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After agreeing with Kate that they’d put together a sister brunch to examine the journal—all of which Amelia felt was incredibly melodramatic—she could turn her attention to Michael and their research project. But only after fulfilling her promise to Kate to help around the house that morning.
Amelia scraped the remnants of her egg whites into the garbage disposal. “Okay, what’s the plan?” she asked, wiping her hands on the coarse dish towel that hung from the cabinet door beneath the sink.
Kate joined her there, dumping half a cup of coffee into the sink and rinsing both the mug and Amelia’s plate with a quick spray of water. “Okay, so I have the basics set up to open as an Air B&B. I worked on that last night. To open as a full-service bed-and-breakfast—I mean the real deal—well, that’ll take a while. I figure in the interim, why not make some money and get our names out there?” Kate flashed a white smile at Amelia, who felt happy for her sister.
Smiling back, Amelia prodded her on. “That’s a great idea. What’s the plan?”
“Come take a look.” Kate waved Amelia to the parlor where the evening before they had hauled up an antique dresser with the help of Michael and Matt. Early that morning, Amelia heard Kate rummaging around downstairs, and it was evident that this was her project: a reception desk, just off the front hall on the threshold between the foyer and the parlor. It was a snug fit, but it looked just right.
A green Tiffany lamp the likes of which Amelia had never appreciated as a teenager, shone dimly on Kate’s small laptop. The old wood of the dresser shined under a fresh layer of polish.
Amelia wondered how she missed the little set up when she dragged herself down for breakfast that morning.
“Kate, this is amazing,” she gushed, rounding the hulking dresser-desk and finding a wobbly, three-legged stool behind it. “Hey, that’s Grandma Hannigan’s old chair.” She ran her hand over the thick hand-upholstered seat. It was stained and rickety, but she recognized it immediately from when her grandmother had once scolded her for sitting on it.
Amelia-Ann! That’s not a sitting chair! the old woman had cried out.
At the time, Amelia had wondered what it was for if not for sitting. Later, her mother would explain that Grandma Hannigan liked things a certain way, and some of the furniture were antiques and just for looking at, not enjoying. It was at that moment that Amelia knew she’d never be the sort to buy furniture just for looking. She’d buy it for sitting on it and enjoying it, like any other normal person. The admonishment and her mother’s defense thereof was one of those moments in a child’s life that shapes who she becomes. Amelia believed that firmly.
“This is not a sitting chair,” she murmured, falling back to that moment from so long ago.
“What?” Kate asked.
“Oh,” Amelia laughed lightly. “I just remember Grandma Hannigan yelling at me for sitting on this when I was a kid. She said it wasn’t a sitting chair.”
Kate appeared to take Amelia’s memory seriously. “I knew it was hers, but she never told me that,” she commented.
“Probably because you were so well-behaved. You naturally knew right from wrong, even when it was illogical like a no-sitting chair. No one was ever worried you would ruin anything.”
Silence fell between them. What Amelia said was filled with great, retrospective irony, and they both knew it. Amelia flicked a glance to her sister, waiting for her to snap back defensively.
Kate did not snap back, however. Instead, she laughed, a deep belly laugh. Amelia made a face, waiting for the laughter to turn to tears, but it didn’t.
“Ah, so you are proud to be a rebel?” Amelia joked, crossing her arms.
“I was never a rebel. I was... I was...”
“You were in love,” Amelia whispered, smiling sadly for her sister.
Kate stopped laughing entirely, and her face fell. Although, she didn’t seem upset.
Shaking it off seemed easy enough, and Kate joined Amelia in the cramped space behind the dresser. “Here, look,” she said to Amelia, waking up her laptop and navigating to a landing page.
Amelia squinted at the screen. Kate had drawn up a listing on the Air B&B website. It was her own. Amelia flashed a grin at her older sister then read on.
Welcome to the Heirloom Inn of Birch Harbor! Quaint individual guest rooms are now available in this historic, lakeside home on Heirloom Cove. Perfect for a cozy waterfront weekend and complete with easy-access full bathrooms. Enjoy the stunning sunrise on our well-appointed deck or take Grandpa Hannigan’s old kayak out for a whirl to nearby Heirloom Island. Prefer to relax? Find your favorite snoozing place in an Adirondack chair on our private beach. Full breakfast offered daily in addition to brunch-time and afternoon snacks and evening wine and cheese, sourced locally. Finally, the Heirloom Inn is a short walk to Birch Village Marina, where guests can dine, drink, shop, and boat any day of the week. Don’t miss out on your best weekend getaway yet. Book with Kate Hannigan today.
“Oh, Kate,” Amelia breathed the words as she clicked through a couple images Kate had uploaded. “And these photos. Kate, you were meant for this,” Amelia beamed, finally tearing her eyes from the screen.
“You like it?” Kate asked, her eyebrows scrunching lines into her forehead.
“Like it? It’s perfect.”
“Do I oversell it?”
Amelia considered that. For the time being, Kate didn’t have a fully functional bed-and-breakfast in the modern sense. Her guest rooms were their childhood bedrooms. And locally sourced wine and cheese? She tapped her chin with her finger. “I believe in you, Kate,” she said at last, recalling every other time someone in her life had reminded her that dreams were dreams. If someone had told Amelia they believed in her, too, maybe she’d be more than a bit-part actress in off-the-beaten-path theatres. “But,” she began to add, an idea forming in her mind. “I think you could use one more thing for this reception stand.”
“What?” Kate asked, frowning through her growing excitement.
“A brochure stand.”
“Huh?”
“If I were coming to town, I would want to know where I could catch a show or what restaurant you recommend.”
“I can just tell them that. No need for a brochure. That’s too... motel.”
A giggle fell out of Amelia’s mouth. “Okay, fair. But you should probably have a list or something to reference.
Kate cocked her head. “I wouldn’t have thought of that. It’s sort of a minor thing, though. Right?”
“Take it from someone who rushes into grand ideas with little success. You want to think of everything in advance.” Amelia couldn’t believe she had to remind her older sister of this. Kate was the organized one. The detail person. The perfectionist.
“True. Let’s chat over gardening. I need to till the front beds and head up to the nursery this morning. Maybe you can give me a rundown of local attractions.”
“Ha,” Amelia scoffed. “Birch Harbor has the lake. That’s it.”
“What about that community theatre Michael and Clara mentioned? Have you looked into that?” Kate literally elbowed Amelia, who realized exactly where the line of conversation was going.
“I haven’t pursued that angle,” she said, sighing.
“Well what angle have you pursued?” Kate gave her a knowing look.
Amelia's voice sharpened to a point. “I’m pursuing the matter of our missing father, actually.”