by Lin Stepp
Only a set of scowling faces met hers. “You might want to remember I also have family in East Tennessee. My parents, my sister and her family, and my brother and his family live nearby in South Knoxville—about twenty minutes from the inn. In a sense, I am going back to my family as well as leaving family here. My own roots are in the East Tennessee area, children. And I want to do something useful with the rest of my life. I’ve been so busy with family and home that I haven’t had time to try my own wings like most of you. I think it is my time to do that. I feel really happy about this decision. I wish you could feel happy with me.”
No encouraging words came back—just continuing frowns.
“What about all your beautiful furniture?” Louise looked around with sorrow. “It won’t be the same here when the place is all cleaned out.”
Grace smiled. “Much of the bed-and-breakfast is furnished. So I plan to leave most of the formal furnishings here with Frank and Elaine, if they would like to have them. They both like antiques. And I plan to talk with each of you privately about things in the house you might want for your own homes.”
Barbara wrinkled her nose and sent a warning look to Mike. Both the boys had very modern tastes in their lake homes. It would be unlikely either of them would want much from the house here.
“Some of the furnishings I’ll take with me, of course, Louise. I’ll also take some of the furniture over to the garage apartment to fix up my little place there.”
Margaret laughed and sent a telling look around the table to her siblings. “That will be a challenge! What do you plan to do with all those piles of craft items, some not even half finished, and all the boxes of craft supplies that have filled up that apartment to the gills for ages? I hope you’ll finally trash that stuff.”
A snigger ran around the table. This was an old joke.
Grace had done crafts of one kind or another since she had first married. Well, actually, she’d even done crafts before that. She possessed a creative streak and liked to make things with her hands. Over the years, she’d taken a multitude of different kinds of arts and craft classes around the Nashville area. Charles and the kids had viewed Grace’s crafting as a curse that kept one household area or the other constantly covered with assorted messy projects on old newspapers. As the children grew up and left home, Grace had taken over the garage apartment as her work and storage area. Okay, to be truthful—mostly as her storage area. She’d meant to clean out the place for years now. But had never gotten around to it.
Mike spoke up. “News flash, Mom. I am not going to help clean out and carry off all that craft stuff. So don’t even think about asking me.”
Ken echoed Mike’s sentiments.
Grace’s mouth tightened. “I haven’t asked anyone to help me. I’ll take care of it by myself.”
Margaret giggled. “You may have to rent an entire moving van just to carry off all that junk.”
Again, Grace felt annoyed with her children. They’d never valued the crafts she had made or the skills she’d learned in doing them. Charles hadn’t been much better.
Her anger flared. “I’ll have you know there is some very nice work packed away in that garage. It’s not junk.”
Barbara gave her a kind but patronizing look. “Yes, but people don’t decorate with craft items in their houses anymore, Mother Grace. Things have changed.”
Grace thought about the décor of the Oakley then—colorful, old-fashioned, full of bric-a-brac and handcrafted items. She decided not to tell her children what the Oakley looked like just yet.
Sighing, Grace braced herself for another barrage of criticisms. She could hear the family tuning up to talk about the waste of their father’s hard-earned money on a hair-brained scheme like this. This was all going much worse than she’d even imagined.
Actually, the arguing might have continued into the night if the grandchildren hadn’t started to tire. Then everyone began to leave to take the children home to bed. It had grown late. All but Grace worked the next day, as well—even Margaret. She was doing a short teaching internship in the music department at a nearby college.
The good-byes were tense and strained as Grace saw her family off.
Just as Grace thought she could begin to let down, Charles’s mother Jane showed up. She’d been to a concert pianist performance, but had stopped by on her way home to wish Margaret a happy birthday. Of course, Margaret immediately told her about Grace’s buying the bed-and-breakfast, and then Jane lit in on Grace in full force.
“I can’t believe you’ve made such a foolish decision, Grace. I always told Charles that marrying a girl with small town roots and from so little money was a mistake. But you did well, being a good wife to Charles, all in all, and you kept a nice home. I can’t say you ever disgraced us until now—although there were times I’d like to have seen you have more polish. And I always wished you’d become accomplished at something along the way, rather than flitting about in all those silly crafting classes over the years. I used to dread the holidays—wondering what new homemade item I’d have to unwrap and pretend to like.”
Grace winced. It was no secret that Charles’s mother had never liked her. Jane had been internationally famous, after all, as a concert pianist before she married. It was hard for Grace to match that. Jane hadn’t even married until thirty-three, and then she’d only had the one child: Charles. Her expectations for him, naturally, had been high. It hadn’t taken Grace long to realize she didn’t exactly measure up with Jane.
Jane hobbled over on her cane to put an arm around Margaret. Jane was a blond, like Grace and Margaret. But she was a bottle blond now with a pencil-thin body and a hard, tight face. There had always been an arrogance and outspokenness about Jane that intimated Grace. Grace liked peace. She was no match for Jane’s sharp words and biting criticisms.
Jane gave Grace a critical look down her nose. “So now you’re going to sell your home right out from under your own child, here, before she’s even grown and gone. How do you think that makes Margaret feel, Grace? She came to the door crying. I saw it, even though she tried to hide it.”
