by Jenny Hale
He popped the tops off of two beers and brought one over to her with her plate of food, setting it down next to the folders. Then he returned with his own.
“Cheers,” he said, holding up his bottle.
She clinked hers to his. “What are we toasting?”
“The thought that I might be able to use my expertise for something good.” He took a long swig from his bottle and then picked up the first folder. “When I moved into this cottage, I never thought I’d open one of these files again. In fact, my receptionist insisted I print it all out before I deleted it from my laptop. Even though I’d told her that it wasn’t necessary, she did it anyway and packed it with the rest of my things when I closed the business. I had it beside my pile of kindling, to burn if my woodpile outside got wet in the snow.” He ran his hand along the outside of the folder and then opened it. “This is a breakdown of every amenity at my resorts, along with survey results data regarding the public opinion of those amenities. I had a team study the surveys as well as the connection to revenue at the highest performing resorts. They included everything from analyzing consumers’ bar tabs to which toilet paper brand we put in our bathrooms.
“Basically, that’s a long way of saying that I have a very good idea of exactly what people want from their mountain vacation experience.” He reached over and grabbed a fry, popping it into his mouth as if it were totally normal to have this level of expertise in their niche.
Scarlett held her burger still in both hands. “You mean to tell me that you can, in essence, prescribe what the inn would need to make it profitable?”
He grinned. “Yep.”
“But there’s one issue,” she said, taking a bite and then sitting back on the sofa, feeling a little deflated. Once she swallowed, she continued. “Gran doesn’t have the money to invest in any upgrades. Especially not the ones that are probably in that file.”
“I don’t have that kind of cash anymore either, or I’d help her out,” he said. “But.” He held up a finger. “Your grandmother said she had savings, right?”
“Well, yes, but those savings are her retirement. She can’t use them all up or she’ll have nothing to live on.”
“She won’t use them all up. She’ll invest them in something that will pay her back tenfold.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’ve got about thirty-five top-selling resorts to prove it.” He tipped his beer up and took another drink. “If you would trust me with the financial records for White Oaks, as well as the company files so I can get a feel for the place, and let me know what we’re looking at in terms of her savings, I could draw up a plan to make the inn profitable again.”
“What would you charge to do this for us?” Scarlett asked.
“Absolutely nothing. It would be my pleasure to do it.”
“Charlie, that would be amazing.” Just as she said it, a blob of ketchup fell from her burger onto her shirt. “Oh! No…” she said, dabbing the spot with a napkin from the little pile that Charlie had brought over with their burgers.
Charlie hopped up. “Here, come to the sink and we’ll put some water on to dilute it. I’ve got some laundry spray I can put on after.”
“You got me so excited about White Oaks that I squeezed my burger too hard,” she teased, making light of the fact that she had an enormous spot on her shirt as she went with him into the kitchen area.
They both stood at the sink and Scarlett turned the water on, before Charlie bent down under the sink to grab a rag so Scarlett could wipe the spot.
“Oh!” Scarlett squealed again, this time for an entirely different reason. “Charlie!” By the time Charlie stood up, she was already drenched. The tap had broken, and the water was fanning out across the kitchen and dousing the two of them. Scarlett dropped the metal piece of it that was still in her hand and tried to cover the spray. Charlie tried to put his hand over the end as well, only succeeding in changing the direction of the water. Scarlett attempted to help by putting her hands on top of his to create a larger barrier, but they were no match for the water.
“Can you turn it off?” she asked, squinting through the spraying water.
“The lever to stop it is on the part that broke off.” He took off one hand to point to the piece of plumbing lying on the counter that Scarlett had dropped, the water streaming harder without his hand in place.
Charlie pulled her over to the fire, leaving the geyser still gushing in the kitchen. “Warm up here for a sec. I’ll go shut off the main line.” Then he disappeared out the back door.
Scarlett stood by the fire, sopping wet and dripping onto the wood floor, the fountain still spurting like crazy. She shivered in the heat of the fire. How different things were now to the first time she’d stood here. The water in the kitchen gurgled and spat out one last time before it was silenced.
Charlie returned with a folded towel, a button-down shirt, flannel pajama bottoms, and a big pair of wooly socks. He wrapped her with the towel and his proximity made her heart patter. “They’re all going to be huge on you,” he said, holding out the clothes, “but at least the pajamas are drawstring. Why don’t we get changed, and I’ll dry your clothes and get us a few blankets?”
Scarlett tried not to feel delighted that the tap had broken, causing the two of them to have no choice but to snuggle together under blankets to keep warm. She didn’t want to smile at the thought, but her grin emerged anyway. When she looked at Charlie, the expression on his face caused hope to rise from the pit of her stomach, as she wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
Scarlett took the pile of clothing into the bathroom where she toweled off and changed, lumping her wet clothes over the sink. She stopped to breathe in the scent of him from the garments she had on, noting how safe and calm it made her feel. Then she wrapped her hair in the towel like a turban and went out to find Charlie. He grinned when he saw her.
“Do you have a comb for my hair?” she asked, bringing her clothes in from the bathroom and spreading them out along the hearth to dry.
