Where Grace Appears

by Heidi Chiavaroli

  “A hotel, then?”

  I shifted in my seat. “Sort of, but more upscale. More personal. Homey.” I tried to ignore Tripp’s grin at the word he’d used a short time earlier to describe my beat-up old car. “I don’t know what sort of long-term plans you have for this place, but it would make an amazing bed and breakfast. With some updates, people would clamber to stay here, and with Mom’s cooking it’d be the talk of Camden.”

  Aunt Pris stared at me. I don’t think I ever saw her go so long without a word. Finally, she opened her mouth. “You want me, an old lady, to go into business with your mother?”

  “Sort of. If we moved in, we could help you out and you wouldn’t need to sell your orchard. We’d clean and cook and turn this place into a money-making venture again.”

  “We?”

  I blinked, confused, just glad I’d gotten my proposition out. “We, what?”

  “You said ‘we.’” Aunt Pris said.

  “She did,” Esther affirmed.

  “Well, we’d probably have to move in and sell our house to make it work. But you have plenty of room and—”

  Aunt Pris shook her head. “Let me get this straight. You want me to open up my home to your entire family…and to strangers?”

  “Yes. I guess that is what I’m suggesting.”

  “Why do I feel, girl, that you coming here asking me all of this is like the prodigal son coming to his father asking for his inheritance early? Is that what you’re doing, you impertinent girl? You aren’t willing to wait for me to kick the bucket to get this house, is that it?”

  Heat bloomed at my neck. This was a horrible idea. I should have put it out of my head the minute it entered.

  Tripp cleared his throat, leaned forward. “If I could just add my two cents.”

  I could have kissed him.

  “Please do, young man. I’m not sure I can quite wrap my head around this…proposition.”

  “Josie herself really doesn’t have anything to gain from any of this.” He held out his hands, his endearing, authentic nature filling the room. “She’s going back to college in the fall—”

  “Maybe.” I didn’t think before I spoke, as usual. But nothing was definite at this point.

  “Maybe?” Tripp cocked his head at me.

  I shrugged. “Lord willing. Please, Tripp, go on.”

  He eyed me another moment before turning to Aunt Pris, who looked amused by our exchange. “We’re only thinking of helping Hannah fulfill a long-held dream and helping you in the process. Wouldn’t you rather have family around than a hired nurse?”

  “That is none of your business. Truly, I don’t even know why Josephine brought you along…unless you’re planning on making yourself part of the family soon?”

  I shot to my feet, mortified. “Aunt Pris, no!”

  Esther cackled. “Oh, pity! He would make a nice addition, wouldn’t he Priscilla?”

  The two ladies exchanged a smile before Aunt Pris sipped her tea and pet Cragen’s back in slow, steady strokes.

  “I’m still confused. It was my understanding your mother wanted to open a bookshop, not a hotel.”

  “A bed and breakfast. A book-themed bed and breakfast, actually. A bookshop would be a lovely addition, perhaps if it was a part of the B&B.”

  Esther tapped Aunt Pris’s arm while bouncing in her seat. “She could put it in that old barn of yours, Priscilla. How fun! And we could make quilts for all the rooms!”

  I beamed at Esther.

  Tripp nodded. “The barn would make a beautiful bookshop, actually. Plenty of room with a lot of potential. Those amazing beams could really draw attention.”

  “Now, just wait a minute. And that goes for you too, Esther.” Cragen jumped off Aunt Pris’s lap to settle on the floor. “I am not agreeing to any such thing. Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I don’t have my mind. This is my home and as of right now, it’s staying just the way it is.”

  “I understand, Aunt Pris. And I know it’s a bit much to spring on you all at once.”

  “You’re darn tootin’, it is.” She sipped her tea, then placed her cup back on its saucer. “You said your mother would be doing all the cooking?”

  “I’m sure we’d help, but yes.”

  “And what does she have to say to all of this?”

  I ran my tongue over my teeth. “I mentioned the idea to her. While she seemed taken with it, she also seemed certain you wouldn’t agree.”

