Home to Chicory Lane (9781426796074)

by Raney, Deborah;

  Grant and Chase made small talk for a few minutes before Grant steered the conversation back. “I’m not trying to influence your decision at all, but I wondered if you’ve given any more thought to that loft you looked at in Langhorne.”

  Chase put down the strand of garland he’d been untangling and eyed him like he wondered where this was going. “If you want to know the truth, I think about that place every day.” He looked as if he was embarrassed by the fact. “I know it needs a ton of work, but I can just picture what it would look like if it was finished out.”

  “Is that right?” Grant was a little surprised that Chase was still interested in the loft. But pleased, too. This might not be as hard as he’d thought.

  “Obviously,” Chase said, “I don’t know as much as you do about that kind of stuff, but it just seems to me like the place has good bones. And the views, being along the creek like that. I can just see it becoming a really cool space if it was done right.”

  “I can too, Chase. Good bones is exactly what I would have said. That Colonial Revival architecture all along Main Street there was built to last. It’s too bad somebody didn’t take care of it.”

  They worked together in silence until Chase stopped and looked at him. “Can I ask why you were wondering about the loft?”

  “I just wondered if you were still at all interested in the place.” Grant had purposely—no, purposefully—broached the topic, but in retrospect, he felt a little guilty for steering the conversation the way he had. But as long as Chase was urging him on . . . “I—I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to push you one way or another—although you’ve got to know that a man is going, to do everything in his power to keep his grandkids as close as possible to home.”

  Chase laughed. “Point taken, sir. I’d like to hear your ideas. About the loft.”

  Well, a man could hardly argue with an invitation like that. He took a deep breath. “If you were to put the proceeds from your car as a down payment, you could probably get a pretty decent loan. I’d have to take a look, but from the Realtor’s information and what you’ve told me, it’d take probably twenty grand to get the place livable, but they’ve got it priced pretty fairly. And there’d be plenty of room for a nursery and even an extra room or two. You wouldn’t have to finish the whole place off right away, of course, but I could see a gallery down below someday—open to the public.”

  Chase’s eyes lit with interest, which only fueled Grant’s enthusiasm. “We could do a lot of the work ourselves—assuming you want help—but I’m going to have a lot more free time this winter without the yard to keep up.” He steadied himself on the ladder, pounded another tiny nail, then looped the garland Chase handed up to him over it. “The thing is, even if you two decided to go back to New York—say, after the babies are born—you could probably turn that place around for a profit. Worst case scenario, you might have to rent it while it’s on the market. But you could probably get your mortgage payment in rent.”

  “I like the way you’re thinking.” Chase beamed. “But—I wouldn’t dare make any decisions without talking it over with Landyn. And praying about it, of course.”

  “Of course.” Grant measured and pounded the next nail into the wall above the wainscoting. “While we’re throwing out ideas, Audrey had one for Landyn.”

  “Oh?”

  “We’ve got these Christmas parties coming up—right up Audrey’s alley with what she wanted the inn to be. Anyway, she’s thinking if we could get some kind of an ad campaign going we might be able to make a little extra money renting out the inn for holiday parties. Especially on the weeknights, or weekends when the place isn’t booked. Landyn’s been sitting right under our noses with all her PR experience. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before. We could work out something—I don’t know . . . maybe a percentage of the take?”

  Chase’s eyebrows lifted. “She’d be great at that. I know she would.”

  “You want to talk to her about it? She’d probably be more receptive if it came from you.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  Grant climbed down from the ladder and they stood back and admired their handiwork. He thought Audrey would be pleased. With all of it.

  * * *

  Landyn peeked into the living room again. “She’s out like a light.”

  CeeCee had fallen asleep in front of the TV—as seemed to be her habit—and she and Chase stood side by side at the sink finishing up the supper dishes.

  This had become her and Chase’s time—about the only time they had together without CeeCee tagging after them chattering a mile a minute.

  She stepped away from the sink, arched her back and stretched. Chase smiled and pointed at her belly.