His gaze lingered on her before he spoke. “Yeah, let me get you one,” he said.
He went into the back bedroom and returned with a comb and a large quilt. “Can I ask you something?” he said, while she took the towel down and combed through her wet strands of hair. Charlie set the blanket on the sofa and grabbed a piece of twine from the empty mantle. He tied it to two hooks at either end of the fireplace, hanging her clothes over it.
She flushed when he arranged her unmentionables, although it didn’t seem to faze him one bit. She refocused on him to hear his question.
The corner of his mouth turned upward, the humor in his face puzzling her. “Why is it that every time you come see me, something major breaks?”
She laughed, his teasing surprising her. “It’s my electric personality,” she said on a quick comeback. “It vibrates the very bones of the house.” She kept her eyes on him to avoid the fact that her lacy undergarments were hanging up beside them for the world to see. At least she’d chosen the nice ones this morning.
They shared a moment of amusement and then he grabbed their beers, handing Scarlett’s to her. “I’ll heat up your burger if you’re still hungry.”
“No, it’s fine.” All she could think about was the fact that her laundry was on display and she was freezing. “Do you have a dryer we could put my clothes in?”
“It broke yesterday,” he said, before bursting into a loud laugh, making her chuckle along with him.
When they’d sobered from the moment, she asked, “Shouldn’t we clean up the kitchen?”
They stared at the mess in silence, as if they were both too overwhelmed by the size of it to move. Water was everywhere—it had drenched everything on the counter, piles of papers and mail were sopping, a heap of clean laundry on the small table nearby was saturated, and the kitchen floor was under an inch of water with puddles on everything in the vicinity of the sink.
Scarlett sat down on the warm stones of
the hearth where her clothes had been, the fire having lost its force. Only an occasional pop and sizzle alerted them that the flame was still present at all, the small blue flicker hiding beneath the charred logs.
Charlie took a long drink from his bottle and then grabbed a piece of kindling from the pile beside Scarlett, tossing it into the fire. The flame protested, sending embers rising into the air like little rockets.
“How many towels do you have?” she teased, peering over at the chaos. “Seriously, where’s your mop? If we don’t get that water off the floor, the wood will warp, and right now, it looks like a lot of it just needs to be refinished.”
“You don’t need to clean up my house,” he said.
Scarlett gestured to her outfit, the pajama bottoms dragging under her feet and the sleeves swallowing her hands. “I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere for a while, and we’ll both go crazy if we don’t do something while my clothes dry.”
“True. But come get warm first. What will it hurt if the kitchen stays soaked a couple of minutes longer?” He picked up the blanket and shook out the folds. Then he plopped down on the sofa and patted the cushion beside him while covering up.
Scarlett complied, Charlie draping the blanket over her and cocooning them in warmth, making her shiver. Under the blanket, he took her hands, startling her. She smiled nervously, happy for his gesture.
“You’re freezing,” he said, rubbing his warm hands over hers.
Scarlett scooted in closer. She noticed his change in breathing first, and wondered if he too could feel the chemistry rushing between them like a wild current.
But he let go of her hands. “All warm?” he asked sweetly.
Scarlett nodded, wishing he’d stay next to her. Just the tiny space he’d now created between them seemed like too much. She wanted his arms around her. But he stood up. “I’ll get the mops,” he said, something lingering in his eyes that he was fighting. He went into the back room and came out with two old mops and a bucket. “This is all I’ve got.”
Scarlett stood up and draped the blanket over the arm of the sofa. “Judging by the size of those mops, we’ll be here a while,” she said. She didn’t mind at all if it took longer than it should… “Okay, hand me one.” He held one out to her. Scarlett took it and went into the kitchen, Charlie following.
“Be careful,” he said. “This floor has some sort of old varnish on it and it gets really slippery in places when it’s wet.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, barely getting the words out before she lost her balance and caught herself by grabbing onto the counter, only making them both laugh again.
“What’s your action plan for this?” he said, surveying the water on the floor. It was too big a job for the small mops they had.
“I think we should absorb most of the water with the mops and wring it into the bucket over and over, until the water is low enough that we can sop it up with a towel.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” he said, clearly unable to hide his affection for her anymore. The sparkle in his eyes gave it away.
Scarlett liked this new side of him. He’d finally relaxed around her, and she enjoyed being with him. Even if it was mopping floors. She ran the mop around the hardwoods, getting all the fibers saturated. Then she lifted it over the bucket and Charlie squeezed it out. They continued to do this from one side of the kitchen to the other. Feeling confident now, Scarlett took a quick step but slipped, suddenly falling, unable to catch herself. She dropped the mop in an attempt to regain balance, but she was unsuccessful. Suddenly, Charlie’s arms were around her, both of them dropping to the floor, his body cushioning her fall.
