Close to Home

by Raney, Deborah;

  Forgive me, Lord. Poor Grant was only trying to help. And they were both operating on way too little sleep and way too much stress. But how on earth were they going to keep the inn running while Cecelia recovered?

  It would be bad enough these next few days she’d be in the hospital. And Labor Day weekend was just around the corner. Things would really get tricky when they released Cecelia. There was no way she could go home, and there was no way they could bring her to the inn. Not and still keep it open to the guests they had scheduled. They couldn’t afford to lose the bookings they already had, and they sure couldn’t afford to shut the inn down for even a few weeks. They were doing better financially, but it seemed they were always just one slow month away from a crisis.

  Even if they could bring Grant’s mother here to recover, there was only one bedroom on the main floor, and she doubted Cecelia could climb the steps if she couldn’t even hang on to the railings. After all, she’d gotten where she was by falling off a porch!

  She heard laughter outside the kitchen windows. The two babies were asleep in their carriers on the living room floor, and the dads had taken the other kids out to the meadow for a game of kickball.

  She felt Grant’s hand on her arm. “I’ll get this. You go sit down.” He steered her from behind into the great room where their four kids and Bree, plus Dallas’s brother, Drew, were perched on the sofas and chairs. She got the impression Grant had asked Drew specifically to stay inside. The kids’ grew still, and Grant waited while she curled into one corner of the love seat.

  He’d told her how their kids had all gathered at the hospital this afternoon to visit Cecelia, and now here they were again. This was requiring a lot from them as well. She hated the feelings rising up in her. It wasn’t as if her mother-in-law had fallen on purpose. And heaven knew someday before too long, it might be her in a hospital bed, needing the family to rally around her. She sighed and swallowed back the tears that wanted to come.

  “Are you okay, Mom?” Corinne studied her, the worry lines deepening between her eyebrows. Their firstborn had become a beautiful, caring young woman whom Audrey admired more than she could express.

  “I’m just tired, honey. I know it’ll all be fine. But right now I’m wiped out.” She wished she could believe her own words, but she wasn’t sure at all that it would “all be fine.”

  Grant settled beside Audrey on the sofa. The room became eerily quiet, while outside they could hear the children’s distant laughter from the meadow and Huckleberry’s sharp barks punctuating the air.

  “Well, guys.” Grant heaved a sigh and leaned forward on the sofa. “I know you kids have lives, too, but we’ve got some major decisions to make about CeeCee in the next few days, and your mom and I would sure appreciate your opinions—and if at all possible, some help.”

  Murmurs of consent rippled through the room.

  Grant turned to Drew Brooks. “Drew, I hope this isn’t too awkward for you, but I wanted you here because the construction schedule might be a little hit or miss for a few weeks.” He held up a hand. “And don’t worry . . . I know I may lose you to that job in St. Louis, but as long as you can help out, I’d sure like to take advantage and get as much done as we can before you go.”

  Grant spent the next twenty minutes laying out the challenges they faced. “It sounds like CeeCee can go into a rehab center there in Cape just a few days after the surgery, but Mom or I will need to be there to facilitate the move, and we’ll probably need to stay in St. Louis a couple of nights before and after the surgery. Even after that—at the rehab—we’ll want to be with her as much as possible while she’s adjusting.”

  Audrey warmed to him. She loved her husband more at times like this than ever. His take-charge attitude under pressure had always made her feel secure. And deeply loved. Made her believe things truly would work themselves out. And if they didn’t, well, she still had Grant Whitman. And he was still the catch of the century.

  Grant heaved a sigh that reminded Audrey how hard this was for him despite the brave face he put on for the kids. “Unfortunately, this is likely going to mean clearing out CeeCee’s house and getting it on the market much sooner than we anticipated.”

  Landyn put a hand to her throat. “You mean . . . you don’t think CeeCee will be able to come back to her house? Ever?”

