by Terri Osburn
Randy shook his head as he wiped the sweat away with his own towel. “Will is good at looking calm on the outside, but she’s more high-strung than you’d think. I thought cutting out the caffeine would help calm her nerves.” The men crossed the workout area to reach the locker room. Randy let Sam enter first. “Which is looking like a miscalculation on my part.”
“Once she gets her legs under her with this business, I’m sure things will level out.”
“About that,” Randy said, dropping onto the edge of a bench that ran between two rows of lockers. “She mentioned this wedding coming up at your place before Christmas.”
“That’s right. We talked about it yesterday.”
“Well . . .” Randy rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s worried the place won’t be done in time. I told her that if you said it would be done, it’ll be done, but are you sure? If she can’t deliver on a deal this early, that’s going to look really bad for a new business.”
Sam didn’t like being questioned, though he understood Randy’s motivations. Will was important to him, and that meant Randy would do whatever he had to do to make sure she succeeded.
“The Sunset Harbor Inn will be renovated and ready for business in time for the wedding. I’ve already given Will my word on that, and I’ll give it to you as well.” Randy seemed to exhale and Sam added, “I wouldn’t question your business integrity. I’d appreciate the same in return.”
Randy’s nostrils flared as his brown eyes darkened. Sam was no slouch, but he knew this man could likely stomp him into dust if he wanted. That didn’t mean Sam would back down or tolerate having his word doubted.
Several tense seconds passed, before Randy nodded. “Point taken.” He tossed the towel over his shoulder. “But don’t hesitate to let me know if I can help in any way.”
So, Randy was willing to accept his word but still do whatever was necessary to make sure Will wasn’t disappointed. Fair enough.
“Will do,” Sam said, strolling past the larger man to reach his locker.
“There’s no limit to what I’d do for Will,” Randy said. “I’m sure you understand.”
The words reminded Sam of the limits of what he’d been willing to do for Meredith.
With a nod, he pulled a shaving kit from his locker and headed for the showers.
The daunting task of turning the run-down, ramshackle Sunset Harbor Inn into a stylish and modern boutique hotel in record time couldn’t compete with the struggle of having to live with Callie’s mother, even if for only a few days.
Callie could not get to work early enough when the alternative was running into Evelyn Henderson at the coffeemaker. The evening before had been filled with sighs, backward insults, and a temper tantrum her mother would term her way of expressing her sensitive and stepped-on feelings. If only Henri didn’t so enjoy poking the older woman at every opportunity. You’d think having to ride back to Charleston with her would be reason enough for her cousin to embrace peace on the Aunty front.
But Henri had always been the agitator in the family. All Callie had ever wanted was to be invisible, which was why she’d been so silent she could have been mistaken for a mute during her teenage years. As a small child, she’d done everything possible to gain her mother’s approval. By puberty, she’d come to the realization that she was wasting her time.
No matter now. Callie was a grown woman taking charge of her own life. So she’d traded seeking maternal approval for chasing professional validation. At least the newer pursuit was a possibility.
Callie was thirty minutes into entering the furniture inventory into a spreadsheet when someone knocked on her office door. Upon opening it, she found a stunning brunette on the other side. The woman was tall and lean, with an athletic build and long, wavy hair draped around her shoulders.
Were all the women on Anchor Island former runway models? If so, Callie’s self-esteem would be mush by the holidays.
“Can I help you?” she said, noticing Jack had once again left his post.
“Are you Calliope Henderson?” the woman asked, a hint of New England in her voice.
Callie nodded. “Yes, I am.”
A slender hand was extended, bangle bracelets chiming like the bells over the hotel entrance. “I’m Will Parsons. I run the wedding-coordinator business on the island. I hope I’m not bothering you.”
So this was the woman responsible for making Callie’s life more difficult. Though to be fair, Sam had been the one who’d agreed to the holiday wedding.
“No. Not a problem. Please,” Callie said. “Come in.”
“I tried to call ahead,” Will said, accepting the chair Callie offered, “but couldn’t get an answer at the front desk.”
Callie sighed. She really didn’t have time to train a new front-desk clerk. “I apologize for that. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
She had no idea if they had either prepared, since she’d brought her own tea from the cottage, but Callie offered out of habit and hoped she could find something.
“I’m good, thanks.” Will settled into the small chair in front of Callie’s desk, making her long legs more apparent as her knees nearly touched her ears. But she gracefully leaned to one side, crossing her denim-covered legs and bouncing one combat boot.
Black boots, tight jeans, and gold jewelry. The elements should have clashed, but Ms. Parsons made the combination work.
Callie regained her own seat, moving the laptop off to the side so she could see her visitor without obstruction. “I was excited to hear the island has a wedding-coordination business,” she said.
“I haven’t been in business for long,” Will admitted. “I set up shop halfway through the summer, so I’m still working on getting the word out and establishing Destination Anchor as a serious entity.”
“I hear you’re already bringing business our way. That’s a good sign.”
