Unforgettable You

by Marci Bolden

  Copyright © 2021 by Marci Bolden

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Okay Creations

  ebook layout by Lori Colbeck

  eISBN-13: 978-1-950348-61-9

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Also by Marci Bolden

  About the Author

  Prologue

  A shiver rolled through Carrie Gable when the vent high above her head began filtering cold air into the small office where she sat. The current was strong enough to stir strands of her dark hair across her face. Frustrated, she twisted her long hair into a haphazard bun at the nape of her neck and secured it with the elastic hairband she’d worn around her wrist. Glancing up at the outlet in the ceiling, she ground her teeth to prevent herself from complaining about the already frigid temperature.

  When she and her mother-in-law had come to the clinic to get Doreen’s test results, they’d been led to the doctor’s office rather than an exam room. In the time they’d been waiting, Carrie had read over each certificate and degree hanging on the wall, memorized the faces of Dr. Schultz’s wife and children, and had replayed over and over every moment that had led her and Doreen to this point.

  Six months after burying her husband, Doreen’s son, Carrie had noticed Doreen’s mind slipping. At first, she chalked it up to the stress of losing Mike. He’d walked into a convenience store one afternoon and never walked out. A point-blank gunshot to the head from a junkie robbing the store had taken Mike’s life far too soon. Carrie had become a widow, and Doreen had lost her only child.

  Though Carrie and Mama had always been close, the bond between them had grown even stronger after their mutual loss, so Carrie noticed right away when Doreen started losing words, forgetting things she shouldn’t, and seemed to get lost in her own world more and more often. When the symptoms didn’t start to clear as life moved on, Carrie became worried and convinced Doreen to see a doctor.

  Now they sat in a freezing cold room waiting to find out if the latest rounds of tests, scans, and exams had finally given them insight into what was causing the confusion.

  Doreen twisted her hands together. She did that whenever she was upset. Despite trying to maintain a confident exterior, her entangled fingers with their white knuckles indicated the anxiety raging inside her.

  Carrie wrapped one of her hands around both of Doreen’s to try to soothe her. “It’s okay, Mama. Everything is going to be okay.”

  Doreen glanced up at the offending vent too. “Is this a doctor’s office or a meat freezer?”

  Thankful for her mother-in-law’s signature spunk, Carrie smiled. “A little of both, really.”

  Doreen snickered and pulled one of her hands free to tug her light blue cardigan closed. “How long have we been sitting here?”

  Carrie checked her watch and did her best not to sound too disgruntled when she answered, “Almost half an hour.”

  “Well, then the diagnosis can’t be too bad, can it? Dr. Schultz clearly isn’t in a hurry to give it to us.”

  Faking a smile, Carrie said, “It’s going to be okay.”

  Tears created a shiny layer over Doreen’s dull gray eyes. Those eyes used to be so sharp. She’d never missed a thing. Twelve years ago, when Carrie had just turned eighteen and had gotten her first job at Gable Inn, Doreen’s eyes would sparkle whenever Carrie and Mike were in the same room. Mama had figured out the two were in love long before they’d even started dating.

  Mama blinked several times and tugged out the tissue she had tucked up the sleeve of her sweater. After wiping her nose, she clutched the wrinkled paper in one hand while she gripped Carrie’s hand with the other. “I want you to promise me something.”

  Carrie’s heart ached at the vulnerability and fear reflecting in Mama’s trembling voice. “What?”

  “Don’t put me in one of those homes. I don’t ever want to go into one of those places.”

  The words cut through Carrie’s heart like a serrated knife. She tightened her hold on Doreen’s hand. “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Hire someone if you have to. But don’t send me away.”

  Shaking her head, Carrie said, “I won’t. I’ll take care of you.”

  Doreen’s lip quivered, breaking Carrie’s heart further. Carrie was thankful when the door to the small doctor’s office opened. The neurologist they’d been working with offered a sorrowful smile as he entered, and what was left of Carrie’s broken heart completely shattered.

  She’d seen sympathetic looks on doctors’ faces before. Those looks never preceded good news.

  Mama lowered her face and sniffled, brushing her nose with her tissue once again. Carrie tightened her hold on the cold hand in hers, bracing herself for whatever diagnosis the team of doctors had finally settled on.

  Chapter 1

  Two Years Later

  Carrie struggled to tuck a royal blue fitted sheet around the corner of a queen-size mattress. This was the seventh bed she’d made in the last hour. Since she and Doreen had stopped having overnight guests at the inn a little over a year prior, Carrie was completely out of practice. She hadn’t had to work at this pace in some time and was cursing herself for not planning her morning better. The old Colonial mansion turned bed-and-breakfast had nine guest rooms, and each one had been booked for the foreseeable future.

