Until Tomorrow (Boot Creek Book 3)

by Nancy Naigle

  She underlined the extra-large salary she’d written on the desk pad in front of her.

  Why am I even entertaining this offer?

  If she went back to work now, she could explain the short absence from the workforce. Too much more time and it would be like starting over again.

  Her life was at a crossroads. If she only knew what tomorrow would bring, it would sure make these decisions a whole lot easier.

  The doorbell rang, and Flynn jumped from her chair. She jogged to the door, happy for the welcome reprieve from those thoughts.

  The mailman shifted his bag on his shoulder. “Need you to sign for this one.”

  She scribbled on the form and then took the letter and placed it on top of the stack of magazines and advertisements he’d handed her.

  “My niece mentioned you were closed for business,” he said. “Everything okay?”

  Her mouth went dry. How many of her neighbors had noticed she didn’t have any customers? “It’s fine. Just working on some renovations.”

  “Rich and Suzy always kept this place filled even when they had projects going on. Did I ever tell you about the time they had to bring in one of those ‘posh potties’ trailers for showers and bathrooms because the plumbing had busted in the front yard?”

  Everyone had told her that story. That and the one about the time the President of the United States was passing through and the Secret Service had parked a decoy car here. Even had the look-alike sleep overnight. The blue bedroom at the top of the stairs was dubbed the Presidential Suite because of that. “I remember. Too bad they hadn’t updated all of the pipes when that happened. I probably wouldn’t be replacing all the plumbing now if they had.”

  “I’m sure Rich had his reasons,” the mailman said.

  She regretted the snarky remark. Her guess was that he didn’t want to shut down and lose the room rate. But Flynn had done the math. If she rented posh potties for the time they’d be out of commission, it would end up costing her more than the income from those rooms, and that was not something she was willing to do. Although there was always the long-tail view. Happy customers meant repeat customers, and even if she only broke even during renovations, repeat customers were something to appreciate.

  Flynn started to back inside, pulling the door closed.

  “Flynn?”

  She looked up and saw Megan coming up the walkway. “I thought you’d be up to your ears in packing for your trip to California this week,” Flynn said.

  “I am.” Megan scrunched her pretty face, then caught the edge of the front door and dipped inside behind Flynn. “Was hoping you could help me package up the last of my candle inventory if you have some time. The place is in a complete mess. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.”

  “No problem. All I have is time right now.”

  “What’s that mean?” Megan’s brown eyes widened.

  “No customers. No help.”

  “I heard you and Brandon . . .” Megan made a cutthroat gesture.

  “It wasn’t quite that dramatic, but yeah, it’s over.”

  “Are you sad about it?” Megan cocked a hip. “You don’t really seem sad.”

  Flynn sighed. Maybe she wasn’t. “I think I’m more sad about the idea of not having someone than I am that Brandon wasn’t the one.”

  “I wasn’t a Brandon fan. You know that.”

  “I do.”

  Her look said I-told-you-so, but those words didn’t come out of Megan’s mouth. “For sure. Anyone who gets between you and your friends, or you and your family, is not the right one.”

  He had done that. Brandon had made excuse after excuse to not spend time with her friends. “This place needs some life in it. I need to get these rooms filled.”

  “You do love taking care of your guests.”

  “I was thinking about kids.” It wasn’t like this was the first time she and Megan had talked about this. She was probably tired of hearing about it.

  “Of course you were. You can have my quota of children too.”

  “I’m beginning to think that’s never going to happen for me if I don’t get busy.”

  “Don’t be silly. If you want children, you’ll have them. You don’t need a guy in your life to make that happen. You could adopt. What is it that you want? The relationship or the children?”

  Flynn bit her lip. “The answer should be both, shouldn’t it?”

