This was not how Quinn had hoped it would go.
Ideally, she’d have had the house nearly done by the time Vivi came around.
But Matt was adamant. Vivi needed a summer away.
Away from Birch Harbor.
Away from the lake.
And away from Dominic Van Holt, who was now no longer heading to Wayne State.
Quinn desperately wanted to ask Vivi to spill the beans. Instead, she had to focus on priming her daughter for the shock that would be stepping foot into her new summer getaway—696 Apple Hill Lane.
They stood together in the driveway, the last divide between the normal, clean part of the street and the disaster zone that was Quinn’s new house.
“You’re not happy I’m here,” Vivi complained.
Quinn’s mouth fell open. She closed it and worked up an answer. “Are you kidding me?” She reached around Vivi’s shoulders and pulled her daughter into her side, then kissed her head. Twice more.
“Mom, come on. Are you still doing that?”
Quinn feigned ignorance. “Doing what? And I’m over the moon that you’re here. I’m just…well…I’m not ready. But that’s okay,” she rushed to add. “Maybe you’d be willing to help me? I could use a discerning eye.”
“You want my advice?” Vivi crossed her arms and studied the house with a narrowed gaze. “Bulldoze the place and start over.”
Quinn laughed. “Oh, come on. You haven’t even seen the inside yet.”
The plumber had finished for the day—Quinn had stowed his discovery in the medicine cabinet for later tending. Now, all her attention was on her daughter, and there it would stay. Dean, the electrician, was still fiddling around. The plumber would return tomorrow to work the downstairs bath with a buddy. It was a two-man job, apparently.
Vivi’s initial horror, upon walking into the foyer, had dissolved into subtle fascination. She’d even picked up a few of the Carlson leftovers, studying a piece of paper here, a tchotchke there. She asked questions on the tour.
How old was the house?
Over a hundred years.
When did the owner die?
Not sure.
Did he die in the house?
Don’t think so.
Did he have a wife?
Don’t know.
Is it haunted?
At that one, Quinn had belted out a laugh. “Yes. Haunted by the mess of ghosts past.”
Vivi stopped mid-stair.
Quinn turned and rolled her eyes. “I’m joking. I’ve been sleeping here, and so far, no ghost. No bogeymen. Nothing more than junk.”
“How long will it take you to get rid of all this? I mean…you’ve been here like a week. Longer, even, Mom. You could have emptied it first, right?”
“I’m working on it. You’ll see.”
And Vivi did. Once they made it to the second floor, Quinn showed her the progress. Both upstairs bedrooms had been emptied down to the stained baseboards and rotting flooring. Not so much as a speck of dust remained. Cleaned out entirely. Not scrubbed and sanitized quite yet, though. That would come when everything was out.
“Where are you sleeping?” Vivi asked as they veered into the bathroom.
“On the back porch.”
“Where will I sleep? Maybe I should go back to Birch Harbor. I can stay with Clara.”
Quinn’s blood ran cold. “Well, I’ve been moving pretty slowly, I’ll admit. Now that you’re here, I’ll go ahead and hire the cleaners for the upstairs. They can get working and have your room done in a day or two.”
“Furniture?”
“We’ll go shopping.”
“So, what? I’ll sleep outside with you until then?” Vivi’s face broke. “Mom.” Tears welled in her eyes, and Quinn’s heart broke.
“Listen, listen, shh, Viv. Oh, Viv.” She cradled her daughter’s head. “Hey, come on. I’ve got an idea. I’ll call the cleaners right now. I’ll expedite everything. We’ll get a room in a hotel in town. How about that?”
Quinn didn’t exactly have the extra money for a hotel room. And she’d been waiting on hiring the cleaners until she’d made enough progress that she was able negotiate the price down. But she could pull from the savings. She could. She would. She had to.
Vivi lifted her head.
“Are there hotels here?”
Smiling, Quinn shrugged. No point in dishonesty at this juncture. “I guess we’ll find out.”
The rest of the tour of the house didn’t go half bad. The hope of enjoying a night or two in a hotel allowed Vivi to pretend to like the house—or at least see through the issues of it.
After seeing the electrician off and getting Vivi situated with her phone and bags in an old rocking chair on the front porch, Quinn withdrew her own phone. Thanks to the HOA meeting, she had half a dozen local phone numbers. It’d be best to start with those closest to her.
She had known Jude the longest, technically. But Beverly was now a coworker, and Beverly lived and worked in Harbor Hills full time. She’d have the best sense, probably.
Quinn found her contact and called.
Beverly answered after three rings, which Quinn took to be a good sign, naturally.
“Hey, Quinn! Everything okay?”
Her cheery voice was a departure, Quinn thought. Up to now, Beverly had come across a little morose. Brooding. Which made sense, of course. “Hi, Beverly. Yes! Well, kind of.” She laughed nervously. “My, um, long story short, I have a—” Quinn flicked a glance through the front windows to Vivi. She wasn’t embarrassed that Vivi was there. Of course not. She was embarrassed that Vivi wasn’t always there. Questions were sure to follow, but Quinn wasn’t ready for that yet. “I have a visitor who’s looking for a hotel or some sort of accommodations in town. Do you know of a good place?” She winced before adding, “Preferably something…better than the current state of my house.”
Beverly laughed, too. “Hey, now. Your house is about to be the best residence on Apple Hill. Just takes time. But yes. Of course. We don’t have any hotels, if you’re looking for a four-star experience. Or even three-star. There’s the motel out on Harbor Boulevard, almost to Birch Harbor. That’s a ways, though. We do have one place… Just off of Main Street. Bertie’s. Bertie Gillespie. She runs a little B&B. It’s adorable. A local favorite, for sure. I ran a piece on it a few years ago. Super quaint. Super charming.”
“That sounds perfect.” Quinn glowed. “Bertie’s, then? On Main Street?”
“Bertie’s on Main,” Beverly confirmed. “There’s a little wooden sign that reads Rooms to Let. Easy to miss—the sign that is. You’ll see the house, though, if you look hard. Gorgeous green Victorian tucked behind a little grove of maples. Black iron fence that stretches along the sidewalk.” Beverly chuckled. “Sorry. Talking about Bertie’s sort of transports me to my article.”
Quinn smiled. “It sounds lovely. Your writing, I mean. And Bertie’s.” She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Okay, Bertie’s on Main Street. Green Victorian. Maples. Rooms to Let.”
“I can meet you there. I’m just down the way. Still at the office, wrapping up a project,” Beverly said.
Hesitating, Quinn realized this was the moment of truth. Beverly would meet Vivi. Quinn would have to come clean. Maybe Beverly would be uncomfortable, even. Vivi, too.
“I’m sure we can find it,” Quinn replied.
“I bet I could get you a good deal,” Beverly answered, dangling a succulent carrot over the phone.
“Really?” The hope in Quinn’s voice bordered on pathetic. Desperate. Oh well.
“Bertie just so happens to be my mom.”