2
No way.
Poised at the door of the bedroom in Mom’s apartment, her mother’s note in hand, Vienna reread the sheet that had been waiting for her on the kitchen counter.
Welcome again! The bedroom is down the hall, on the right. I’ve cleared space in the closet for you. Bath is at the end of the hall, fresh towels on the vanity. Make yourself at home.
Love, Mom
Vienna exhaled.
She wasn’t about to take the sole bed in the small, one-bedroom, one-bath apartment.
Why hadn’t Mom told her the place only had one bedroom?
She’d have to find other accommodations fast.
She retraced her steps, moving past the galley kitchen with its pass-through counter to the living room/dining room combo.
Truth be told, had she and Mom been more simpatico, sleeping on the couch in this uncluttered space wouldn’t be too bad. The earth-tone palette, punctuated by bright spots of color from a few items her mother had brought with her from Eugene, was as restful as the shop. Also night and day from the messy apartment of her youth.
But in such confined quarters, disruptive flare-ups would likely rear their ugly heads in short order. So to preserve family harmony, it would be wise to find other living quarters sooner rather than later.
Vienna pulled out her cell and googled hotels in Hope Harbor.
First up was the Gull Motel, where she and Mom had stayed on their occasional visits to the town. Small, family run, and clean, with basic rooms. Fine for travelers on a budget, but she could afford to splurge on more upscale digs.
The second possibility that popped up sounded promising. According to its website, Seabird Inn offered two spacious suites and a gourmet breakfast each morning.
Vienna tapped in the number and proceeded to ask the friendly man who answered about availability.
No go. Only random nights were open for the next month.
Which left choice number three, Beachview B&B.
She squinted at the name.
Was this the place she and Mom had considered staying for their first weekend excursion to Hope Harbor two decades ago? The newly opened B&B that had ended up being too expensive for their lean budget?
She clicked on the website and scrolled through the inviting photos. Read the history of the twenty-four-year-old inn.
Yes. This must be it. The timing fit. And this go-round, the price wasn’t a deal breaker. It was higher than the Gull Motel, but cheaper than Seabird Inn. It was also located off the very road where Mom lived, close to the beach.
Assuming they had a room available, this would be perfect. Far preferable to the Gull or commuting from Bandon or Coos Bay.
Vienna entered the number, wandered over to the fridge, and took a quick inventory.
Containers of chicken salad, potato salad, and coleslaw were front and center, while whole wheat rolls, chips, and a plate of brownies sat on the adjacent counter.
Either Mom’s latest vegan phase had ended or she’d stocked up just for her visitor.
As the phone continued to ring, Vienna opened a cabinet, pulled out a glass, and filled it with water from the fridge dispenser.
“Hello. This is Beachview B&B. I’m sorry, but we are not currently taking reservations. Please try us again on your next visit. Have a great day.”
Well, shoot.
It appeared the Gull Motel won by default.
With a resigned sigh, Vienna fixed a plate of food, tapped in the motel’s number, and reserved a room through the weekend. After that, she’d play it by ear. Who knew how long it would take to regroup after the setback that had sent her reeling? It was possible she’d regain her balance and come up with a plan for her future faster than she’d expected.
She could hope, anyway.
Settling onto a stool at the counter between the kitchen and living/dining room, she checked her sparse emails while she ate. A couple of brief procedural questions from a former colleague. A notification from her gym about a change in hours. Junk mail.
Strange not to have dozens of messages to respond to or meetings to attend or financial reports to prepare or marketing campaigns to plan.
Also strange not to have a jam-packed work schedule that kept her on the go from early morning until she fell into bed at night.
This new normal was going to take some getting used to for an ambitious, disciplined high achiever who’d set her sights on a secure career that would let her amass a comfortable financial cushion with nary a worry about paying next month’s rent or whether the budget would allow for steak or dictate macaroni and cheese.
Yet what had all her work and sacrifice and planning gotten her?
A big fat zero.
Instead of climbing the corporate ladder, she was—
The doorknob rattled, and Mom swept in, bringing a swirl of high-octane energy with her.
“The delivery arrived early, praise the Lord! I’m not usually anxious to leave the shop, but today was an exception.” She stopped as she spotted the suitcases sitting by the door. “I thought you’d be unpacked already.”
“I was hungry.” Vienna dabbed at her lips with a paper napkin and indicated the plate on the counter in front of her. “Thank you for all the goodies.”
