Reason to Breathe

by Deborah Raney

  “We’d love to have you as a guest anytime. Our compliments, of course! Thanks again, Mary.”

  The phone rang in stereo at the cashier’s desk and in the back office.

  “I’ll get it.” Phee gave her boss a quick hug before hurrying to the front to pick up. The relief that washed over her took her by surprise. And was instantly replaced by excitement and a flood of ideas for the projects she wanted to complete on the cabins and, especially, on the landscaping.

  She picked up the phone. “Langhorne Blooms. How may I help you?”

  “Oh, Phee. I was hoping you’d answer.”

  “Hey, Jo. What’s up?”

  “We have a problem.”

  Phee frowned. “What kind of problem?”

  “Um … the really big kind.”

  “What? What happened?”

  Joanna blew a sigh into the phone, then breathed in. “Remember the other night when I had you and Britt test our Airbnb listing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, remember I had to make the site live before you guys could test it?”

  “Yes. Get to the point, Jo.”

  “Um … apparently I forgot to take it offline, and it’s been live all this time.”

  “So just take it offline now. Why is that a problem?”

  Another deep breath. “It’s not. Unless somebody books.”

  “So?”

  “Somebody booked. Three nights next weekend.”

  “What? No way are we ready for guests! No. Way. Can’t you just tell them our calendar is full for those dates?”

  “But it wasn’t full for those dates. That’s the problem. When the client went to the site, the calendar was wide open. I hadn’t blocked any dates out. I thought we were just testing.”

  “Well—” She raked a hand through her hair. “The client will surely understand, won’t they?”

  “They might. But what if they don’t? We could start off with the worst review ever and never book another night the rest of our lives.”

  Phee tapped a pencil on the cash register, frustration mounting. “So … what were the dates again?”

  “I told you. Next weekend. It’s just one couple. Checking in Friday afternoon, checking out Monday morning.”

  “No. No way, Jo. For starters, I have a date Friday night.”

  “Again? You two aren’t wasting any time, are you?”

  It was true. Since that day at his house, she and Quinn had talked almost every day and spent several magical evenings together, walking the wooded trails in Cape Girardeau’s parks and sitting in a cozy coffee shop near campus talking for hours. They’d even taken turns helping each other with projects at the cottage and at his house. Always with her sisters—or Mabel—playing chaperone. Despite the underlying sadness at Mom’s death and Dad being so far away, Phee couldn’t remember being happier.

  “Phee? Please hear me out. I really think we can make this work.”

  “I’m listening.” But not with an open mind. Joanna was asking the impossible.

  “Okay, here’s the deal.” Jo spoke slowly and clearly as if speaking to a child. “When I took our listing live for you and Britt to test out, I was just plugging in numbers because I had to put some amount in. But I priced the place at two hundred fifty dollars a night. And this couple still booked, Phee! That’s seven hundred fifty dollars! We can’t turn that down.”

  “We don’t have a choice but to turn it down.”

  “Yes, we do. We can get the cottage ready. I know we can.”

  She blew out a sigh. “I guess we can put the guests in the master with use of the bathroom. And we can all pile in Britt’s room and just pee in the woods and bathe in the river.” She paused. “I hope you’re catching my sarcasm, Jo.”

  “Oh, I’m catching it all right. But you don’t understand, Phee. This couple rented the whole cottage. That’s what we advertised. Remember?”

  They’d had such fun the night they created the listing. They’d named their property The Cottage on Poplar Brook Road and posted photos that Jo had taken on a perfect spring morning, with the sun splashing patches of light on the hardwood floors. That night, it had all seemed so romantic and ideal. Now, not so much.

  “Phee. Are you there? We have to vacate. To honor what we advertised.”

  “We? We did not advertise.” She huffed. “So where are we supposed to go?”

  “We could stay in one of the cabins.”