  She looked down to see an elongated water stain on the front of her T-shirt where she’d rested her belly against the sink. It seemed like the ER doctor, by revealing that she was carrying twins, had somehow given the babies permission to make their presence known. Because in the two weeks since the accident, Landyn had “blossomed,” as CeeCee called it. It was getting tricky to keep her belly out of the way of her tasks. She dabbed at her shirt with the soggy dishtowel, but soon gave up and resorted to fanning her shirt out away from her body.

  Chase hung up the dishtowel. “It’s pretty nice out. You want to go for a walk?”

  Landyn gave him a look. “I know exactly where we’ll end up.”

  “Where?”

  “You know where. That loft you’re so in love with.”

  He grinned. “Are you getting sick of talking about it?”

  She went to him and put her arms around his neck. “I actually love seeing you so fired up about it. But . . . I’m worried you’ll be disappointed if the deal falls through.”

  “Whoa . . .” He pulled back and shook a finger at her. “We haven’t made any deals yet.”

  “I know, but I have a feeling you will be.”

  He ran his hands down her arms and circled her wrists with his fingers, gently pushing her arms’ length away. “Not without you, I won’t. Landyn—” He closed his eyes. “How are you feeling about things by now? I don’t want to make another mistake. I promise I won’t make an offer until you’re one hundred percent onboard with this whole idea.”

  “I know. And I appreciate that, Chase.” She kissed him, wishing she could give him her honest, full-hearted approval right now. But she wasn’t quite there yet.

  He’d approached her a few days ago with the wild scheme Chase and her dad had come up with to refurbish the loft on Main Street. She didn’t tell Chase that having her dad’s stamp of approval on the purchase made her feel far more confident in Chase’s dream.

  She didn’t mean to be deceitful by not telling him. But they’d worked so hard to rebuild their trust in each other, she didn’t think it was something her husband needed to know. And truly, it wasn’t a lack of faith in Chase’s judgment as much as it was confidence in her dad’s years of experience that had given him wisdom Chase couldn’t be expected to possess at his age.

  But she’d been praying about their future and the decisions they had before them. And she was humbled to recognize that her prayers had matured. Maybe it was the fact that she was going to be a mother. Maybe it was going through the hardships with Chase. Whatever the cause, she was grateful.

  It had not been fun in the midst of the battle. And though it had been barely three months of her life, it had seemed far longer. She’d hated being estranged from her husband. Hated feeling displaced from her apartment and her job—her identity. And going through the accident, fearing she’d lose her baby—and then discovering that she was carrying twins—those things had enabled her to grow up in ways she never could have apart from hardship and pain. She didn’t want to ever go through those trials again, but neither would she trade what she’d gained in the process. Not for anything.

  She leaned in to kiss him. “Let me leave a note for CeeCee. Let’s go for that walk.”

  The smile he gave her
put her that much closer to her answer.

  36

  Is CeeCee coming with Landyn and Chase?” Audrey spoke to Grant over her shoulder while she peeled potatoes at the kitchen sink.

  “As far as I know. I think we’ll all be here.” Grant sounded like a little kid on Christmas morning.

  Which reminded her . . . “I wonder if we shouldn’t take those presents out from under the tree. Hide them in the hall closet maybe?”

  “Why?”

  “You know those little girls are going to want to open them.”

  Grant shook his head. “We didn’t put things away for our own kids. I don’t think we need to for the grandkids.”

  “Honey, two weeks is a long time to wait. How are you going to explain that to Simone?”

  “That’s not my job. I’ll let Jesse and Corinne explain. If they want to put them up, they can.”

  “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She cubed the potatoes and put them in the pot to boil. Link had requested real mashed potatoes for their first family dinner night.

  Grant had declared Tuesday nights family dinner night. He’d written TUESDAY FAMILY NIGHT on the calendar in all caps in the squares for the Tuesdays between now and the end of the year. And he was already bugging her to hurry up and buy a calendar for next year so he could do the same.