“It was my pleasure, sweet girl. Have you tried the brownies? They’re from Sweet Dreams bakery. I remember how much you liked them on our visits.”
“No. I haven’t gotten to dessert yet.”
“Shall I join you, or would you like to unpack first?”
Vienna took a steadying breath and wadded her napkin into her fist.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
“There’s only one bedroom here, Mom.”
“And it’s yours for as long as you can stay.”
“I can’t take your bedroom. Where would you sleep?”
Her mother motioned toward the couch. “That will suit me fine for a few nights—or longer, if your busy job can spare you for more than that.”
Another sticky subject she’d have to broach soon. After she dropped the bomb about the Gull Motel.
“I’d feel guilty if you slept on the couch.”
Her mother dismissed that concern with a flip of her hand. “Don’t be silly. In my wild and crazy pre-Vienna vagabond days, I slept in places that would make a sofa bed in an apartment even as modest as this one feel like the Taj Mahal. Of course you’ll stay here.”
“I can’t, Mom.” She swallowed. “The sleeping issue aside, I think we both need our space.”
Mom studied her, a fusion of hurt and hope in her expression. “We don’t have to clash, Vienna. We’re both adults. You’ve made your choices and I’ve made mine. Maybe we can learn to accept each other as we are and not let our differences lead to dissension.”
A reasonable plan in theory, but if their history was any indication, the likelihood of it happening was slim to none.
“We can try. But I still think it’s better if we have our own space while I’m here. These quarters are a bit small.”
Her mom’s features tightened a hair. “The apartment’s clean, in case you’re worried about that. Almost up to your standards. I may have missed a speck of dust here or there, but there’s no toothpaste in the sink or hair balls on the carpet. Not that those would kill anyone.”
And so it began.
The cleanliness of their apartment in Eugene had always been an issue between them. While she liked everything spic and span and in its place, Mom only dusted if a rare cleaning mood struck, and she was always trying to find her car keys amid the clutter. The key holder Vienna had given her one Christmas and installed the next day had ended up holding necklaces and rubber bands and stray shoelaces. Anything but keys.
In light of her mother’s piqued response, the decision to hole up elsewhere was wise.
“I called the Gull Motel and booked a room before I ate lunch, Mom. But we can meet for coffee or breakfast every morning and have dinner together every night. And I’d love to go sightseeing with you.”
After a few beats, her mom nodded. “Okay. Whatever works for you is fine with me. Why don’t we have a brownie and you can tell me what’s new at your job?”
Vienna stifled a groan.
From the frying pan into the fire.
“Sure.” If she could somehow choke down the treat while she shared her news with Mom.
“What can I get you to drink with dessert?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
Her mother’s mouth twitched as she rounded the counter into the hall and reappeared in the kitchen. “You may want to rethink that. I’m having vanilla-flavored oat milk. A favorite from my vegan days.”
Vienna tried not to grimace. “Um . . . could I have a cup of tea? Decaf, if possible.”
“Will herbal tea do? I have mango pear, hibiscus, chamomile, and sage.”
Naturally Bev Price wouldn’t have an ordinary tea like English Breakfast or Earl Grey.
“Any chance you have decaf coffee?”
“Yep. My old standby, Folgers. Never broke that habit from my youth.”
“Sold.”
“I’ll have it ready in a jiffy.” She opened a cabinet and selected two mugs.
“Why don’t I plate the brownies?”
“Thanks for the offer, but this kitchen is too tight for two butts.”
“It is on the small side.” Vienna broached the subject that had been on her mind since she walked in the door. “Did you think about buying a house here? That would have given you more space.” And equity.
“There’s plenty of space for me in this apartment. And I’d rather spend my money on travel and theater and experiences than a pile of bricks. Besides, who wants to worry about maintenance issues when there are books to read and jewelry to create and places to go?”
The same kind of response she’d always offered whenever Vienna brought up the logic of investing in property rather than paying someone else’s mortgage.
Curbing her exasperation, Vienna slid her lunch plate aside as her mother set a brownie and fork in front of her. “Thanks. This brings back memories.”
“For me too. Happy ones. They were a big factor in my decision to open my shop here, and I’m glad I did. This town suits me.” She flicked the switch on the coffeemaker and circled back to claim the other stool. “Enough about me. Tell me how your career is going. Your experiences at that high-end boutique hotel chain remind me of that old TV show. You know, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.”