  He shook his head. “I doubt it, honey. And quite honestly, I think it might be a blessing in disguise. I don’t know if you kids see it the way your mom and I do, but CeeCee is failing pretty markedly. We haven’t been feeling like she is safe there by herself for quite a while now. As hard as this is on CeeCee—and all of us”—he put an arm around Audrey, acknowledging, she knew, that it was hard on her, too—“it just might be one of those cases of God working all things together for good.”

  Audrey stepped in, wanting to reassure the kids. “With CeeCee being in the hospital, hopefully she’ll get the evaluations we’ve needed—physical and mental. Maybe by the time she’s healed, the cottage will be finished and she’ll be able to move right in.”

  Grant nodded. “I’m not sure we could have crowbarred her out of her house had this not happened.”

  Drew piped up, “Now she’ll be so happy to get out of the rehab, that cottage will seem like a mansion to her.” He looked sheepish after the words were out.

  But Link and the girls all laughed and murmured their agreement.

  Audrey looked from one to the next, each one of her kids so very precious to her. And catching a glimpse of Bree’s face as she gazed at Drew, it struck Audrey that she might not have to initiate her matchmaking scheme after all.

  Bless CeeCee’s dear heart, her accident might have coincidentally set some very interesting wheels in motion. The thought buoyed Audrey’s spirits like nothing else had in recent days.

  27

  Bree looked around the room at Tim’s family gathered in crisis. She couldn’t help but think of those first dreadful days after they’d learned of Tim’ death. So many details to take care of, and all while they were nearly paralyzed by grief.

  The old house hadn’t been remodeled into the inn yet back then, but they were probably sitting in almost the same space in the house today as they’d been back then.

  It was times like this she couldn’t imagine not being part of this family. The way they pulled together until they reached a point of unity, even if they didn’t always agree one hundred percent. And the way they found a reason to laugh together, even in troubled times. She was learning that laughter really was the best medicine—a gift from God.

  So far, they’d come up with a schedule that had the Whitman sisters taking turns playing hostess at the inn for the next three nights.

  “Audrey,” Grant said, in full take-charge mode, “If you can stay with Mother on Friday, I’d like to enlist as many of these guys to work on the cottage as I can, if they’re off for the holiday weekend. I know the weekend is booked, but maybe we can make up for lost time on Friday.”

  Audrey shook her head. “Don’t you remember? I’ve got that mahjong club coming in Friday morning for a tea.”

  “Oh, shoot.” Grant slapped the arm of the sofa. “I forgot about that.”

  Audrey frowned. “Sorry, but I just can’t cancel that, honey. They’ve been booked for months.”

  “Well, I don’t have Friday off,” Bree offered, “But I’m off the rest of the weekend. Monday too. I’ll help wherever I can. Babysit, whatever . . .”

  Audrey brightened. “Maybe you could go sit with CeeCee for a couple of hours after work Friday? That would let Grant stay with the cottage crew.”

  “Sure. Just tell me what times you need me.”

  “Okay. Now it just depends on when they want to move CeeCee to St. Louis so she’ll be ready for surgery on Tuesday.”

  Grant put a hand on Audrey’s back. “But even if she’s still in the hospital here, I just feel like you and I both need to be there as much as we can. Mother is completely helpless without the use of her arms. The nur
ses can’t be there every second to wait on her, and you know how she can get when she’s frustrated.”

  “I could come and stay here at the inn during the weekend,” Bree said, thankful at the prospect of having something to fill what promised to be a long weekend. “As long as you leave me recipes and show me what to do, I’d be happy to try to play hostess.”

  Drew cleared his throat. “Well, if we aren’t going to be working on the cottage this weekend, I could help out here at the inn too.” He scrunched up his nose. “Only trouble is, I’m not much of a cook. And you probably don’t want me making the beds either. But I follow directions real well, and I can answer the door and the phone and be nice to people. Oh, but”—he ran a hand through his hair—“you probably don’t want to trust me with the laundry either. I um . . . may or may not own some pink skivvies due to an unfortunate laundry incident.”

  They all laughed.

  Drew looked embarrassed, but fueled by their laughter, too. “I just need a disclaimer if I do any cooking. I’d hate to get blamed for shutting down the inn.”

