The Way Back to Erin

by Cerella Sechrist

  “Sure. There’s a box of them in the kitchen pantry.”

  “Okay, thanks. Oh, and sorry to interrupt,” Harper offered before turning on her heel and heading toward the house.

  Erin looked back at Burke, who had found a spot for the palm while she was speaking to Harper. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

  He offered a smile, although it seemed a little sad. “You’re good at this. Directing the troops. Maybe you should have been the army sergeant.”

  She shrugged. “Comes from being raised as a military brat, I guess.”

  He opened his mouth but before he could speak, one of the musicians approached. He didn’t look happy.

  “Where’s your electric panel? We plugged in where you said, by the chef dude’s tent, but there are too many feeds going into the electric hookup there. I think it blew a fuse.”

  “Oh.” Erin frowned. “It’s inside—”

  Connor joined them, raking a hand through his unruly black hair. “Erin, the breaker must have tripped when the band hooked up their equipment.”

  “That’s what I just said,” the disgruntled musician announced.

  “Oh, sorry, mate.”

  “It’s fine. We’ll run a second extension cord from another outlet in the house. Hopefully that will help balance out the current.”

  “Fine, but we’ll need to reset the breaker.”

  Erin looked at Burke. She was curious what he had to say, but it didn’t look as if she’d get a chance to hear it.

  He smiled, and the sight of it instantly made her feel better. And then she cursed her wayward heart for such a feeling.

  “Even sergeants need a little help once in a while,” he remarked. “Come on, guys, I’ll show you where the electric panel is.”

  Erin watched as the three men walked away, with Burke in their center. Suddenly, Burke stopped, said something to the other two and turned to jog back in her direction. He slowed as he reached her side once more.

  “I just had to say before I forget...good luck today.”

  He turned and headed back toward the others before she thought to thank him.

  * * *

  IT DIDN’T TAKE long for Erin to recognize several things she hadn’t counted on with the open house. For one thing, the July heat was oppressive, the air thick with humidity. Though the Moontide was air-conditioned, thanks to Aunt Lenora’s foresight many years ago, Erin hadn’t thought to arrange for fans or any means of keeping guests cool while they perused the offerings in the backyard.

  Most of the attendees looked distinctly uncomfortable, fanning themselves rapidly with the brochures Erin had printed up for the event. She had an uneasy feeling that most of those mangled leaflets were going to end up in the trash by the day’s end, which she would feel badly about for the inn’s sake but also for Burke’s. He had offered to use his photography skills to take some high-resolution photos of the inn for her to use. All the hours he had spent photographing and editing the images would be wasted.

  She also hadn’t thought to supply bottled waters or pitchers of ice water either, and after the sixth guest had asked for something to drink, she and Harper had raided the pantry for a beverage dispenser, filled it with ice water and put it on display along with a stack of paper cups. Now Harper was refilling it every twenty minutes as both the guests and the others working the open house kept draining it.

  But the heat also meant that most guests didn’t linger too long. They nibbled on a few appetizers, talked to the ladies from the bridal boutique and then soon made their way back to their cars. The musicians had given up playing and now sat in the shade of the backyard’s white oak tree, sipping from sodas they’d brought in a cooler.

  The wedding cakes on display from the local bakery were listing dangerously, a slow mudslide of icing and fondant slipping toward the table’s edge. Erin felt the last of her battered enthusiasm fizzle as she saw Connor wiping his forehead with an already sweat-soaked towel as he encouraged his drooping staff to keep making the rounds with their hors d’oeuvres platters.

  “You’d seriously consider holding your wedding here?”

  Erin’s ears picked up a conversation from several feet away. The group of young ladies had only arrived a few minutes ago. They’d sampled some cake and then attacked the beverage dispenser, draining the water so quickly that Harper was stocking it up again even though she had refilled it less than ten minutes ago.

  “I don’t know. I thought it would be cute.”

  “Cute? Or quaint?”

  “Kathy thought I should check it out,” the would-be bride defended.

  Her friends, presumably also her bridesmaids, rolled their eyes. “Ginny, when are you going to realize that you don’t have to do everything your future mother-in-law suggests? This is your wedding. Wouldn’t you rather have it at a venue that doesn’t look like something out of Anne of Green Gables?”

  This particular bridesmaid was waving a bee out of her face as she spoke. Erin thought about jumping in, defending the Moontide, but she didn’t have the mental or emotional energy at the moment.

  “I don’t know. Maybe with the right designer, this place could be charming. Put up those cute wooden folding chairs and drape some tulle on them? It would be, like, more intimate?”

  “Ugh, you can do intimate indoors, without the insects and heat. Honestly, Ginny, if this is your choice, I’m not sure I want to be maid of honor. Like I told you before, just go with the Delphine. I’ve heard they do phenomenal weddings.”

  Erin felt tears threatening. As brutal as it was to overhear this criticism, they were right. Why had she ever thought the Moontide could compete with the Delphine when it came to a girl’s dream wedding? Maybe she’d have chosen the ritzy resort herself if it had been around when she and Gavin got married.

