Homecoming Reunion
Page 2
Garret wanted to argue with him, but what could he say? Baxter held all the cards in this deal.
“However I have another proposition if you’re willing to entertain that,” Baxter continued. “When my parents died, they willed their businesses to me, Jack and Paula, Larissa’s mother. Jack got forty percent of the mill, I got sixty. I also got forty-nine percent share in the Morrisey Creek Inn and Paula got fifty-one. I’m willing to sell you my shares in the inn instead.”
Garret released his pent up breath, his gaze slipping away from Baxter as he tried to adjust to this huge change in his plans.
“The inn won’t net you the same income as the mill would,” Baxter continued, “But it’s still a decent investment.”
“I’m assuming Paula’s share of the inn went to her husband when she died?”
“Forty-nine percent did. Two percent went to Larissa.” Baxter nodded, understanding why Garret asked that question.
“I don’t think I’m interested,” he said, knowing what the implications of ownership of the inn would mean.
Larissa worked at the inn. If he bought this property, he would see her every day, not just occasionally as he had anticipated. He was a big boy now, but even the small glimpse he’d had of her today reminded him he was better off getting used to her in small doses.
Besides, he would be a minority shareholder in the business with Jack Weir, with Larissa holding the shares that could tip decisions one way or the other. And he knew she would lean the way she always had. Toward her father.
“I think it’s a good opportunity,” Baxter continued, “And it will cost you less than the mill.”
Garret weighed that factor, letting the idea settle but he kept thinking about working with Larissa.
Your relationship was a long time ago. Get over it.
Garret knew he should. It would be crazy to let an old relationship get in the way of a business opportunity. At the same time, why put himself in an untenable situation?
“I’ll think about it,” he said, giving Baxter a careful smile.
“Don’t think too long. I know there are other people interested,” Baxter said.
Garret sensed Baxter’s comment was the usual song and dance most sellers used on buyers. Create a sense of urgency so second thoughts go out the window.
“If someone else is interested then that’s the way it is.” Garret got to his feet, showing Baxter he would not be pushed or bluffed. Then he shook Baxter’s hand. “Thanks for your time.” He was about to turn when he noticed something black on the floor beside the chair where Larissa sat. He bent over to pick it up.
Larissa’s purse.
“Can’t believe she left that behind,” Baxter said as Garret held it up. “She’s always so careful.”
Probably in a hurry to get away from me, Garret thought. “I’m sure she’ll figure out she’s missing it eventually.”
“I’ll get it to her.” Baxter took the purse from Garret. He paused a moment, as if he wanted to say something more, but then pushed his chair under the table. “So let me know in the next couple days if you’re interested in buying the inn.” Baxter gave him a quick smile, then headed to the door leading to the patio.
Garret picked up his half-empty mug pulling his thoughts together.
This was not the outcome he had hoped for when he had come here. And he wasn’t sure what to do next. Nana would encourage him to pray, as she had when he had visited her a couple of days ago.
She had encouraged him to settle down in Hartley Creek, as she had so hoped all her grandchildren would. She suggested he to turn to God for all the decisions in his life and had given him a Bible to help him on that journey.
But Garret hadn’t trusted God since, at age ten, he watched his mother lowered into her grave. Since then, in spite of going to church with his grandparents every Sunday, he had drifted so far from God that praying wasn’t part of any of the plans he made.
Garret dragged his hand over his face. Too many decisions to make. One thing he did know, however, he would be cautious about getting too close to Larissa.
* * *
Oh brother. In her hurry to get away from Garret, Larissa had forgotten her purse. She turned at the next intersection and drove back to Mug Shots.
When she walked in the front door, Garret and her uncle stood at the table. Uncle Baxter was holding her purse and she was just about to call out to him when she heard the tail end of her uncle’s conversation.
“...whether or not you’re interested in buying the inn.”
Uncle Baxter’s words were like a shot of ice water through Larissa’s veins. She stopped by the cash register, shock rooting her feet to the floor as she grabbed for the counter to steady herself.
What was her uncle talking about? Selling the inn?
And why was he saying that to Garret?
The questions spun through her head as she tried to regain equilibrium. Surely she had heard wrong?
Before she could call out to her uncle, however, he had slipped through the patio door and was out of the building.
She was about to turn to leave, hoping to catch her uncle, when Garret turned and their gazes locked.
His very presence created a flurry of feelings: sorrow, anger, resistance and attraction all beating at her, demanding attention.
As their eyes connected her heart leaped in her chest, stifling her breathing, creating an unwilling sense of anticipation as he walked toward her.
No. She wasn’t letting this happen.
“What did my uncle mean?” she blurted out as he reached her side, pushing her errant emotions aside in her need to know what had just happened. “Why did he say he would hear back from you about the Inn?” She knew she really didn’t have any right to ask, but she needed to know what was going on.
And she needed to keep herself from letting remnants of her old feelings for Garret have any influence in her life.