Vienna broke off a bite of brownie and braced. “Those were the exceptions. Most days I was hunkered down at my desk until all hours crunching numbers or stuck in conference rooms trying to sell management on a marketing program or struggling to get a consensus on a new campaign.”
Mom’s forehead puckered. “Did I hear a past tense in there?”
Bev Price might march to the beat of her own sometimes frustrating drummer, but she’d always been a master at picking up nuances in the spoken word.
“Yes. The career that was supposed to be my ticket to long-term security is history.” A hint of bitterness crept into her inflection despite her attempt to contain it.
“Oh my goodness.” Mom set her fork down and reached over to grasp her hand. “I don’t know what to say. You busted your buns for that company. What happened? Did they get bought out? File for bankruptcy? Get a new CEO who wanted to shake things up?”
If only. Any of those explanations would be far less embarrassing.
“No. They reorganized my division. The promotion I was supposed to get went to a lower-level colleague, and my job was eliminated.”
“But . . . I don’t understand. How could they do that to you? You’ve been there since you got your MBA, and you worked so hard for them. Too hard, in my opinion. Did they say why you didn’t get the promotion?”
“No.”
Yet in hindsight, their rationale had been clear. The woman they’d chosen had been a hard worker too. No denying that. But all the nights she went out socializing with the team while Vienna toiled extra hours at her desk had paid dividends. Schmoozing, it seemed, trumped experience and zealous diligence.
Her colleague’s outgoing personality hadn’t hurt either.
“I’m sorry, Vienna. I know that had to be a huge blow. You gave up so much for that company.”
Too much.
Mom didn’t say too this time, but the message was clear. She’d never been shy about sharing her views or nudging her workaholic daughter to create a life apart from the job.
But single-minded focus and dedication were how you achieved success.
At least, that’s how the rules were supposed to work.
“It wasn’t fair, Mom.” Her throat clogged, and she forced herself to swallow past the lump. “I poured my heart and soul into my job. I gave them everything they asked for, and more. This isn’t how it was supposed to play out.”
Several seconds of silence ticked by as her mother’s demeanor grew pensive. “I don’t know, sweet girl. Hard as it may be to believe at the moment, this might be exactly how it was supposed to play out.”
What?
“How can you say that? This is a disaster. I’m out of a job and I have no idea what to do next. I don’t even have an up-to-date resume. I never thought I’d need one again.”
“Are you financially secure?”
“For the immediate future. I have a fair amount of savings, and I got a generous severance package.”
“So you don’t have to rush into anything, make rash decisions. That’s a blessing.”
Leave it to Mom to find a bright side to this dark cloud.
“I don’t think our definition of blessing matches.” So what else was new?
“Blessings can be hard to identify in the moment. But with a financial cushion, you have time to explore options, think through priorities, find a new road to travel.”
“I liked the road I was on.”
A melancholy smile whispered at Mom’s lips. “Sometimes the road we think will take us where we want to go ends up being a dead end. It’s better to recognize that and find a new path rather than lament over a journey that’s over.”
Her mother was now a philosopher?
Vienna throttled her annoyance and poked at her brownie. “Be that as it may, you’re not supposed to get thrown out of the game if you play by the rules.”
“That’s why I never put much stock in rules. Why I always encouraged you to spread your wings and push the boundaries.”
“Yeah.” She gave a soft snort. “Like the time you told me I didn’t have to color inside the lines for the kindergarten assignment I brought home.”
Mom cocked her head. “I don’t remember that.”
“I do.” The painful lesson was etched in her mind, as was the humiliation. “The next day, in front of the whole class, the teacher told me I’d done it wrong and made me sit in the corner while I colored it again.”
“Why am I only hearing about this now?” Mom bristled with indignation. “If you’d told me back then, I would have given that teacher a piece of my mind.”
The very reason she’d kept it to herself.
“I survived. But I learned that in general, life is a lot easier and more predictable if you follow the rules and color inside the lines.”
“Also more boring.” Her mom rose and circled back to the coffeemaker. “I’m not saying the world could function without rules. Some serve a legitimate purpose. But I’m not certain the rules of the rat race are among them.” She poured the coffee into the two mugs. “As comedian Lily Tomlin once said, the trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you’re still a rat. Present company excluded.”
Vienna let that comment pass. She was in no mood for humor.
