It could be a property he could hold on to, then flip and recoup his investment, hopefully with money to spare.
So this morning he decided to see the place again. See if it was as beautiful as he remembered.
The Victorian-style building was built in an L-shape, with a large wooden veranda running along the front and side of the wing. Flowerpots hung from the eaves and nestled against the stairs leading to the main door. The front entrance took up the smaller part of the L and, from what Garret remembered, was where the checkout desk, dining room and kitchen were located. The wing contained the thirty or so rooms that comprised the bulk of the inn’s accommodations.
When they were dating, he and Larissa used to sneak over here and hang out in the kitchen of the inn, persuading Emily Dorval to part with some cookies, which they would then take to one of the outlying buildings. There they would talk, laugh and share stolen kisses and plans.
That was years ago, Garret thought. He let the memories rest a moment, then brushed them away. He wasn’t here to reminisce. He had business to do.
He shot another glance at his watch, looked over his shoulder, but didn’t see Baxter’s SUV coming up the long drive to the inn.
He didn’t feel like waiting around, so he headed up the flagstone walk to the main entrance of the inn.
Overhanging fir and poplar trees shaded the walk, the wind rustling through their leaves, creating a gentle accompaniment to the murmuring of the creek just beyond the inn.
The same creek that cut through the ranch Garret was born and raised on. The ranch his brother, Carter, now lived on with his wife, Emma, and stepson, Adam.
His mouth lifted in a pensive smile. If he bought this place, then he and his brother would both own land along the creek they had grown up next to. Kind of a nice thought.
As he made his way to the entrance he looked over the building with a more critical eye. Time had not been kind to the Morrisey Creek Inn. The exterior needed a new paint job and the trim around the windows was peeling in places.
An older couple stepped out of the entrance, greeting him with a smiling hello and then turned down a side trail branching off the main walk. Garret guessed they were headed to the creek and from there to the walking path that followed it. He and Larissa used to challenge each other to races down the path. She was faster, but he had more endurance and he always won.
He willed away the persistent memories. That was a lifetime ago. He had better get with the present and not get distracted by the past.
He pushed open one of the large wooden doors and stepped inside, pausing as his gaze swept over the entrance. Maple wood wainscoting lined the entrance and above that, the walls were painted a dark blue. The hardwood floor and the large registration desk dominating the entrance matched the wood of the wainscoting.
It was as dark as he remembered it. A lighter paint on the walls would help. He glanced up at the ceiling. Possibly a skylight.
Then he caught a glimpse of dark hair and his stupid heart did a little stutter as Larissa swept into the room, the full skirt of her pink dress swirling out behind her, her hair bouncing with each step. She clutched a folder in one hand and a phone clamped to her ear in the other.
She frowned, nodded, and spoke a few short words, dropping the folder of papers on the desk, followed by the handset of a telephone. For a moment she glared down at both as if they offended her. Then she finger-combed her hair away from her face in a gesture so familiar it created a stirring in his soul.
She pressed her lips together drew in a breath and then lifted her head.
When their eyes met there was a moment before recognition dawned, and he saw the desolation in her expression and wondered if the phone call had been the cause. Immediately her face became shuttered and she squeezed out a dry smile.
“Good afternoon, Garret,” she said, shuffling the papers in front of her, her voice holding a forced cheeriness. “What can I do for you?”
“Your Uncle Baxter is coming to show me around,” he said. “Thought I should at least have a look at the place before I made any decision.”
Larissa slipped the papers into a large brown envelope. “Not much has changed about the inn since before...since you were around.”
“I didn’t know what this part looked like. I was never allowed here,” he said.
Coming near the front of the inn meant running the risk of meeting either Larissa’s mother or father. So they stayed safely out of sight.
“Like I said, not much has changed,” she repeated.
He glanced over at the deserted dining room with its round tables and hoop-backed wooden chairs. Shelves holding antique dishes and knickknacks lined walls covered with rose-printed wallpaper.
“No one eating lunch today?” he asked.
“We’re not fully booked,” she said, her tone defensive.
“It’s the middle of summer. You should be turning people away.”
“We should” was all she said, fiddling with the handset of the phone.
She said nothing more and Garret didn’t bother pressing the matter, but he was puzzled about the lack of customers, especially at the peak season.
The silence between them lengthened, shifting into awkward territory but Garret wasn’t sure what to say next. Another glance at his watch took up a few more seconds.
“I think I’ll give your uncle a call. See when he’s arriving,” Garret said, pulling out his cell phone.
As he paged through his contacts to get Baxter’s number, the doors of the inn opened and Larissa’s uncle burst into the foyer full of apologies.
“Sorry, about that,” he said, flashing Garret a smile. “I had to take a call from Larissa’s father.” Baxter waggled his fingers at Larissa. “He says hi, by the way. Said he’ll call you on Skype you tonight.”
Larissa responded with a quick smile.
Baxter turned his attention back to Garret, rubbing his hands as if anticipating a speedy sale. “So, where do you want to start?”
Garret sent a quick glance around the lobby, then past the dining room. “How about right here?”