Garret put his mug in the plastic tub with the other dishes and turned to Larissa, as if weighing what he was about to say.
“He offered to sell me his share of the Inn.” Garret spoke quietly but his words thundered in her mind.
“Why would he do that? What reason would he have?” Larissa struggled to articulate her rampant thoughts, wishing she didn’t sound so foolish in front of the man who had taken up far too much space in her head.
“Because he didn’t want to sell me his share of the mill as we had previously arranged.”
What was going on? Larissa felt like Alice in Wonderland, tumbling down the rabbit hole, wondering when she would land. And where.
“I didn’t know...Uncle Baxter never said...I had no idea he wanted to sell either,” she stammered. Why hadn’t her uncle talked to her first? After all, she held a share in the inn. It used to belong to her mother. Surely she had more stake in it than Garret Beck?
“I talked to him about the mill the last time I was in town. I was here to talk to him about that sale when he said he changed his mind and offered me a share in the inn.” Garret’s calm voice and attitude made her more flustered.
It didn’t seem to matter to him that they had once whispered plans about their future. It didn’t seem to matter that he was the first man she had ever loved utterly and completely. The first man she had imagined herself marrying.
Even worse, he didn’t seem to care that he had walked away from her with her father’s money in his pocket and her heart in his hand.
If he did care, he wouldn’t be acting as if she were just any girl.
She hoped the chill in her heart reached her eyes but as their gazes met and locked again, she felt the tiniest tremor of awareness. The smallest ripple of older emotions she thought she’d long buried.
She may think Garret didn’t matter to her anymore, but as she struggled to hold his gaze she knew she was only fooling herself.
“I’m surprised you would want to buy a business in Hartley Creek considering you were in such a hurry to leave this place.”
Instead it came out like sounding like a petty whine from the girl left behind.
“Things change,” he said, his ambiguous comment creating a beat of annoyance in her. “Speaking of change,” he continued, raising his hand as if reaching out to her. “I was sorry to hear about your mother.”
It had been four years since her mother’s death, but the pain could still gather and fill her soul with dark sorrow. She pressed her lips together and nodded, acknowledging his condolences. “Thank you for the flowers you sent. That was thoughtful.”
“It wasn’t enough.” His voice was crisp. “Just a small courtesy that couldn’t begin to...couldn’t start...” He let the words trail off as if they were as insufficient as he thought his flowers were. “Anyhow, I thought of you and your father.”
“Thanks again.”
A moment of awkward silence followed her reply. She couldn’t think of anything to say and, obviously, neither could Garret.
Then his cell phone rang and before he pulled it out of his pocket, he took a step away and tossed off a quick wave.
“I’ll see you around then,” he said, giving her a polite smile before he lifted the phone to his ear.
“Take care,” she said as he walked away.
Her polite words masked other emotions and stifled older questions.
Why didn’t you ever call me?
Did you think of me before that?
She pushed the silly questions down into the deep recesses of her mind where they belonged as she waited for the door to fall shut behind Garret.
When she and Garret were dating she was young, foolish and full of hope and optimism. They were both older now. Wiser.
And both, obviously, had other plans and dreams.
Only now, his plans were causing problems for her. Because she should be the one to buy out her uncle’s share of the Inn, not Garret.
She couldn’t let that happen. She had to find a way to stop her uncle from selling his shares to Garret.
Because there was no way she was working with a man who had betrayed her so badly.
Chapter Two
“Could you at least give me the opportunity to see what the bank will say?” Larissa clutched her cell phone as she strode across the grounds of the Inn.
She had hoped to talk to her uncle face-to-face when he dropped off her purse, but by the time she got back to the Inn, he’d already left it with the front desk. So she had to settle for this phone call.
“Larissa, honey, it’s a huge debt to take on. I don’t think you want to do that.”
Uncle Baxter’s soothing tone felt like a patronizing pat on the head. There, there, little girl. You go play while us men make our plans.
“Oh, but I do. You know how much the inn means to me.” She stopped on the wooden bridge spanning the creek that cut through the grounds of the inn, hating the edge of desperation creeping into her voice. “I had hoped to talk to you myself once I had enough money saved up.”
She watched the water of Morrisey Creek flow under the bridge, the light dancing off the waves, appreciating the cool shade of the trees.
She needed a moment to compose herself. To sound like a reasonable businesswoman.
“I had no idea, Larissa. You always seemed so content to manage the place,” Uncle Baxter said. “You never gave me any indication of your interest in buying out me or your father.”
“I needed time,” Larissa hugged herself with her free arm, letting the spray of the creek cool her heated cheeks.
“I talked to your father first, but he said he wasn’t sure he wanted to buy me out at this time,” Uncle Baxter was saying.
“I know. I talked to him this morning about it as well.” Her father, who was in Asia drumming up new markets for the mill, wasn’t pleased with this latest development but he had told Larissa that this was not the time for him to make this purchase. He also reminded her that together they owned the controlling share so whoever Uncle Baxter sold to would have to answer to both of them. “So if he won’t buy you out, I want you to give me a chance. You know how much I love this inn. I want it to be a bigger part of my life.”