Will leaned an elbow on her knee and tapped her chin with one slender finger. “That’s what I’m here to talk about. I told Sam I could wait until next week to get a sense of what the end result will be after the renovation, but I’m afraid my client is less patient than I am.”
The tapping intensified, as did the rate at which the combat boot bounced. If Callie didn’t know better, she’d think Ms. Parsons was nervous about something.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” she asked again. Like maybe a mixed drink or some antacid?
Will shook her head, but the tapping continued.
“Ms. Parsons—”
“Please, call me Will.”
“Right. Will. I’m afraid we don’t have a finished plan, as I’ve only begun the proposal for Mr. Edwards’s review today. But I can tell you that the inn will be elegant yet cozy, with quality furnishings and linens. The colors will be soothing but refreshing, in a way that I’m sure your wedding party will find quite appealing.”
“And it’ll be done?” Will asked. “By Christmas?”
Though Callie had aired her own doubts the day before, she’d given Sam her word the hotel would be ready for business in time for the wedding. And so it would be. But the question did explain her visitor’s frayed nerves. As a new business, she couldn’t make a promise to a client without complete faith that she could back it up.
Callie understood Will’s dilemma.
“Yes,” she said, happy to put the coordinator’s fears to rest. “I admit there is much work to be done in a very short window, but rest assured that the Sunset Harbor Inn will be ready when the time comes.”
They might require a Christmas miracle to make that happen, but Callie had pulled off miracles before. Not of this size, but there was always a way.
Will nearly collapsed under the weight of the breath she exhaled. “Ms. Henderson—”
“Call me Callie.”
“That really is a pretty name,” Will
said, taking her by surprise. “I don’t mean to question your ability to do your job, but this hotel . . .” The words trailed off as Will glanced around the room.
“Yes, this hotel,” Callie said, leaning forward to set her elbows on the desk. “As I said, there is much to be done, but I’ve tackled similar projects in the past. With a thorough plan in place, it’ll all come together. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Henri didn’t call her Pollyanna for nothing. Whatever it was going to take to whip this hotel into shape, Callie would do it with a smile on her face and a positive attitude.
Will slowly relaxed into her chair, one muscle at a time. The tapping ebbed as a smile spread across her narrow face. “Sam assured me of the same thing, but I could tell he was speaking from ego. Few men can resist a challenge, but they rarely consider the reality of the situation.”
Callie couldn’t argue with that, but she also needed to back up her boss. “Mr. Edwards knows what he’s doing. He once turned an all-but-condemned old factory into a premier hotel in the heart of Charleston—something everyone said he’d never pull off.”
The wiry brunette sat up straight. “You knew Sam before he came to Anchor?”
Why did she have to be so damned honest? Not that she’d intended to lie to people, but Callie also wasn’t prepared to explain how she and Sam were connected. “It was a long time ago,” she said, rising from her chair.
“So he’s from Charleston?” Will asked, blue eyes bright with interest.
“That area, yes.” Strolling around the desk, Callie struggled to remain polite while giving a clear indication that their meeting was over. “I really do need to get back to this proposal if I’m going to have it done by Friday. The sooner we have a plan in place, the sooner we can start the work.”
“Yes,” Will said, gathering her bag from the floor beside her chair. “Of course.” Upon reaching the door, the taller woman turned. “I really don’t mean to be nosy. I’m not big on talking about my past, either. But Sam is the only person on this island that no one knows anything about. I guess I’ve been here long enough to have caught the curiosity bug of the natives.”
“I’m afraid any details about Mr. Edwards’s past will have to come from him,” Callie said, offering a smile to lessen the edge of her words. “I really am looking forward to working with you. Weddings are my favorite events to hold, and I can’t wait to see the inaugural event here at the Sunset Harbor Inn.”
Will returned the smile and offered her business card. “If you’re interested in getting to know the island, give me a call. I have some friends I’d like you to meet.”
The words sounded sincere, and Callie appreciated the chance to make a few friends on Anchor, even if her stay was temporary.
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
CHAPTER 7
Sam entered the Anchor Inn at eight thirty Friday morning to find Callie sitting in the lobby, reviewing some paperwork in her lap. He appreciated punctuality in his employees, but a half hour early seemed a bit extreme.
As did the reaction of his body upon seeing her.
“Is there a reason you’re here so early?” Sam asked, the words harsher than necessary.
She glanced up, her mouth forming an O in surprise. Then she flashed a tentative smile, as if maybe she’d felt a similar jolt to her system upon seeing him. An idiotic imagining on his part.
“My mother is an early riser.”
She didn’t elaborate, indicating this statement should be an adequate explanation. Sam considered her words for several seconds before the truth set in.
“I see.”
“I know you’re not available until nine. It’s no problem,” she said, lifting the papers from her lap. “I’m fine out here.”
“Is that the proposal?” he asked.
“It is.”
“Is it ready?”
Her brows lowered. “Of course it is.”
