by Nicole Ellis
George sighed again. “There weren’t any serious injuries, but Meg’s been taken to the hospital to get checked out. She got everyone else out of there immediately, but inhaled a bit of smoke when she tried to put out the flames with the extinguisher.”
Time stood still as Taylor’s mind raced. Meg was hurt. “I’ll be home on the next flight.”
15
Meg
“You had all of us so worried.” Libby hovered over Meg’s hospital bed. “Next time, don’t try to be a hero. Let the firemen do their job.” Despite Libby’s chiding, lines of fear etched her face and her voice trembled.
Meg gave her sister a weak smile. “I hope there isn’t a next time.” Like anyone who spent their days in a restaurant kitchen, she’d experienced her share of minor flare-ups, but nothing like the fire at the Lodge. She shivered despite the crisp white sheet and cotton blanket pulled up over her chest.
“Are you cold?” Libby immediately went into mom mode. “I can ask the nurse for another blanket.” She glared at the ceiling vent which was puffing chilled air into the room. “I don’t know why they have to make these rooms so frigid.”
Meg had to grin at her sister’s indignation, but in truth, it felt good to have someone so concerned for her well-being. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.” Between her co-workers, the firemen, and the rest of her family’s visit earlier, she’d already had enough coddling to last her a lifetime.
Libby shook her head, but sat down in a plastic chair next to Meg. “You could have been killed. I don’t know what you were thinking.”
Well, that makes two of us. Memories of the fire were stamped into her brain like a film reel, spinning repeatedly for the last few hours.
When she’d seen the flames shooting out of the deep fryer, she’d dropped what she was doing and grabbed a fire extinguisher. Lara was standing nearby, paralyzed, a mesh oil-skimmer dangling uselessly in her limp hand.
Meg had shouted for Lara to move out of the way, but she hadn’t budged. The new sous-chef, Brandon, had grabbed Lara and guided her away from danger while Meg aimed the fire extinguisher at the fryer. She’d yelled at everyone to get out and call the fire department while she continued spraying foam at the growing flames. Her efforts did little to stop the fire’s progression, and she’d watched helplessly as the walls behind the fryer blackened.
When the firemen arrived, they’d pried the extinguisher out of her hands and rushed her out of the kitchen and into a waiting ambulance. It had all been such a blur. Meg’s breath came out in a shudder.
“Are you okay?” Libby’s voice cut through the dark memory.
“Yeah. Just thinking about the fire.” Meg pulled the covers up to her neck. Luckily, no one had been seriously injured. The damage hadn’t extended to the main part of the Lodge, but the restaurant would be closed for a while. Taylor would be horrified when he saw the current state of his beloved kitchen.
Ugh. He was out-of-state at his sister’s wedding, and Meg hated that this would ruin his vacation time with his family. She’d tried so hard to keep the flames down, but even the large fire extinguisher had been no match for them. If only Lara had said something as soon as things got out of control, maybe the result would have been different. Or if Meg had been out in the kitchen instead of in Taylor’s office making sure everything was set for the dinner service that evening, maybe she would have been able to prevent Lara’s mistake.
She closed her eyes. All the maybes in the world weren’t going to make the damage to the Lodge’s kitchen disappear. Someone knocked on the open door and both Meg and Libby turned to look.
“Are you alright?” Theo asked. “Zoe called to let me know about the fire.”
The fact that he’d come to the hospital reassured Meg that he cared about her. Even though neither of them had wanted anything serious when they’d started dating, they’d been together long enough that she was starting to want more from a relationship. Up until now though, she’d wondered if his feelings for her were purely superficial.
She smiled warmly at him. “I’m okay. I inhaled a bit of smoke, so they wanted to keep me here overnight for observation. But I’m basically fine.”
Libby stood and assessed Theo, then leaned down to press her cheek to Meg’s in an awkward, hospital-bed hug. “I’m going to head out, but call me if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks, Libby.”