  But then she shook her head. She knew better. No matter how lovely the Delphine’s weddings might be, she would still have chosen a smaller, sweeter venue such as the Moontide for her wedding to Gavin. Even if it was too much like Anne of Green Gables.

  This didn’t change the fact, however, that her open house was poised to become a major flop. She watched as another group of guests left the backyard. If she remembered correctly, they’d arrived less than fifteen minutes ago. Her heart sank even further.

  “Hey.”

  She turned to see Burke hold out a glass of water. “You need to drink something.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, but that was a lie. She was hot, thirsty and miserable. Burke didn’t say anything, but he kept his arm, with the glass of water, extended. She could see the ice already dissolving in the liquid, and her throat itched with dryness. She finally accepted the drink and took a sip. It was cool and satisfying, and she proceeded to drain the glass without stopping.

  He took the cup out of her hands as she finished, and she was relieved when he didn’t remark on her stubbornness. Instead, he shifted a little closer to her and assessed the backyard.

  “It’s okay if you want to call this off.”

  She bristled. “No.”

  He drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “Erin, it’s not your fault, but it’s obvious you’re miserable. And so is everyone else.”

  The words stung all the more because she knew he was right. But she wasn’t about to give in, not yet. This might be her last chance to do something to change Aunt Lenora’s mind.

  “The heat will break soon.” She spoke with a lot more confidence than she felt.

  “I’ve been checking the weather. It’s not due to cool off a little until tomorrow.”

  One day. If she had held off the open house for one day, maybe she’d have had a chance. But who was she kidding? It could have been seventy degrees with clear skies and birdsong, and she still wouldn’t have been able to pull this off successfully. Maybe it was fate. Maybe the Moontide really was destined to become a clubhou
se.

  But the very idea left the bitter taste of anger in the back of her throat.

  “At least take a break for a little while. Go inside the house and cool off. That’s what everyone else has started to do. Aunt Lenora and I offered the use of the library so people can get some relief.”

  She’d noticed that each of the businesses attending had started breaking off in shifts to go inside. Connor and Harper had begun sending the Callahan’s staff off, too, and even as she looked in their direction, she saw Harper shooing Connor toward the back doors so he could take a break. She’d noticed Harper go earlier. She frowned.

  “I can’t. This is my event, my responsibility. I’m seeing it through.”

  “Taking five minutes to cool off and get something more to drink, and maybe even a bite to eat, does not make you a quitter.”

  She wanted to believe Burke was saying all this solely out of concern for her. But part of her wondered if there was something else to his insistence. He’d wanted the open house to fail so the sale of the Moontide could proceed unhindered, hadn’t he?

  She suddenly felt overwhelmed by these thoughts. It hurt to think of losing the Moontide. But it hurt more to think that Burke was pushing to see it happen.

  “Erin—”

  “If you don’t have any constructive suggestions, I have things to do.”

  She didn’t look at his face, and she didn’t stick around to hear his response because she didn’t know how many more times her heart could break before there was nothing left to put back together again.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  BURKE WATCHED ERIN walk away as a knot formed in the pit of his stomach. He knew she was devastated by the way things were going. The open house was turning out to be a failure. The heat of the day, the irritability of the vendors, and the discomfort of the guests marked it as an utter flop.

  Burke lost count of how many would-be brides and their entourages had come and gone in an hour’s time. None of them lingered very long, and few bothered to ask any questions about the possibilities of the Moontide hosting their wedding. Sadly, those who showed the most interest in the event weren’t even there to consider a wedding on the premises. They’d come to get a look at the inn—especially since word of Allan Worth’s offer had spread through the community. They were curious to explore the Moontide and reimagine it as a golf clubhouse.

  Most of these locals gravitated to Aunt Lenora, to pry for gossip about the inn’s possible sale. He was grateful none of them spoke to Erin. He worried such questions would only upset her further.

  He could tell she was doing her best to remain upbeat in front of the everyone. She moved from table to table in the backyard, speaking to the other business owners attending the event and also greeting guests as they entered the backyard. She handed out brochures, directed people to the beverage dispenser she and Harper had set up and congratulated brides on their engagements before mentioning a few of the amenities the inn had to offer.

  She presented a cheerful face, but he could see how the effort was wearing on her. He’d kept an eye on her as the event dragged on, watching from a distance and taking careful note of how her shoulders grew tighter with each passing minute. He knew she wasn’t drinking enough, and he hadn’t seen her eat anything at all today. As far as he knew, she hadn’t even gone inside to check on Kitt.

  Both his nephew and Scout were holed up in the inn’s private living area, watching television. It was the easiest way to keep them out of everyone’s hair and away from the suffocating weather. Burke and Aunt Lenora had taken turns checking on them a time or two. Scout would occasionally look out the window and woof, as if to establish himself as watchdog, but the two of them seemed relatively content to be away from the activities.

