by Terri Osburn
“Come in,” he said, glancing at his calendar to see if he’d forgotten about an appointment. The entire morning was open, so this was an unplanned visitor, whoever he was.
When the door opened, the gangly young man stepping through was the last person Sam expected to see.
“Is Callie alright?” he asked, concerned the young clerk would only come to see him if something bad had happened. The teen’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he remained near the door, his face ashen white. “Damn it, tell me what’s happened to her.”
“Callie is fine,” he said, slamming his hands into his pockets. “Mostly.”
Sam charged around the desk, and the boy looked ready to run. Struggling to remain calm, he spoke slowly. “Why are you here, Jack? Is something wrong?”
“I shouldn’t have come,” Jack mumbled, trying to scurry back out the door.
“Jack!” Sam yelled, then checked himself. He was already dealing with a scared rabbit. Yelling wasn’t going to get him anywhere. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Closing the door, then leaning against it, Jack said, “It’s the inn. We’re not going to be done in time.”
“I thought more people had signed up to work.” He’d read as much in Callie’s reports.
“We did, but we lost a few along the way, too.” Tugging on his shirt, Jack spit out the rest. “Callie is practically killing herself, working around the clock. She won’t let me stay past eight, and even if she works twenty-four-seven for the next week, we’re never going to be ready before the guests show up.”
“Why didn’t she tell me before now?”
“I don’t know,” Jack said. “She’s probably going to kill me for coming over here, but I had to do something. I can’t let her make herself sick over a stupid hotel.” Realizing he was talking to the owner of that hotel, the boy tried to backtrack. “I mean . . . Not that . . .”
“No,” Sam said. “You’re right. It’s nothing but a stupid hotel.”
Considering his options, Sam paced the small space in front of his desk. He could storm in now, demand to take over, and let Callie see herself as a failure. But Sam couldn’t make ten people do the work of twenty any better than Callie could. What they needed were bodies. Able bodies willing to work overtime to get the job done.
“I know what we need to do,” Sam said, grabbing his suit jacket off the coatrack in the corner. “You’re going to pretend we never had this conversation.”
“I can do that,” Sam’s new favorite employee said, tossing a shock of white hair off his forehead. “But what are you going to do?”
“Get us more bodies,” Sam answered.
Callie had become too dependent on Jack, as proven by the fact that she checked the clock every two minutes while he was off delivering the final invoices and packing slips to Yvonne at the Anchor. She was not anticipating his return because she hoped he might mention having seen Sam. Callie wasn’t interested in what Sam was doing. She didn’t care about him at all.
Now, if she could only convince her heart of that.
God, she missed him. Sleeping without him was awful, so Callie didn’t sleep. Much. She’d set up camp on her blue chair after four days of trying to sleep in the bed. Thankfully, Yvonne had picked up the box of his things. It felt ridiculous, but she couldn’t see him, and Sam clearly didn’t want to see her, either.
He hadn’t even answered her email, except to say he expected weekly status reports on the renovation. That was it. After all the time they’d spent together, he’d let her go without so much as a “thanks for the sex” postscript.
And then Henri had abandoned her. She’d tried to get Callie to go home for Thanksgiving, but there was no time. The inn had been behind schedule, and still was, which was proving detrimental to Callie’s health. The clothes that had been tight weeks before were now falling off, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a good meal.
Not that it mattered. She didn’t have much of an appetite these days.
The work had to be finished, and Callie wasn’t ready to give up. They had eight days before the first guests arrived for the wedding. If Callie worked day and night, she could have everything in place and get the staff in at least two days before. She’d barely have time to walk across the street and feed Cecil, and maybe shower now and then, but this job would be finished on time if it killed her.
“I’m back,” Jack yelled from the front door. “And I have lunch.”
Callie set the paint roller on the corner of the tray and exited the dining room. “But it’s only ten thirty,” she said, concerned she might be so tired as to have forgotten how to read a clock.
“Since you probably haven’t eaten since lunchtime yesterday, I think you’re entitled to an early break.”
When had Jack become so bossy? Callie was about to remind him who was in charge and how much work they had to do, when the smell of Dempsey’s fish and chips hit her nose.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Yep.”
“How did you know I like fish and chips?”
Jack paused in pulling the food from the large bag. “Doesn’t everyone like fish and chips?”
He had her there. “Pass it over,” she said, her mouth watering already. “Is this why you took so long?”
“Sure,” Jack said, stuffing a fry into his mouth as if someone might steal it from him.
“You didn’t see anyone else at the Anchor?” Damn it. She was not going to ask about Sam.
“Nope.” Her lunch mate stuck another fry into his mouth, and Callie took the hint to stop asking questions. It wasn’t as if Jack didn’t know what she was getting at. He wasn’t stupid. Everyone around knew she and Sam had run aground.
Having the entire village in her business would be the one drawback to staying on the island, which she’d decided to do. Then again, Callie didn’t plan to have any business for them to be in. She and Sam were over, and once this renovation was finished, they would no longer have any reason to deal with each other.
