Autumn Skies: 3 (A Bluebell Inn Romance)

by Denise Hunter

John and Jake were nice guys in their midtwenties. They seemed slightly out of place in their city-slicker suits and trendy haircuts, but they were from Chicago after all. They were so young to be buying an inn, but Molly had gathered from their conversation that they were trust fund babies.

  John was an accountant and all about the details. Jake was all business and married to a woman who was interested in running the restaurant portion of the business. How would Miss Della feel about that?

  There was nothing wrong with them per se. They were polite and very interested. They asked good questions and made positive remarks. They just seemed so . . . business oriented, using words like assets and investments. They didn’t ask about the guests who chose to stay here or remark on the outstanding hospitality they offered. And that’s what the inn business was really all about—hospitality.

  When they reached the lobby, John turned and thanked her for her time. “We’ll be in touch in the next few days, Molly.”

  “You have a wonderful business here,” Jake said.

  Molly let them out the door, feeling a leaden weight in her stomach as they said good-bye.

  “Everything all right, Molly?” Jada asked from the front desk after the brothers had left.

  Molly dredged up a smile, wondering why it took so much effort. “Everything’s fine. I’m just going to go see if your grandmother needs help with cleanup.”

  Molly didn’t have to wait a few days to hear from the brothers. Jake called that very evening when she was helping Adam clear the supper table.

  “John and I have talked it over, and we’d like to make an offer on your inn.”

  Molly turned away from the sink and leaned back against the counter. “Oh! I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

  From the dining room Adam gave her an inquisitive look.

  “The numbers look great, and the inn seems like just the investment we’ve been searching for. It needs a little updating, but that’s just cosmetics.”

  Updating? The inn was in exquisite shape.

  “We’ll put in a formal offer through our attorney, of course, but I wanted to let you know we’re offering the asking price. It’s a fair price, and there’s no need to waste time. We’d like to get going on this venture as soon as possible.”

  “Oh. Oh, that—that’s great, Jake. I’ll have to talk to my siblings, but . . . asking price. I can’t imagine they’re going to have a problem.”

  When she disconnected the call, Adam joined her in the kitchen.

  He poked his glasses into place. “They’re making an offer?”

  “Asking price.”

  “That’s great.” He studied her a moment, then his eyes narrowed. “Isn’t it?”

  “Of course it is!” Molly turned around and began rinsing a plate. “Now we can all move on. This is definitely a best-case scenario. Who knew it would sell so quickly—and for the asking price! Levi and Grace will be thrilled to pieces, and I won’t even have to move out of the inn because I already live here! With you! Grace already found a place for her business, and of course Levi is eager to move to LA with Mia. I think he even has a couple of job prospects already. This is perfect!”

  Adam pried the wet plate from her grip—she must have been scrubbing it awhile—and set it in the dishwasher.

  She picked up the other one. “It would’ve been difficult to sell in the winter, you know. If it hadn’t sold in the fall, it probably wouldn’t have sold till spring, and then Grace would’ve lost her little house, and that would’ve put Levi and Mia in a real fix too.”

  Adam took the other plate, and Molly went to work on the pan. “They’re going to be so excited. I wonder if I should wait until Levi gets home though. He’s on his honeymoon after all. That’s what I’ll do. I can’t bother him with this. So maybe I shouldn’t tell Grace yet either. For that matter, until I have an offer in hand there’s probably no point getting anyone’s hopes up. What if it falls through? I’ll just wait for the offer, and then we’ll need to have an attorney read it, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  She gave the pan some elbow grease as she tried to imagine the brothers fluffing the bed pillows, folding the towels just so, and setting out fresh cookies every afternoon. But she just couldn’t. They probably wouldn’t do any of that. They probably wouldn’t even give the historical tour to their guests!

  “Who names their son John Johnson anyway?”

  “Molly . . .”

  “That doesn’t matter. They’re very nice people, and I’m sure they’ll do a good job. They’re even siblings—I told you that, right? That’s kind of perfect. We’re passing the inn from one set of siblings to another.”

  But that was about all the siblings had in common. She’d even heard John mention painting the woodwork that their parents had so lovingly restored to its original condition. Her heart was about to jump out of her chest at the thought of all the changes they might make. They’d talked about adding a fancy spa too, and while there was nothing wrong with that exactly, it just sounded so . . . commercial.

  “Didn’t even care about the history,” she muttered.

  “Molly.”

  “But they really know their stuff. Did I mention John’s an accountant? They’re young but they have a lot of business experience. They’ll have no trouble keeping it in the black. Listen to me—I sound like Levi!” Her laugh sounded a little manic, even to her.

  He took the pan from her, set it in the dishwasher, then turned her around before she could go at the silverware.

  Water dripped from her hands as she met Adam’s concerned gaze.

  “All right, Molly. What’s going on here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re acting very strange. You’re babbling. You’re almost giddy, but something’s not quite right.”

  “Of course I’m giddy. We just got asking price on our inn, and very soon now we’ll be free to move to Italy and start a bed-and-breakfast. This is perfect.”

  “That’s your third use of that word in two minutes.”

  Well, it is perfect!

