“Her mom is still gone?”
Marley nodded. “Jack’s not even sure she’s coming back.”
“So she’s really abandoned her child?”
“Oh, I don’t think Jasmine thinks of it as abandonment. I’m sure she assumes that her dad will take care of everything just like he always does.”
“That’s so wrong.” Caroline frowned. “And unfair. I mean, I think about how much other people would love to have children. Like me—I used to want a child so badly when I was younger, and, well, you know that sad story.” Caroline really didn’t want to think about that just now, especially since this was supposed to be a happy night. “But if I’d ever had a daughter as sweet and adorable as Hunter, I couldn’t imagine abandoning her. It’s just nuts.”
“I know.” Marley sighed. “I’m pretty sure Jack is going to end up raising Hunter, which won’t be easy at his age. I mean, I just did the math—Jack will be in his midseventies by the time Hunter graduates high school. Can you imagine?”
“Wow.” Caroline tried to wrap her head around that. “But you have to remember that the seventies, like the fifties, aren’t as old as they used to be.” She smiled. “Right?”
“Let’s hope so.” Marley changed the subject, asking about Abby’s first official guests at the bed-and-breakfast.
“It’s not going as well as Abby had hoped.” Caroline filled her in on the grumpy guests. “I think it would’ve been better if they’d just checked out today like they’d threatened to, but Glen Hawley, who came to town to interview for the city manager job, decided to stick it out at Abby’s inn. Now Abby is stuck with them.”
“Poor Abby. But doesn’t that come with the territory? I mean, you can’t exactly handpick your guests.”
“That’s true,” Caroline conceded. “But having to cohabitate with people like Glen Hawley—and we’re hoping and praying he doesn’t get hired—actually makes me want to look for new digs myself.” Caroline told Marley her hopes of getting her remodel done before the Mexico trip. “To that end, I’ve signed contracts with both Paul Franklin and Bonnie Boxwell.”
Marley looked surprised. “Really?”
“I know.” Caroline offered a weak smile. “Abby doesn’t know about it yet. I mean about the Bonnie part. I’m not eager to tell her, especially in light of her recent frustrations over her guest situation at the B and B. She doesn’t need something else to stress about. Even now I’m thinking maybe I should call Bonnie and tell her I’ve changed my mind.” She frowned. “But then I’ll lose Paul, too.”
“Why?”
So Caroline explained how Paul refused to work for her without a designer involved. “And he recommended Bonnie.”
“That seems a little suspicious.”
“Not really. I mean, it’s not like this town is crawling with designers. The way they both explained it, it sounds like things will go a lot more smoothly. My problem is that I don’t want Abby to find out, at least not for a while.”
Marley made a zipping motion on her lips. “She won’t hear it from me.”
“This is one of the challenges of living in a small town,” Caroline admitted. “Having to work around stuff with friends and personality clashes and trying to keep everyone happy.”
“That’s true, but don’t you think the benefits outweigh the negatives?”
“Absolutely,” Caroline agreed. “I adore Clifden. And I love living here. I’m even enjoying this rainy winter weather.” She pointed to her heavy wool blazer. “I get to wear real winter clothes here. I couldn’t do much of that down in LA. It’s fun pulling out sweaters and boots and scarves and knowing that I really need them here.”
Marley got a slightly dreamy look. “Clifden is a sweet place, but I have to admit that when Thomas—the Santa Barbara gallery guy—asked if I’d ever lived in a tropical place like Jamaica, well, I realized that it’s something I would actually love to do someday. If it’s possible.”
“Really?” Caroline considered this. “You’d move away from here?”
“Not permanently, but maybe for a while. In my dreams, anyway.” Marley laughed. “Like I can even afford that.”
“If you keep selling paintings like you did tonight, you can.”
Marley waved her hand. “This was probably a one-time thing.”
“Don’t be too sure.”
“Besides,” Marley added, “who knows if I’ll ever have time to paint again?”
“Oh, you know you will. Even if you keep helping with Hunter, you could paint while she’s in school.”
“Maybe, but it’s been pretty distracting. I want to get back into a groove again soon.” Marley sighed. “Of course, by then Hunter will probably be home for winter break.”
“What about babysitters?”
“I don’t know. I hate making her feel like she’s getting shoved off. I want her to know that I really do love her—you know, the way a grandmother would. She needs that. Poor little thing.”
“I’ll bet you’re a really good grandma.”
“I try.”
“But maybe Hunter needs some aunties, too.” Caroline got an idea. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind helping out with her sometimes. I mean, if Abby wouldn’t mind me having her at the inn. That is, until I get into something else.”
“That would be wonderful,” Marley told her. “So what are your plans? I mean as far as where you live? Will you move into your parents’ old house once it’s finished?”
“I don’t know. I honestly can’t imagine it. I mean, Bonnie was all enthused today, talking about Mid-Century Modern and how cool the house could be, but I’m just not seeing it. To me that sorry old ranch house is just a hopelessly run-down and depressing place full of way too many unhappy memories. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel good about living there.”