  “Hmph.” Aunt Pris inhaled deep, looked out the window toward the overgrown orchards. “I presume you have some sort of business plan? Cost projections, startup costs, marketing analysis?”

  My mouth went dry. For all the oddity that was Aunt Pris, she was still as sharp as one of her quilting needles. “Well, no, not yet—”

  She held up a hand. “You dare waltz in here asking for me to hand over my home to you without a plan? You really do have some nerve, girl.”

  Again, I fought the urge to run from the room, to race down High Street towards the harbor, let the saltiness of the sea wind sweep away my embarrassment. Oh, to run again. I should have kept my nose out of all of this. I’d just been trying to help, trying to make something good come from this abandoned piece of property, trying to aid my family. But what did any of it matter? I was a fool. I had enough problems of my own without meddling in the affairs of my great-aunt and my mother.

  “Aunt Pris.” Tripp placed his teacup on the table beside him. “If we did all those things—if I made up an estimate for the work to be done, if we came up with some numbers and a marketing strategy…is this something you’d be interested in? If not, we understand, and we won’t waste any more of your time.”

  I pressed my lips together, stared at the swirls of the area rug atop the old hardwood floor. “I thought this might be a chance for us to work together toward something good. Something that benefits the town and our family. All of us. I didn’t mean any disrespect by asking, Aunt Pris. Please know that. If you want me to forget the idea, consider it done.”

  I felt her gaze heavy on me. “It took a lot of gumption for you to come here.” Did she speak in disgust or admiration?

  Tripp reached for my hand and squeezed it, the gesture comforting.

  “Oh, Priscilla,” Esther murmured. “We could all use a bit of excitement around here, couldn’t we? One last hoorah before we answer Jesus’s call? The Bible commands us to entertain strangers, after all. And Hannah’s cooking…I can’t think of a better way to spend our last years on earth but by fellowshipping around her heavenly food.”

  “Now you’re a part of this, I suppose?” Aunt Pris raised an eyebrow at Esther.

  “I’m practically a fixture, remember?” She glowed, her brown face lighting up the room.

  “I’m not agreeing to anything, you hear me?”

  I nodded, even as I felt a spur of hope hitch within my spirit.

  “You speak to your mother and make sure she’s privy to our conversation. You set up a business plan and get me those numbers. You prove to me I won’t regret this endeavor and then—and only then—will I consider your proposition.”

  I wanted to clap my hands and prance around the room. Instead, I summoned every last ounce of decorum and graciously thanked my aunt before we took our exit.

  When Tripp and I sat in my Honda, I looked at the barn and the surrounding orchards with new enthusiasm. I placed my hand on Tripp’s, and squeezed. “Thank you isn’t enough for what you did in there.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. That woman’s given us a whole lot of work to do.”

  Us.

  “Tripp, I don’t expect you to take any time on this. It’s all on me and my family.”

  “And you were going to hire the competition to remodel this place? No way, Martin. I’ve had my eye on this property forever.”

  I laughed. “I can’t believe she’s considering this. She’s not stringing us along, is she? She’s really interested?”

  Tripp nodded. “Maybe we’re not the only one
s who want to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.”

  I pulled my hand from Tripp’s and rested it on my stomach. I didn’t know what the following weeks and months would bring. Already they were nothing like I’d pictured or planned. But maybe that was okay.

  I pulled out of the drive, a light and foreign feeling in my chest. This could actually be fun. And I loved Esther’s idea of a barn bookshop. “I think it’s time to call an emergency Martin family meeting.”

  9

  “Come on, Sis, it’s Saturday night. I’m supposed to be heading out.” Bronson tapped his foot on the hardwood floor of our living room, every inch of his six-foot frame ready to bolt.

  “And I have a date I need to get ready for.” Amie slumped on the couch beside Lizzie.

  “I know, I know. And I appreciate you making room in your busy schedules, but this is important. And it really can’t wait.”

  Mom walked in, placed napkins and a plate of brownies on the coffee table. “To quell the troops.” She sat in her chair, hands held palms up. “I’m not sure I can stand the suspense though.”

  I smiled at her, but couldn’t tell if she guessed my news had to do with our conversation the night before. “Just waiting on Mags.”

