Liza didn’t think that was true. She doubted Daniel would lie to her for that reason. Or any reason, for that matter.
But she did understand why her brother was upset.
“I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t mean to go behind your back. I just wanted his opinion. He knows the building inside and out. It doesn’t hurt to ask, does it?”
“It does if you think it will change my mind about selling the place,” Peter said bluntly.
He had her there. Liza felt a lump of the cold ice cream stick in her throat. She swallowed it down, telling herself to remain calm.
“I’m trying to figure out the very best thing for us to do,” she explained. “I know you’re concerned about money, but the inn could make money for us. In the long run. Much more than we would get from selling it now, especially when it’s such a mess.”
Peter took one last lick of his ice cream and dumped the rest in a trash can. “Liza, what you’re saying might be true. The problem is, I need money now. Not five or even ten years from now. And even if we did keep the place and make a big investment, fixing it up enough to bring in guests again, we just come back to the same questions. How would we run it long distance? Who would manage the place for us?”
Liza had been thinking about this, too. More than she wanted to admit. “I think Claire North could do it. She would probably be happy to stay. And I know we can trust her.”
And I could help run it, she added silently. I could take the summers off. Or even quit my job and work as a freelance graphic artist and designer again.
Peter stared at her, his mouth twisted to one side. “Liza, I know you’re still upset about your job. You definitely deserved better. But don’t toss the baby out with the bathwater.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, I think you’re fantasizing about quitting your job, some showdown scene with your boss that will give you a lot of satisfaction-for the moment, anyway.”
Liza glanced at him, then looked away. Well, that much was true. She did have a fantasy of returning to the office just to quit and tell Eve what she really thought of her.
“Of course you want to escape from your life. To run away and try something completely different. Anybody would,” he added in a kinder tone. “But a week or two more on that island and you’ll be dying to get back to work. I know you. You should use your extra time off to look for a new job, and then you’ll really show them.”
“I already thought of that. I don’t want a new job. It will just be more of the same. I’ll be working my tail off and dealing with the same old office politics. Another Charlie Reiger-or Charlene-will be out to get me.”
All she wanted to think about now was the inn, how she could improve it and open it again.
Peter sighed and put his arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you’re going through a lot right now, and I want to help you. I really do,” he insisted. “But I just don’t think you’re being realistic.”
“Hey, I think it’s time for the movie,” Will called out to them, as he ran back up the street. “I heard the opening is totally awesome. The aliens, like, land on the Pentagon in these huge pods.”
“That does sound awesome,” Liza said. “I definitely don’t want to miss that.”
Just as they reached the theater, she felt her BlackBerry vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out and checked the caller ID.
“Fran Tulley?” Peter asked eagerly.
“No, it’s Eve, my boss. I’d better take this. You guys go ahead.”
“Okay, we’ll save you a seat.” Peter and Will went into the theater, and Liza took a few steps away from the entrance for some privacy.
“Hi, Liza, I’m glad I caught you,” Eve greeted her. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, not at all. Did you get my message about needing to stay here longer?” Liza asked.
“Yes, I did. Sorry about the roof. What a mess. You really didn’t need that on top of everything else, did you?”
“No, we didn’t. It’s almost fixed, but it’s slowed things down a lot.”
“I understand,” Eve said in a surprisingly patient tone. “It’s fine if you need to stay longer. But there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. It really can’t wait.”
“Is there some problem?” Liza asked, suddenly feeling anxious.
“Not at all. It’s about the promotion,” Eve replied.
Liza felt like a fly that was about to be hit by a giant swatter. She could barely focus on Eve’s words.
“I’d rather give you this news in person, but we’ve made a decision, and I need to talk to you about it. We’re promoting you to vice president, Liza. This will be effective on the first of the month. There’s a substantial raise in salary, of course”-Eve gave her a figure, which was even more than Liza had expected-“as well as more vacation time and additional benefits.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Liza said. She knew that sounded ridiculous, but it was all she could manage. “I-I thought Charlie was getting the promotion.”
“Charlie? What in the world made you think that? This was yours all along, Liza. I thought you knew that.”
“The last time we spoke, you said something about big changes and getting along with Charlie better. Letting go of my accounts?” Liza rambled, trying to explain. “I thought you were trying to tell me that he was going to be promoted, and I would be reporting to him,” she confessed.
“Oh, Liza. You had it all backward. Charlie will be reporting to you, along with some other account execs. You will need to trim your client list, however, so that’s what you should start thinking about. You’ll be managing a big staff now and playing a bigger role in decision making. That’s what I meant to say. I just wasn’t allowed to tell you yet,” Eve explained.
“I see.” Liza took a deep, steadying breath. She couldn’t get her mind around this. A few short days ago, this conversation would have sent her jumping and shouting with joy. But now she just felt stunned. And confused.
“I know this is a lot to spring on you,” Eve went on in her usual brisk tone. “Why don’t we talk on Monday, and I’ll give you more details, okay?”
“Um, sure. I-”
But Eve had already clicked off. She was probably speed-dialing her next power phone call.