  Though it’d felt like a burden when he first suggested the idea, given all the Christmas events on the inn’s calendar, Audrey loved how intentional her husband was about making sure family didn’t slip through the cracks of the business of running an inn. And these few weeks’ worth of Tuesdays would be especially precious if Chase and Landyn ended up moving back to New York.

  Now that the twins were on the way, Audrey could hardly bear the possibility of having them so far away.

  She went to the window and looked out over the driveway. She hated how early it got dark these days, but it had snowed last night—the first real snow of the year—and the white-blanketed lawn reflected the last crimson stains of the setting sun and illuminated the yard. Corinne had brought the girls over earlier this afternoon for sledding, and Audrey had to admit it had felt like the old days when the Chicory Inn was just a humble family home.

  A wave of homesickness swept over her. She recognized it for more than just nostalgia for the years they’d had all the kids at home. The holidays had been hard—lonely—since they’d lost Tim. No matter how many Whitmans they squeezed around that dining room table, it always felt like there was an empty chair where Tim should be. Three Christmases without him . . . soon to be four.

  She wrapped up the potato peelings and took them out to the compost bin. The frigid air felt good and helped her slough off the melancholy. She had too much for which to be thankful to dwell on things she couldn’t change. And she knew Tim would tell her as much too, if he could. She took a deep breath and gazed up into the velvety blue canopy overhead and—as she’d done countless times before—she whispered a prayer of thanks for her son, who was already Home. We all still miss you so much, Tim. So very much. But we’re taking care of your precious Bree, loving her as if she was our own.

  She breathed deep and exhaled, so grateful that this life wasn’t all there was. Far from it.

  Back in the kitchen she pulled two pans of lasagna from the oven and put foil-wrapped loaves of homemade French bread in to warm. The doorbell rang and Grant went to answer.

  Within ten minutes the house was a crazy, chaotic, wonderful hive of noise and activity. Her daughters and Bree helped her get food on the table while Grant hung up coats and entertained three of the sweetest little girls on earth. Audrey could hardly wait to see how two little cousins fit into the mix.

  “Hey, Mom”—Landyn plopped on the bar stool across the counter from her—“I’ve got some ideas to run by you after supper if you have time—publicity stuff for the inn. Chase said you’d mentioned it.”

  “Oh! That’d be great. I can’t wait to see what you came up with.” Audrey loved the passion she heard in Landyn’s voice. For the first time since her youngest had pulled up the driveway with that U-haul in tow, she felt like she had her Landyn back.

  From the corner of her vision, she saw the longing in Danae’s eyes as she surreptitiously watched her sister move about the kitchen, Landyn’s pregnancy more apparent every week. Audrey sent a silent prayer winging, that Danae and Dallas would soon have happy baby news to share too.

  It seemed impossible that there would soon be four Whitmans—Corinne’s two youngest and Landyn’s twins—that Tim had never known. And who would never know him. Not this side of heaven anyway.

  She felt Grant’s hand on her neck. “You okay, babe?” he whispered. And she knew he’d read her thoughts in her expression.

  “I’m fine.” It came out more brusque than she’d intended, but when he was so tender with her like this, tears were never far behind. She did not want to start this happy evening with tears.

  Too late. Not hers. But Simone’s angry screams came from the family room. And Jesse’s stern voice. “No, baby girl, I told you not until Christmas. Does Daddy need to put you in time out?” More Simone screams.

  Audrey shot Grant daggers. “Didn’t I tell—”

  He shut her up with a bear hug and a full-on-the-lips kiss.

  “Whoa, Parents! Get a room!” Link laughed and sampled a finger full of mashed potatoes on his way through the kitchen.

  Sari and Sadie came running to see what all the excite-ment was.

  Sadie’s towhead cocked to one side, watching them. “Why do Poppa and Gram have to get a room?”

  To the cacophonous music of her grown children’s laughter, Audrey squirmed out of Grant’s embrace and straightened her clothes. “As long as you’re all in here, you may as well get to the table. We’re just waiting on the bread to warm.”

