The Innkeeper's House

by Elizabeth Bromke

  “For good?” Greta asked, horror clenching her chest, depriving her of a full breath.

  “No,” Liesel confirmed. “Listen, Greta. If you want to talk to my nephew, even just say hello, why not do it privately anyway? It’ll give you a chance to explain everything.”

  “Privately?” Greta asked, dubious.

  “You don’t want to confront him in front of forty sweaty teenage boys. Or here, for that matter. This weekend, he’s working the night shift.”

  “You mean at The—”

  Liesel nodded, smiling.

  ***

  After the football game, which Greta went to, all thirty-seven hours of it (or so, it felt), she vacillated briefly over Liesel’s advice. She was fairly certain that Luke had glanced up at the bleachers once or twice. She thought he saw her. She even waved once, but he’d turned around by then.

  When the team poured out of the locker room, Greta spied Luke smackdab in the middle, next to Mark, walking with a pep in his step, high on their victory.

  One by one, the boys left. Tailgates shut and the parking lot cleared out. Mark and Luke stood at the edge of the parking lot. Greta sat in her car in the middle of a few other stragglers. Parents who were still waiting for their younger sons to finish up. Maggie drove past, pausing at the curb to collect Ky and Dakota, the dutiful water boys.

  Eventually, there were too few cars, but Luke and Mark remained, waiting for the last of the athletes to be picked up. She couldn’t sit there any longer. Her cover would be blown. He knew her car. Maybe he even knew she was waiting.

  So, Greta left.

  Chapter 22—Luke

  Luke parked and hopped out, dog tired but happy. Even a scrimmage win was a W. Plus, he saw her. There in the stands, looking like a cheerleader who had aged with taste and class. The only thing missing was some sort of contact. A wave or a smile. Instead, she sat like a soldier, and each time he glanced up, her face was serious. Like she had a lot to think about.

  Maybe she did.

  There were just a couple of things on his checklist before bedtime, and he full-well intended to wrap things up and get home right away. He had morning practice.

  Inside, Luke did a quick walk-through, locking the giftshop and securing the back door to the garden. He checked the till then went through the guest log, committing the names to memory and double checking his phone for any urgent questions or concerns.

  In the coming weeks, there would be a full-blown reno, led by the Little Flock Ladies Auxiliary, Maggie Devereux, and Greta’s own brother, Rhett. They’d all agreed to help spruce the place up and bring out its full potential. Luke felt both excited and nervous. Mostly nervous that Greta might involve herself, which could be awkward. For both of them.

  That night, Stella had left an hour early to watch her son play in the scrimmage, and though Liesel offered to take over and wrap things up, he wanted to. He needed to.

  Just as Luke was about to slap the book shut and call it a night, the front door cracked open.

  Alarmed, he took a long step around the desk, one arm out. “Who’s there?” he demanded, his voice gruff.

  The door opened wider, and he repeated himself. “Who’s there?”

  Blonde hair appeared. “Me. It’s me.” Her sweet, small voice slipped around the door, and her face appeared beneath that pretty head of hair. He wanted to comb his fingers through it, tousle it.

  “Greta?”

  “I’m sorry. Am I bothering you?”

  He grinned, dropping his arm and relaxing. “Of course not. What are you doing here?”

  She smiled back, mischievous. “I saw the sign.”

  “What sign?” he scratched his head then crossed his arms over his chest, uncertain.

  “Vacancy. You have a room for rent?”

  Studying her, Luke answered with a question. “Did poor Gretchen finally kick you out of her sewing house or whatever she calls it?”

  Greta mock-frowned. “How did you know about that little drama?”

  “She complained to me at Mally’s. Before I even met you. Actually, it was the first day I saw you there. Coming in. She’d told Mark and me about how someone was moving into her sewing house.”

  “It’s a barn, for your information,” Greta corrected him. “But I’m moving now. She didn’t have to kick me out.”

  “What, you’re going back to Chicago? Or maybe Indianapolis? Does your fiancé want to reunite?” He couldn’t help it. A shadow crossed his face, and all the little things he knew about her and didn’t know started to spread through his mind, surfacing on his tongue like little daggers. Ammunition in the mini war between them. The one that played out over her Chicago phone call. Over her unavailability. He wasn’t angry with Greta. He wasn’t. But he was on guard.

  “And how did you know about that?” Now she frowned more seriously.

  He winced. “I’m sorry. Small town, remember? Word gets around.”

  “He’s old news, I can assure you of that.”

  Luke nodded. He believed her. “I’d love to know more about it. Er, I mean... I’d love to know more about you, you know.”

  A skeptical expression crossed her face. “You would?”

  “It wasn’t obvious?”

  Greta blinked, smiled, and nodded. “Well, same here.” Biting her lip, she twisted slowly, her eyes dancing around the place.

  “Is that why you came?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Yes and no. I really am interested in your vacancy.”

  “You want a room in here? With a double bed and a Norman Rockwell hanging on the wall?” He chuckled. “Surely you can do better. Even if it’s a sewing house.”