Liza put her phone away and stood for a moment, staring at Cape Light’s quiet Main Street. People passed, making their way to the movie theater. She hardly noticed.
Had this really happened? Liza still couldn’t believe it. She had gotten the promotion after all. That should have smoothed out all the wrinkles in her life, untangled all the knots. She and Peter could sell the inn to anyone who offered, and she could return to Boston in triumph.
Was this the sign she had asked for-telling her to give up on the inn and return to the city?
Clearly, that’s what she should do. As Will would say, this was a total no-brainer. She had worked years for this promotion, sacrificed everything. How could she even consider giving it up? And for what? A broken-down house and a faded sketchbook? A fledgling relationship with a carpenter?
Eve hadn’t asked if Liza wanted the job. She assumed that Liza would take the promotion, that she would be back in Boston in a matter of weeks to become a vice president of Barkin & Carr, one of Boston’s most prestigious ad agencies. And why wouldn’t she?
Because something was stopping her. Something was holding her back.
All this rushing, she heard her aunt say. Everyone is rushing and rushing and not getting anywhere. Ever notice?
Eve would call back on Monday. The decision could wait until then, Liza decided.
This was too important a choice to be rushed. A life-altering fork in the road. Liza stared down both paths-and had no idea which way to go.
Chapter Thirteen
“THAT was Fran,” Peter announced on Saturday morning, snapping his cell phone shut. “The Hardys will be here around eleven with their architect in tow. Fran is some sales agent. I can’t beli
eve she talked them into coming back.”
“Maybe they looked around at other old houses on the market and decided this place was still a better bet, lightning bolts and all,” Liza said.
She lifted one end of a rolled-up rug while he hoisted the other. Peter had called the Bramble Antique Shop right after breakfast, and Grace Hegman, the owner, agreed to see some pieces of furniture. They had picked out a few chairs, a large mirror, and some small items and begun packing Liza’s SUV.
“It’s practically impossible for lightning to strike twice in the same spot,” Peter pointed out. “I mean, statistically and all that stuff. Maybe Fran reminded them of that. Maybe they’ll make an offer.”
“Maybe.” Liza forced a positive note into her voice, one she didn’t really feel.
Lost in his happy thoughts, Peter took no notice of Liza’s mood or the fact that she was not pleased by the call from Fran.
Just as well, Liza thought. She hadn’t told her brother her big news about the promotion yet. She knew that if she told Peter, he would immediately assume she was happily returning to her job and accepting the new spot. Liza guessed that if she even dared to hint at her doubts, he would tell her she was crazy, then bombard her with reasons why she had to accept the offer.
Liza didn’t want to hear any of it. She wanted to sit with her questions for a while. Her questions and confusion. The news about the Hardys returning should have tipped the scales in favor of accepting the promotion, she thought. But she still wasn’t convinced that selling the inn and going back to the city was the right thing to do.
Working together, the two of them managed to push the rolled-up rug onto the roof of the car. Peter secured it with some bungee cords and nylon twine, then headed into the house for more furniture.
Liza stayed out on the porch, her hands pressed to the small of her back where it ached a bit. She gazed out at the ocean, squinting at the sunlight.
Was this how it was going to wind up after all? She had been here nearly two weeks and only three couples had come to see the property. Now, suddenly, the Hardys would return and make an offer. And that would be that.
No more arguing with Peter. No need to imagine how this room or that room would look with fresh paint or new curtains. No more fantasizing about living here and running the place.
If this were a movie, I’ d be really disappointed at the ending, Liza realized.
But it wasn’t a movie, it was her real life. Just like returning to her job at the agency was her real life. But another voice inside her spoke, and it quoted one of Aunt Elizabeth’s favorite sayings, “If you keep doing what you’ve always done, you’ ll keep getting what you’ve already got.”
Which Liza had always taken to mean that a person couldn’t expect anything different in life if he or she kept sticking to the same old game plan. Wasn’t that the question she was wrestling with right now? Whether or not to stick to the straight and narrow-or take a detour into unknown and even frightening territory?
“Guess I’ll bring this old lamp. It needs to be rewired, but maybe she’ll take it. It looks like real brass.” Peter’s appraisal interrupted her thoughts. He tramped out onto the porch again, carrying a pole lamp, the frazzled cord dragging. “By the way, Fran thinks it would be better if we weren’t here when the Hardys come,” he added as he passed by. “So they can look around without anybody getting in the way.”
Fran dreaded the thought of Peter hovering and ruining her sale, Liza suspected. But she couldn’t tell her brother that.
“Okay, I’ll make sure I’m not underfoot.”
Peter stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at her.
“Do you want to come into Cape Light with me?”
She considered the offer, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ll work around here awhile, then maybe go down to the beach or take a bike ride.”
“All right. I think I’ve got the best of the lot. If Grace Hegman takes this load, I can always come back for more, right?”
“Absolutely,” Liza agreed, though she wondered what he had actually packed. She hadn’t been watching very closely, she realized. There were a number of items she didn’t want to part with, including some chipped china dishes and broken lamps. Had he taken any of those? Then she decided she just didn’t care.