Margaret was obviously more upset than Grace had expected her to be.
“You know I’ll make a place for Margaret at the bed-and-breakfast, Jane.” Grace had never been able to call Charles’s mother by a more intimate term. “It’s not as though she won’t have a home anymore. And the inn is quite large.”
“It will hardly be the same, though, will it?” Jane’s tone was condescending. She patted Margaret on the cheek and spoke to her fondly. “Your dear father would turn over in his grave if he knew what your mother had done.”
Jane turned a hard glance on Grace. “It’s thoughtless and selfish of you—going off and leaving all your family here. I have often been disappointed in you, but this time definitely takes the top prize.”
Grace sighed. Jane would certainly miss bossing her around in the future—that was for sure.
As if reading her thoughts, Jane narrowed her eyes and gave Grace a hard stare. “I’m sure Margaret can stay on here with Elaine and Frank in her own home.” She patted Margaret’s arm affectionately. “I’ll talk with Elaine. There is no reason you should be forced to leave your family home until you’re ready to have one of your own.”
As Margaret wept then, Jane gave Grace a glowing look of triumph. Jane had been trying to turn Margaret against Grace ever since the girl had shown the first spark of musical talent. This was simply another little victory for Jane.
Nevertheless, it hurt Grace to have her entire family angry with her. And as the weeks of preparation and packing went by, Margaret decided she would not move with Grace. Jane Conley had talked to Elaine and Frank, and they’d offered to let Margaret stay on with them over the summer until it was time for her senior year at college. Grace felt a little surprised Margaret agreed to this decision, since she and Elaine had never gotten along very well. Furthermore, Margaret didn’t get along with Frank well, either. He was too outspoken to s
uit her, while Elaine was too quiet and practical to complement Margaret’s artistic temperament. Plus Margaret got tired of Ava and Sophie quickly, both still so small and demanding. With some amusement, Grace had watched Margaret make a concentrated effort to entrench herself in Elaine’s affections these last weeks—determined to stay behind with her and to not move away with Grace.
When moving day finally came, few in Grace’s family were there to see her off. In fact, most of them had avoided her as much as possible after Margaret’s birthday dinner in early May. When they did call or come by, they tried again to talk her out of moving. Their overall sentiment was that she was sure to fail in trying to run a bed-and-breakfast and that she would come crawling back to them all in Nashville then, repentant and embarrassed. It angered Grace and made her more determined than ever to succeed.
By the time she moved, Grace found herself quite ready to tell her children—and even the town of Nashville—good-bye. The last weeks had been stressful. Still, she cried half the way to Townsend, grieved that none of her family could be happy for her. And hurt, too, that they sent her off with so little love and affection.
CHAPTER 6
True to his resolve, Jack had successfully avoided any contact with Grace Conley after she moved into the Oakley Bed-and-Breakfast in June. Not that it was even called the Oakley anymore. Grace had erected a striking professional sign on the highway announcing the new name of the bed-and-breakfast as the Mimosa Inn. Now that the mimosa trees on the property were coming into full bloom, the name seemed especially appropriate.
Even Jack grudgingly admitted that the new sign, now swinging invitingly from a high, wrought-iron pole, was stunning—and that the changes going on at the bed-and-breakfast seemed to indicate Grace Conley did actually know how to work hard after all. The inn was newly painted, the yard neatly landscaped, and fresh sweeps of flowers now colorfully accented the property. Grace had quickly networked to discover local workers eager for extra money. They’d power-washed the walks and patio, cleared out brush on the property, carried off useless items from the Oakley’s attics, storage closets, and outbuildings—and literally made the property sparkle.
Jack found himself a little proud of Grace Conley’s moxie. As his mother had said, Grace had surprised him. Furthermore, everyone around the River Road liked her. She always had fresh coffee or iced tea, and a warm smile, ready for anyone who stopped by to visit her. Plus her home-baked goods were already becoming legendary. Jack knew the young minister of the Creekside Church, Vincent Westbrooke, stopped over every morning to have coffee and fresh muffins with Grace. If she had paying guests, Vince often joined them for a full breakfast.
Jack sat outside on the back patio of the realty office reviewing these thoughts one morning in late June. Jack’s cousin, Roger Butler, was comfortably settled on the patio with him, drinking coffee and poring over the blueprints of a log cabin he was building for a new client. Jack looked at his cousin affectionately. He wore an aged, wrinkled, corduroy jacket he favored over a checked shirt, and his glasses drooped down his nose as he leaned over his work. Unlike Jack, Roger was round-faced and comfortable looking, his looks coming from his father’s people, the Butlers, more than the Teagues.
Seeing that Roger was preoccupied, Jack let his gaze drift over the bank’s parking lot next door and then across Creekside Lane into the front yard of the Mimosa Inn. Grace Conley was out walking in the yard. Every so often she leaned over, as if weeding or picking flowers or something. It was too far to see exactly. She wore a long pink skirt that exactly matched the color of the mimosa blossoms blooming all over the yard. Jack frowned. Did the woman plan that sort of thing?