“At least I have a healthy 401(k), money in the bank, and a hefty amount put aside for a down payment on a house.” Her reply came out sharper and more critical than intended, but it was hard not to be defensive—and hurt—when the person you loved most in the world disapproved of your choices.
In all fairness, though, Mom no doubt felt the same about her.
So much for accepting each other’s priorities without judging.
“I’m sure you do. And that’s wonderful, because those are important to you.” Mom came back around the counter.
“But you don’t think they should be.”
“I never said that.”
“Maybe not in those exact words. But what’s wrong with caring about financial security? Don’t you ever worry about what would happen if an emergency cropped up and you didn’t have any reserves to get you through?”
“I’m not wired that way, sweet girl. I have more money in the bank than I’ve ever had, but I’m not any happier or more content. My joy comes from the people I meet and my bookshop and jewelry making and long walks on the beach. You’re much more like my parents than I ever was.”
Not exactly a compliment, given that her nonconformist mom had always clashed with her super-strict, hypercritical engineer and actuary parents, who’d done everything by the book.
Was it any wonder Mom had left home at eighteen and led an unconventional life until an unexpected pregnancy forced her to tame her wild ways so she could give her daughter a more stable home?
Her mother patted her hand. “I know. Me too—although I think I’m mellowing with age.” She motioned toward the brownies. “Why don’t we put aside heavy discussion for today and enjoy our treat? Your first day back should be a celebration.” She hoisted her mug. “To turning the page and starting a new chapter right here in Hope Harbor.”
Vienna lifted her mug and clinked it with Mom’s.
But as she took a sip and sampled the brownie, she doubted the toast would come true. The odds of finding anything more in this small, seaside town than peace and quiet to regroup had to be minuscule. Hope Harbor was a waystation on her road of life, not a destination.
After all, what could a tiny place like this offer to entice someone with her skills and ambition to stay?
It was worse than he’d thought.
Matt slid onto a stool at the counter in Beachview B&B’s kitchen and stared at the list of issues he’d compiled after two hours of inspecting the property and googling various review sites for guest comments.
It filled an entire legal-sized sheet of notepaper.
And this was just what he’d discovered after a cursory look.
He blew out a breath and forked his fingers through his hair.
Why on earth had Kay bought this aging white elephant? Had she done any due diligence at all?
A low rumble from the garage door vibrated in the house, and Matt’s pulse picked up.
His sister was back from her morning errands—and it was time for answers.
Psyching himself up for the exchange to come, Matt took a sip of the coffee he’d brewed after a walk on the beach that he’d hoped would calm him down and help him come up with a plan to rescue Kay.
It had done neither.
Kay pushed through the door from the garage into the mudroom, pausing when she caught sight of him at the counter. “Good morning.”
“It’s almost noon, but good morning to you too.” He kept his tone mild, despite the churning in his stomach.
“Did you sleep well?” She continued into the kitchen and deposited a bakery box on the counter.
Under other circumstances, the enticing cinnamon aroma wafting toward him would have activated his salivary glands. But stress could ruin a person’s appetite.
“Not especially.”
“I’m sorry.” Parallel creases marred her brow as she flicked a glance at the sheet of paper in front of him. “Were you overtired?”
“No. Over worried. And I’m more worried than ever after a walk-through of the inn and an hour of online research.”
Biting her lip, she leaned a hip against the counter and folded her arms. “I know the place needs a little work.”
“More than a little, based on this list.” He lifted the corner of the sheet in front of him. “The gardens are pristine—thanks to your magic touch with all things horticultural, I assume—but everything else is in desperate need of TLC.”
“I’ll concede the place has some issues. I guess the previous owners let maintenance slip as they approached retirement.”
“No guessing about it.” He tried hard to keep his tone level and non-accusatory. “Kay, did you even get an inspection?”
Her chin tipped up. “Of course I did. The inn is structurally sound. All of the issues the inspector identified were cosmetic.”
“That may be true, but there are a ton of them. Didn’t you realize the scope of the repairs when you visited the property to look it over?”
She dropped her gaze. Scrubbed a finger over a spot of tomato sauce on the counter, a souvenir from last night’s dinner.
His stomach bottomed out as shock ricocheted through him. “You did visit the site in person before you signed on the dotted line, right?” But he already knew the answer.
“The agent sent hundreds of photos and a video. I had the inspector’s report. The guest reviews on the inn’s website were glowing. I saw the books. Everything seemed fine on paper. I was afraid if I didn’t snatch it up, someone else would beat me to it. And I had money in reserve for repairs and cosmetic updating.”
