by Glynna Kaye
“What kind of treasure are we talking about? Gold doubloons? Chest of jewels? A plastic ring from a Happy Meal?”
She laughed. “That’s just it. My aunt doesn’t know. She remembers her mother talking about it sometime after the family sold the place when Aunt Vi was away at college. She remembers her saying it was a shame that it had never been found—something that her grandpa Benjamin Newell had hidden here—and that in selling, they’d lose the opportunity to keep looking for it.”
“Then your aunt, in essence, regained the opportunity when she started managing the inn.”
“And she’s been looking off and on for whatever it is for well over a dozen years. For something my great-great-grandfather, who built this place, was supposed to have stashed for safekeeping.”
“Intriguing.”
But she could tell he didn’t think there was anything to it. Just more small-town eccentricity. A crazy old woman and her equally flaky niece believing a tall tale like that. At least he didn’t seem uncomfortable in her presence, although he had to know she’d overheard his dad’s insensitive public announcement about the wedding. He certainly didn’t need to worry that she’d make a reference to his situation, although she couldn’t help but wonder what it was about him that had caused his bride-to-be to run.
Probably the cell phone.
“A lot of work ahead.” He tapped the floor plan, dismissing the alleged hidden treasure and returning to the renovation.
She pointed. “You’re taking out that wall?”
“Non-load-bearing, so it’s okay.” He winked. “The inn won’t fall down.”
“No, I mean, why do you want guests who are relaxing in the breakfast nook to look directly into the kitchen at the dirty dishes and stuff? People come to a place like this to get away from that kind of thing.”
He studied the plan. “Well, it doesn’t have to be taken out. I thought it would open up the space. Bring that garden light from the breakfast-nook windows into the kitchen.”
She shook her head, reached for the mechanical pencil and drew the wall back in. She was going to have to watch this guy like a hawk. “And what’s going on over here?”
“That’s high shelving. Plants. Pottery.”
“Who’s going to get up there and keep them clean?”
Tight-lipped, Denny took the pencil from her, popped off the top cap to expose an eraser, then obliterated the shelving.
“I’m not trying to sabotage your plans. I’m trying to be practical.” She tilted her head to read his extensive notes in the margin. “This doesn’t have to all be done at once, does it?”
“Better to. On other renovation projects, I’ve found that one thing leads to another even though you initially think you might be able to do one at a time. Intending to redo the drywall reveals a wiring nightmare behind the scenes. A leak like the one in the parlor ceiling could point to a major plumbing overhaul.”
“So everything’s going to have to be ripped up? What about our guests?”
“Your primary summer season will be ending soon, won’t it?”
“Aunt Viola says it winds down fairly rapidly after Labor Day.” Not that they’d been fully booked the entire summer. “The Pinewood hasn’t appealed much to the autumn and winter hunting crowd like Hunter’s Hideaway does. But people in the hotter regions of the state still come up to hike and enjoy the autumn foliage. I’d have to check to see how many are booked.”
“We’ll need to make arrangements for them elsewhere. More expensive accommodations than the Pinewood, if necessary.”
“There isn’t a whole lot else in town. Just Hunter’s Hideaway and another bed-and-breakfast or two.”
“Then we may need to look farther afield. You mentioned a few neighboring towns. Canyon Springs. Show Low. And of course, from today onward, you and your aunt shouldn’t reserve additional rooms until closer to Thanksgiving. Or better yet, until closer to Christmas. Steer them elsewhere.”
That shouldn’t be too hard to do. It wasn’t like people were beating down the doors to get in. But it would still impact much-needed revenue.
“The scheduled garden events can continue as planned, correct? Teas and luncheons? They’re catered by outside vendors who can park at the rear of the property and bring everything in through the back gate.”
“That depends. You’ll want to let them know what will be going on here. Power tools can be noisy.”
Denny again bent over the floor plan to jot something down, and she couldn’t help noticing his broad shoulders and muscled arms once more. Obviously his workouts included more than raising a cell phone to his ear.
He looked up at her. “Who’s Barbie?”
Caught off guard, her brain scrambled to make sense of his question.
“How did you—? Oh, right. Aunt Vi mentioned her at lunch yesterday.” He didn’t need to know the whole scoop on Cameron’s younger sister. “She’s a local girl getting married in the garden the third weekend in October. A catered reception will follow there.”
“Your aunt sounded as if renovations on the inn might be problematic for that. The wedding party booked rooms?”
“It would be wonderful if they had, but no.” Lillian made a face of regret. “When I let Barbie look at them with that purpose in mind, from her reaction I was afraid she might cancel the wedding here altogether and go someplace else.”
“So you’re saying the timing of the work needs to keep the wedding in mind.”
“Her family is prominent in the community and having everything torn up, giant waste containers sitting around, any kind of noise or distraction, definitely wouldn’t go over with the bride or her family.” Cameron’s mother and grandmother would never forgive that. “You’ll want to be especially careful of anything we’re doing at the back of the house—window replacement and trim paint jobs—so things of that nature won’t provide an unsightly background for wedding photographs.”
“How bad would it affect the bottom line to encourage the bride to find another venue?”