  “Well, it can’t be an engagement announcement, because Tripp isn’t here.” Lizzie tapped her chin, and I threw a pillow at her.

  “No one—especially me—is getting engaged.”

  “You two have been spending a lot of time with one another.” Amie’s bottom lip jutted out as she crossed her arms over her chest. She’d always had a girlish crush on Tripp, but I assumed she’d be over any childhood jealousies by now. She had her own life, her own dreams.

  “Tripp has nothing to do with this…almost nothing, anyway.”

  The side door opened and Maggie rushed in, wisps of hair escaping her ponytail. “Sorry! Had a mishap with the Chicken Mozambique. Mom, I thought that was supposed to be a quick dish?”

  “She makes everything in the kitchen look easy,” Lizzie said.

  Maggie dropped to the floor beside Bronson and glanced at her phone. “Josh and I promised the boys a movie night, but they have to be in bed by eight-thirty if we’re going to get them up in a halfway decent state for church tomorrow, so spill your guts, Sis. Clock’s ticking.”

  “Thanks, guys.” Maybe best to dive right in. “So, I went to visit Aunt Pris today with an idea.”

  Mom’s head snapped up, but she kept quiet.

  “Was it how to keep Cragen from licking your ankles at dinner, because I’ve had it with that beast.” Amie wrinkled her nose.

  “I’ll tackle that next time.” I inhaled a deep breath. “It was actually about Mom’s bed and breakfast.”

  Maggie groaned. “Josie Martin, I hope to high heaven you did not ask Aunt Pris for money. Please tell me you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t ask her for a penny.”

  “Thank the Lord.” Maggie clutched her knees to her chest.

  “I offered her something.” My family grew silent, eyes fastened on me. “For us to move in with her.”

  The room exploded.

  “What?”

  “You have no right!”

  “What were you thinking?”

  A shrill whistle pierced the room, cutting through the commotion. Maggie. She’d perfected it since becoming a mother of two energetic young boys. “Let’s just let Josie finish, okay? Maybe we misunderstood.”

  “Well, of course you can be calm.” Bronson flung a hand in the air toward me. “She’s not signing you up for anything.”

  “Or herself,” Amie sputtered. “She’ll be going back to New York to pretend we don’t exist again in a few months.”

  Amie’s words caught me before I could think to press onward in my explanation. While I had kept in sporadic touch with Mom, Maggie, and Lizzie, I’d all but ignored Amie. I loved her of course. She was my sister. But when it came down to it, we had little in common. Now though, I saw how my silence had hurt her.

  I vowed to make it up to her somehow. We had all summer to find something to bond over.

  “That wasn’t the best way to start.” I stood and paced the room. “I was thinking about how Mom used to want to run a B&B, and how this bookshop feels like settling.”

  Mom opened her mouth, then clamped her teeth over her bottom lip.

  “I thought about Aunt Pris having that big ol’ house to herself and selling the orchard because she needs help. What if we were her help? And what if she let us transform that beautiful home into a family-run B&B? A book-inspired B&B, complete with a barn bookshop?”

  The room was silent. Too silent. I wished for Tripp, for his encouraging, reasonable words. “That big house isn’t good for just one old lady, and Aunt Pris is beginning to feel it. It’s been in the family for generations. Maybe it’s time for it to tell a new story, open its arms to new people and create a place of rest and peace for guests—guests who love books. Dad would love the idea, I know he would. But it’s Mom’s passion and skill that would make it thrive.” I turned to my mother and swallowed, the absurdity of the idea once again threatening to envelop me. “Mom, Aunt Pris is actually considering the idea.”

  Mom worked her tongue around in her mouth. “When we talked about the possibility last night, I never thought Aunt Pris would entertain the notion. What exactly did she say?”

  “She gave me a hard time, of course. But Esther was there, and she thought it a grand idea, which I think buttered up Aunt a bit. In the end, she told me to talk to you, to come up with a plan and some numbers. Tripp said he’d help out with that.”

  “She’s seriously thinking about it?” Bronson raked a hand through his hair.

