“I tend to agree,” he said.
“So we basically have a top-level choice to make,” she continued. “Well, since you’re the majority partner, you do. Do we sell the place and walk away with cash, or keep running it?” Cynthia paused for a breath, but not long enough to let Phillip answer. “So the way I see it, if you sell, I’m pretty screwed. Let’s say you got the four, my cut of that would be one point six. But that’s pretty much all short term capital gains, which means I’m paying forty percent federal taxes and twelve percent state taxes on it. I don’t know how it works for you with the trust. Is it the corporate rate? Anyway, it can’t be good for you either.”
“We aren’t selling the inn,” he said.
Cynthia breathed deeply. “Oh. Thank God.”
“Momma wouldn’t have wanted that,” he explained. “Plus, you clearly know what you’re doing. If I had this in cash, I’d be hard pressed to match the return the inn is producing on value. What’d you say, nine percent?”
“That’s the number the appraisers used as a standard, but it really depends on what valuation we agree to.”
“Let’s call it an even three mil,” Phillip said.
“That sounds fair,” Cynthia agreed.
“Okay, I’ll have my lawyer write that up. So what about the codicil?” he asked.
Cynthia had been planning for this question for weeks. She had been intentionally burying Phillip in minute operational details in order to set the stage for her proposal. She took a deep breath, centered herself, and then started in. “Well at three million, my fifteen percent buyout is four-fifty. And I’m going to level with you Phillip—I don’t have that kind of cash under my mattress. Even if I clean out my 401K, and all my liquid assets, I’m not even close.”
“I see,” Phillip said, looking defeated. Cynthia could tell he wanted out of his majority stake as much as she wanted into it.
“So here’s my proposal,” she continued. “The trust loans me the four-fifty, using my forty percent as collateral. On a three mil valuation, that’s one point two of collateral, or about two and a half times. So that’s a highly defensible loan obligation. I pay it back from my share of earnings, with a fair market interest rate, say five percent.”
Phillip was smiling and nodding now.
“Assuming we hit our EBITDA goal of three hundred, say one fifty after taxes, my share is about sixty.”
“Eighty,” Phillip corrected her.
Cynthia looked at the camera, puzzled. “How do you figure?”
“Because after we execute the loan, you’ll not only have the controlling share, but you’ll also be entitled to the proportional distributions. So it’s not forty percent of the one fifty, but rather fifty-five percent.”
“Oh! Yeah. You’re totally right. Okay, so like eighty after taxes. We’d have to run the interest table, but that’s what, seven years? Could be less if earnings are better. Maybe a little longer if the economy weakens. What do you think?”
Phillip looked into the camera and tapped his pen against his lips. “I think it stops these daily emails.”
Cynthia smiled. She liked that Phillip saw right through her plan. She respected his business acumen a little more than she had before, which was already quite a lot. “I could keep them coming if you wanted me to,” she teased.
“Good Lord, no,” he said, followed by a broad smile.
“So we have a deal?” she asked.
“We have a deal. I’ll have my lawyer write it all up. The valuation, the loan agreement, and so on. It’s all just a paper transaction, so you should talk to your tax guy about whether there are any implications. I don’t think there will be.”
“I’m so relieved you don’t want to sell the inn,” Cynthia said. “I can easily see myself doing this for the rest of my life.”
“That would be in both of our best interest, so I hope you do. It’ll probably be a few days before I can get everything written up. I’ll send it by FedEx when it’s ready.”
“Thank you so much,” she said. She signed off the Skype and sat back in her chair. Holy shit. I’m going to own this place, she thought.
¤
Cynthia followed Charlie down the twisting roads. It was no longer a surprise where he was taking her, since these afternoon picnics had become a fairly regular event. But she was excited nonetheless, because he always made her such a wonderful assortment of amazing food. She wasn’t sure if it was the regular exercise, or something about his cooking, but she hadn’t put on any weight since anointing Charlie with boyfriend status. She wasn’t complaining, of course. But she found it interesting.
They reached their usual spot and she dismounted from her bike and put her helmet on the picnic table. Charlie unpacked the basket, which he had strapped to the back of his bike. Cynthia could feel her mouth starting to water. “I love that we do this,” she said. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and held him tight for a moment.
He wriggled free enough to turn around and kiss her. “Me too,” he said, and then finished setting up the table.
Cynthia sat on the bench and waited patiently. “You’re a very good boyfriend,” she said.
Charlie smiled. “I like to think so.” He sat down and poured some white wine in two glasses. He picked his up in a toast, “To my girlfriend.”
She smiled broadly and accepted his toast. “Oh! This is good. Don’t let me drink too much. I’m driving, you know.”
“We both are,” he agreed. “So I’ve been thinking.”
“Uh oh,” she teased.
Charlie grinned. “I’m spending a lot of time at your place. When I’m not at the restaurant, I’m at the inn. My houseplants are all dead because of you.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“You should be. So, I know you can’t exactly move in with me. And it seems weird for me to suggest I move in with you, but since you haven’t asked, I figure I have to,” he said.