  “Or burning it down,” Grant said.

  More laughter. It amazed Bree how seamlessly Drew had begun to fit into the family. Yes, he was Dallas’s brother, and the Whitmans had always been our-family-is-your-family kind of people. But since he’d been helping Grant with the cottage, Drew seemed to have earned his own niche in their hearts, apart from his connection to Dallas.

  “Seriously, Audrey,” Drew said with confidence now. “I know how to scramble eggs, and I could cut up some fruit—as long as it doesn’t have to be heart-shaped or anything.” He grinned. “And I can serve whatever . . . if someone has it ready. I did a short stint as a server in college so I’m not a total dunce, but you probably don’t want me trying to read recipes or anything.”

  “No worries, you’ll do just fine.” Audrey turned to Link. “Would you have time to pick something up at that new bakery in Langhorne before you have to be at work?”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  “I don’t think any of our guests are going to get too bent out of shape because they didn’t get a one hundred percent home-cooked breakfast.”

  “Well, it won’t be as good as yours, Audrey,” Bree chimed in, “But I can follow a recipe pretty well. That way you could still serve what’s on the menus on your website.”

  “Thanks for offering, honey.” For a minute, Grant sounded like he might cry. But he swallowed hard, and his take-charge tone was back. “We’ll just have to play everything by ear, depending on what happens with CeeCee. But if the girls can cover the next three days, and you and Drew are willing to pitch in with the inn this weekend, that would be a tremendous help.”

  “It would be wonderful!” Audrey’s voice broke. “And I’m sure you girls will be on call as much as you can with the kids.”

  “Yes, of course.” Tim’s sisters murmured their agreement.

  “Okay. That settles it.” Grant rose and cleared his throat. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys. You make a fellow mighty proud. And now”—he swiped at the apple of his cheek—“I seem to have something in my eye.”

  He headed out to the kitchen as nervous laughter wafted through the room.

  But looking around this circle that was as much family to her as she’d ever known, it appeared to Bree that several of them “had something in their eye.” Herself included.

  * * *

  Drew stood in the middle of the large kitchen feeling as if he’d just landed on foreign soil. Bree stood across from him, arms crossed, her back to the sink.

  He attempted a smile, but knew it didn’t fully reach his eyes. “Are you as nervous as I am?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

  She didn’t look nervous. Not even a little.

  She smiled. “But don’t forget, I’ve been here before when Grant and Audrey had guests, so I have a bit of an advantage.”

  “That actually makes me feel better. I was starting to wonder what on earth I was thinking when I volunteered to do this.”

  “Well, I think it was really nice of you, and I know Grant and Audrey appreciate more than they can express.”

  “Yeah, I really feel for them. It kind of seems like everything’s hit at once and they—”

  The front door opened, and a commotion sounded in the hall. While his heart rate cranked up a notch, Bree went into the entry, and he heard her welcoming guests as if she did it every day of her life. Gracious. That was the word he was looking for.

  He took a couple of breaths and went to join her. “Can I help carry luggage in?”

  Bree smiled at him in a way that said, “See, you’re doing just fine.”

  Tonight was a trial run. Grant and Audrey were at the hospital with Grant’s mother, but they’d be back later this evening, and Audrey would serve breakfast. Tomorrow, Sunday, they would leave early to transport CeeCee to St. Louis, where the Whitmans would stay through CeeCee’s surgery and until they could bring her back to the rehab center.

  Bree had informed him when he arrived tonight that she’d volunteered to do some baking so Audrey wouldn’t have to worry about that when she got back tonight. Bree had apparently volunteered him, too.

  He blew out a breath. He was so far out of his comfort zone he couldn’t even see his comfort zone any more.

  He carried the luggage up to the room where Bree was explaining the inn’s features to the guests. There were two other couples checking in tonight, and three elderly sisters who’d booked for three days, but suddenly were contemplating going home early. Something about a bridge tournament in Kansas City. He wondered if they realized their change of plans meant several hundred dollars lost. But Audrey would never mention it when she presented their bill.