  “Barn,” she corrected again. He held up his hands in apology, but she went on. “Actually, Luke. I’m interested in your mamaw’s house. If, that is, it’s still available?”

  He felt the wind knock out of him. Swallowing, he formed a response. “It might not be.”

  Her face fell. “Oh.” A wrinkle knit her brows together.

  “Actually,” Luke answered, licking his lips and rerouting. “What I mean is... it might not be available long-term.” He was backpedaling on his own decision, but he had to. Here she was, the girl of his dreams, asking if she could do exactly what he had wanted her to do all along. How could he say no? Still, he had to stick to something. “I’m selling my house.”

  “You’re moving into the house? Your mamaw’s house?” Her expression softened, but sadness dwelt behind her eyes.

  “Yes. Liesel and I discussed it. Not yet, but once I can sell my place. I was thinking next summer. I’ll have more time then, and—”

  Out of the clear blue, Greta took a step to him, put her hand on his chest and rose up on her toes.

  And kissed him.

  Luke closed his eyes and dropped his hands to her waist, pulling her into him and parting his lips. It remained chaste. Soft.

  When he opened his eyes, she was staring up at him. “I’m sorry,” Greta whispered.

  He furrowed his brow, his hands still on her waist. “For what?”

  “For being indecisive. For suggesting I was going to leave.” She closed her eyes and paused a beat before opening them again.

  “You don’t have to apologize, Greta. I know it’s hard to... I know you were going through something now. I get it.”

  The corners of her mouth pricked up. “I’m also sorry I didn’t say yes before.”

  “To what?” he replied.

  “To being your tenant.” She shrugged. “I am moving from the barn. Somewhere. It belongs to Gretchen. And I belong somewhere that’s my own, too. If not here,” she waved an arm, pulling away from his grip, “then I can stay at Rhett’s house. He’s almost done with it, and he’ll have a spare room. From there, my back-up plan is to rent from him. Maybe I could even buy. He has a few properties in Louisville you know, and—”

  This time, Luke lifted a finger to her mouth, quieting her rambling. “Greta,” he said. “If you want to live in Mamaw’s house,
it’s all yours.”

  He ducked his head and pressed his mouth to hers again. It was soon, but it was right. She kissed him back, and when they parted, her arms climbed up his shoulders, tugging him into a deep hug. “Thank you.”

  Then, Greta dropped back to her heels, pushing away. “Just for the school year. Okay? After that, I’ll buy my own place. Maybe I’ll buy yours!” She laughed then flashed a broad smile at him.

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” he answered, lifting an eyebrow.

  “What do you mean?”

  Luke cupped her face in his hands, suddenly so comfortable with the beautiful stranger who stood before him. The Hickory Grove local. The schoolteacher all of his students were already raving about. The heartbroken woman who’d lost her mother and was trying... trying so hard to make a life for herself. And he kissed her again before murmuring, at last, “You never know what might happen in a year.”

  ***

  Epilogue

  One year later.

  “Welcome to The Hickory Grove Inn!” Greta flashed a bright smile to her new guests. A freshly married couple who opted for an RV trip across America for their honeymoon. Greta’s kind of people. “You must be the Hennings?”

  After passing an old-fashioned brass key to the wife, Greta glanced at the grandfather clock. It was one of many of Mamaw Hart’s personal effects which she had convinced Liesel and Luke to dust off and bring up from the basement. With careful selection of heirlooms and a few new touches, The Hickory Grove Inn had turned from a dark and barren wood lodging to the charming bed-and-breakfast the Harts had likely envisioned years back. With Liesel’s oversight and blessings, heavy velvet curtains were exchanged for lace. Cream-colored doilies sat atop refurbished dressers. Tiffany lamps and natural light flooded the space, brightening it and bringing it back to life.

  “It’s just after seven, which means you’re right on time to enjoy our evening sherry.”

  “Sherry?” the husband asked, cocking his head to Greta then his wife for an explanation. When the latter came up empty, Greta gushed out a bubbly response.

  “That’s right. In Hickory Grove, no one goes to bed without a little something to wet the whistle. We abide by Mamaw Hart’s late tradition. A sherry a day keeps the doctor away! After you get settled in upstairs, then you can join the other guests and our evening hostess for a glass of the good stuff. Just here,” she paused along their brief tour of the first floor, “in the parlor.”

  Gretchen waved merrily from the wet bar where she stood arranging decanters and heavy crystal glasses. Greta insisted Gretchen work less, but the determined girl begged to help out at the Inn. It was her escape. A fresh hobby and something to fill her evenings when her boyfriend was away at college.

  They paused at the parlor which was once the employee break room. Greta knew it had to reclaim its original purpose when Stella revealed she’d never used it once. There was no reason not to open the first floor and create a homey area apart from the dining room. The evening sherry and the midmorning and afternoon snacks were now offered there, in the parlor, instead of the dining room, which was reserved only for breakfast, brunch, and special events. Yes, Greta had seen to it that her new family business was more than an evening respite. It now rivaled the river boat casino for nearly all local events, so long as the coordinating clients were looking for southern charm and quaint delight. With the rear garden finally growing lush and colorful, they even had an outdoor venue. Another project Liesel was happy for Greta to take on. It seemed that the Hart matriarch was only too pleased to have her nephew’s wife take a fervent interest in carrying on family traditions. And creating new ones.