  Grant tossed her a self-satisfied wink and went to the broom closet to retrieve the high chair for Simone and a booster seat for Sadie. Like a well-choreographed dance, once they were all seated, hands went up on the table and everyone, young and old, clasped the hand of the loved one next to them.

  Grant prayed—too long, in Audrey’s opinion since Sari’s hand was sweaty and the green beans were already growing cold—but she wouldn’t begrudge him a single minute.

  * * *

  Landyn held her breath and chewed the corner of her bottom lip, more nervous than she’d ever been with a high-dollar client at Fineman and Justus.

  The rest of the gang was in the family room watching a movie with the little girls—part of Dad’s grand TUESDAY FAMILY NIGHT plan—but Mom had curled up on the couch in the living room with Landyn’s proposal in hand. The proposal she’d worked on for three solid days before she felt it was ready to present. Her P&L on this job would not have cut muster at Fineman and Justus, but thankfully, Mom wasn’t keeping track of profit and loss.

  After what seemed an eternity, Mom turned to the final page and shook her head, her mouth pressed in a thin line. Landyn’s heart fell. But when her mother looked up, the smile that came looked more like a wow-I’m-impressed sort of smile. Landyn scooted to the edge of the couch. “So, you like it?”

  Leafing absently through the six-page document one more time, Mom looked thoughtful. “I think your ideas might be a little more elaborate than our budget can handle right now, but I like the way you’re thinking.” She uncurled, crossed her legs, and picked up the ballpoint pen from the coffee table. “Let’s talk about which of these we could implement right away.”

  Landyn smiled and the familiar adrenaline rush she always got when a creative project was coming together surged through her. “Look at the top of the second page. I think we could do that on a barebones budget.”

  Mom chuckled. “That would be ours.” But then she studied Landyn as if seeing her for the first time tonight. “Just look at you! So professional and competent. I can see why you loved your job. You’re a pro, sweetie!”

  Warmth flooded her. And then doubt crept back in—abo
ut the decision she was so close to. “Mom, do you think— Do you think I’d be sorry if I gave this up?” She waved her copy of the proposal.

  “The marketing?”

  “My career.”

  “Oh honey . . . You’re the only one who can answer that question. But don’t think that just because you gave up your career now that you couldn’t have it back again one day.”

  “I know, but—I’d be so far behind the curve. I’ve only been away from Fineman and Justus for three months, and already I feel like I’m in the dark. Marketing is a high-tech industry. It changes every day and—” She stopped, closed her eyes, and breathed deep. “Why is this so hard?”

  “Maybe you’re making it harder than it needs to be,” Mom said softly. “What does Chase think?”

  A few months ago that question would have raised her hackles, but she knew her mother didn’t mean it the way Landyn would have been tempted to interpret it in the past—that Chase’s opinion was more important. Or that she should just be a little doormat and do whatever her husband said without question. Even though it did seem like that was the way her mother sometimes handled things in her marriage to Dad. But then, she couldn’t argue that it worked for them.

  “Chase is pretty excited about the possibility of buying the loft in Langhorne.” Landyn riffled the edges of the proposal. “If we did that, I know it wouldn’t be forever, but it would be pretty long-term.”

  “Chase is trying to do the right thing, Landyn. He’s never had anyone to show him how to be a husband—how to lead his family. But I think he’s doing a pretty fine job. Just something to consider . . .”

  She’d seen that look on her mother’s face many times. And hadn’t always been thrilled with what followed. “I’m listening.” She was learning.

  “This might be a good time—with the babies coming and the opportunities you’ve both been given—to let Chase make the call. To give your blessing for whatever it is he feels God is calling him to. Trust him. And trust that if Chase makes a mistake, God has his back.”

  “I—I know He does. But it’s hard. It’s hard to trust someone else when”—she gave a sheepish grin—“when I’m so sure I could make better decisions.”