Where Grace Appears

by Heidi Chiavaroli

  Lizzie leaned forward, her thin arms wrapped around a red throw pillow. “I’ve always thought Aunt Pris’s home would look beautiful with more flowers. That porch could handle some big planters. Herbs and vegetables in the gardens that Mom could cook with.”

  Amie held out her hands, shook her head. “Wait, wait, wait. What about living with Aunt Pris? And what about you, Mom? You’ve been awful quiet while we all decide your life for you.”

  Amie was right.

  We all turned to Mom, perched on her chair. She stared at the untouched plate of brownies, then finally looked at each of us. “I have to admit, when your father passed last year, I felt a part of me die. He was my life—him and all of you—for the last thirty years. And there’s nothing else more worthy I have ever done—could ever do.” She pressed her lips together, seemed to want to choose her words with care. “You all know how books have formed and shaped my life. But people have, too. And I’m ready for a new adventure. I thought that was in a bookshop, but this…resurrecting an old dream of a B&B, would be amazing. I never thought Aunt Pris would give it a serious thought. That she is means something.

  “Yes, living with her would be a challenge, but has the Martin family ever been one to back down from a challenge? Especially one of loving the unlovable. She’s family. For as long as we’ve known her, she has always been there when we needed her. Maybe it’s time we were there for her.”

  Mom sat straighter, planted her feet on the ground. “But I refuse to go forward with this unless each one of you agrees to it. This is your home, too, and there’s no going back if we sell it. And yet I don’t see any other way around it if we go this route. I’m not going into debt again, and I don’t need two houses. And yet this is my dream. You have your own lives to live, and more than anything, I want you to live them. I never, ever want to hold you back.”

  “Oh, Mom.” Lizzie got off the couch to sit on the edge of Mom’s chair and drape her arms around her. “I want you to have your dream. And it sounds exciting. Let’s go for it.”

  Maggie nodded. “I’m in if the rest of you are.”

  Bronson leaned forward. “You deserve this, Mom. If Aunt Pris agrees, I think it has potential to be a thriving business. With your food and hospitality, how can it not?”

  We all looked to Amie, whose bottom lip protruded as if she were still four years old, pouting in the corner over not getting to stay up late to ring in the New Year. Centimeter by centimeter, it wilted. “I suppose that house does have some romantic qualities. And if Aunt Pris really is going to let us fix it up nice, it could be tasteful. But I am not cleaning guest rooms, Josie, you hear me?”

  I grinned. “Loud and clear.”

  Maggie clapped her hands “That’s it, then?”

  “For now.” I stood and paced the room. “We still need Aunt Pris to officially agree. That means plans for the house and plans for the business. Numbers. Mom, you and I should probably start on this ASAP. If all goes well, I think we could have it open by Christmas.”

  A faint smile played on Mom’s lips. “The Orchard House Bed and Breakfast.”

  My heart sung. “It’s perfect, Mom.” So perfect. “It’s like it was meant to be, right? Dad’s ancestors no doubt weren’t thinking about Louisa May Alcott when they named Aunt Pris’s home all those years ago, but it suites our purposes perfectly, not to mention the Little Women theme we already have going on around here and the book experience we want to cultivate.”

  She blinked back tears and I gestured for everyone to huddle around her. I put my hand over Mom’s, sensing a newfound closeness to her. What would this adventure bring?

  Lizzie slipped her hand over mine, then Maggie, then Bronson, followed last by Amie.

  “Your father would usually say a prayer at a time like this.” Mom blinked shining eyes, and though I’d been the leader thus far and usually not short on words, God and I had been somewhat estranged since Dad passed. He’d seemed so far away it was impossible to find Him.

  “I’ll pray,” Lizzie said, surprising me.

  I closed my eyes, listened to the sweet, lulling sound of her voice, beseeching the Almighty to guide us in His path for the plans started this day.

  “And Lord,” Lizzie continued. “If there’s any way for you to tell Dad we love him and we miss him, could you do that?”