She certainly wouldn’t be dating anytime soon. Her focus for the foreseeable future would be on her career only. The real estate office needed several properties updated, which would challenge her creativity to make them all different. She found the idea of decorating independent dwellings, instead of typically four-walled, boxy hotel rooms, rather exciting.
Of course, she had to finish this project first. Which had her eating faster than normal to get back to the painting.
“Are you trying to set a record?” Jack asked.
He must have woken up on the cheeky side of the bed today. “I need to get back to the dining room,” Callie said, after swallowing a large bite of fish. “I still have three pillars to do, and the fireplace mantel needs a second coat.”
Her young friend put a hand over her food. “Ten minutes isn’t going to hurt anything.” His brown eyes were filled with concern. “You need to eat like a normal person.”
Ten minutes probably wouldn’t be the end of the world. And devouring such good food without enjoying it was criminal.
Callie nodded. “You’re right. I’ll slow down.”
They continued to eat in amicable silence until every crumb was gone. They were collecting their garbage into the bag the food had come in when Callie heard cars pulling up outside.
“Were we expecting another delivery?” she asked Jack. His only response was a shrug, but he also wouldn’t meet her eye. “Jack? What are you up to?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, slam-dunking their garbage into the can behind the desk and heading for the dining room. “I’ll get back to the painting while you see who it is.”
Before Callie could argue, Skinny Legs was gone and she heard footsteps on the front porch. She’d made it two steps when the door swung open and both familiar and unfamiliar faces poured in.
“Wh
at . . . ,” Callie uttered, as more and more people crossed the threshold. “Will,” she said, addressing the person closest to her. “What is going on?”
Glancing behind her, Will smiled. “We heard you could use some help over here.”
“Well . . .” She couldn’t seem to finish a thought. How did they know? “Who told you that?”
Randy helped Will pull off her coat. “A little birdie. And we’re here as long as you need us.”
This couldn’t be happening. Besides Will and Randy, Sid and Lucas were there, as well as Beth and Joe. Struggling to process the scene, Callie grasped onto the obvious. “Beth?” she said, staring at the woman who looked ready to pop at any second.
“I’m here only for moral support,” Beth said, holding up her hands. “I wish I could do more, but for obvious reasons, that’s not possible right now.”
“And I’m not letting her out of my sight,” Joe said, removing his own coat. “Not until the little bugger arrives.”
Callie couldn’t hold back the tears, though she felt like an idiot crying in front of all these people. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You can start by telling us what you need done,” Lucas said, rubbing his hands together. “I’m sure if we break into teams, we can have this place open for business in no time.”
“We’d better,” Will said. “I’ve got a nervous bride arriving in eight days.”
Wiping the tears away, Callie couldn’t help but laugh. “And everything will be perfect when she gets here.” Taking a deep breath, she started barking orders. “I need curtains hung in all the upstairs rooms, as well as linens put on the beds.”
“Kinzie and Sid, let’s get to it,” Will said, charging toward the stairs.
Barreling on, Callie said, “There are several pieces of furniture in the back of the dining room that need to be installed in the rooms. Each has a Post-it that will tell you where it needs to go. Who’s ready to do some heavy lifting?”
Randy, Joe, Lucas, and an attractive young man stepped forward. “This is Manny,” Randy said, introducing the fourth member of the group, who nodded in Callie’s direction. “Looks like we’re your guys.”
As the muscle disappeared into the dining room, Callie spotted Bernie and some of the workers from outside lingering near the door. “You came back,” she said, the tears loading up again.
“Might as well finish what we started,” Bernie said in his usual gruff tone.
Though he was less than receptive, Callie threw her arms around him. A few seconds into the hug, the curmudgeon patted her on the back.
“Right,” he said when she’d finally released him. “Where do you want us?”
“If we all knock out the finishing touches on the walls of the dining room, we can start loading the detail pieces in the rooms.” Callie glanced around the lobby and spotted Beth looking miserable all alone at the edge of the counter. “You can’t be around the paint fumes,” she said, chewing her bottom lip as she considered what the woman could do. “I know.”
Callie disappeared into her office, returning seconds later with a notepad and catalog.
“Have a seat right back here,” she said, helping Beth lower herself into Jack’s chair behind the counter. “The last task is going to be decorating this place for Christmas. We’re going for festive without looking as if Santa’s workshop threw up in the halls.”
“You want me to pick out the decorations?” Beth asked, green eyes wide.
“Precisely,” Callie replied. “This is the catalog from the Trading Post, and Floyd assured me most of this stuff is in his back room. And if you know of anything we can get elsewhere on the island, write that down, too.”
“I can do that,” Beth said, looking excited to be contributing to the work.
Callie left the mom-to-be to work some Christmas magic and returned to her office. She let the tears flow freely then, relishing the sound of footsteps overhead. This was going to work. They’d needed a Christmas miracle, and here it was.
“Hey,” Jack said, bounding into her office in his usual way. He froze when he saw Callie’s face. “Why are you crying? I thought this was good.”
