team on, then hang around after.

  “I’m not a groupie,” Greta declared. “Maybe he doesn’t want to see me.”

  His aunt threw a sidelong look at Greta. “He wants to see you. He doesn’t know how, sweetheart.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Liesel sighed. “After college, which I’m sure was the wildest time of his life,” she chuckled good naturedly, “once he settled down here, this town became his world. And the people in it. Football, school, Little Flock. He hasn’t dated much. When you hinted that you weren’t sticking around, you scared him off.”