  She ended the prayer and we sounded out a chorus of “Amens.”

  Mom let out an unexpected squeal as she gripped my hands. “I’m so excited.”

  I grinned. “Me, too.”

  Maggie hugged me. “I think it’s going to be fabulous. Hey, I have to go but keep me updated and let me know what you need. Meanwhile I can work on designing a sample brochure to show Aunt Pris.” It looked like Maggie’s business degree and experience with a marketing firm before marrying Josh would come in handy.

  “Awesome. Thanks, Mags.”

  Bronson pointed a finger at me. “No putting the house up for sale until Aunt Pris signs off on this entire idea, you hear? And I want to see a stellar business plan before that happens.”

  I wrinkled my nose at him, then patted his cheek. “Someone’s gotten quite bossy this last year.”

  He pulled out of my reach. “Only out of necessity, Sis.”

  I nodded, realized how much had fallen to my brother these past months with not only Dad gone, but me and Maggie gone as well. While Lizzie was older than Bronson, her quiet, introverted nature wasn’t exactly a take-charge sort. The task must have fallen to Bronson.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more.” The truth of the words hit me with force. “I’m changing that. I want to be here, be involved. I want to pull my weight.”

  He squeezed my shoulder, tickling my neck. “Good to hear, Jo.”

  I swatted him. “Just because I’m embracing this Alcott theme does not mean you can call me that.”

  He shrugged and grinned, the gesture making him ten times more handsome. “So Tripp’s putting together an estimate? If he’s going over to Aunt Pris’s to check things out, I wouldn’t mind tagging along.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  Amie hugged Mom, but gave me a small smile which I counted as victory. “And I’ll be happy to be in charge of the toiletries for the rooms. I’m thinking all-natural, locally-sourced products. Nothing cheap.”

  “You got it.” I waved goodbye to her as she left the room.

  I turned to Mom and Lizzie. “You up for a planning session, or do you both have hot dates and movie plans too?”

  “The only hot date I have is one with Mount Battie tomorrow morning.” Lizzie took a brownie from the plate. “I have to get out early or I’ll melt onto the side of the mountain.”

  Mom laughed. “Josie, my wild one, you never cease to surprise me. I can’t even fathom what you said to get Aunt Pris to consider this.”

  “I think Tripp and Esther deserve more credit than I do.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Tripp went with you?”

  A blooming heat started at my neck, as I moved to sit cross-legged on the floor. “He was definitely helpful. But now we need a solid plan if we’re going to seal this deal.”

  I glanced at Mom, her skin glowing, her eyes bright with excitement. I felt at the edge of a grand adventure, and though it was the farthest quest I could have dreamed up for myself only months earlier, I couldn’t imagine anything better.

  10

  Tripp didn’t bother questioning the lightness in his step as he jogged up the stairs of Colton Contractors late Monday morning. He knew what caused the hope in his chest, even if he also knew better than to let it take root.

  “Hey, Eileen.” He greeted his secretary, a woman with curly platinum hair who had worked with Grandpop since Tripp was in diapers.

  “Oh hi, Tripp. Just took a call from the Smythes. They want to go ahead with the job. They’re dropping the contract off later today.”

  “Awesome. Did you tell Grandpop?”

  “Was just about to, but I’ll leave it to
you if you want to do the honors.” She gestured to the large office to her left. “He’s in.”

  “Thanks.”

  Tripp knocked on the open door of his grandfather’s office.

  “Come.”

  White head bent over blueprints, Tripp felt a surge of gratitude for the older man. Where would he and August be without the love and care of their grandfather? And now, getting to be a part of the running of Colton Contractors…Tripp couldn’t dream up anything better.

  He closed the door behind him, focusing on the task at hand. “Eileen just told me the Smythes are dropping off the contract later today.”

  Grandpop grunted. “Good.” He leaned back in his chair, his weathered face all business despite the soft gray eyes that lived under bushy gray brows. “We might want to consider hiring a couple more guys. Fall’s looking busy.”