Cynthia’s stomach dropped and her heart started racing. She felt an overwhelming urge to get on her bike and ride away as fast and as far as she could. “Um,” was all she managed to say. She took a long drink of her wine.
Charlie examined her face, waiting for a response. She was waiting for him to speak, since she had no idea what to say. He didn’t, though. He simply waited her out.
“Isn’t it too soon?” she finally asked.
He shook his head. “No. It isn’t.”
“If I say no, are you going to leave me?” she asked.
Charlie chuckled. “You know kid, you have some issues you could probably work through in therapy. Fear of abandonment, fear of commitment—”
“Fear of clowns,” she interrupted.
“That one’s perfectly rational,” he said. “I know you don’t believe in God—”
“Who said that?” she interrupted again.
“Well, since you’ve never uttered a single religious word since I’ve known you, except when you are swearing, I just assumed.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but did not respond.
“Anyway, although I don’t think you have a strong belief in a deity, I think you would acknowledge the divine. That there are forces at play in this world that we don’t understand.”
She sipped her wine, but said nothing.
“The forces that brought you and I together, or the force that brought you and Emma together. And personally, I believe that one facet of that divinity is community. Or, in a sense, family.”
Cynthia didn’t know where Charlie was going with this, but he had her attention. He had never been one to dwell on the metaphysical, so she found the whole conversation strangely fascinating.
“You have a family,” he continued, “at the Phillips House. The people who work for you, Emma when she was still with us, Phillip, Patrick, and even Paula.”
“Paula and I are getting along a lot better now. She thought I was going to get involved with Patrick.”
“Well that’s… wait. What now?”
>
Cynthia smiled and shook her head. “He was interested in me. I turned him down.”
It was Charlie’s turn to narrow his eyes. “Hmm.”
“Oh, don’t be jealous. You’re my boyfriend. Anyway, I think a big part of her issue with me was related to her brothers, and she’s over that now. I interrupted. Please continue with the divinity lecture, professor.”
Charlie shook his head. “Anyway,” he glared at her a moment. “Anyway, I believe that when your husband left you, and the way it happened—I believe that you protect yourself from letting that happen again by isolating yourself. And that by doing that, you are depriving yourself of the divine gift of family. And I think you’re learning to let that defense system down a little. You are dipping your toe into relationships, but you aren’t there yet.”
Cynthia pursed her lips. “There’s a lot going on in that brain of yours. More than you let on,” she said.
Charlie smiled and sipped his wine. “You should let me in. By keeping people out, you are depriving yourself of the divine. People want to love you. You are an amazing person. You need to let them.”
Tears formed in Cynthia’s eyes. Charlie got up, came around the table, and sat next to her. He pulled her into his chest. “Think about it,” he said. “I love you, and you love me, and you have to give up before you can win.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
Cynthia sat bolt upright in bed. “Charlie,” she nudged him. “Do you smell that?”
Charlie groggily turned toward her. “Huh?”
“Do you smell that? It smells like gas.”
He opened his eyes and pushed himself halfway up. “Like, natural gas?” he asked.
“No. Like gasoline. Like from a car. You don’t smell that?”
He shook his head. “No. But I know better than to question your sense of smell. I’ll go check it out.” He slipped out of bed, and Cynthia picked up her phone to use as a flashlight and followed him. As they exited the residence section, the smell became much stronger. “Oh, yeah. I totally—” he started.
“Holy shit!” Cynthia yelled. “Look!”
Charlie fumbled to get the light switch as they saw that the front porch of the inn was engulfed in flames, and smoke was seeping into the lobby under the door. “Fuck!” he yelled.
“Go wake the guests!” Cynthia ordered. “I’ll call 911.”
Charlie flew up the stairs as Cynthia made the call. She told the dispatcher about the fire and her address, and then she ran up the stairs to help Charlie. It was a full night, and all nine upstairs rooms were booked. When she saw all the doors were open, she led people down the stairs and stationed herself to point people toward the rear exit as they ran out.
The smoke alarms all started blaring as Charlie came back down. “That’s all of them. I got everyone. Is the fire department coming?”
“Yes!” Cynthia looked at the door. The fire had not yet entered the building. “Do we have time to grab stuff?” she asked.
“I’ll get your laptop,” Charlie said running over to her desk. “But I think we should just get out.”
Cynthia grabbed her purse. “Are you sure everyone is out?” she asked, as the two of them ran for the back door.
“Pretty sure. How many guests tonight?”
“Seventeen. Nine rooms, two people in each, except one single,” she replied.
Charlie paused on the back porch to count. “I see sixteen. Hey! Everyone! Is anyone not in the back yard?” he yelled.
“My husband went around front!” a woman yelled back.
“Okay!” He turned to Cynthia. “Yeah, everyone is out.”
“Everyone go to the parking lot,” Cynthia shouted. “Follow me.”
She headed around the building, giving it a wide berth. Charlie lagged behind to make sure everyone fell in line. They reached the front of the building and Cynthia nearly threw up. The entire facade of the building was burning now. The air was filling with thick, black smoke. She heard the sirens approaching. Charlie put his hand around her and guided her away from the building and to the side of the parking lot. He then ushered everyone else aside as a sedan with flashing red lights slid to a stop. It was followed quickly by a large truck.