“I can understand that.”
“Until my condo sells or I get a job, I can’t really afford to invest in anything else. All my insurance money is going right back into my mom’s house. I’m trying to think of it as an investment. Anyway, I guess I should be thankful that Abby’s giving me such a good deal on my room, and, unless she gets a lot more cranky guests, I guess I can stick it out there as long as I need to. Really, it could be worse.”
Caroline realized how pathetic her life sounded. Middle-aged and unemployed, living in a rented room … even her love life was unimpressive. But at least she had a dog. That was something!
Chapter 9
Abby
If Abby had known that running a bed-and-breakfast was going to be like this, she never would’ve started one. By Tuesday, after four days of cleaning up after and fixing breakfast for one of the rudest men she’d ever met, she was seriously fed up. Glen Hawley was a jerk, and she didn’t care who knew it.
“There’s no such thing as guest confidentiality, is there?” Abby asked Janie that morning. She’d slipped down to Janie’s office for some advice and sympathy.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Well, I know doctors can’t talk about their patients, and you’re not supposed to discuss your clients. As an innkeeper, am I supposed to keep my mouth shut about my guests?”
Janie smiled. “Not legally. But, as a businesswoman, you’d be wise to respect your guests’ privacy.”
“Why?” Abby demanded. “My guests don’t seem to respect a thing about me.”
“Mrs. Hawley seems nice.”
“I’ll admit she’s okay. But her husband is a real piece of work, and I plan to do whatever it takes to make sure that man does not get hired as our city manager.”
“Just be careful,” Janie warned. “Or you could end up with serious legal troubles.”
“How so?”
“Slander, libel, defamation of character.”
“Define those terms,” Abby d
emanded. “I mean in layman’s words.”
“Basically, if you say anything about anybody that’s untrue, and if your comments cause that person some sort of harm, either personally or professionally, you could be liable in a court of law.”
“If I say anything untrue?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t need to lie about Glen Hawley, Janie. The guy is a selfish, narcissistic, arrogant—”
“Okay, let’s start with that. Calling him narcissistic is your opinion, correct?”
“Yes, but he is.”
“Are you an expert?” Janie asked. “Have you done a psychological evaluation of him?”
“All I know is that he treats me like I’m his slave and like this inn is a dump and he leaves messes wherever he goes and he’s rude. I don’t know how his poor wife can stand him.”
“You’re treading on shaky ground, Abby. If you go around town saying these things, including that he’s a narcissist, it could backfire and—”
“Fine, he’s not a narcissist. But he is a jerk. Even you have to admit that.”
Janie held up her hands. “I’m just saying.”
Abby leaned over Janie’s desk, planting both hands on the edge. “Are you saying you’d like to see Glen Hawley hired as the city manager?”
“No, of course not.”
“So do I, or do I not, have a responsibility to say something?”
Janie seemed to think about this.
“As a citizen of our fair city,” Abby continued, “and as a friend to the late city manager—our dear friend Cathy Gardener—shouldn’t I do something before it’s too late?”
“Just go carefully, Abby, that’s all I’m saying.”
Abby frowned. “Paul told me to stay out of it.”
“Paul might be right.”
Abby stood up straight, folding her arms across her front. “Well, I’ll take your advice, Janie. I will go carefully, but I do intend to go.”
“Just remember,” Janie said as Abby was leaving, “when it comes to harsh assessments of character, less is more.”
“Right.” Abby nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Abby went back upstairs, where she put away the breakfast things, then cleaned the Hawleys’ room, changing linens and replacing the missing toiletries, which she knew they couldn’t have used up. How was it possible to use three whole bars of French-milled soap, no matter how small, in a single day? Not to mention the shampoo, body wash, lotion, and conditioner. She suspected the Hawleys were tucking these top-notch toiletries into their suitcases to take home.
Finally, with her work done, she headed over to talk to Jackie Day. For starters she asked Jackie if she had any idea what kind of guests she had referred to Abby.
“I honestly didn’t know a thing about them,” Jackie said, “except that he was coming to interview for a job.”
“Well, he is the rudest young man I’ve ever met.”
“Really?” Jackie looked alarmed. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She broke into a slightly sheepish smile. “But I guess I’m glad you got him instead of me.”
“You have no idea.”
“Well, aren’t they checking out in a couple of days?”
“Unless you have an available room here.” Abby glanced hopefully around. “Seems pretty quiet here. Are you really still full?”
Jackie just shook her head. “Look, I’m sorry you got stuck with them, Abby. But sometimes that’s the breaks. There are guests like that. You have to accept that it’s part of this business. And then you have to learn how to handle them.”
“How?” Abby asked. “I mean besides spitting in their coffee and short-sheeting their beds?”
Jackie blinked. “You did that?”
“Not really. I just imagined doing it.”
“Oh, well … good.”
“So, tell me, how do you deal with a cantankerous guest?”