  “Well, yeah. No. Maybe? I don’t think there’s really a right or wrong answer,” Megan said. “I will say this, though. You think this inn is a lot to handle alone? Honey, raising a kid by yourself is no picnic. Talk to Angie about that. Billy is about the best kid in the whole world, and raising him alone wore her out. Having Jackson in her life is the best thing that ever happened to her.”

  “I know. Jackson’s great, and now you’ve got Noah. Maybe I’m just feeling left out. I’m so over looking for the last good guy in a pile of duds. I’m tired. Confused. Lonely.”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “And dramatic?”

  “I’m not being dramatic. I’m just trying to be realistic.” Flynn hesitated. Should she even mention the job offer?

  “What?” Megan cocked her head. “What aren’t you telling me? I know that look.”

  “I had an offer to go back to work. My old boss called with a very nice offer.”

  “That job sucked the life out of you. You love this place.”

  “There’s so much to fix around here.”

  “Brandon let things pile up on purpose. He knew he had a good thing going. We’ll find someone to help you out. In the long run it’ll be way cheaper than your live-in handyman.”

  “It’s not just the B&B. It’s this little town. If I’m not going to find a Mr. Right, then I’d at least like to be somewhere that I could do things. Everyone here is part of a couple. Angie and Jackson. Katy and Derek. You and Noah. I’m the odd man out.”

  “Nothing manly about you.”

  “Thanks for that. Some days I wonder if the guys realize that I’m a woman.”

  “They do. Be patient. If you’d quit hooking up with the wrong guys, maybe the right one would finally have a chance to come along. Trust me, you’re going to meet somebody that deserves you. And you’ll have this business right back where it was in no time.” Megan brushed her hair from her face. “I came here to get you to help me, but what can I do to help you?”

  Flynn hated to put her troubles on Megan. She had her own stress right now, but no one knew her better. “Help me figure out what I’m going to do next. Remember the stupid escape clause my grandparents insisted on? Maybe it wasn’t so stupid. That discussion comes up Friday after next.”

  “You’re really considering not sticking it out? That’s so not like you.”

  “Harder than this is telling my grandparents that they need to put the place up for sale. I feel like a failure.”

  “That’s why that clause was put in the contract in the first place.”

  “I don’t want to let them down, though. They were counting on me to carry on this legacy for them. It’s what we’d always dreamed about. You’ve got to help me sort all of it out.”

  “You could always sell the business, name and all. That way it’s still in existence. Everyone wins. I’ll call Winona down at the realty office and get her to come over and appraise the house.”

  “That would be great. I worry about my grandparents being able to enjoy the retirement life they’ve started to live if I decide not to go through with the deal. I hate to let them down. We’ve had this plan forever, for me to take over this place. You know that.”

  “I do.”

  “Maybe I jumped on it too soon after I got laid off. It seemed like the perfect timing. The perfect solution, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Then let’s get your ducks in a row before you make any hasty decisions.”

  “I’m going to miss you like crazy. Who else would ever listen to me babble in circles when I’m stressed and confused?”

 
; “Me. On the phone. In person if you come visit.”

  “I will if I can get away.” She let out a sigh.

  “Quit frowning. Everything will come in the right time. We just have to believe that. Trust the journey. I mean really . . . who would’ve believed I’d be packing up and moving to California? Ever? I’d have called you crazy if you’d said that to me.”

  “I never thought you’d leave Boot Creek. It’s going to be a lot harder for us to be your new scent testers for your candles. You’ll be hard-pressed to find a nose like mine out there in California.”

  “I can mail samples to you.”

  “You’ve got an answer for everything.”

  “Flynn, you need to figure out what you want, because I can promise you this—if you know what the goal is . . . there is an answer to everything.” Megan snapped her fingers. “Listen to me preaching. I came for a reason. I need packing tape and your help.”

  “Those things I can do.” Flynn walked to the kitchen and came back with a two-pack of packing tape. “Let’s go.” Flynn grabbed her keys from the hook next to the door, and just as they opened the door to leave, a loud thump followed by a hiss stopped them both midstep.