  “She is. Maybe she’s tired of being alone. Maybe she wants to feel a part of something. Maybe she wants that house to be a part of others’ stories, too.”

  Amie scooted to the edge of the couch. “But we’d have to live there? With—with that horrible dog? And what about this home? Our home.”

  “If we want to pay for everything out-of-pocket with no loans and run it ourselves, without staff, I don’t see any other way but to live there.” I looked at Maggie, since we’d already briefly spoke of this at Mom’s retirement party. “And sell the house.”

  Bronson stood. “This is crazy. We can’t sell this house. What if everything backfires? What if we can’t take living with Aunt Pris? Then what? We lose everything.”

  Amie’s bottom lip trembled. “This is Dad’s house.”

  Mom hid a sniffle, reached out to put a hand on Amie’s knee.

  The room grew silent, and for the hundredth time that day, I wondered if I wasn’t making a grievous mistake. I thought of Dad’s study, that hollow empty chair. His hours studying, planning great things for the world.

  I lowered myself to a chair. “I miss Dad, too. But he’s not in this house. Our memories are, and we’ll always have them. I love this house. I’d be sad to leave it, too. But Dad spoke to us often of the value of heavenly treasures, not earthly ones.” On a whim, I decided to take a page from Esther’s book. “Entertaining strangers, opening our home to them, could be a mission of sorts.”

  “Opening our home…for a fee. Don’t pretend this is like one of Dad’s profitless but full-of-good-heart adventures, Josie,” Bronson said. “In fact, it’s probably better if it’s not. We’ll all be on the streets begging for food if we don’t make some sort of money.”

  I smiled at his reasoning. “Mom’s put all she’s had into us for most of her life. Maybe it’s time for us to put some of ourselves into her.”

  “Us?” Amie gestured wildly. “How can there be an ‘us’ when you’re going to run off to school again in a few months and leave us with Aunt Pris? We’re the ones who’ll be stuck with this mess. And I am not cleaning up after strangers.”

  “I don’t want to drag anyone into the business unless you want to take part in it. I guess I hoped you would. I was getting kind of excited about it myself. In fact, I’m consi
dering transferring my last year of classes online so I could be here if this all goes through.”

  That put the room in a frenzy again. Sooner or later, they’d know my reasons were twofold, but for now, this explanation would do.

  “Josie, really?” Lizzie looked at me with such hope my eyes watered.

  I blinked. “I lost myself this past year, I think. I missed Dad so much. And I realize now that I cut you all off, too. I’m sorry for that. It was wrong, and I want to fix it if you’ll let me. If Mom and Aunt Pris agree, I’ll do whatever I can in my power to make this bed and breakfast a success.”

  I may have failed by getting into Finn’s bed, but I would prove myself still capable of success, one way or the other.

  This was surely the right path for this season of my life. Staying home, staying with my family, helping Mom make her dream a reality. Somewhere in the last couple of days, it had become my dream, too.

  And yet amid the excitement and hope, a tiny voice whispered accusations. I was just scared to go back to New York. To run into my professors, or Finn, with a swollen belly, to feel his rejection all over again. To feel anew the firm hold he’d had on me. To face being a single mother—or giving up my baby—alone.

  My chest tightened and black spots danced before my eyes. Shallow breaths signaled the beginnings of a panic attack such as I’d had when Finn put that horrible choice in front of me: him or our baby.

  “I think it’s an honorable plan.” Maggie’s words served as a beacon of light within my blackness. “And I would be willing to help how I can. I’m good with numbers. I could make a website, do some online marketing. Maybe once things get running I could handle reservations.”

  I breathed deep, forced my thoughts away from my dilemma and onto the task before me. Slow words came from my mouth. “Once we’re making a profit, we could pay ourselves.”

  “I won’t be anyone’s chambermaid, but I can be your honorary handyman between classes. I wouldn’t mind trying to clean up those orchards a bit.” Bronson leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I’d miss this house, but maybe Josie’s right. There’s more to Dad than this house, and more to our childhood than these walls. Doing this together, as a family—that would be honoring Dad, I think.”