  Molly beat back the automatic denial and accompanying irritation. Instead she stared into Adam’s faded blue eyes. Her heart was kicking her rib cage, and a weird ache settled in the back of her throat.

  She had to give consideration to his assessment. Her husband knew her better than anyone, and he was easily the most intelligent person she knew. Not just book smart either. She suspected his emotional intelligence was off the charts.

  She grabbed a towel and dried her hands. “Okay. All right. This isn’t easy. Of course it isn’t. This is our parents’ legacy we’re talking about. There’s bound to be some . . . difficulty letting go. Selling the inn will be a little sad, like losing a piece of them. And yes, it’s the only piece of them we have left, save the memories, but it has to be done. We all have dreams and plans that don’t include the inn, and selling it was part of those plans from the beginning.”

  Adam cupped her neck, brushing her pulse with his thumb. “Sometimes plans change, and that’s all right too.”

  Molly shook her head despite the leaden weight in her gut. “I’m just feeling a natural reluctance to let go. Change is hard. I’ll be fine. And now that I think of it, I should probably go ahead and tell Grace about the offer so she can put an offer in on her house, contingent upon the sale of the inn, of course. She’s really excited about it, and I don’t want her to lose it. There was an open house there Sunday and Pamela said one of the couples was interested.”

  Adam’s eyes searched hers for a long moment. “Are you sure this is what you want, sweetheart?”

  He was so good to her. Even willing to move to a foreign country to make her dreams come true. She palmed his face, the bristle of his jaw pleasantly scratchy against the sensitive flesh. Then she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.

  “I’m sure. Once the official offer comes in, I’ll tell Grace. And shoot, might as well tell Levi too. It’ll be good cause for cele
bration on their honeymoon.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Grace pushed the cleaning cart into the closet and started the last load of sheets. They only had three rooms filled, so cleaning didn’t take as long as it usually did. She sent Wyatt a text, asking if he wanted to get some hiking in today. He responded affirmatively and said he’d get supplies from Della and meet Grace in the lobby.

  Grace dashed into her room and changed clothes. She’d only seen Wyatt here and there since church Sunday. He’d done a fair amount of hiking on his own, and she had extra work with Levi gone.

  They’d snatched a bit of time together last night. They watched a movie in the living room, munching on popcorn and sneaking kisses here and there. Very nice kisses.

  When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she was wearing one of those goofy grins. And for some reason, she was just fine with that.

  When she was dressed, she shouldered her backpack and made her way down the staircase, already planning ahead. They’d drive up to Lost Creek, to the place where Wyatt had last left off. It was only eleven, so they’d have hours to search. Maybe today would be the day. She longed to give Wyatt the closure he needed.

  At the front desk Molly was frowning at the computer.

  “Something wrong?”

  Molly looked at Grace, her face instantly brightening. “Nothing at all. In fact, everything is perf—great! The Johnson brothers made an offer. I just got it via email.”

  Grace blinked. “Are you kidding me? What’d they offer?”

  “Get this—they’re giving us asking price!”

  Grace never dreamed they’d get asking price. “That’s great. That’s awesome.”

  “I need to read through the details, and of course we’ll need to hire a lawyer to review it.”

  “How long will all this take? I can put an offer in on the house now.” The sellers hadn’t been willing to tie up the sale with a contingency offer until the Bennetts at least had an offer on the inn.

  “I’m not sure. But you should probably make that offer soon. I wouldn’t want you to miss out.”

  “I’ll text Pamela right now.”

  Grace got an immediate and enthusiastic response. Pamela suggested they meet at the coffee shop at three o’clock to write it up. Grace paused.

  Molly was still chattering about the offer.

  Wyatt entered the lobby, carrying his pack. “You got an offer on the inn?”

  Grace turned to him, smiling. “Asking price, can you believe it?”

  “That’s great. You should call your Realtor and get an offer in.”

  “I texted her and she can meet at three, but . . .”

  He squeezed her arm. “Grace. Tell her yes. We can hike later. You don’t want to miss out on that property.”

  She nearly melted at the concern on his face. “Are you sure?”

  “I can go on my own today.”

  “He’s right,” Molly said. “And I’ll send Levi a message.”

  Grace widened her smile at Wyatt. “All right. But let’s plan on a long day of hiking Thursday.”

  “You’re on.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Grace and Wyatt had been hiking for hours. Wyatt set the pace, walking in front of her, holding back limbs and helping her over fallen trees. The smell of decayed earth filled her nostrils, and fallen leaves softened their footfalls. Lost Creek rippled past them, its wide body narrowing as they went higher into the mountains.

  The day was sunny and in the low seventies, and under the leafy treetops, it was several degrees cooler. October had ushered in the beginning of fall in the mountains surrounding Bluebell. The trees had already begun turning in the higher elevations. Soon that color would trickle downhill until the entire valley was a riot of color, stretched out beneath the autumn skies and reflected in the glassy waters of Bluebell Lake.

  Next year this time Grace would be running Blue Ridge Outfitters out of her own building—the owners had accepted her offer yesterday. Grace had been so eager to buy the little house there’d been little room for panic. But that had set in soon after the call from Pamela.