And she wanted the authority to make some decisions her father seemed loath to. When her mother willed her a percentage of her share of the Inn, Larissa had hoped this would give her some authority to persuade her father to show more interest in the inn her mother loved so much. However that hadn’t happened yet.
“This inn will take over your whole life if you do this,” her uncle continued. “Don’t you want something else? What about a family?”
Larissa heard the yearning note in her uncle’s voice. Her uncle had never married and while he had never voiced regret, of late he seemed to be transferring the hopes and dreams he would have had for his children to her.
“You’re the only Weir left,” he continued. “The only Lincoln. Don’t you want to get married?”
“Of course I do. When the right person comes around.”
“You’ve met many right persons. You just have to learn to give them enough time to pop the question.”
Larissa laughed at the dour note in her uncle’s voice even as her mind unwillingly slipped back to the person who had proposed to her. The first man she had ever loved.
She pushed the thought aside. High school crush. Silly, childish emotions she thought she was over until she saw Garret at Mug Shots.
“Anyhow, I still want a chance to buy the inn,” she said. “Could you at least give me that?”
Her uncle released a heavy sigh. “Lucky for you Garret hasn’t given me any answer one way or the other, and I hinted that other people might be interested, so yes, I’ll give you a chance.”
Relief washed over her. “Thanks so much, Uncle Baxter.”
“I don’t know if you should be thanking me. I don’t want that place to take over your life like it did your mother’s...” He let the sentence trail off as if giving her a chance to change her mind.
“It is my life,” Larissa said.
“That was what I was afraid of.” Uncle Baxter’s voice grew quiet and then she heard him release a light sigh. “But if that’s what you think you want, I’ll give you the time. Now I gotta run. There’s an employee crisis here at the mill. Talk to you soon.”
He hung up and Larissa lowered her hand, breathing in and out, willing her heart to still.
She massaged her temple, feeling suddenly disconnected and untethered. As if the very moorings of her life had been shifted and uprooted.
When her mother died, her father pulled deep into himself, grieving in solitude, leaving Larissa to run the inn and deal with her sorrow on her own. Uncle Baxter had always been more hands-off, content to let his brother-in-law and his niece take care of his sister’s inn.
Larissa poured herself, heart and soul, into her work on the inn, determined to maintain her mother’s legacy, to keep her mother’s memory alive. Though her father inherited forty-nine percent share, he was never as passionate about the inn as she was. Never as involved.
As a result, the inn had slowly lost money and prestige. It needed a makeover, a partner who was vitally interested and a large injection of cash to pull it out of the hole it had fallen into over the past six years.
Larissa looked around the place, letting memories sift into her soul. Twice a year, after her mother was diagnosed with cancer, Paula would go to Mexico for a month with her friend Lydia to regroup, leaving Larissa in charge of the inn. Larissa loved the responsibility and when her mother came back, tanned and relaxed, they would make plans for the following year. But each year her mother lost more and more energy. In the last six months of her mother’s life, when Paula’s health was so fragile she couldn’t even walk anymore, Larissa would push her around in her wheelchair, stopping here on the bridge to watch the w
ater flow and look over the land surrounding the inn. They would talk of future plans for the inn. Horses and a riding stable. A maze her mother had worked on for a number of years. A wedding arbor.
And every time she would look over at Larissa with an expectant smile as if hoping that Larissa would bring to fruition those very plans.
Trouble was, right now, the inn barely held its own. After her mother died, Larissa got to find out just exactly where the inn was financially and it seemed each month it got a little worse. It was at the point that Larissa dreaded her bimonthly meetings with her father and Orest, their bookkeeper and accountant.
Larissa would talk about things she wanted to do to boost the inn’s business, Orest would give her the bad news about the state of the books and her father would nix her plans.
Are you sure you want to do this?
Larissa pushed herself away from the bridge and before her second thoughts could gain force, she dialed the number of the bank, asking to be connected to the loans officer who took care of most of the business for the inn.
She was sure. The inn held her best memories. It was all she had ever wanted.
Other than Garret.
She pushed the thought aside. She had to focus on the present. The sooner she could get the process to get her loan in place started, the sooner she could stop Garret’s plans.
* * *
He should have just said no thanks, and moved on.
To what?
Garret swept the question aside as he slammed the door of his car shut. He paused a moment, looking over the property Baxter had offered to sell him four days ago. He looked over the grounds surrounding the inn. The Morrisey Creek Inn sat on twelve acres of prime real estate edging the golf course, creating a tiny oasis of peace.
He had let the idea of buying the inn settle in his mind then he had talked to the bank. When he spoke with the real estate agent in town he found out that Hartley Creek was growing and expanding and each year more tourists came to the area. The inn, with proper management and some financial input, could be a growth opportunity.