Libby left and Theo sat down in the chair she’d just vacated. “What happened?” he asked. “All Zoe said was that there was a fire and you were in the hospital. I was so worried.”
“The deep fryer caught fire and part of the kitchen burned. I tried to put it out, but it wasn’t enough.”
“That sounds awful.” He kissed her cheek and squeezed her left hand.
“It was.” She gazed into space, reliving it once more. She knew she hadn’t been the one in the wrong. Lara had been the one to start the fire with her ill-conceived plan to fry donuts without knowing what she was doing. However, that fact, much like the useless fire extinguisher, did little to quell the flames of guilt that continued to consume her. The kitchen had been Meg’s responsibility.
“Hey,” he said so brightly that she jerked to attention. “I have something to tell you.”
She pushed herself upright and reached back to pile up some pillows as a backrest. “What is it?”
“I’m heading up to the San Juan Islands next weekend.” He beamed at her. “And I was hoping you’d come with me.”
She stared at him. “You mean for the weekend?” The Inn had just opened. There was no way she could get away for a few days.
“No.” He shook his head and looked at her like she was being obtuse on purpose. “I’ve decided to explore the islands up there before winter comes.”
“So, you’re talking about a few months.” She burrowed the back of her head into the pillows to think. Theo was asking her to leave Willa Bay—leave her friends, family, and the Inn for months.
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “We’d be back by Christmas though.”
“If I leave now,” she said slowly, “Shawn and Zoe will want to push back the timeframe for renovating the barn.”
He shot an exasperated look at the ceiling then focused on her. “Are you still stuck on that? I thought you’d change your mind after the Inn opened. Aren’t you busy enough with the Inn?”
She gaped at him like a big-mouth bass, about to be filleted. Did he not understand how important having her own restaurant was to her? Had he taken all of their conversations so lightly that he’d failed to realize that?
“Yeah,” she said in a level voice. “I want to renovate the barn. I know I can make it into something special.”
He leaned back in the chair. “Okay. I hadn’t realized you still wanted to do that.” He was quiet for a moment.
In the stillness, Meg caught sight of a man’s figure paused in the hallway outside of her room. He stood as still as a statue, his hands wrapped around a large bouquet of flowers. For a moment, she thought it was Taylor. When he called out to someone further down the hall, she realized she’d been mistaken.
Theo spoke, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to process what he was saying. After the terrifying evening she’d had, she’d wanted it to be Taylor in the hallway – wanted the comfort of his presence. At the same time, she was glad it hadn’t been. The restaurant fire had happened on her watch, and she wasn’t sure if he’d blame her for it.
“Meg? Did you hear what I said?” Theo asked.
She glanced at the empty doorway again, then smiled apologetically. “No, sorry. I was a little lost in thought.”
“I was saying that you could join me for a month or so, then come back here and work on your project.” He flashed her the smile that usually made her heart drop.
This time though, it gave her pause. He wasn’t taking her aspirations to fix up the barn seriously. Was he right? Was she crazy to think that she could rebuild that old, decrepit barn?
“So, what do y
ou think?” he asked. “Do you want to come sail the islands with me?”
“I think I need to rest now.” She nestled further into the pillows until she was in a fully reclined position. “This has been a really long day.”
He nodded and kissed her forehead. “I understand. Let me know as soon as you can, though, about the trip. I’m planning on leaving in a few days.”
“I will,” she promised.
He walked jauntily out of the room with his hands in pockets, a man without a care in the world. She watched him until he disappeared into a group of nurses, then closed her eyes. Theo’s proposition was enticing—a chance to escape everything and just enjoy being free to explore the waterways of the Salish Sea.
Doubts clouded Meg’s mind, jumbling her thoughts. She was willing to bet that a huge portion of the population would accept Theo’s offer in a heartbeat. Sailing amidst the breathtaking beauty of the San Juan Islands was an opportunity of a lifetime. But what if she and Theo couldn’t get along in the confines of a small sailboat?