  What if the business couldn’t survive outside the inn? What if she fell flat on her face? She’d do anything to keep that from happening, to her own detriment, she knew. Look at how demanding she’d been of herself in high school from academics to athletics! She’d insisted on perfection and continually fell short, which led to her berating herself. The old adage “Aim for perfection, settle for excellence” sounded great, but she’d found she couldn’t quite accept the second part of the phrase. She would have to work on that. Perfection was unattainable and striving for it was exhausting.

  As they climbed, the deciduous trees gradually gave way to evergreens. Wyatt had grown quiet, but so had she. The uphill climb stole her breath as even the minor change in altitude affected air pressure.

  Wyatt had taught her more self-defense moves yesterday at Jim’s Gym, and she used the hiking time to mentally rehearse them. The ground began leveling off a bit, allowing Grace to catch her breath. It was about time for a break. It was late afternoon, and her rumbling stomach notified her that she’d worked off the apple and nuts they’d eaten a few hours ago.

  A movement in the sky drew her attention to a red-tailed hawk, soaring over the treetops. They’d seen all manner of wildlife today: a bullfrog, a deer, a groundhog, to say nothing of the numerous squirrels and songbirds.

  She was still searching the sky when she crashed into Wyatt, who’d stopped without warning.

  “Whoa there,” she said after she’d found her balance again. “Forget your blinker, mister?”

  Wyatt was still as a stone, staring into the distance.

  Her first thought was that they’d stumbled upon a bear, but she didn’t see any animal, and his hands were hanging loose at his sides, not reaching for his gun.

  “Wyatt?”

  Her eyes caught on a small waterfall just ahead. About fifty yards beyond it a stack of boulders reached for the sky. Was this the spot he’d been searching for? A quick scan of the area turned up a hilly plateau replete with towering evergreens.

  Wyatt hadn’t yet moved.

  Grace came to his side where she could see his face. He seemed to be taking in the area with all of his senses. His pulse throbbed in his neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his chest rising and falling quickly.

  She touched his arm softly, not wanting to startle him. “Is this it?”

  “Yes,” he said without looking at her.

  She waited for him to make the next move. What was going through his mind? What emotions were flooding to the surface? They’d just entered a very private area of his life. Did she have the capacity to help him deal with whatever he’d be facing?

  He started walking again, toward the boulders. Grace whispered a prayer for him. A prayer that she’d know how to help him. This is a good thing. He’ll finally find closure.

  Once at the tower of boulders, he stopped and looked around. Turned to face the south. He stared into the sparsely wooded forest, its floor carpeted with pine needles.

  “We camped over that way.” He strode that direction.

  “Do you want me to stay here?”

  “No.”

  She traipsed after him, relieved. She wasn’t sure what he’d need from her, but she didn’t want him to be alone. “Do you remember how far it was?”

  “Not far.”

  He was walking faster now, on a mission, seemingly confident of the direction he’d chosen.

  Grace hurried to keep up with him, the scent of pine filling her every breath. They ascended a small incline, dodging red spruce and Fraser firs and moss-covered rocks. A squirrel scuttled across their path, jumped onto a tree trunk, and scampered up it.

  * * *

  Wyatt stared straight ahead as he strode up the incline. It was just over this ridge. He knew it like he knew his own birthday. Like he’d known they were entering the area before he even saw the tower of r
ocks. He’d felt it in his bones.

  He’d planned to leave Grace there and continue on alone. Wasn’t sure what he’d feel when he returned to the spot that had changed his life forever. But when she’d asked in that soft, careful voice, he realized he wanted her there. He wanted her calming presence and her soothing touch. He was going to need it. His racing, erratic heartbeat and spinning thoughts were proof of that.

  He reached the small rise and stared down into a shallow basin where the evergreens soared overhead. The area didn’t look much different than what they’d just traipsed across, but he knew without a doubt—this was it.

  He walked down the small incline and toward the spot where they’d camped. He’d forgotten about the smell of decay. Forgotten the gnarly tree roots poking up through the forest floor and the fallen tree trunks covered in moss.

  He remembered now.

  He could only approximate the spot where they’d pitched their tent, but that didn’t matter. This was the last place his mother had laughed. The last place she’d spoken to him. The last place she’d drawn breath.

  “This is it.”

  Grace’s fingers slowly laced with his, and he was grateful for the touch. For the connection. The area was so peaceful and beautiful in its own rugged way, the sunlight breaking through in spots. “Hard to believe something so awful happened here.”

  She pressed into his side. “You must’ve been so frightened.”

  She had no idea—because he’d told her very little. But he was finished holding back. It was time to bring down the wall. He braced himself for the memories, the feelings, the helplessness that would crowd in, trampling the illusion of confidence he’d built over the years. He knew he needed to face this once and for all. Face his inadequate response. And somehow learn to live with it.

  “My mom didn’t just die out here, Grace.” The rush of blood in his ears nearly drowned out his own voice. “She was killed.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Grace stared at Wyatt, his shocking words still registering in her brain. A bird cried from a nearby tree as a cloud moved over the sun, cloaking the forest in shadow.