“Then follow me.”
Sam led Callie through the lobby with the goal of making this a quick meeting and sending her on her way.
“Did you include financial specs?” Sam asked, pushing his office door open and motioning for Callie to enter first.
“I’ve created a full budget, but I’m sure the numbers will change, as I’ve no idea what resources are readily available here on the island and what we’ll need to source out.”
Sam took his place behind the desk as Callie stopped in front of it. He remained standing until she took the hint and lowered into her chair.
“As we’re doing this during a slower time of the year, finding manual labor on the island shouldn’t be a problem.” Sam pressed the ON button of his laptop as he took a seat. “Regarding the furniture you suggested we keep, there are craftsmen on the island who can likely handle refurbishment.”
Callie removed a pen from behind her ear, opened her folder, and made a note. The movement drew his attention to the way her gold-streaked hair shimmered in the morning sun. “Excellent,” she said, snapping him back to the moment. “I was hoping that would be the case. The more we can handle on-island, the better. For both cost and scheduling.”
“Agreed,” he said, not completely sure of what she’d said.
“Here’s your copy for review.” Callie slid the stapled sheets of paper his way. “If you’d rather read it all the way through before discussing, I can come back later today.”
Sam flipped through the paperwork, noting she’d included everything from color samples to flooring choices. The proposal looked thorough and well researched. As he’d known it would.
“This is fine,” he said, determined once again to get this meeting over with. “Let’s flip to the budget.”
Callie did as he asked. “The cost analysis is the final four pages. As I said, there may be options on the island I don’t know about, but for the most part these figures should be close, if not completely accurate.”
Turning to the last page first, Sam glanced at the bottom line. Not exactly cheap, but in the ballpark of what he’d been looking to spend. The shortened time frame would mean an increase in cost, but the number Callie had come up with was acceptable.
“You believe this number is realistic?” he asked, digging to make sure she hadn’t provided a number for his approval with the intention of stretching the amount higher during the process.
Golden brows shot up. “Very realistic,” she said. “For the amount of time we have and the condition the hotel is in, that’s a solid number. I fully intend to get the best deal possible on everything I can, but there are some corners that simply can’t be cut.”
“I agree,” he said. “Where is the color scheme?”
Surprise danced across Callie’s face before she flipped through her own packet to answer his question. She must have expected him to drill harder on the numbers, but he didn’t see any reason to waste time when he agreed with her estimations. They discussed the proposal for another twenty minutes and encountered only one speed bump, as they debated the shade of green to use for one of the room blocks. But all in all, the proposal was exactly what he’d been thinking, with touches he hadn’t even considered. Which is why he’d brought Callie in to begin with—to capture the boutique aesthetic.
“We’re ready to proceed,” he said, once they’d agreed on the outside color, which would be a blue gray close to the current shade, and the addition of a gazebo near the water. Sam hadn’t thought much beyond the initial building itself but appreciated Callie’s broader view of the entire property.
“Then I’ll get started,” Callie said, slipping the proposal into a slender briefcase at her feet. “There is one more thing we need to discuss.”
All his male instincts told Sam to brace for something bad. Callie’s words were the equivalent of the dreaded “we need to talk.”
“And what is that?” he asked, fighting the urge to say
he had another meeting. Since she was his scheduled meeting, not meant to start for ten more minutes, the lie would be obvious.
“Us,” she said. The word dropped like the pin being pulled from a grenade.
Sam did what any man would have done. He played dumb.
“I don’t follow.”
Callie sighed. “We can’t keep pretending there isn’t unfinished business between us, Sam. I appreciate this job and am looking forward to the renovation, but we’re going to be dealing closely with each for the next three months. I can’t keep up the farce.”
“The farce?” Sam said, zeroing in on the word that struck him the hardest. “Is that what you think this is?”
“A poor choice of words on my part, but the last time we saw each other before Monday wasn’t exactly normal. Or have you forgotten?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything.” Not for lack of trying. At least not in the past few days. “But I’m not interested in revisiting ancient history. The past needs to stay in the past.”
“I’ve tried that,” she said, leaning back in her chair, as if settling in for a long, leisurely discussion. “If three years of therapy taught me anything, it’s that ignoring the past doesn’t work.”
“You’ve done therapy?” Sam had never been interested in examining his feelings and sure as hell had no intention of ever delving into the scars of his childhood. Both were the first requirements that came to mind when he heard the word therapy.
Callie kept her head up. “You know how my marriage ended, and you’ve met my mother. If anything, I’d expect you to be more surprised if I’d never had therapy.”
While Sam had stuffed his demons into some dark recess of his mind, Callie had called hers out in a duel. Considering the confident, seemingly well-adjusted woman before him, he thought she’d clearly won the battle. Which left Sam feeling outgunned and ill prepared for what she expected them to hash out in a morning meeting.
“What do you want to hear?” Sam asked, happy to say whatever it was she needed to get this over with.