  Tripp nodded. “As long as they can pull their own weight. I’d rather pay for experience than pay minimum wage for cheap labor.”

  Another grunt. On occasion, he butted heads with the old man on this topic. Grandpop thought one good experienced foreman working with a ragtag group of laborers sufficient. Tripp championed paying for experience that would save hours on a job. Finding the experience wasn’t always a task for the faint of heart, though.

  “Put out the word and let me know what you find. How’s August doing?”

  “We had a heart-to-heart on Friday. I think he took it well. We’ll see.”

  “I didn’t see him around the house much this weekend. Or at church.”

  Growing up, Grandpop had been strict about church attendance. Sometimes too strict. But while Tripp enjoyed the weekly services and found it a valuable time to ground himself in the big picture of life, Grandpop’s strict, sometimes legalistic ways, grated on August.

  “He went camping with some buddies Saturday night, I think. He came in late last night.”

  “As long as you keep an eye on him.”

  Tripp ran a hand over his face. No wonder he felt part father to August. Grandpop didn’t leave him much choice. Tripp considered reminding the older man that August was nineteen, capable of holding down a job or camping with some friends, but then he recalled August’s form sprawled on his bed that morning a half-hour before he was to show up to work.

  Tripp had done his brother a courtesy in throwing a pillow at him. August only grumbled something about having a rough night. Tripp left the house, trusting his brother to make the right decision. Again.

  He could only hope he had.

  He sighed. Time for a change of subject. “I’m putting together an estimate for the Martins. Meeting up with them and Kene at Aunt Pris’s later today.”

  The older man cocked his head. “Really? Priscilla is actually doing work on that old house? What are they looking to do?”

  Tripp explained the potential collaboration between the Martins and Aunt Pris.

  A slow smile spread over Grandpop’s face. “Priscilla must be all in a tizzy.”

  “She surely is. No doubt she’ll have some strong opinions about any work done to make the place into a functional B&B.”

  “She’s never been a lady to keep quiet about her thoughts.” Grandpop’s fond smile made Tripp wonder at the history he and Aunt Pris shared. They’d both been married to other people, but they’d lived in the same town all their lives, attended the same school. Did Grandpop know Josie’s great-aunt better than Tripp realized?

  “So the Martins plan to sell their home to supply the starting costs for their new venture?”

  “If all goes through and Aunt Pris agrees, yes.”

  “That’s quite a commitment.” Grandpop leaned back in his seat, tenting his hands. “That family has meant a lot to you and August over the years. In many ways, Hannah’s the closest thing to a mother you two have known. And those girls…they’ve done my heart good many a time, that’s for certain.”

  “Yes, sir. I’d agree.”

  Grandpop ran a hand over his face, stared at his desk. “I still remember Hannah and your father performing in The Christmas Carol back in high school. I could have sworn those two kids were going to get hitched.”

  Tripp shifted in his seat. Josie’s mother and his father? He supposed he should be grateful such an arrangement hadn’t happened.

  “Help them out on this one, Tripp, okay? The company can pay for the supplies. I’d offer labor too, but I know Hannah wouldn’t accept. Work the numbers. Don’t make it obvious, but make it generous.”

  Tripp grinned. He swore the old man lost more and more of his crustiness with each day he aged. “Grandpop, sometimes you remind me a lot of good ol’ Saint Nick.”

  The older man grunted again. “Not a word to them, understand?”

  Tripp stood. “Yes, sir. I like the way you work.”

  Grandpop chuckled along with Tripp as he headed out of the office. At this rate, Josie would have every reason to stay in Camden and see her endeavor through. By fall, perhaps New York would be nothing to her but a distant memory.

  Three hours later, Tripp rubbed his forehead, his hope from earlier fast dwindling as he stood in Aunt Pris’s kitchen with Josie, Hannah, Bronson, Aunt Pris, and Kene, Tripp’s in-house architect. He stared at the outdated room, the minimal counter space, and near-ancient appliances, trying to come to terms with the enormity of the project before him…not to mention Aunt Pris’s seeming inability to budge on the work needing to be done.