On the other hand, if she stayed in Willa Bay, was her goal to renovate the barn and build an award-winning restaurant nothing more than a pipe dream? Weariness overcame her and she drifted into a deep sleep that lasted until morning, only awakening for a few minutes at a time when the nurses came in to check her vitals.
“We should put some of these up on the walls.” Meg flipped through another stack of old photos, pausing to examine the backs of those that featured images of young women, before setting them in a pile on the table in the Inn’s kitchen. After her hospital stay a few days ago, she was still taking it easy, so Celia had asked Shawn to bring down the boxes from the attic that contained memorabilia from the Inn’s first century. Now, Meg and Celia combed through the boxes for any mention of Davina Carlsen, the woman who’d written the journal Meg had found. “At the very least, we should make digital copies of everything to preserve them.”
Celia nodded and reached for the cup of coffee she’d set on the table as far away from the photos as possible. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“Which one?” Meg grinned at her. “Preserving them or putting them on the walls?”
“Both.” Celia laughed, and Meg could tell she enjoyed being part of the mission to figure out the Davina Carlsen mystery. Besides, she looked like she could use some downtime. Although Celia had been eager to open the Inn and act as its official hostess for overnight guests, it was probably physically taxing for her after being out of the business for so long.
“How is everything going with the guests?” Meg asked. “I’d be happy to help check them in.”
“I think I can handle greeting them when they arrive and setting out pastries and coffee in the morning,” Celia said dryly. “I may not be a spring chicken, but I’m not in the grave yet.”
Meg’s eyes widened. She hadn’t meant to offend the elderly woman. “Oh, I just meant I didn’t have that much to do, so if you needed anything…”
Celia’s lips cracked into a smile. “I know you didn’t mean anything, honey, and I appreciate your concern.” She looked around the kitchen and out into the hallway. “Honestly, it feels good to be needed around here again. There were so many years where it was just me and Pebbles bumbling around by ourselves.” She smiled at her dog, who was lying on his pet bed next to the table. Upon hearing his name, Pebbles lifted his head, but laid back down when no treats were offered. “You know, I should be asking you how you’re doing. You gave all of us quite a scare on Saturday night.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Meg inhaled slowly through her nostrils, allowing the deep-breathing technique to calm her nerves.
She’d had to scrub herself down in the shower several times when she got home on Sunday before finally managing to get the stench of stale smoke out of her hair. She may not have been able to smell the acrid scent anymore, but thoughts of the fire and her guilt over not being able to stop it still intruded frequently into her thoughts. Taylor had left several messages for her, asking her if she was okay, but she hadn’t called him back. The last she’d heard, he wasn’t scheduled to fly back from California until that evening, so she figured she had a little time to figure out what she was going to say to him.
How was she going to face Taylor after she’d let Lara burn down the Lodge’s kitchen? Having Meg take over the kitchen while he was on vacation had been a huge gesture of faith in her abilities, and she’d let him down. Maybe it was time to accept Theo’s offer to sail the San Juan Islands with him. Getting away from Willa Bay for a few months might be exactly what she needed.
“You seem like you have a lot on your mind,” Celia observed. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Meg shook her head. “No, not really. I just have some decisions to make.”
Celia nodded sagely. “Well, let me know if you change your mind. I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” She patted Meg’s hand, then returned to the stack of photos in front of her.
Meg thought she’d reached the last image in her current handful of photos, but it didn’t feel right in her hand. The hair stood up on the back of her neck as she looked more closely, then eased her fingernail between two pieces of photo paper stuck together and carefully peeled them apart.
Hidden behind the first image was a sepia-toned portrait of a man, woman, and two children sitting on the steps of the Inn’s gazebo. Meg flipped to the other side. In neat, but fading handwriting were the words, Thomas and Birgitta Carlsen and their two children, Davina, age 12 and Lolly, age 6 months. August 1921.