Her eyes widened. She must have heard wrong. “You mean tell her she can’t get married here?”
“I imagine there are other locations that would work equally well for her. You could—”
“No. Absolutely not.”
He looked slightly taken aback. “Why?”
“She has her heart set on the garden. She got engaged at Christmas and has had it reserved since the first of the year.”
No way was Lillian going to bring down further condemnation from her ex-fiancé’s family on her aunt and herself. They had to live and do business in this town, and she had to regain her credibility after that runaway-bride fiasco left her a laughingstock. Considering Cameron’s grandmother was on the library board, that episode could have already cost her a shot at the library manager position. Kicking Barbie out this close to her wedding day would be the last straw.
“I’m sorry, Denny, but having the wedding here is nonnegotiable.”
“Third weekend in October, you said? Then that will be problematic.”
“Sorry.”
He tossed his pencil to the table, leveling his gaze at her. “And while we’re discussing things that are potentially problematic...about that contractor we met at the Hideaway...”
“Todd. Todd Samuels.” Her face warmed at the memory of yesterday’s encounter. “Don’t feel an obligation. He’s a family friend who has a reputation for doing good work, but—”
“I have nothing against him, of course. But I’d like to check around. Get recommendations on others in the area who might be available, as well.”
“Totally understandable.” Personally, she’d rather not have Todd underfoot for weeks, her aunt plying him on a daily basis with her much-acclaimed pastries and pushing him at a niece who would hit the ripe old age of thirty before year’s end.
While Aunt
Viola may not have chosen to marry, she was a hopeless romantic when it came to the love lives of others. Always hoping and faithfully praying for happily-ever-afters on behalf of many a young lady and gent in the community.
Lillian included.
The ending to Lillian’s former fiancé’s sweep-her-off-her-feet courtship had been deeply disappointing—to both aunt and niece. But Lillian had learned her lesson, even if Aunt Viola hadn’t.
Chapter Five
“Hey, Mister! You’re here again.”
Taylor opened the door to the inn when Denny arrived the next morning. The dining room was occupied, and she trailed behind him to the office where he spread out his sketches on the floor so he wouldn’t have to clear the desk.
When she’d gotten home from school yesterday, Taylor had sat quietly at the end of the table watching him until her great-great-aunt called her for a late-afternoon snack. Cute kid, although not especially talkative. He’d tried to draw her out several times, but with little success. So she was Lillian’s sister’s child. What was her story, anyway?
From what Lillian said in relation to wanting to live in Hunter Ridge for her aunt’s and niece’s benefit as much as for her own, it sounded as if she thought the girl might remain with her for a while. But he sensed a mutual discomfort in interactions between aunt and niece.
He squatted and opened the big graph paper tablet to the first-floor draft. Taylor sat cross-legged beside him.
He’d told her yesterday what he was doing. Showed her how he’d measured the rooms by letting her hold the end of the tape measure while he demonstrated the technique, then explained how a foot—twelve inches—on the measuring tape translated to the much smaller grid on the paper.
“Aunt Viola says you’re going to tear the house up and put it back together again like those people on TV.”
“That’s the plan.”
“I can help.” Not a question. Not a request. A statement. But what could he find for a kid to do that would keep her out from underfoot? A renovation site held potential dangers for both kids and adults. “I can hit a wall with a hammer. Or kick it down for you.”
A demolition-day protégée in the making.
He smiled at her serious face. “I don’t think we’ll be pulling down too many walls—” Lillian had nixed that “—but I imagine we can find something you can do.”
He’d have to give it some thought. Get Lillian’s permission for whatever he came up with.
“Taylor! There you are.” Lillian stood in the office doorway, exasperation in her expression. “Tessa and her mom are in the car waiting for you. You’re going to make everybody late for school.”
The little girl shot her an aggrieved look, then scooted closer to Denny. “I don’t want to go to school today. I want to stay here and help Mister tear things up.”
“He’s not tearing anything up,” Lillian reassured her.
Taylor frowned, then looked up at him for confirmation.
“Your aunt is right. Not today.”
Her little shoulders slumped. “Bummer.”
“Let’s get going, Taylor.” Lillian held out her hand. “You don’t want to be late.”
Taylor hesitated a long moment, a rebel spirit rising. But then abruptly she stood and patted his shoulder, her eyes boring into his. “Promise you won’t tear anything up?”
“Promise.”
She let out a sigh, then squeezed past Lillian, ignoring her aunt’s outstretched hand.
“Don’t forget your backpack, Taylor,” she called after her, then turned a weary gaze on him. “She’s usually more cooperative.”
“You can fault me for that. She’s intrigued with what I’m doing here. She wants to help, and I told her I’d find something for her to do. Hope that’s okay.”
“Kicking down walls?”
“How’d you guess?”
“I saw her practicing a kung-fu kick before she sat down for breakfast.”
He chuckled. “I promise she won’t be kicking down walls without extreme supervision. She’s fascinated with the floor plans, and I predict you may have a future architect or contractor on your hands. I suspect by the time this is over, she and I will be great buddies.”
“From how things looked this morning, I think you already are. I hope she wasn’t being a nuisance.”