  “So you plan on tearing my kitchen apart?” Aunt Pris demanded after Kene suggested making room for commercial-grade appliances.

  Tripp held a hand out. “We need a bit more space and better utilization if Hannah’s going to be cooking for potentially a dozen guests each morning.”

  “Plus us,” Bronson said. “I hope we’re not going to get the shaft on food.”

  Tripp hadn’t realized Josie’s brother would be here as well. While he liked hanging out with the guy, it was another person’s ideas floating in the mix—something Kene and Aunt Pris didn’t need right now.

  Aunt Pris pointed her cane at Bronson. “Well, I should hope not. It’s one of the perks of this entire deal.”

  Josie drummed her fingers on the counter. “We can’t underestimate the importance of the kitchen. We need to set The Orchard House B&B off from the myriad of other establishments in the area. Of course, the book-theme might do it for a particular crowd, but for others”—she looked pointedly at Tripp—“we’re going to need something more to clinch the deal.”

  Hannah nodded. “We decided that ‘something’ should be the included breakfast. We’re thinking way more than muffins and a buffet. I want to do a gourmet-style five-course meal, complete with a choice between two dishes for the main entree. It will be tasteful and fancy and make our guests feel pampered.” She turned to Aunt Pris. “What do you think of that idea?”

  “A five-course breakfast? Sounds ostentatious and completely unnecessary. But if you’re offering it to me each morning, I’d say it’s perfect.”

  A few giggles broke out, lightening the mood.

  “I will need more counter space for such an endeavor. And reliable appliances.” Hannah almost winced as she said the words.

  Tripp pointed to the wall separating the kitchen from the breakfast nook. “If we take out this wall, that will open up a world of space. We could curve the counters around partway to make a small bar area and give Hannah more counter space.”

  “But I don’t see why we’re focusing so much on the kitchen. Will it be for the guests?” Aunt Pris’s mouth formed a thin line.

  “What do you want, Aunt Pris?” Hannah took a step closer to the older woman. “Some B&B’s have an open kitchen, but there’s no reason we can’t keep some separation. The back of the house here, including the kitchen, can serve as our living quarters, much as you have it set up now. There’s plenty of space on the third floor for our bedrooms and with the separate set of staircases, it will be ideal for privacy, keeping the second floor with the main entryway and mo
re formal living areas for the guests. You of course, would keep your bedroom in the back corner on the first floor. The butler’s pantry already separates the dining room and kitchen, so that can serve as a natural barrier. We could have Tripp install a door as well.”

  Aunt Pris nodded. “Yes, I suppose that will do.”

  “I’m going to draw out several options,” Kene said. “You all can decide what you like, mix-and-match ideas where it suits you.”

  They followed Tripp out of the kitchen and up the grand staircase to the second floor.

  “The idea with the guest rooms is to remodel so they each have their own bathroom without compromising too much space. We’d love to work in gas fireplaces, jetted tubs, some cozy sitting areas within the bigger rooms.” Confidence saturated Hannah’s voice, the first he’d heard since Amos died.

  They went through each room, tossing around ideas about the best way to maximize space but keep the luxurious feel of the rooms. Tripp pointed to the corner room. “You can squeeze another small room in here if you put the bathroom across the hall. We could run the plumbing down to the kitchen. Or you could make it an adjoining room of sorts, or do away with the idea altogether and create a master room that will have much more space than the others.”

  Kene walked into the adjoining room they spoke of. “What do you think of a balcony off this room? It would set it apart. We could put a claw foot tub as well as a separate shower. Really give a generous space for a sitting room. That’s if we don’t go with the other room and the bathroom across the hall idea.”

  Hannah glanced at Aunt Pris who looked almost shell-shocked. She placed a hand on the older woman’s arm. “We’re not deciding anything yet. This is just so we have an idea and rough estimate for what we’d be getting into, okay?”

  The woman clenched her cane tight. Tripp had never seen her so out of her element. “Yes, of course.”