“Sure. Sure. Not hard to see this is the main entrance. Dining room off behind you there,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Let’s head over there and I can give you a bit more info about the kitchen and—”
The ringing of his cell phone cut him off midpitch. He glanced at the call display. He turned to Garret and lifted his hand in apology. “Sorry. Got to deal with this.” Baxter angled his chin toward Larissa. “Honey, why don’t you show Garret around?”
“I’ve got to take care of the front desk.” Her rapid-fire protest was accompanied with a flip of her hands as if dismissing the notion completely.
“Get Colleen to take over,” Baxter said.
“No really—”
“I don’t think—”
Garret and Larissa both stated their objections at the same time, netting a glare from Baxter as he covered the cell phone with his hand.
“Honestly, you two,” he snapped. “I don’t have time for this. Get over it.”
A flush warmed Garret’s neck at Baxter’s admonition. It was as if time had spun backward and he was again a kid, being reprimanded by Baxter the boss. He couldn’t help a quick glance Larissa’s way and from the discomfited look on her face he guessed she felt the same.
And he guessed they both knew exactly what Baxter was telling them to get over.
Baxter sent another frown their way, then stepped inside the office just off the entrance, talking all the while.
An uneasy silence followed his exit and in spite of Baxter’s orders, Garret turned to Larissa. “Really, I don’t want to trouble you. I can come back another time.”
“I doubt Uncle Baxter would be willing to,” Larissa said as she picked up the phone. “I’ll call Colleen. Once Uncle Baxter is done with his call, he can take over the tour. As you pointed out, we’re not exactly all booked up, so I’m not busy.”
Garret was surprised at t
he resentment edging her voice, though it made sense. He knew he felt the same reluctance to spend time with her. But, as Baxter said, maybe they just needed to get over it. Getting this awkward first meeting out of the way would be a step in that direction.
She punched in a number. “Colleen, would you mind covering the front desk for me?” She disconnected the phone, tucked her hair behind her ears and gave Garret a quick look. “I just have to wait for Colleen to come.”
As they waited, he noticed her glance at the door, as if hoping her uncle would come and rescue her.
A long, awkward minute later a young girl wearing blue jeans and a button-down shirt, scurried into the room.
“I’m expecting a party at three o’clock,” Larissa told the eager-looking young girl. “But I’ll easily be back before that.”
“Take your time,” was Colleen’s quick response. “I love running the front desk.”
Larissa smiled at that but her smile faded when she turned back to Garret. “Where do you want to start?” she asked.
Garret spread out his hands. “I guess, here.”
Larissa angled him a wry look. “Okay. This is the lobby. That’s the registration desk.” Colleen still stood behind it, straightening the papers piled in one corner, grinning as if she had just won a prize.
Garret frowned at the board behind the desk. “Still using old-fashioned keys?”
“We still have old fashioned doors.”
“So what happens if a guest loses a key?” Garret asked.
“We give them a replacement.”
“Which means if someone finds the other one then you’ve got a security problem,” Garret said.
Larissa gave him a level look, as if surprised at his observation. “Yes, well, that’s another issue I’ve been trying—” She stopped herself and lifted her hand as if to prevent herself from saying more. “Anyhow, keyless entry is something we are looking into for the future.”
She swept past him, trailing a hint of perfume, which Garret followed, feeling a bit like a puppy on a leash.
“This is the dining room,” she said, straightening a chair and rearranging the small, square tablecloth, smoothing her hands over it. “We have seating for approximately sixty people though we are approved for events of up to one hundred—”
The large dining room had floor to ceiling arched windows overlooking the patio. Here the decor was lighter, friendlier and standing in the middle of the room, he could envision using this room for banquets or meetings.
“So at most you would have forty people staying or eating here at a time?”
“Or more if people double up, which has happened when the ski hill is open and we’re fully booked,” she said as she walked toward the kitchen. “Which does happen on occasion.”
He ignored her snippy comment as he followed her into the kitchen. She picked up a large knife from a cutting board and put it back on a magnetic strip above it. She straightened a knife block, swept some errant crumbs off the large island and nodded to an unfamiliar woman who had just come out of the pantry off the back corner of the kitchen.
“Do you know how many for dinner?” the woman asked Larissa as she set a bag of flour on the island.
“I’ll get a final head count in an hour. I’m expecting another party at three,” Larissa said, picking up a couple of coffee mugs from the counter and setting them by the dishwasher. “Garret, this is Bridget, our head cook. She’s been working here since my mom...for the past four years.”
Bridget gave him a quick nod, then pulled out a knife and broke open the flour bag. Obviously she had things to do.
“I remember this kitchen as being huge,” Garret said as he looked around. “It’s still pretty big.”
A grill with a six-burner stove took up a whole wall behind Larissa. The island between them stretched out twenty feet. Hanging above the island was a rack from which hung pots and pans and larger utensils. Beside him was a counter with double sinks. The back wall was taken up by a large refrigerator and shelves holding a variety of canned and dry goods. “Does Emily still work here?”
“She left after my mother died,” Larissa said, a puzzling note of anger in her voice.