  “No, we couldn’t. Remember, they’re coming Monday to start on the sheet rock and painting. I had enough trouble getting on their schedule. We can’t cancel. And the guy said it would probably take a week to ten days to finish, and they didn’t recommend sleeping there until we’ve aired it out for a few days. Not to mention, it won’t be anywhere near ready to sleep in for another month.”

  Jo sighed. “Too bad Dad’s house sold.”

  “Yeah. Very bad timing. I guess we could get a hotel in town.” How could Jo have forgotten to turn off the listing? “Wait … Please don’t tell me you promised them breakfast too?”

  Silence.

  “Jo!”

  “Settle down, Phee. I have an idea.”

  “I’m listening.” She tapped the pencil harder.

  “Dad has a tent in storage. We could go get it from his unit and camp up in the clearing. It’d be fun! We could even have a campfire in the evening.”

  “I am not camping in the clearing.”

  “Why not? The weather is supposed to be great—high in the seventies—and who knows, our guests might even enjoy doing s’mores around the fire.”

  “Right, and you can bring your guitar, and we can all sing ‘Kumbaya.’ It’ll be perfect.” She hoped Jo could “hear” her rolling her eyes.

  But her sister only laughed. “Please think about it, Phee. That’s a chunk of change. Money we can put into decorating the cabins. Please?”

  “Have you asked Britt?” She blew out a hard breath. “Never mind. She’ll be all over camping out.”

  “See? It’s perfect!”

  “It is not perfect. But … that is a lot of money.”

  “So, you’re in?”

  “Lucky for you, Mary just gave me all next week off. If you promise to help Britt and me, we can probably make the cottage presentable by Friday. But just so you know, I’m not canceling my date Friday night, so you and Britt are on your own greeting our guests and setting up the tent.”

  “Guests let themselves in. We just tell them where the key is. That’s how it works. And no problem with the tent. Britt and I have got this under control.”

  “I thought you said you hadn’t talked to her yet.”

  “I haven’t, but she’ll be fine with it.” The excitement in Jo’s voice was palpable. “You won’t be sorry, Phee. This will be a blast.”

  Phee shook her head. Famous last words.

  Chapter 36

  Is that everything?” Britt tossed a Target bag onto the kitchen counter.

  “It’d better be.” Phee surveyed the mountain of shopping bags they’d just carried into the cottage. “Jo, did you fail to calculate that it would take almost half of our profits from this first booking just to get the place ready?”

  “Don’t look at it that way, Phee. This was all stuff we were eventually going to need for the cabins anyway.”

  “I guess that’s true.” She shrugged and started unpacking the shopping bags. “Well, let’s get a move on. This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my week off.”

  Britt shot her a dirty look. “You know, for being in love, you sure have been cranky lately.”

  “I have not.” She stopped short. “Have I?”

  “A little.” Jo agreed.

  “Sorry, guys. I’m just nervous about this gig. Especially since I won’t be here to let our guests in tomorrow night.” The couple who’d booked the cottage were driving in from Chicago and wouldn’t be arriving until six p.m.—an hour after Quinn was to pick her up for dinner and a concert at the Show Me Center arena on cam
pus afterward.

  Joanna shook her head. “I told you, Phee, we don’t even have to meet them if we don’t want to. A lot of people prefer to check themselves in. I’ve been in close communication with this couple the whole time, and they know where to find the key.”

  “Everything is under control, sis.” Britt gave her a playful shove. “Just chill, will you?”

  “I’ll try.” She unwrapped a new set of sheets and went to put them in the washing machine.

  For the next four hours, the three of them worked together getting everything ready except for the bedding. In the morning, they’d put fresh sheets on the beds, hang new towels, and put everything out for coffee and breakfast.

  Phee baked cranberry pecan muffins to go with fresh fruit, coffee, and orange juice, and the whole house smelled delicious. She’d enjoyed being in the kitchen—admittedly because it gave her time to daydream about a day she might share housekeeping and muffin-baking duties with a certain brown-eyed man.