  Part of him wished he could stay on the couch with them, but his concern for Erin wouldn’t allow that. She would be heartbroken if this failed. She’d invested so much of her life in the inn. Burke still firmly believed it was time to move on, but he understood why Erin couldn’t see that. This was her life now, the thing that had filled the gap in Gavin’s absence—both while he was living and now that he was gone.

  “It’s sad to think of this place becoming some sort of snooty clubhouse, isn’t it?”

  Burke nearly jumped. He hadn’t heard the older man beside him approach until he spoke. He was maybe in his early sixties. He had thinning brown hair with a heavy salting of gray and a thick mustache.

  Burke didn’t know how to respond to his question. In some ways, it would be hard to say farewell to the Moontide. But only because it represented a final goodbye to Gavin, as well. Despite his efforts to help Erin today, he still didn’t feel the need to hold onto the inn. This place held far too many memories of things lost.

  Rather than answer the question, Burke asked one of his own. “Are you here for the open house?”

  The other man had the decency to look abashed. “I’m afraid not. I just happened to see it advertised and thought I’d use it as an opportunity to visit this place again.”

  “Have you stayed at the inn before?”

  “Not as a guest, no.”

  “Oh. Are you a local then?”

  The man extended his hand. “Neal Weaver. I used to be the caretaker at the Moontide, a long time ago. Back when your aunt Lenora could still afford one.”

  Burke’s eyebrows rose at the man’s familiarity. He didn’t recall a caretaker being around when he and Gavin lived at the inn. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

  “You wouldn’t. I worked at the Moontide before you and your brother came to stay here. But I remember you.”

  “Hmm. Well, I imagine two orphans coming to live here is somewhat memorable.” He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice, but it was there.

  “Oh, I knew you before all that. Knew your parents, too.”

  Burke was surprised. “You knew my parents?”

  He gave a short nod. “Ethan and Sophie Daniels. Sweet couple, they were. You were such a lovely family.”

  Burke was flummoxed. “I’m sorry, but how did you know us? I didn’t come to Findlay Roads until after my parents died.”

  “But you did. You were here as a little boy. You all took a vacation and stayed at the inn. You must have been no more than Kitt’s age.”

  Burke blinked. Neal’s words jogged his memory slightly. There had been a trip, though he’d been even younger than Kitt. Maybe five?

  “I’d nearly forgotten about that,” he murmured.

  “Well.” Neal cleared his throat. “Perhaps your good times got lost in the bad, hmm?”

  “Maybe.” But it bothered him. How could he have forgotten that vacation, even young as he was? It was coming back to him in snatches now. It had been summer, and the smell of the Chesapeake had been a new experience for him. They’d lived in the Catskills, and he was familiar with the scent of clean, fresh air, but the bay had struck him as a child with its sharper, muskier aroma.

  “My dad made a joke about it.” He barely realized he was speaking aloud. “Something about the sweat and blood of all the Irishmen who’d founded this town giving the water its smell.”

  Neal smiled. “That sounds like your dad. He was a history professor, as I recall. He spent a lot of time in the library, reading up on the area.”

  Burke didn’t remember that, but he recalled how much his father had liked to read. When he was younger, he’d been in awe of his dad’s library and the shelves filled with books he had read. Burke, at such a young age, couldn’t conceive of reading them all. They had burned in the fire. Every last one.

  “And your mom, she was a delight. How she loved you boys. When your dad got tied up in the library, she’d take you for long walks by the bay. Had picnics with you by the lighthouse.”

  This startled him since it was a pastime he enjoyed. Was it rooted in his subconscious? Did he gravitate to
ward picnics at the lighthouse because he remembered, on some level, the times spent with his mother there?

  “She was always taking photos, too. I guess that’s where you got your knack for photography. I’ve seen your pictures a time or two over the years. Beautiful shots. It must be something, to have traveled all those places.”

  Burke didn’t know how to respond. He knew his mother had taken a lot of photos while he was growing up, but he had never connected it to his own enjoyment of photography. They’d lost most of their family possessions in the fire, so there had been no mementos to mourn over, no images to study and reflect upon.

  It took some effort for Burke to return to the conversation and focus on the older man. “How come I don’t remember you from when I lived here in town?”

  Neal rubbed a finger beneath his nose, as if his mustache tickled him. “I moved away less than a year after you boys came to live here. I came back a time or two to visit family but didn’t move back to the area until a few years ago. I imagine it was tough on you two, after losing your parents. I wish I had been here while you were growing up.”

  “Yeah,” Burke agreed. “I wish so, too.”

  “Well, feel free to look me up anytime. I’m semiretired. I work part time down at the marina. If you can’t find me there, I spend a lot of my spare time at the community center. I’d be happy to talk some more. I know it was just that one summer, but I have to say, your family made an impact on me. I’m a bachelor, no wife, no kids. Seeing how happy you all were...well, I’ve never regretted being a single man, but there was something about your family that made me wish I’d known what it was like to be part of something like that. Even if it was only for a little while.”

  Emotion clogged Burke’s throat. How long had it been since he thought of his family that way? He’d spent so much time mourning what he’d lost. When had he forgotten to appreciate what he’d had, even for a brief time?