  He slunk back down to the kitchen and tried to find something to do to make himself useful. Spotting several recipe cards laid out on the counter, he picked one up and studied it. Peaches and Cream Flan. He’d heard of flan before, maybe even eaten it, but he didn’t have a clue how to make it. He skimmed the instructions. Good thing he hadn’t told Audrey he could follow a recipe. Fold the ingredients together? What did that mean? Pastry cutter? No clue.

  Bree appeared back in the doorway to the kitchen. “Oh! Are you ready to start cooking?”

  “Whenever you are. But, I don’t think I’m going to be much help. Do you know what a pastry cutter is?”

  She nodded. “I know what it is. Where to find it in this kitchen might be another matter.”

  “Well, I’d offer to help, if I had a remote idea what I was looking for.”

  She grabbed a pen and a notepad from the counter and drew a quick sketch. “It looks like this.”

  “Ohhh, so that’s what that thing is called. My mom used to have one. But I don’t remember what she did with it. Don’t worry, though. I’m on it.” He started opening drawers and cupboards.

  The doorbell rang again, and they repeated the process of checking a couple in, retrieving their luggage, and getting them settled in a room.

  By seven p.m., all the guests had gone into Cape for the evening, and the third party had called to say they’d run into traffic in Chicago and would be arriving later than they’d anticipated. Probably not until after Grant and Audrey got home.

  The elderly sisters had decided to stay and were drinking wine down at the pergola in the back yard—quite a bit of wine judging by the high pitch of their laughter floating up to the house.

  Huckleberry had been relegated to the basement since one of the sisters was deathly afraid of dogs. Drew was tempted to let him out, just to see what would happen. He chuckled at the thought.

  “What?” Bree eyed him with curiosity.

  “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about what would happen if Huck got loose.”

  “Got loose? How would Huck get loose?” The look she gave him said she knew exactly what he’d been thinking.

  As if on cue, a trio of cackles drifted up from the back yard.

  Bree giggled. �
�You wouldn’t dare!”

  “I wouldn’t, but you’ve got to admit it’s tempting.”

  She grabbed the recipe cards from the counter, and while she studied them, she pulled her hair up into a tidy ponytail on top of her head. “We’d better get cooking before we get in big trouble.”

  For the next two hours, she ordered him around the kitchen like a drill sergeant. With only a few minor snafus, they soon had a flan and a coffeecake in the oven filling the air with the most enticing perfumes.

  Lucky for him, Bree had the foresight to save out enough cake batter to make a little sampler for the two of them.

  “Well, we wouldn’t want to serve our guests something we hadn’t tasted, right?” Spooning the batter into a tiny Bundt pan, she’d looked up at him with an adorable glint in her eye. Then turned right back to layer a heavenly mixture of nuts and cinnamon on top.

  Bundt pan. He’d learned another new cooking term tonight. He was going to be a regular Wolfgang Puck by the time this night was over.

  The little cake almost burned. Bree had forgotten it wouldn’t take a small cake nearly as long to bake. But he’d rescued it in the nick of time, and now they sat sipping decaf and moaning in ecstasy over their masterpiece.

  “Man, I’m buying me one of those Bundt pans tomorrow,” he said, scraping up the last crumbs of the cake’s cinnamon topping.

  Bree’s laughter was, well, the icing on the cake.

  The tipsy sisters went to bed early. The guests from Chicago arrived and were all checked in by the time Grant and Audrey got home.

  Drew and Bree proudly handed off a quiet inn, still standing and with two beautiful breakfast desserts cooling on the counter.

  If Audrey noticed, she didn’t mention that the Bundt cake was a full inch shorter than her recipe usually made.

  “See you back here at five-thirty? A.M.” Bree said, sounding like she thought he might back out.

  But he gave a little salute. “Yes, ma’am, five-thirty sharp!”

  He drove home smiling, genuinely looking forward to the rest of the weekend. And wishing like crazy that Bree Whitman didn’t already have a boyfriend.