He rolled her onto her back and was hovering over her, trying to catch his breath. “I told you,” he said, looking down at her, his lips set in a smile that knotted her stomach. Uncertainty swam around his face, but she grabbed onto his belt loops, keeping him right where he was and in the moment. His expression softened as he allowed his true emotion to emerge fully, and his gaze swallowed her. Right then, she knew without a doubt the affection he’d felt for her but wouldn’t allow himself to show. He’d caused himself a whole lot of hurt over the years, and she knew that he didn’t trust himself, but she wanted to show him he’d come through that, and if he just permitted himself to try, he might find a kind of happiness that was greater than anything he’d known.
“What am I doing?” he whispered softly, locked in her stare.
“Feeling,” she said, hoping he’d relax into the present again and finally let his guard down. If he made a move, she’d let him.
He allowed a half-smile and then said, “That’s for sure.” He tore his eyes away from her and stood up, reaching a hand down to help her stand, the moment gone. Perhaps it was for the best, but Scarlett couldn’t shake the idea that they might be missing out on something wonderful if he’d just let her in.
Twenty
“Absolutely not,” Gran said, as she held her bowl of oatmeal with a trembling hand. She’d been late getting breakfast after working the front desk this morning. All the family had been taking turns to help her so she didn’t have to work every morning and evening. “It’s not even an option.”
Scarlett had waited to bring up Charlie’s idea until breakfast, holding off eating until Gran was in the kitchen. She’d been so excited coming home last night after being with him. When Amos’s kitchen was clean and her clothes were finally dry, Charlie had jotted down a quick couple of points to share with Gran in order to get her on board. But they hadn’t worked.
“Why won’t you consider Charlie’s plan?” Scarlett asked, completely baffled. “He wants to help you keep the inn. That’s the best option I’ve heard yet.”
Gran narrowed her eyes. “You’ve told him we’re considering selling. He wants to view my finances. Didn’t it dawn on you that he might not have good intentions at all?”
“What do you mean, Gran?”
“He wants insider information because then he can offer to buy us out at a low-ball price, knowing exactly what we can afford to pay.”
“No, that’s not true. He doesn’t even have the money to buy us out anymore.”
“That’s what he’s told you, dear. Given his reputation, I have to wonder if he’s taking you for a ride. And you’re falling for it.”
Gran had always been the voice of reason for Scarlett, a wise instructor on life, but when it came to Charlie, she had it all wrong. Scarlett had allowed Gran to lead her away from her own thoughts about Charlie before, but this time she wasn’t going to do that.
“Gran.” Scarlett moved her own empty plate aside and folded her arms on the table in front of her. “He is good. And I trust him. If you believe in me, then you’ll believe him too.”
“What’s going on?” Blue said, coming in and moving straight over to the coffee maker. His hair was still sticking up a little at the back where he’d slept on it.
Gran stood up to address him. “Scarlett would like to disclose my entire personal and business finances to Charles Bryant. All so he can tell me how to run my own inn. I think I have a pretty good understanding of how to do that by now.” She pursed her lips.
The coffee maker whirred to life.
“What, Scarlett?” Blue’s face crumpled in concern and confusion as the machine gurgled. When it finished, he poured himself a cup.
Hopefully, her dad would be a bit more open-minded about the situation.
“Dad,” she said, getting up herself from the table and walking over to him, handing him the bottle of cream. “Charlie has some really great data that, along with his insight, could help steer our investments in the right direction to make the inn profitable again.”
“We don’t have any wiggle room for investments. I thought we’d talked about that.” Blue took his cup of coffee over to the table, Scarlett following him and taking a seat.
“What Charlie is proposing is to use Gran’s savings to upgrade the inn, based on his research as to what specific changes will help it t
o be profitable again, and if it works, Gran could make a fortune. It’s a risk but a calculated one. He’s got a ton of success in this and I think he might be able to really change our lives. It will work.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Blue asked. He didn’t let her answer. “If it doesn’t, we’re out of both the inn and Gran’s savings.” He peered over his coffee mug at Scarlett. “The truth of the matter is that Gran will have to retire at some point, and we’d have to sell then anyway. None of us can take on the massive responsibility of running an inn. And if Charlie’s ideas do work, it would be a busy inn, which would require a whole lot of us. We don’t have the manpower. The inn that Gran and Pappy ran isn’t viable anymore. It’s time to let it go.”
“I don’t believe that,” Gran said. “I have no such plans to retire.”
Blue shifted in his chair to face her. “What? So you do want to hear Charlie out?”
“No.” Gran shook her head defiantly. “It’s just a low patch. There are still people who want the White Oaks experience. Once the newness of those resorts wears off, they’ll all be back. I’ll make enough money to hire a staff and I won’t have to lift a finger. I’m not selling.”
“Mom, you don’t have enough funds to keep yourself afloat until they come back. And I can’t say they will.”
“I’ll stay open until I’m out of money.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Blue said.
“I’m sure that things will turn around.”
Gran was living in a dream world if she thought things would get better. Scarlett had looked at the information Charlie had collected. He’d implemented new amenities to be brought in in phases over time based on the needs and wants of the consumer, and from what she’d seen, never had he gone backward in terms of what he provided. Yet Gran seemed to believe that people would magically want the old at some point.
“You’re dealing with a different generation now, Gran. Charlie has the understanding of this business that you need to move forward, but you’re going to have to trust him.”