“Enough to cover everything?”
“Almost. I got a bid from a local contractor. They’re booked too far out to use, but based on their estimate, a few of the minor updates may have to wait.”
Otherwise, she’d run out of funds.
The silent caveat hung between them.
Unfortunately, no new money would be coming in until she had a steady infusion of guests—a long shot, thanks to the online reviews he’d found that counteracted the glowing recommendations on the inn’s website.
“Have you had any bookings, Kay?”
“Yes. I inherited some from the previous owners and took a few reservations myself after I got here.”
“I googled reviews. The ones in the past couple of years aren’t pretty.”
“I saw some of those too, but the reviews on the B&B website were stellar. I figured some guests had just been too picky. But after I got here, I realized how much work needed to be done.” The corners of her mouth drooped. “That’s why I decided about three weeks ago to cancel the few upcoming reservations and shut down while I figure out what I’m going to do. I haven’t pulled the trigger on the repairs because I didn’t want to throw good money after bad.” Her voice caught, and her eyes began to glisten. “Dealing with this alone has been kind of . . . overwhelming.”
A word he never used flashed through his mind.
If he’d been a decent brother, he’d have jumped into the situation the day Kay mentioned her idea nine months ago. Finance wasn’t her forte, as they both knew. And she had zero innkeeping experience. After all she’d done for him, after all she’d sacrificed, he owed her a debt he could never repay.
Instead, he’d been so mired in his own problems he’d left her to fend for herself.
Now she was neck deep in trouble and sinking fast.
Meaning that instead of attending to a few light inn duties and taking long walks on the beach for the next month, as planned, he’d have to dive in and try to help prop up her failing business.
Since he could put everything he knew about innkeeping in the palm of his hand with room left over, that looming task was more than intimidating.
It was downright terrifying.
But admitting that to Kay wouldn’t ease her mind on the cusp of her departure for a mission of mercy.
Quashing his panic, Matt stood and pulled her into a hug. “You don’t have to deal with it alone anymore.”
“Y-yes I do. This is my mess, not yours. Besides, you already have a full plate.”
“I’m here for the next month. Much as I’m looking forward to walks on the beach and trying those fish tacos in town you told me about that are made by a famous artist, I’m not used to downtime. A project like this will keep me occupied.” To put it mildly.
“I don’t want to burden you with this while you’re here. You need a vacation.” She backed off a few inches, hope warring with indecision in her eyes.
“Vacations are overrated. Why don’t we sit down together and dig into the financials? I want to get a feel for the situation. Then we can plan out next steps. If you want to proceed with repairs, I’ll line up a contractor while you’re helping Cora and get the work rolling. If you decide to go a different route, I can coordinate that too.” Like passing the inn on to someone more equipped to manage this type of business.
A tear formed on her lower eyelid. “It’s too much to ask, Matt.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
“Big brother to the rescue.” She offered him a watery smile. “Funny how the passage of years has reversed our roles. I remember nursing many a scraped knee and defending you from bullies in grade school.”
“I remember that too—and much more.” He squeezed her arm. “It’s just you and me now, kid. We have to stick together.” Though he tried for humor, his voice rasped as the stark truth of that statement ripped at his soul.
“You’ll always have me, Matt.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek on his chest as she offered that gentle but firm assurance. “I love you.”
He held her tight. “I love you back. And we’ll get through this, like we’ve gotten through everything else. Okay?”
“Yeah.” After a few seconds, she pulled away and pushed the box on the counter closer to him. “I brought you a cinnamon roll from Sweet Dreams bakery. They’re famous in these parts. Why don’t you top off your coffee while I freshen up and then we’ll dive into the numbers?”
“Works for me.”
“Give me a couple of minutes.” She pivoted toward the innkeeper’s quarters off the kitchen.
After the door closed behind her, Matt opened the bakery box and swiped a finger through the icing on the huge roll. Licked it off while he crossed to the coffeemaker.
Sweet as it was, however, the sugary confection couldn’t offset the sharp taste of anxiety on his tongue.
Kay was leaving in forty-eight hours, and her ability to help with the inn from Boise was limited. Plus, her focus there would be on Cora.
So while they were in this together in theory, he’d be carrying the bulk of the load here.
And for a guy who spent his life keeping beloved pets healthy, he was way out of his element trying to cure the ills of an ailing inn.