  She hadn’t said anything to her sisters yet, but she was starting to worry a little about how the plans for the property might change if things got serious between her and Quinn. She smiled to herself. As far as she was concerned, they were already serious. And she thought Quinn felt the same.

  She tried not to think too far into the future, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself. And as much as she liked the house Quinn was building, she wasn’t crazy about the idea of moving into “Heather’s house.” But husbands hadn’t figured into the plans when she and her sisters had talked about doing this Airbnb thing.

  Since they’d moved into the cottage, Britt had been doing most of the cooking, cleaning, and grocery shopping, since she still wasn’t working. And they’d all agreed it made sense for her not to look for work, at least until the cottages were finished, since so often, someone needed to be here for the work crews and delivery trucks.

  Jo brought a load of clean laundry to the kitchen table to fold. “Man, it’s a challenge to have guests when you’re sleeping in their beds the night before.”

  “Tell me about it.” Britt wiped down the countertops. “I’ll be glad when the cabins are finished and we can make those our main rentals.”

  “Yes, but I doubt we can get two hundred fifty dollars a night for them.”

  Phee laughed. “I still can’t believe you were able to get that much, Jo.”

  “Maybe we should make the cottage our main rental and just stay in the cabins ourselves. Once they’re done, I mean.” Britt took a pretty dish towel Jo had just folded and hung it over the oven door handle. “Don’t anybody use this towel. Under threat of death.”

  “Oooh, now who’s cranky?” Phee smiled even though she was still stinging a little from Britt’s comment earlier. “We can figure out all the details later. Let’s just get through this weekend first. You got the tent out of storage, right, Jo?”

  “It’s on my to-do list for tomorrow. And Britt, you’ll help me set it up?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Melvin sauntered in from his usual perch on the hearth in the living room. “Oh! I forgot about Melvin. Jo, you’re positive the couple is okay with Melvin being here in the cottage?”

  “Positive. The woman sounded delighted. Remember Melvin was in one of the photos on the website? Apparently, this woman had a tuxedo cat that looked just like him when she was a little girl.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet.” Britt chucked Melvin under the chin. “You be a good kitty, you hear, buddy?”

  He meowed in response.

  “Okay then.” Phee stood and stretched. “I think we’re good to go. I’m heading to bed.”

  Phee did one last walk-through, trying to see the cottage the way guests might. It wasn’t perfect, but it had plenty of charm about it, and Phee thought their guests would find it quaint and comfortable.

  The dogwood had just started blooming, and she cut a bouquet of branches for the mantel. She straightened a couple of pictures on the gallery wall by the fireplace and declared the place guest-ready. Quinn would be here to pick her up in a few minutes.

  Jo and Britt were already at the clearing, setting up camp. They’d decided to use the bathroom in the closest cabin in lieu of a chamber pot. Hopefully the fumes wouldn’t kill them if they didn’t stay any longer than it took to brush their teeth or take a quick shower. It was going to be the height of inconvenience, but she was actually a little excited about it too.

  The weather had cooperated beautifully. It was still in the upper sixties and trees were flowering all over the property, with a riot of wildflowers waving their heads among the grasses at the river’s edge and the daffodils having their last hurrah.

  It struck Phee that if a real estate agent had been showing this property now, it would have been purchased in a bidding war—for far more than she and her sisters paid. She’d grown ever more grateful for Dad’s—and Quinn’s—insistence that they buy this place.

  But more than that, over these past few weeks, for the first time, this cottage and these pretty-beyond-words acres were truly beginning to feel like home. She couldn’t help but wonder how much her budding relationship with Quinn had to do with that fact.

  Hearing his SUV rolling up the lane, a smile came. Since she’d given herself permission to … fall in love with Quinn, she felt a little like Jasmine on her magic carpet ride with Aladdin. It truly had opened up a whole new world. Why had she resisted her attraction to Quinn in the beginning? Maybe God knew she’d needed all her emotional energy to grieve Mom and to process the things she’d learned about her parents. Or maybe she’d just been stubborn and stupid.