  She was already exhausted, but there were several more beds that needed fresh sheets before the boarders were due to arrive at Gable Inn.

  Even though the company who had booked the rooms had paid a deposit, Carrie couldn’t afford to hire help. She’d used that money to catch up on bills. Rather than hire someone, she had recruited her best friend, Natalie, to help her get the inn ready. Though, as she watched Natalie collapse into a chair and let out a miserable moan, Carrie couldn’t really remember why she’d thought that was a good idea. Carrie adored her, but Natalie would never be known for keeping her thoughts to herself.

  “Remind me again why you’re doing this?” Natalie swatted at a wayward chunk of black hair that fell back into her eyes as soon as she dropped her hand.

  “Because,” Carrie grunted, “I love to torture myself.”

  “Besides that?”

  Carrie stood upright and rested her hands on her slender hips. For a moment, she debated asking Natalie to do something in another room. Instead, she threw a pillow at her smartass friend and instructed her to put on the top sheet and comforter.

  “They offered a lot of money to stay here, Nat.”

  “Some guy named Confucius once said that money can’t buy happines
s.”

  Carrie pulled a rag out of the bucket of cleaning supplies. “This place is expensive to maintain. I can’t keep going without some kind of income. They’ll only be here for a few months.”

  “A few months,” Natalie said with a muted tone, “of being their bitch.”

  Natalie’s image blurred as Carrie sprayed a hanging mirror with bright blue cleaner and wiped dust and smudges from the reflective glass. Once the mirror was clean, Carrie frowned at her reflection. “I’m not going to be anyone’s bitch.”

  A laugh bounced off the light blue walls. “You’re going to have a house filled with Hollywood’s snobbiest,” Natalie reminded her. “Who do you think is going to fetch their mineral water?”

  The dread in Carrie’s gut grew. She’d been regretting this decision since before she’d made it, but one look at Doreen’s bank account was all Carrie needed to know they really didn’t have a choice. Either Carrie would have to tell Doreen the time had come to sell the historic property that had been in the family for generations, or they took in a group of overrated actors who were filming a period piece in town.

  The actors would be at the inn three months, four tops, the location manager had promised. When Carrie looked at the offer from a business standpoint, the deal had been too good to pass up. However, on a personal level, she’d stopped opening the doors to overnight guests because the amount of work was more than she could handle with Doreen’s mental clarity declining. Other than weddings, parties, and other short-term events, Carrie had rejected most opportunities to rent rooms at the inn.

  Having her home invaded for any length of time, let alone months, didn’t appeal to her at all. But she could open the inn, or she could sell the inn. Both options would have been unpleasant, but only one was temporary.

  “Do you think Doreen can handle this?” Natalie asked.

  Carrie finished wiping dust off a dresser. “She’ll be fine. She’ll have to be. The contract was signed weeks ago, and the deposit has been made. There’s no turning back.”

  Carrie had been trying to reassure herself that she’d made the right decision ever since she sent the paperwork back to the production company. For the most part Doreen was clear-minded, but there were times when the early onset Alzheimer’s made things challenging. Even though Doreen had been symptomatic for the better part of three years, every episode shook Carrie to the core. Carrie hadn’t adjusted to the disease yet, but she didn’t think anyone ever did. Watching Doreen fade little by little was heartbreaking, exhausting, and frustrating all at once.

  Focusing on the antique cherry vanity, Carrie swiped away nonexistent dust. “I think she’ll enjoy having a few new faces to look at. Don’t you?”

  Natalie stopped adjusting the bedspread. “I think you’re adding more to your plate than you can handle. She’s getting worse. You know she’s getting worse.” Natalie softened her tone. “She made it all the way across town last week before you knew she was gone.”

  “I know,” Carrie said, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

  “Anything could have happened to her.”

  Carrie didn’t need to be reminded. The fear of realizing her mother-in-law had made her way off the property unnoticed had taken at least ten years off Carrie’s life. She’d been in tears for the better part of an hour, terrified of what had happened to Doreen, until a store owner called the inn to report that she’d been wandering their aisles. “I know.”

  Natalie rounded the bed and eyed Carrie with a sympathetic look that was far too maternal for Carrie’s liking. “I’m not saying it was your fault. It’s not like you can tether her to your side. But if you can’t keep up with her when it’s just the two of you, how are you going to keep up with her and a houseful of guests?”

  “With the help of my very dear friend.”