“That’s too bad. She was a great cook.” Garret looked again around the kitchen. It had been many years since he had been in this room. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he remembered it as being cleaner. Shinier. Tidier.
“She still is a good cook,” Larissa said, striding around the island and back out the door. “She works at an Applebee’s in Cranbook.”
Garret frowned as he caught up to her in the living room. “Why would she want to do that?”
Larissa heaved out a sigh as she pulled open one of the large glass doors leading to the patio. “We had to cut back on our expenses and she said she couldn’t work for what we were paying her. So she quit. Then she moved.”
Garret frowned, glancing at Larissa’s stern profile. “Why did you have to cut back?”
“Income had gone down and expenses had gone up the last eight years.” Larissa stepped through the doors on to the patio, waiting for Garret. “So we came to the point where we had to make some hard decisions and Emily was one of them.”
Garret wanted to ask her more about her cryptic statement, but decided it could wait.
He turned his attention to the grounds below the patio. He felt disoriented standing here, looking down. He had seen this patio many times, but only from below and often only a glimpse as he and Larissa would run from the parking lot to the back of the inn.
Now he saw what paying guests saw: grassy grounds sweeping down to where the Morrisey Creek cut through the property heading toward its juncture with Hartley Creek, and beyond that, through the opening in the trees, the valley where the town of Hartley Creek nestled against the mountains encircling the valley, protecting and guarding it.
“I’ve seen this for so many days of my life, but I never get tired of it,” Larissa said quietly, folding her arms over her stomach, her voice softening. “This was my mother’s favorite place in the inn.”
She sounded more relaxed than she had before and as she stood there, Garret couldn’t stop his eyes from stealing in her direction.
Her face held a peace he hadn’t seen since he came here. As if being here made her whole. Garret could see why as he turned his attention back to the view. It wasn’t new to him. He’d grown up with the mountains of Hartley Creek Valley and had seen them from all angles and in all seasons. Yet, as he looked them over from this vantage point, he felt a yearning for what he’d had here. Family. Community.
And for a moment, he let the idea of buying this place settle in his mind.
Could he do this? As if drawn by her very presence, his eyes slipped back to Larissa. Could he really work with her and pretend as if they had no history?
He caught a wistful smile and his renegade heart quickened. Her face had haunted his thoughts all through college and in the years beyond. Every girl he ever met was compared to her and fell short. He knew he had romanticized her, but at the same time he also knew Larissa held a unique place in his heart.
His first love.
“My father loves coming here, as well.” Larissa’s voice had grown quiet as she walked to the stone balustrade. She ran her fingers along the top, as if laying her claim to it. “It’s the one place he says makes him feel close to my mother. He lost so much when he lost her. He always says that if it wasn’t for me, he couldn’t get through this.”
Garret frowned, wondering why she was telling him all this. It was as if she wanted him to know where her emotions and priorities lay.
She looked at him then, as their gazes meshed, he felt an eerie echo of the past.
Her father was important to her. More important than anyone else.
If Garret did buy this place, big if, he would do well to remember that. Because even spending a little bit of time with Larissa was enough to resurrect old feelings.
He could never let that happen ag
ain because apparently nothing in Larissa’s life had changed.
Chapter Three
“And that concludes the tour,” Larissa said to Garret as she closed the door of the business suite behind her.
She paused a moment, drawing in a steadying breath.
Showing Garret the inn would have been hard enough. Showing him the inn after that disastrous phone call from her accounts manager at the bank made it doubly difficult.
She had been told she didn’t have enough collateral to buy the inn. Also, the financial statements of the inn weren’t as robust as they could be.
For the past few years she had tried to get a better understanding of the inn’s finances. Orest Wilson, their bookkeeper and old friend of the family, had explained the failing situation to Larissa but she wasn’t as good with numbers as he was.
Apparently the bank saw things the same way Orest did and concluded Larissa was not only unable to buy Uncle Baxter’s shares of the inn, they did not recommend it.
“Looks like your Uncle Baxter’s phone call was more involved than he thought,” Garret said, as Larissa turned back to him.
Larissa smoothed her hands over her dress in a self-conscious gesture. She wished she had chosen something a little more professional-looking rather than this flowing dress with its flirty skirt. She was feeling so positive this morning and had dressed accordingly. Now she just felt like a little girl dressed for a party. On top of that she’d had to project a casual and composed demeanor in front of Garret for the past half hour.
“I suppose it was.”
Yet another awkward pause followed her statement and Larissa took a quick step past him down the hall. But her heel caught in a fold in the carpet and she stumbled.
She had already righted herself when Garret caught her by the arm to steady her.
The warmth of his firm grip on her arm was as disquieting as his murmured, “Are you okay?”
He was too close to her. She could smell the remnants of his aftershave, the scent of outdoors on his shirt. As she looked up at him, his eyes, steel gray and almost glittering in the dim light of the hallway held her gaze.
He was taller than she remembered, broader and his eyes held an almost world-weary aura. She wondered what he had experienced while he was gone.
Homecoming Reunion Page 3