Meg sucked in her breath. “Celia. I think I found her.”
Celia scooted her chair closer. “Thomas and Birgitta,” she said, rolling the names over her tongue like she was tasting them. “I’m not familiar with them. Maybe they were guests at the Inn?”
“I don’t know.” Meg took a closer look at the family picture. The baby, Lolly, perched on the woman’s lap, her chubby legs peeking out from the ruffled skirt of a white dress. Davina sat on the step below her parents, leaning against her father’s legs as she smiled at the camera. She wore a long, pale dress and a strand of round beads hung around her neck. Her blonde hair had been bobbed, with precisely cut bangs across her forehead and a giant bow atop her head. “1921. This was taken about five years before the journal entries, so if they were guests, they must have come here annually.”
Celia nodded. “That would make sense. Many families vacationed at the same resort in Willa Bay every year, often with standing reservations for a certain week or specific cottage.”
They both peered at the photo and Meg couldn’t stop herself from thinking about twelve-year-old Davina. Was she interested in cooking at that age, or was that something that had developed later? Meg was in the middle of imagining Davina and Lolly making sandcastles on the beach when her phone rang. Her whole body stiffened in response and her breath caught. Was it Taylor again?
She flipped over the phone and let out a long sigh. Not Taylor. She didn’t recognize the phone number, but it had a Seattle area code. “Hello?”
“Hi,” said a woman on the other end. “May I speak with Meg, please?”
“Speaking.” Meg readied herself to hang up on a telemarketer.
“My name is Penny, and I’m calling to see if you would be interested in appearing on Coffee Talk Seattle. One of our producers covered the Inn’s grand opening, and he couldn’t stop raving about the food. When he spoke with the caterers, he was told they were recipes you’d found in the barn on the property.” She paused to take a breath, then continued. “We would love to have you come on the show to teach us how to make one of the recipes. It would be such a great local-interest piece.”
Pressure built in Meg’s chest, squeezing her lungs to the point where she had to concentrate to breathe. She loved cooking, but her job was usually behind the scenes. This would entail teaching someone else to cook a recipe and would have the added stress of being filmed. Was she up to it?
Celia stared at her with conc
ern and Meg smiled to let her know everything was okay. The tension eased from Celia’s face, but it reminded Meg that all of them had a lot to lose if the Inn wasn’t a success. An appearance on Coffee Talk Seattle would be fantastic free publicity for their new business.
“I’d love to share the recipes on Coffee Talk. When did you want me to come in?” Meg had to work hard to steady the pitch of her words.
“Would next Monday, September fourteenth work?” Penny asked.
Next week? Meg’s gut twisted at the thought of being on camera in front of the whole region. With a specific date, it was frighteningly real. “That would be great,” she eked out.
“Great,” Penny echoed. “We’ll be in touch with you later this week with more details. I’m looking forward to meeting you on Monday.”
“You too,” Meg said automatically. They said their goodbyes and Penny hung up.
“So? Who was that?” Celia asked. “You look like you swallowed a goldfish.”
“I feel like I swallowed a goldfish, or maybe a frog,” Meg admitted. “It was someone from Coffee Talk Seattle. They want me to come in next Monday and show them how to prepare one of the recipes from the journal.” Her gaze strayed to the Carlsen family photo in front of her. Seventeen-year-old Davina never could have imagined her recipes would one day be broadcast to thousands of people around the area.
“That’s wonderful! I love that show.” Celia searched Meg’s face. “You do want to do it, right?”
Meg nodded. “I’m not a fan of the idea of being on television, but I’ll get over it.” The shock was wearing off and she was starting to see it could be a fun experience. The barn restaurant may be a far-off dream, but new opportunities were sprouting up for her all over. She stilled. The sailboat trip with Theo—he’d be long gone by next Monday.
“What is it, dear?” Celia cocked her head to the side.
Meg told her about Theo’s offer and the conflict with being on the morning show.