  Natalie frowned with obvious disapproval. Carrie shook her head, silently warning off the impending lecture. She’d been hearing the same song over and over since she’d told Natalie of her plans. Carrie understood Natalie’s concerns. She shared them. She agreed she was already spread too thin, and taking on guests would be more than she could handle. She absolutely agreed. But she didn’t have the heart to sell Mama’s home without trying everything she could to save it. This wasn’t only Mama’s home. It was Carrie’s too. She’d spent so much of her life here; she couldn’t give it up without a fight. Natalie didn’t have the same sentimental ties that Carrie did. She didn’t have the same memories. She couldn’t possibly understand how much leaving this place would hurt Carrie and Doreen.

  Turning at a round of cheerful knocks on the bedroom door, Carrie smiled at Doreen. Even from across the room, Carrie noticed a happy glimmer in her eyes and a flush to her cheeks. “I’ve stripped all the beds, girls,” Mama announced. “Let’s get to cleaning.”

  Carrie’s face fell. No. They’d just made all the beds. “You did what?”

  “Come on,” Doreen said with a wave. “We don’t have all day. Our guests will be arriving any moment.”

  Stepping into the hall, Carrie and Natalie looked at the linens piled in front of every door all the way down the long hallway.

  “Oh, shit,” Carrie moaned, realizing they had to start all over.

  At the sound of gravel crunching under tires, Carrie pulled back a sheer curtain and confirmed several black SUVs were coming up the long driveway toward the inn. “Well, there’s no backing out now,” she muttered. Letting the curtain fall back into place, she turned toward the den, where Doreen was moving a vase of white roses, trying to find the perfect position. “Mama, the guests are here.”

  The older woman flashed a brilliant smile as her quest was forgotten. “Wonderful. I love this part.”

  “Yeah,” Carrie whispered, wishing she felt the same. Instead, she felt overwhelmed at what she knew was going to be a few chaotic and likely exhausting months. She returned her focus out the window as car doors began to shut. Each slam increased her sense of dread until she found it difficult to breathe.

  Doreen started humming a happy tune and ran her hands over her slacks as if to smooth out any wrinkles. “Do you know how many presidents have slept in this house?”

  Carrie glanced at her. She did know. She’d known for years. Part of the selling point of the out-of-the-way inn was the long history of politicians and celebrities who had found refuge there. While Gable Inn couldn’t boast that George Washington had slept there, they did have plaques on the Presidential Suite with a list of who had.

  “No fewer than six.” Doreen grinned. “Of course, they weren’t president when they were here, but this was one of the stops on the way.”

  Her voice faded from Carrie’s ears as she continued on with the speech she’d given to visitors for years. “Here we go,” Carrie said to Natalie.

  “Here you go.”

  Carrie glanced down at her jeans and blouse to make sure she was presentable before patting her hand over her French braid to make sure her long hair was out of the way. Finally, without any other reason to procrastinate, she opened the front door and let Doreen go first—she had been through this a hundred times, after all. With a forced welcoming smile on her face, Carrie stepped onto the porch as people continued climbing from cars and looking up at the old white house with its two-story pillars and tall windows.

  Carrie recognized several of them from movies and magazine covers. She thought she should be more impressed that they were there, planning to stay in the house where she’d spent so much of her life. Everyone in town was talking about the movie, even though the small Iowa town wasn’t unfamiliar with celebrities—plenty passed through during election season to support their favored candidate before the all-important Iowa caucuses. This, however, was the first time a big-budget movie was filming in the area. Speculation on who, what, when, and where was all anyone could talk about. Even though the nondisclosure Carrie had been forced to sign forbade her from telling anyone the actors would be staying at the inn, there weren’t many places in the area
where the actors could have privacy. The powers of deduction had nearly everyone in town green with envy that the actors were staying at the country inn. Carrie had fielded more calls about the actors and done more dancing around the truth in the last weeks than she’d been comfortable with.

  Stepping down from the porch, Carrie smiled at the man approaching her. Unfortunately, her assessment of him after doing some search engine stalking had been on point. The man came across as fake and sleazy in person as he had in his online persona. Even so, she kept the big smile on her face as if she were so happy to meet him in person. “Donnie?”

  “Carrie,” he said with a forced cooing tone. He embraced her as if they were old friends. “Darling, this is exactly what we were looking for. Fantastic,” he commented, eyeing the house.

  “I’m so glad.” She tried to come across as enthusiastic, but it sounded as false to her ears as his greeting had.

  Draping his arm over her shoulder, not hesitating to violate her personal space, he huddled close to her. “You did what we talked about? A south-facing room with heavy drapes for Ms. Ramirez?”

  Carrie had begun forming a strong dislike for Donnie when he’d started sending her detailed lists of requests. As someone who had worked in hospitality most of her life, Carrie understood the need to make her customers happy. However, Donnie’s long list of demands had gone beyond the normal expectations, sometimes bordering on preposterous. Hearing him run down the list as if she were incompetent cemented her dislike. “Yes.”