“To start with, you remain a professional. You do everything for them that you do for any other guest. But you also avoid them as much as possible. Most importantly you don’t let them get to you.” She pointed her finger at Abby. “Because if you let them get to you, they’ve won the battle.”
Abby knew that Glen Hawley had already gotten to her.
“And then”—Jackie smirked—“you put them on your bad list, and you never rent a room to them again.”
“That’s for sure.” Abby lowered her voice. “There’s one more thing I plan to do as well.”
“What?”
“I’m going to get the word out about this guy before he gets hired as city manager.”
“He’s applying for city manager?” Jackie looked shocked. “Oh, my!”
“Marsha Lake just happens to be—”
“A very good friend,” Jackie finished for her.
“As well as head of the finance department.”
“You’re going to tell her?”
“I am.”
“Good for you, Abby. The last thing this town needs is a lousy city manager. We were barely rebounding from the economy when Cathy Gardener passed on. I sure do miss her.”
“Out of respect for her memory and love of this town, I feel it’s my duty to speak up.”
“You go, girl.” Jackie raised a defiant fist.
“Are you sure that your inn is really full?”
Jackie just grinned. “It is now.”
From her car, Abby called Marsha and caught her on her lunch break. Abby asked if they could meet for coffee this afternoon.
“This afternoon?” Marsha sounded unsure. “We’re kind of busy doing interviews for the manager job this afternoon.”
“Yes, that’s exactly why I want to talk to you.”
“Really?”
“I have some insider information about one of your candidates,” Abby said carefully. “I wanted to share it with someone and thought of you.”
“Interesting.”
“So how about meeting me for coffee?”
“Coffee this afternoon is impossible,” Marsha told her. “But if you can meet me in my office, we don’t head back into the interviews until one fifteen.”
Abby looked at her watch. “I’m on my way.”
As she drove the few blocks to city hall, Abby tried to formulate her thoughts. She planned to take Janie’s advice. But she also planned to do what she could to paint a realistic image of who Glen Hawley truly was.
On her way into the building, Abby wished she’d dressed a bit more professionally today. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“Hey,” Paul said as he emerged from the building department, “what are you doing here?”
Abby felt a wave of guilt. “Just having coffee with Marsha Lake,” she said quickly. “How about you?”
He held up some papers. “Just getting the building permit for Caroline’s house.” He frowned at her. “Why are you having coffee with Marsha?” he asked suspiciously.
“Because we need to catch up.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to hurry.” She took off, but she could feel him watching her and knew he was jumping to conclusions. She’d have to deal with him later.
“Hey, Abby.” Marsha smiled as Abby came into her office. “Take a seat.”
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.” Abby started to go into a lengthy explanation about her inn and how Jackie had referred guests to her.
“Yes, congratulations, Abby. I was pleased to see we have another B and B in town. I’m surprised you didn’t have some kind of official grand opening, you know, to show the place off to the public. It’s such a lovely old home.”
“Maybe I’ll do that.” Abby made a mental note to remember this idea.
“So what’s your big insider tip?” Marsha leane
d forward with a curious expression.
“Glen Hawley is a guest at my inn and—”
“Oh, isn’t he great? And so qualified, too. I think he’s a shoo-in.”
“Oh.” Abby frowned. Apparently she was too late.
“And that’s a problem?”
“Well”—Abby thought about her words—“I’m sure that Glen Hawley is putting his best foot forward for the interview process, but I’ve been around him a lot these past few days—you know, up close and personal—and I have to say that I’d be hugely disappointed if he gets hired to replace Cathy.”
“Why?”
So Abby carefully explained how rude he’d been, trying to avoid words like narcissistic and jerk, which wasn’t easy. “He just doesn’t seem like a Clifden sort of guy.”
“Really?” Marsha looked slightly skeptical.
“I wouldn’t make this up,” Abby said. “In fact, it’s not easy coming in here and saying this, Marsha. But I really think our city would be better served with someone else—someone a bit nicer, if you know what I mean. I hate to imagine how someone like Glen would run roughshod over everyone once he got in here. Really, his people skills, when his guard is down, are atrocious. You could even ask Caroline; she’s renting a room from me, and I’m afraid if he was around much longer, she’d move out. Or you could talk to Janie, although Janie, being an attorney, might not be willing to speak out.”
“So what exactly am I supposed to do with this information?”
“I don’t know.” Abby shrugged. “I figured you could put it to use.”
“Seriously, Abby, what am I supposed to say? That Glen Hawley doesn’t pick up his socks? That he steals complimentary toiletries? Or complains about breakfast? Maybe I should tell the committee that he doesn’t like that your inn because it has no ocean view, which is true—it doesn’t have a view.”
“I know that. But most people wouldn’t be so ill mannered about it.”
Marsha nodded.
“Have his references been checked?”
“Of course.”
“Maybe someone should probe a little deeper. Maybe there are folks in his town who’d be happy to spill the beans on Glen Hawley.”
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