  “What was that?” Megan asked.

  Flynn closed her eyes, leaning her head against the door. “It can’t be good.”

  Chapter Four

  Ford wiped down his tools and put them back on the rack. The end-of-day ritual of cleaning up his workbench set the stage for the next day’s creativity.

  He picked up his phone and checked his messages, then snapped a picture of his latest creation and posted it to social media. His mom posted a comment immediately.

  No surprise. Five o’clock here meant eight o’clock back in Nashville. She’d be perusing the Internet while Dad worked in his office at home.

  This time the compliments were earned, though, because this piece was extra special. The color, texture, and shape had formed in his mind so clearly that he’d only hoped he could translate it into reality. Glass wasn’t always as cooperative as his imagination. The piece had come together so flawlessly that at each step he just knew something was going to go wrong. But it hadn’t, and there was no question he’d created his best work of art to date.

  “Ford, I’m glad you’re still here.” Winston Ziegler, the owner, walked over and parked himself against the table filled with colored bits of glass.

  “I was just packing it in for the day.”

  “I like the new piece.” Winston admired it, leaning in closer to check out the details. “This might be your best showing yet.”

  “Thanks, Winston.” A compliment like that from him meant a lot. He’d been a great mentor the last couple of years. And the reputation of Glory Glassworks Gallery had put Ford on the fast track to being able to make a living blowing glass. He’d even been contracted for specialty items like the huge vases used in a photo shoot at the Biltmore for a holiday magazine spread. “I just took it out of the annealing oven an hour ago.” Ford glanced at his signature markings. He was proud of this piece—unique in design and scale. “I’m thinking about doing a series of these to sell next spring. What do you think?”

  “I think you’ll do really well with that.” Winston ran a hand along the stubble under his chin.

  Ford’s ears perked up; maybe it was his short time as a lawyer that had given him the knack of sensing when people were not being completely honest with him. “But?”

  “No buts. People will be in line to buy these. They always love your stuff.”

  “Then we’ll both benefit. Right?”

  Winston let out a breath. “We need to talk.”

  “What’s wrong, man?”

  “We’re shutting down,” Winston said.

  “For how long?”

  “I need you to get your personal stuff out of here before you leave town.”

  “But I’m leaving tomorrow night. What’s going on? Are you firing me?”

  Winston lifted his hand. He looked tired. Worried. “No, Ford. It’s not like that.”

  “Then what is it like?”

  “Maizie isn’t well. I need to take her down to Seattle where we can get her better care. I know it’s not much notice, but I can help you move all of your things up to your place.”

  “Can’t you just have someone handle the shipping from here while you’re away?”

  “No. That won’t work.”

  He locked his knees. “Do you need me to stay and run the place? I can stay.”

  “Ford, I wish that was an option, but I’ll be honest, I’ve got this place overmortgaged, and I haven’t been able to make the bills. I have no choice but to shut her down.”

  “How about I buy it?”

  “That window of opportunity slipped by months ago. I don’t think they’re going to let me do that.”

  “Winston? Why didn’t you say anything? I might’ve been able to help.”

  “I kept thinking I’d find a way out of this mess.” Lines etched Winston’s face as he frowned. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t convenient timing. You need to move everything you possibly can tonight, because I have no idea how fast things are going to happen. They could padlock the place, and if they do, I don’t want you to lose any of your stuff in the midst of it,” Winston said. “I’ve got some boxes in my office. I’ll help you get everything moved. We can fill up both of our trucks.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll get my stuff moved.” Ford’s gut ached like someone had sucker punched him. “I can’t believe this is happening. You. Maizie. Y’all have been so good to me. I want to help.”

  “There’s nothing you can do. I appreciate it, though. I really do.”

  Ford grappled for some way to help. Something to say. “Will you keep me posted if anything changes? Even if I’m still down in North Carolina. Call me if they let you put this place up for sale. I’ll come right back.”