  Once Greta and the newlyweds returned to the staircase, she gestured up to the second floor. “Take a left on the landing, third door on your right.” It had been two weeks since she stopped climbing the stairs every time someone checked in. Luke was too worried she might take a fall.

  The bell that hung above the front door clanged to life, and her husband entered, clad in athletic shorts and a white tee, his summer uniform. His everyday uniform, in truth.

  The newlyweds ascended the staircase, murmuring compliments within earshot. Greta returned to finish checking them in as Luke strode to the desk, leaning overtop of it and pressing his lips to her cheek.

  “How was practice?” Greta asked, flushing at his chaste kiss and glowing with happiness to see him.

  “Good, good. Lookin’ like another championship year. Did you talk to Mrs. Cook yet?”

  Greta nodded, smiling. “The substitute agreed to take it on long term. I’m set for the school year.”

  Luke grinned and pushed off of the desk, holding his hand out once Greta locked the till and rounded towards him.

  She rested her other hand on top of her growing belly, allowing Luke to guide her through the front door and over to their home, the innkeeper’s-quarters-turned-family-house.

  Twinkling stars filled the milky night sky, lighting their path as Luke guided his pregnant wife up to the front porch and swept her inside, out of the warm evening air.

  When it came time for them to move in, just six months before, the week after their wedding, Greta insisted on restoring rather than renovating the old family place. Luke and Liesel were thrilled over this, but Greta had always sensed Liesel felt a little sad about the whole thing.

  Sad in general, perhaps.

  Liesel had even confessed as much during one of the Ladies Auxiliary meetings, which compelled Greta to start working on the problem, adding yet another thing to her growing to-do list. She wouldn’t have it any other way. For Greta, busy was good. Busy was great.

  Projects brought joy to her. Once she had moved into the house next to the Inn and started the school year at H.G.M.S., it occurred to Greta that searching for happiness outside of herself had never been the answer. True happiness had always been there, where she was born and raised, in the place where her mother had laid down roots. The place Greta was so certain her mother wanted to give up.

  But as soon as Luke had proposed marriage, happiness hit Greta like a tidal wave, consuming her and drowning her in the stuff. It was then that Greta fully knew the meaning of her mother’s advice. Find what makes you happy and do it. The find part was never about the search.

  It was about the acceptance. The contentedness. The bird in the hand, even.

  Still, as if starting a new teaching job and planning a wedding and restoring an old house weren’t enough, Greta realized something more. Something else that was missing from her life. Not romance, which she had in abundance—an old-fashioned courtship with Luke Hart was the most romantic thing she’d ever experience. It wasn’t family that she was missing, either. Living close to her brother was like a revival of her childhood. Summer mornings in Maggie’s kitchen cemented Greta in a new sisterhood, too. Though they didn’t quite replace her bond with her mother, they helped to fill it.

  Of course, the kitchen with its perm fumes and the errant child running through with a squawking chicken was not ideal for what Greta pinned down as the missing ingredient in her perfect life.

  They needed a new locale. A place to convene either as the Ladies Auxiliary or simply as a group of girlfriends.

  Little did Greta and her new friends realize, but such a space was sitting right beneath their noses.

  In the place that had touched Greta’s life. And Gretchen’s. Maggie’s too. And Liesel’s once she helped Gretchen get started, learning to work the antique sewing machine. Fern’s when she donated an entire closetful of fabric. And Becky’s when they discovered in there a whole stash of ancient seamstress books, leftover from Maggie’s ancestors.

  So, Greta led the women in establishing a place for Liesel to teach Gretchen about sewing. A place for friends to meet. A place to sip sweet tea and plan weddings and do all the things that girlfriends liked to do. A place that could be a patchwork blanket, unifying the hodgepodge group of women like a cozy wrap.

  It was originally an old barn. But they ca
me to call it the Quilting House.

  ***

  I hope you enjoyed The Innkeeper’s House. Please join my newsletter to be notified when the next book in the Hickory Grove series releases.

  Itching for another good book? Readers are raving about House on the Harbor, a small-town women’s fiction saga, available widely.

  Other Titles by Elizabeth Bromke

  Birch Harbor:

  House on the Harbor

  Lighthouse on the Lake

  Fireflies in the Field

  Hickory Grove:

  The Schoolhouse

  The Christmas House

  The Farmhouse

  The Quilting House

  Maplewood:

  Christmas on Maplewood Mountain

  Return to Maplewood

  Missing in Maplewood

  The Billionaire’s Mountain Bride

  The Ranger’s Mountain Bride

  The Cowboy’s Mountain Bride

  About the Author

  Elizabeth Bromke is the author of the Maplewood series, the Hickory Grove series, and the Birch Harbor series. Each set of stories incorporates family, friends, and love.

  Elizabeth lives in the mountains of Arizona, where she enjoys reading, writing, and spending time with her family.

  Learn more about the author by visiting elizabethbromke.com today.