What was the sense of haggling? It felt as if this place were slipping away from her, like grains of sand sifting through her fingers, and she just couldn’t hang on to any of it.
Peter had pulled out his cell and begun texting someone. He stared at the phone and released an impatient sigh.
“Do you believe this? I’ve been reduced to texting my son while he’s under the very same roof. What is the world coming to?”
Liza would have laughed if her brother hadn’t seemed so distressed. “Why don’t you just go up and knock on his door?”
Peter’s mouth grew tight. “Tried that, he won’t answer. He’s pretending that he’s sleeping, but I know he’s awake in there.”
“What’s the matter? Did you argue?” Liza hadn’t witnessed any squabbles last night, but emotional weather between father and son had been unstable the last few days.
“He got a message from a friend last night that the camping trip was great, and now he’s mad at me for missing it.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Liza replied. “I thought he was enjoying the island-at least, he seemed to be into painting and repairing the place.”
“He’d probably tell you it is ‘okay,’ ” Peter said.
“Maybe it is. But I bet it doesn’t compare to an outdoor adventure with his friends. I remember what it was like at that age to feel like you missed out.”
“Well, that’s the way it goes sometimes. Life isn’t fair. The sooner he figures that out, the better,” Peter muttered. “There will be other camping trips. I’ll take him myself next school break.”
“Good idea. You ought to tell him that,” Liza replied.
“If he ever comes out of his room, I will. Guess I have to drag him out.”
Peter shook his head, then pulled open the door and went inside. Liza followed, dreading the scene to come. Luckily, Will was coming down the stairs just as they reached the foyer.
“There you are. It’s about time,” Peter greeted him.
Will gave a long, dramatic yawn. “What’s up?”
“We’re going to town to that antique store, remember? I need your help unloading things.”
Will rolled his eyes. “More grunt work. This is child labor, you know. And I’m not getting paid a dime.”
Peter’s expression tightened. “You’re getting an iPhone out of the deal, as I recall. Or you might get it if you stop giving me so much attitude.”
Will’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean, might?”
“I mean, your smart mouth is putting that agreement in jeopardy,” Peter said evenly.
“I can’t believe you! You said it was a done deal. All I had to do was get on the plane,” Will reminded his father in an outraged whine. “No way! That totally stinks!”
Peter’s face grew bright red. “That’s it, Will! One more word out of you, pal, and no new phone. And the one you have will be turned off.” Peter paused, letting his words sink in. “Now, go outside and get into Aunt Liza’s car.”
Will stared at Peter defiantly. He looked like he was going to mouth off again, then just blinked, his eyes bright and glassy. With an angry sigh, he stomped down the stairs, brushed past the adults, yanked open the front door, then slammed it on his way out.
Peter let out a long, shaky breath. “Another cheerful outing with my boy. What a joy,” he said drily.
“Peter… I know you have to set some boundaries for his behavior, but put yourself in his place. This visit hasn’t been much fun for him. I think he’s been a pretty good sport most of the time. I bet his friend just rubbed it in about the trip, and that’s what got him all upset.”
“I know that. But he’s got to figure out that he can’t
blame me for everything that goes amiss in the universe either.” Peter scratched his head, looking baffled by the mysteries of fatherhood. “Don’t worry, he’ll cool off. We’ll work it out somehow. I think once he gets hungry for lunch, he’ll decide to acknowledge my presence again.” He offered Liza a small smile. “Let’s just hope there’s some good news later about the Hardys, right?”
Liza nodded quickly, even though her idea of good news and Peter’s were two different headlines.
Peter and Will set off for Cape Light, and Liza went up to her room. She glanced at the laptop on the table by the window but didn’t open it. Instead, she drew the shade and lay down on her bed. She rarely napped during the day, not unless she was sick. But she did feel off today in a way-not exactly sick but not completely well either.
She noticed the white feather on her nightstand and picked it up, twirling it in the dim light. It was so pure and silky. As if it had fallen from an angel’s wing, she thought, instead of some ordinary bird.
Maybe a sign from above was not like a fortune cookie, predicting your future, but more like a marker in the road, an arrow, pointing out a new direction, saying, “You can go this way if you choose. Didn’t you notice?”
Liza considered all that had happened and decided the feather was telling her she could continue with her artwork if she chose to do so. It was not too late to follow her bliss, her heart’s desire.
Liza resolved that was what she would do, no matter what happened with the Hardys. She closed her eyes and felt herself drift off to sleep.
The next thing she knew, a gust of wind blew through the curtains and caused the shade to flap like a bird’s wing. She opened her eyes and glanced at her watch. She had only slept for a few minutes but felt much better. Refreshed and ready to start her day again, she got up and walked over to the window and raised the shade.
A small blue ceramic pot sat on the windowsill. She hadn’t noticed it before. It was filled with white pebbles and bulbs. Small green shoots pushed themselves up from the center of the wrinkled brown orbs. Liza wondered what type of flowers would bloom from the bulbs-paper whites or daffodils? Her aunt used to force bulbs in the late winter, to lend the house some fresh flowers before the spring. Liza had never learned the knack or had the patience.
The Inn at Angel Island Page 24