“Not a chance, although I imagine we’ll need to keep a close eye on her once work gets under way.”
“Definitely.”
He got to his feet. “If you don’t mind my asking, is your sister ill? Is that why her daughter is living with you?”
“No illness. My little sister, as dear as she is and as much as I love her, isn’t really into parenting. It’s an inconvenience for her at best, and periodically she wearies of its restrictions and drops Taylor off with me for weeks. Often months.”
“That has to be hard. Both for you and Taylor.”
“It’s heartrending each time my sister returns to claim her. And bewildering for Taylor when it happens again and again. I’ve watched her change over the years from a happy, laughing toddler to a more withdrawn, sometimes sullen youngster.”
“Trust issues.” He could relate to that. “You’ve had her in counseling, I suppose?”
She didn’t take offense at his question. “Each time she’s returned to me, we meet with a church or school counselor—of course, there’s nothing like that on the other end when she’s taken away again. Her mother visited for a few hours on Saturday, which is probably why we’re seeing a lack of cooperation right now. That will ease, hopefully, by the weekend. But I know deep down she’s confused and angry at her mother. Probably with me, too.”
“I’m sorry Taylor—and you—are going through this. It may be especially difficult when she reaches adolescence.”
He’d boiled over internally during those years, but with willpower he still didn’t understand, he was able to rein in destructive feelings and focus on a single lifelong goal—earning the respect of everyone he met.
Lillian’s hands fluttered almost helplessly. “I know God says not to, but I worry about that. Our folks weren’t real hands-on parents, either, and Annalise tended to be a free spirit in need of more guidance than most. I don’t want to see a repeat performance in this next generation.”
“Is there a father in the picture?”
She shook her head. “Annalise was pretty wild and got pregnant when she was sixteen. Insisted on keeping her baby, but refused to tell anyone who the father was. I suspect it wasn’t about stubbornness, but because she didn’t have a clue.”
“Stormy start for a sweet kid like Taylor.” He’d had a mother who mostly left him with sitters when he was small, and by the middle of grade school when twin baby sisters arrived, at a private school. He had a father and a stepfather, too, but neither had been much of a dad to him. Probably because, as he eventually grew to recognize, he wasn’t that lovable. He’d learned to live with that reality, but he hated to see Taylor, who was plenty lovable, in that same spot. “I feel for her. I know what it’s like to be set aside. To feel like you’re in the way.”
Lillian tilted her head slightly, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. Now, why had he gone and shared that, like some kind of crybaby?
“Taylor’s blessed to have you and your aunt in her life.” He gave her an assuring nod, certain of his words despite having known them but a few days. “You can rest easy, because I imagine that will make all the difference in the world.”
“I hope and pray so. I wish there was a way...” Her words came wistfully. Then she took a sharp breath as her gaze again caught his. “Oh, I’m sorry. Too much information, for certain. You asked a simple question and I dumped everything on you. Please accept my apology.”
“No, no, don’t think of it like that. I genuinely like Taylor and I wanted to understand her situation.” He offered a
smile intended to set Lillian at ease. “In fact, I needed to know, since it looks like she and I may soon be a team. Who knows what this blossoming partnership could lead to? Perhaps a home-improvement reality TV show.”
She laughed, which had been his intention.
“Promise you won’t suggest it to her? She’ll never let us hear the end of it until the cameras are rolling.”
He held up his hand in a Boy Scout pledge. “I promise.”
For a delightfully long moment their gazes held in shared amusement, an unfamiliar warmth curling around his heart. He hardly knew Lillian, yet he was talking to her like he’d never talked to Corrine. His former fiancée was about fashion, career climbing and who was who on the social roster.
Not kids. Family. God.
Nothing soul-deep or too personal.
That, in actuality, should have made them a perfect match. Had they taken one of those relationship compatibility tests, they’d have likely scored off the charts side by side. So what went wrong?
Realizing his intense gaze was making Lillian uncomfortable, he looked down at the floor plans. “So what do you say we get down to business? I want to call contractors today, so I need a handle on what we’re agreeing to do here.”
Despite his words, he hadn’t given up the idea of bringing the GylesStyle team on board. But he’d do his best to at least give Lillian and her aunt the impression he wasn’t taking their concerns about not using local craftsmen lightly.
“I do have a few decorating ideas. We didn’t get around to discussing that direction yesterday. Let me run and get my tote bag. Be back in a minute.”
She had interior-design ideas? That was something generally left to a professional designer for GylesStyle properties, but he was going to have to wing this place on his own. Clearly what was needed here was a contemporary tailored look that would banish the gloom. Ironically, as much as he hadn’t wanted anything to do with tossing good money after bad—still didn’t, considering what might be transpiring back at the home office—he enjoyed envisioning what the finished product would look like.
He’d gotten his kicks out of that in the past, too, drawing satisfaction from the several times he’d served as the manager of one of those new-to-the-GylesStyle-fold properties. He liked seeing people enjoying something that had started as an idea in his head. Enjoyed making them feel special. At home. Thankfully, his stepfather ensured he had an appreciation of the world of hospitality from the ground up, sending him across the country on summer internships throughout high school and college.