  Quinn parked in front of the cottage and got out to open her door for her. It might be a little old-fashioned, but she loved his thoughtfulness.

  As they drove up the lane, Phee turned in her seat to look up toward the clearing. “Pray for my sisters, would you?”

  Quinn turned to her, looking mildly alarmed. “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s doubtful. They’re up in the clearing, pitching a tent as we speak.”

  Chuckling, Quinn pulled the SUV to the edge of the lane, put it in Park, and bowed dramatically over the steering wheel. “Lord, if ever we’ve needed you, we need you now …”

  They both lost it. Phee giggled all the way into town. But she also whispered her own—rather more sincere—prayer that this night wouldn’t end in disaster.

  Chapter 37

  It was after ten o’clock when Quinn and Phylicia exited the arena, carried along with an eclectic crowd that ranged from rowdy college students to families with children to a gray-haired couple holding hands. Quinn pointed them out and whispered in her ear, “That’ll be us someday.”

  “Ha! That’s you now,” she teased.

  “Cut it out.” He put an arm around her and squeezed her tight enough to make her squeal. “You’re going to give me a complex with all the ‘old’ jokes.”

  “I’ve decided I actually like older men. So you’re safe.”

  He squeezed tighter, happy for an excuse to do so. The woman had come out of her shell in the last few weeks and had become a consummate flirt, at least with him. She made him laugh. She gave him hope. He liked the man he was when he was with her.

  It had been twilight when the concert began, and now they both looked up at the night sky, obscured somewhat by the campus streetlights.

  “Almost a full moon tonight.” Quinn pointed, and she followed his line of vision.

  “That’ll be helpful. For our little camping adventure tonight.”

  He grinned. “I wonder how Jo and Britt are doing.”

  Their eyes met, and they burst into laughter, remembering Quinn’s roadside prayer. He loved the fact that after only a few short weeks of knowing each other—as more than friends—they had a whole arsenal of private jokes between them. And sometimes it felt as if they were reading each other’s minds.

  As they made their way to the parking lot, the crowd thinned out. Phylicia fished her phone from a side p
ocket of her purse. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to call Jo and check—” Her phone pinged a dozen times and she gave a little gasp. “What is going on? Look at all these texts.”

  He looked over her shoulder. “Your sisters?”

  She nodded, looking worried.

  He steered her out of the flow of the remaining concert-goers to a spot between two parked cars. “You’d better call and see what’s going on.”

  She fumbled with her phone. Jo’s photo appeared on the screen, but her call went to voicemail. Phylicia dialed Britt. It rang several times, but finally Britt picked up. Phylicia clicked the speaker icon.

  The roar of cars leaving the parking lot and the usual noise of the nighttime campus made it hard for Quinn to hear, but from what he could gather, the crisis involved Melvin.

  “Just hurry up and get home, Phee.” That from Jo, who was usually the most cool, calm, and collected of the sisters.

  “We’re just leaving campus. We’ll be there as quick as we can.” She hung up and started jogging toward where they’d parked.

  He had to hustle to catch up with her. “Something happened to Melvin? I couldn’t make out everything Britt said.”

  “I couldn’t either, but apparently they decided to take Melvin up to the clearing—something about our guest being allergic to cats—and now he’s lost up there.” She frowned. “How could that be? That woman agreed to having Melvin stay in the cottage. She sounded excited about it. Did she not know she’s allergic? I don’t get it.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe her husband wasn’t quite so enthusiastic.”

  “I’m sorry. I know you had your heart set on a milkshake, but I really need to get home.”

  “Don’t worry about it. There’ll be plenty of time for ice cream some other day.”

  As soon as they rounded the curve in the lane, Quinn could see the flashlights arcing through the trees up in the clearing. He pointed them out to Phylicia.

  “They must not have found him yet. You can just let me out here, Quinn. I’m sorry about cutting the evening short.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll help you look.” He parked the SUV and turned off the ignition, then reached across her to open the glove compartment. “There should be a decent flashlight in here … There it is. Come on.”