The fire fighters rolled out of the truck and immediately got to work. Charlie ran over to the man in charge, and they had a short conversation. Then he ran back to Cynthia. “They’re going to go around back and double check that the building is clear,” he said.
There was a loud bang and Cynthia watched a huge burst of sparks fly straight up into the air. She looked at Charlie. He looked into her eyes. Her terror was mixed with a feeling of complete loss. She knew the fire was too big. The firemen were powerless to control it.
“Look at me,” Charlie said, holding her shoulders. “Everyone got out okay. That’s what’s important. Everything else is just stuff. Stuff can be replaced.”
Cynthia’s eyes were full of tears, both from the smoke and from the anguish. She nodded.
“You saved those people. You and that amazing sense of smell. You saved all these people,” Charlie said.
Cynthia looked around at the group. Everyone was staring at the building. She didn’t feel like a hero. She felt completely lost and alone.
¤
Cynthia talked to each of the guests in the parking lot. Thankfully, all had followed Charlie’s instructions to grab their keys and valuables, and with the permission of the fire chief, each of them was allowed to go home. One by one, she confirmed that she had the right address for each guest, and she told them that whatever they left in their room would be sent to them. If it was salvageable, of course. The guest rooms were in the back of the building and the fire was in the front, so she thought there was a good chance their belongings might be okay. But she made no promises.
After about an hour, the guests were all gone, and she stood with Charlie watching the spectacle. “Did I do this?” she asked. “You hear about fires happening, and it’s always because someone did something stupid. Too many things plugged into an extension cord or something. Is it possible I did this?”
Charlie held her. “No, sweetie. There’s no way this is your fault.”
“I smelled gas before it happened. Why did I smell that?”
“I told the fire chief that. He said it looks like it was set. Like someone doused the front porch in gas and lit it on fire. Said the state would send someone in the morning who would be able to tell for sure.”
“Who would do that?” she asked.
Charlie shook his head. “No idea.”
Then it hit her. A wave of nausea rolled over Cynthia and she pulled away from Charlie barely in time to miss his shoes as she threw up.
“Jesus! Are you okay?” Charlie asked. “Is it the smoke? The air does smell pretty awful, and I know I don’t smell things nearly as intensely as you do.”
Cynthia spit and took a deep breath. She turned to Charlie. “No. Not the smoke.” She took another deep breath. “I did this. I made this happen.”
“What do you mean?” Charlie asked.
“Fuck. I… I don’t even want to talk about it. Let’s wait until they investigate.” Cynthia was now feeling dizzy. “I need to sit down.”
Charlie led her over to the ambulance, which Cynthia guessed was sitting on scene in case any of the firefighters got hurt. She sat on the bumper and they gave her a bottled water. She looked up at Charlie. “What am I going to do?” she asked.
“It’ll be okay,” he said. “I know it seems bad right now. But tomorrow will come and things will be a little better, and then the day after that. We recover.”
She squeezed his hand. “Remember how you wanted to move in together?” she said.
Charlie smiled and glanced at the inn. “Yeah?”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad idea,” she said.
“Dunno, it looks a little wet,” he said.
She kicked his shin. “Not here, stupid. Your place.”
He sat next to her on the bumper and
put his arm around her. She leaned into his chest, and he held her there awhile. “There’s no point staying here,” he said. “Let’s go back to my place and get cleaned up. Get some sleep. We can come back first thing tomorrow, okay?”
Cynthia nodded. Charlie stood up and went to talk to the fire chief one last time. Then he came back. “Okay, we’re all set to go. They know where you’ll be and I told them we’d be back tomorrow. He said the state fire marshal and someone from the sheriff’s office will be here first thing.” He offered Cynthia his hand and walked her to his car.
“When will we be able to go back in? To see what’s left?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Certainly not tonight. We can ask tomorrow, okay?” he said, guiding Cynthia into the passenger seat of his car.
Cynthia closed her eyes as they made the short drive to Charlie’s house. “My bike!” she yelled.
Charlie chuckled. “Yeah, our bikes were on the porch. No way they made it.”
Cynthia started to cry. “You bought that for me. That was the first gift you ever got me. That bike was special!” The shock and grief of the situation suddenly enveloped Cynthia. She hadn’t felt like this since that night in the emergency room with Emma. She sobbed uncontrollably.
Charlie put his hand on her leg and squeezed gently. “I’ll buy you a new bike. Remember—just things. Things can be replaced. People are what’s important.”
Cynthia put her face in her hands and willed herself to wake up. She wanted this to all have been a terrible dream.
THIRTY-NINE
Cynthia smelled the inn before she saw it. There were wisps of steam rising from the blackened structure. It had an eerie quality. Charlie parked the car and she stepped out onto the gravel. Celita came running out of nowhere and almost knocked her down with a hug. “Tía! You’re okay!”
She held the hug for a while. It felt nice. “Are Nina and Billy here?” she asked.
“No, I told them to go home. Obviously ain’t nothing we can do here. I’m so sorry, Tía. What happened?”
“We don’t know yet,” Cynthia said, looking at the black, steaming edifice.
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