Roger’s voice interrupted Jack’s thoughts. “You know, Jack, you can’t continue to avoid Grace Conley forever.” Roger grinned at him, pushing his glasses up with one finger. “Besides, it’s not like you to avoid an attractive woman anyway.”
Jack frowned. “Things didn’t start off well with Grace Conley and myself. I’ve kept my distance for a reason, Roger.”
“Yeah, but it’s starting to become too obvious.” Roger leveled him with a considering glance. “Word’s gotten around about the little Ashleigh Layton episode. And now people are starting to say you’re too embarrassed to confront Grace Conley again. Everybody’s noticed that you never drop by the inn, when you always used to do so when Carl and Mavis lived there. Plus, you seldom walk to work anymore and cut through the Mimosa property. You’ve even avoided church since Grace started attending there. It’s starting to amuse people that you seem to be downright scared of Grace Conley—especially since she’s so nice.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Jack jerked upright to glare at Roger and slopped his coffee on his slacks. “Who’s saying that, anyway?”
Roger shrugged. “Oh, I’ve heard a few comments here and there.”
“Well, there’s nothing to them.” Jack slumped back into his chair, still glaring, and studied Roger’s deadpan expression. He and his cousin had been best friends since childhood. Few people knew him as Roger did.
“Do you think I’m being cowardly not going over to see Grace Conley?”
Roger scratched his chin. “Well, I can’t help but wonder why you’re avoiding her, Jack. It is odd, even knowing about the Ashleigh incident.”
Roger’s gaze followed Jack’s to where Grace was still walking in the yard. “The other thing that makes this even more peculiar is how much your girls love Grace Conley, Jack. Samantha says they are over there almost every day on one excuse or another. Grace feeds them and has them doing odd jobs for her around the house. She’s organizing a Junior Scout troop for girls their age. Even my Daisy is thrilled about that. You know none of the mothers wanted the responsibility of having a troop. It’s a dang lot of work. Yet, here Grace Conley has taken it on when she doesn’t even have a child that age herself. It’s making a big impression around here, that kind of thing. And it makes you seem even more churlish for avoiding her when she’s been so good to your twins.”
Jack kicked a post on the deck. “Yeah, Meredith and Morgan talk about her all the time. It’s ‘Grace this’ and ‘Grace that’; it’s enough to make me gag.”
Roger laughed. “Listen, Jack … why don’t you let me in on why you’re really avoiding the widow Conley?”
Frowning, Jack hedged the question. “We had a little misunderstanding, Miz Conley and I. She made it clear to my mother that she didn’t even want me to get the commission on the sale of the Oakley. That seemed to imply to me that she wouldn’t be eager to see me coming around.”
“Do you want to explain that little misunderstanding in more detail? It must have been a lulu to have caused her to cut you out of the commission on the Oakley.”
“It was just something silly.” Jack crossed his arms defensively. He didn’t want to admit, even to Roger, that he’d kissed Grace Conley out by the gazebo. Or that she’d slapped his face for it. He at least owed her that secret. She’d obviously told no one about it herself.
Roger studied him. “I see. Meaning you’re not going to confide in me, right? So be it, Jack. But you still need to be a big boy and walk over to the inn and make nice with Grace Conley. If only because your girls spend so much of their time there—if for no other reason.”
Jack scowled thinking about it.
“You can use the excuse of telling her about Crazy Man.” Roger straightened his blueprints out on the patio table to study them more closely. “The last time there was an incident with him, it was at the bed-and-breakfast. You can go over there and warn her to be careful. Look real chivalrous.”
“Yeah, maybe I’ll do that some time.”
“How about now?” Roger pushed. “She’s out walking in the yard. You don’t have an appointment until later. This is an opportune time, Jack. Remember your dad always said not to put off until tomorrow what you can well take care of today.”
Jack blew out a breath. “Okay, okay. I’ll walk over and see if I can make nice.”
Roger reached over to clap him on the back. “It’s not like going to the guillotine, Cousin. The times I’ve seen Grace Conley over at our place visiting Samantha, I remember noting she’s a right fine-looking woman.’
“I didn’t know Grace Conley had been to your place visiting Samantha.” Jack looked up at Roger in surprise.
Roger shook his head. “Shoot, man, where have you been? Those two women have become as thick as thieves. Sam’s been hungry for a woman friend, and she and Grace seem to get along like they’ve always known each other. Plus our girls, Daisy and Ruby, are about as crazy about Grace as your girls. The woman’s a natural with children. And she seems to have a gift for getting along with everyone around here except for you.”
“Well, that’s just great.” Annoyed, Jack banged his coffee cup down on the table in irritation, the coffee sloshing out over the side of the cup again.
“Hey, watch it, Jack. Those are my blueprints you’re splashing your coffee over.” Roger picked up a napkin to wipe off the corner of his blueprints and then rolled them up to put them back in the carrier tube, out of harm’s way.
He stood up and looked at Jack pointedly. “Man, you need to work this out. It’s causing you to act real out of character. And it’s causing people to talk.”
Roger started toward the back door to the realty office, but turned to give Jack a considering look. “Frankly, Jack, you don’t really need much more negative talk circulating about you. There’s been enough already of late, and it’s bad for business.”