“It is good,” Callie mumbled, nodding her head up and down. Then she threw her arms around the gangly young man who had put this miracle in motion. “Thank you for doing this.”
“But I didn’t—”
“I know you did, so don’t deny it, Jack. Now I know why you were gone so long this morning.”
“It wasn’t—”
“I don’t know how, and right now I don’t care.” Pushing the stuttering teenager into the lobby, Callie added, “Back to work. We’ve got a hotel to finish!”
Sam enforced every ounce of self-control he had to keep from driving over to the inn and joining the others. Will had used some excuse to call him from Callie’s office and give him an update. According to her estimations, with the added crew they would have the place put back together by the end of the week, providing plenty of time to bring the new staff in and have the place ready for guests before the big arrivals.
He imagined Callie trying to finish all the work on her own, not sleeping or eating. She likely would have done it, too. Her tenacity almost made up for her stubborn streak. She should have let him know weeks ago that the crew had thinned back out. That she was in the weeds and needed his help.
But that was the catch. Callie didn’t need him for anything and she was determined to prove it. Even if she whittled herself down to nothing in the process.
Yes, stubborn and prideful. And beautiful and brilliant and better than anything he ever deserved.
CHAPTER 27
She did it. With the help of some of the best people she would ever meet in her life, Callie renovated and rejuvenated the Sunset Harbor Inn in less than three months. The furnishings looked amazing, the rooms were cozy and inviting, and the exterior sparkled in the sun. The gazebo still needed a paint job, but that could wait.
Callie was not going to stress over a gazebo in the dead of winter. Thanks to Beth’s vision, they’d draped it in thick strands of garland with a large red bow on the front, and it made a wonderful focal point not far from the harbor. There would be many beautiful weddings staged around that gazebo, some of them maybe even planned by her.
But that was in the future. Today was about celebrating the current accomplishment. The wedding guests would arrive in two days, but first was an open house party. Everyone who’d helped with the renovation would be wined and dined, and Jack had even agreed to play DJ. Callie wasn’t certain what kind of music they would get, but the air-guitar god had promised nothing too screamy—his word—and that had been good enough for her.
Standing on the front porch of the Peabody Cottage, Callie fortified herself for the test ahead. Today she would see Sam. He was the owner, after all. Not inviting him to his own open house had seemed rude, though Callie wasn’t beneath considering it. Still, common sense had won out. Her pride had taken harder hits. She would survive this one.
They’d received a dusting of snow overnight, and while Callie had heard that was not a usual event here, the weather didn’t seem to have scared anyone off. Many spaces in the parking lot were filled when she made the short trek that she’d made so many times before in the last twelve weeks. This one felt tougher, as if she were walking against a wall of something that was pushing back.
Stopping outside the front door, Callie took several deep breaths, then noticed movement to her left. So bundled that she could barely see their faces, Bernie and Olaf hovered around their ancient barrel, playing checkers.
The newly painted table she’d given them sat ignored in the corner.
“Why are you still using this barrel?” she asked as she stepped up beside Olaf.
“T’ain’t nothin’ wrong with it,” Bernie said, scooting a black checker one block to the right.
&
nbsp; Callie almost argued, then reconsidered. “Can we at least give it a coat of paint?”
“I suppose,” he said, grimacing as Olaf took his checkers. “Now get inside. You’re distracting me.”
She considered lingering to annoy him. And to avoid what she would inevitably face inside. But then Bernie looked up for a second, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips as he winked at her. His face returned to normal so quickly, Callie wondered if she hadn’t imagined the whole thing.
“The punch is good,” Olaf said, ignoring the board for a moment. “And they got scallops wrapped in bacon,” he added, holding up a small plate covered in exactly that.
“I’ll give your regards to the chef,” Callie said, walking toward the hotel entrance. She stopped once again before the door to steady herself.
Like ripping off a Band-Aid, she thought. Get it over with.
Charging ahead, Callie stepped into the lobby of the Sunset Harbor Inn and marveled at the difference from the first time she’d stepped inside. The first thing that hit her was the smell. Once again, Jack had been the champion. His suggestion that they pour a drop or two of vanilla into each can of paint meant the place smelled much better than it would have without the added touch.
The presence of live garland, which had also been Beth’s idea, meant the scents of pine and cookies filled Callie’s senses and made her feel festive and hungry at the same time. Upbeat music pulsed from the dining room, from which she could hear voices.
She hadn’t seen Sam’s Murano parked out front, so maybe she could have a few drinks before he arrived. Take the edge off, and then seeing him might not hit her so hard.
But before she could make her feet move, the bells chimed over the door, signaling a new arrival. Turning, she saw him and knew that no amount of alcohol would have made this easier.
Sam stood frozen in the open doorway as their eyes met. Then he looked her up and down, as if taking her in. He didn’t look as haughty as she’d expected. Or as arrogant. For a second, he looked happy to see her, but then the mask was back in place, his expression flat and free of emotion.