  “I’ve got all of your information. I’ll keep you posted. Let me get you those boxes.”

  Ford watched Winston walk out. His shoulders slumped like a boulder rested upon them. This changed Winston’s life too. He wasn’t sure who he felt sorrier for at the moment.

  He packed up the bulk of his tools and took them out to the truck. The back of his SUV filled quickly with the number of things he’d accumulated. He saved the backseat for his most expensive pieces. The rest would have to wait until tomorrow. Hopefully the bank wouldn’t beat him to the punch.

  With the fragile cargo, Ford drove as carefully as he could up the hill to his property.

  An army-green ’54 Ford sat parked in front of his house. He could see Benson’s tall silhouette moving around the house, closing the vents on the foundation. Ford had hired him to winterize the place in case he was gone longer than expected. There was no way he’d risk letting anything happen to this place after all the work he’d put into it. Besides, Benson needed something to do.

  “What’s all this?” Benson asked.

  “Bad news.”

  Benson straightened. “You got fired?”

  “No. They’re shutting down.”

  “Why would they close down Glory Glassworks Gallery? Ziegler loves that place.”

  “Not by choice. Bank is foreclosing on them.”

  “Shit. That’s the fourth business in the past two months to take a hit.”

  “It’s tough all over,” Ford said. “Bad time of year.”

  “Only going to get worse. You’ll be gone when we’re all stuck here with neighbors that have no jobs.”

  “I’ll only be gone a month.” Ford tossed a set of keys to Benson.

  “Word down at the Moose is you’ll be gone for good.”

  If Ford had to guess, Benson had fired up the gossip a while ago by telling folks he was winterizing the place. Ford probably could’ve gambled on things being fine this time of year, but he’d never really been a betting man. “They are just acting like gossipy old women. I’ll be back. You can count on that. Hold the fort down for m
e.”

  “I’ve got it under control.” Benson eyed him. “You really are coming back, aren’t ya?”

  “I said I was, didn’t I?” It had taken Ford a long time to feel accepted in the small Alaska town, but he felt like one of them now. But all this talk about one simple trip to North Carolina was kind of ticking him off.

  “No one expected you’d stay as long as you have.”

  The bets placed on how long he’d last hadn’t really been all that secret. And truthfully, he’d almost been ready to throw in the towel when he heard about the wagers. “I’ll be back. Do you think I busted my ass for two years building this place only to leave it behind?”

  “Well, you got no job to come back to.”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  “You better, because I don’t see you as the hunting and fishing type.”

  “I’ve done my share over the years. You seem to forget I grew up in Tennessee.”

  “Nashville ain’t Alaska. What? You going to hunt for dinner with a guitar?”

  “Not every part of Tennessee is Nashville. My parents had a farm on the outskirts of town. I know my way around this kind of stuff.”

  “Right.” He slapped Ford on the back. “And yet you paid me to come winterize your house for you.”

  Ford shrugged off the comment. The only reason he’d paid Benson to winterize his place was to help Benson out. A heart attack had sidelined the guy from his usual fishing season. But Ford would never tell Benson that. Some things you did just because they were the right things to do.

  And now that the glass shop was closing, there really wasn’t any reason for him to rush right back after his visit to Boot Creek. Maybe he’d add a short visit to see his parents onto the end. Mom anyway. Dad would make himself scarce. The man had not and probably never would forgive him for not following in his footsteps.

  Benson pulled his coat on. “I’ve got to get on home. It’s meatloaf night. I’m never late on meatloaf night.”

  Somehow Ford doubted meatloaf was on the heart-smart meal plan Benson was supposed to be following, but that wasn’t for him to worry about.

  The sound of Benson’s old pickup truck chugging down the lane echoed in the distance. Ford waited until he was out of sight to start unloading his stuff. The last thing he needed was old Benson having a heart attack trying to help him carry the heavy boxes into the house. The man had been more like a father to Ford than his own the last few years.