He hadn’t bitten at her not-so-subtle hint.
As she reached the end of the drive from the inn, Vienna hung a right and sighed.
Short of asking Matt outright to offer her a room, she couldn’t have been any more obvious in her effort to wrangle an invitation.
But if he didn’t want her living there, that was his prerogative. And with all the work that would be going on, it might end up being too disruptive anyway. The Gull would be quieter, once a room was available, as would Mom’s. Plus, either of those would be sizzle free, providing a far more relaxing environment.
And she needed relaxing.
Sheesh, even today, with zero encouragement from Matt, her fingertips had been tingling during their encounter. Especially after he’d scooted his chair closer and his subtle but oh-so-masculine aftershave had invaded her senses.
She fumbled for the button on her door and lowered her window, filling her lungs with the mind-clearing salt air.
Better.
It was possible, of course, the pitiful dearth of romance in her life was the cause of said tingle. That Matt per se wasn’t the source. That he’d simply been the first eligible male to enter her orbit in too long to remember.
Yes. That was a logical explanation.
And letting herself get all hot and bothered about a man who was mourning his late wife was foolish.
Resting her arm on the window well, she guided the car with one hand as she tooled toward town.
From here on out, she should stick to the task at hand and view her involvement with the inn from nothing more than a professional perspective. As a resume-enhancing project that would impress potential employers.
Besides, even if Matt had invited her to stay, the Thompsons would likely be in residence too. If their living conditions were as primitive as she suspected, they’d jump at his offer to move into the inn. Too many people bustling about could distract her from her task.
It would be much more prudent to find other accommodations.
In addition, it might be wise to suggest to Matt that Kay be her contact for the day-to-day decorating decisions. His sister was the owner, after all, and thanks to Covid, video conferencing had become a standard business practice. That would be far safer than hanging around Matt. The last thing she needed was to get carried away with crazy ideas that would send her on yet another career detour.
Not the outcome she’d intended when she’d come to Hope Harbor.
Shoring up her resolve, she finished the drive into town, zipped into a parking spot, and scanned the wharf.
No sign of Mom, but she was a tad early. And a few minutes of quiet bench-sitting while she waited would be welcome after the past couple of intense hours.
She left the car behind and strolled toward the waterline, pausing as her cell pinged with a text from Mom.
Customers showed up as I was flipping over the “Be back soon” sign. Didn’t want to shut the door in their faces. Can we defer lunch for a few minutes?
She typed in an affirmative response and continued along the sidewalk that passed Charley’s stand.
He lifted a hand in greeting as she approached. “Someone must be in the mood for tacos.”
“Mom and I are meeting here for lunch, but she got delayed at the shop. I’ll wait to order until she arrives.” Vienna stopped by the serving window.
“I heard you’re staying on for a while.”
She stared at him.
Only Mom and Matt knew about her decision, and when would either have had the opportunity to pass on the news?
“Where did you hear that?”
He smiled. “The grapevine is alive and well in Hope Harbor. Let’s just say a little bird told me.”
That didn’t make sense. Her news wouldn’t have had time to travel through the grapevine. Unless . . . had Mom mentioned it to a customer at the shop this morning, who’d passed it on?
Before she could query him further about his source, Charley asked a question of his own.
“Bev told me you’ve visited the B&B and were thinking about lending a hand. Is that what prompted your extended stay?”
“Yes.”
“I imagine your assistance will relieve Kay’s mind. I could tell she was worried about the condition of the place whenever we talked.”
“It would definitely benefit from sprucing up.”
“I wonder if she’s having second thoughts about buying it.” The taco chef rested his forearms on the serving counter and leaned down, bringing him closer to eye level.
“Could be. Buyer’s remorse isn’t uncommon.” Especially if you got stuck with a lemon.
“That’s true. Sometimes we see something that looks appealing and put all our efforts and resources into getting it, only to have the reality turn out to be less than we expected.”
Kind of like her career.
Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone.
But the truth was, now that she’d been away from it for going on three weeks, the job seemed less and less worth the slavish dedication that had come at the expense of a personal life.
“I suppose we all have to learn that the hard way.”
“Experience does tend to be an exceptional teacher. And that’s not necessarily bad, as long as we take the lesson to heart and try not to repeat our mistakes.”
Vienna shifted her purse on her shoulder.
Was he still talking about Kay? And if so, why did it feel as if his comments were meant for her?
“How goes it with your mom?” Charley continued to give her his undivided attention.
“Fine.”
“Glad to hear it. I think she’s been a little worried there might be a few rough patches.”
“Mom told you that?” No surprise if she had. Bev Price was nothing if not outspoken.
“Not in so many words. How did she phrase it to me?” He squinted and looked toward the sky. “Ah yes. I remember. She said that when God pairs an incorrigible nonconformist with a staunch conventionalist, sparks can fly.”
That sounded like Mom.
“I’m sure it wasn’t hard to figure out who fell into which camp.”
He smiled. “Not hard at all. I hope there haven’t been many electrical storms since you arrived.”
“No.” Not with Mom, anyway. The vet at the inn? Different story. “She’s changed since she retired from her library job and moved here.”
“Is that right? How so?”
“For one thing, I think she finally accepted that I’m never going to be a daring free spirit like her.”
“And what about you?”
Vienna cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“Have you accepted that she’s never going to be a staunch conventionalist?” His tone remained conversational, and his expression was open and pleasant, but the question seemed to be more than casual chitchat.
“I accepted that long ago. And over the years I’ve learned to tolerate Mom’s idiosyncrasies.”
“Mmm.” A few beats passed as he regarded her. Then he straightened up, the corners of his mouth flexing northward. “There’s a fine line between acceptance and tolerance, isn’t there? One of the many small nuances of life that can have huge consequences.”
“Yoo-hoo! I’m here!”
As her mom called out, Vienna swiveled toward Dockside Drive, processing Charley’s comment.
Or had it been a criticism?
No, that wasn’t Charley’s style. He was more the give-people-food-for-thought type.
But had she accepted Mom? Had she embraced the idiosyncrasies she’d mentioned to Charley, or did she merely tolerate and endure them? Did she give Mom the impression she’d prefer to do a makeover on her, as she was doing with Sandcastle Inn, instead of celebrating who she was?
Questions worth considering—but a taco stand on the wharf wasn’t the place for heavy contemplation.
Charley lifted a hand in greeting as her mother drew close. “My favorite bookseller has arrived.”
“I bet you say that to all the booksellers. Oh, wait. I’m the only one in town.” Mom grinned at him as she handed a flat bag across the serving counter. “Your order arrived. As long as I was coming here for lunch, I decided to save you a trip to the shop.”
“Thank you. I’ve been waiting for this one.”
“I paged through it this morning. You’d never guess a skinny volume like that would contain such heavy subject matter. I didn’t know C. S. Lewis wrote a book about grief.”
Charley tucked the bag under the counter. “Most people associate him with The Chronicles of Narnia. But he was prolific on a number of topics. I assume you two ladies want tacos?”
“Is there anything else on the menu?” Mom arched an eyebrow at him.
“No.” His smile broadened. “And the fish of the day is halibut. Yes or no to the jalapeno?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
As she and her mom spoke simultaneously, Vienna shrugged. “Too hot for me.”
“What happened to your more adventurous eating?” Mom gave her a wink and an elbow nudge.
“Hot and adventurous are different concepts.”
“That’s a fact.” Charley pulled several fillets out of the cooler and went to work.
“How did it go this morning with Matt?” Mom angled toward her.
“He was receptive to all the ideas.” While Charley prepared their tacos, she launched into a thorough recap of their meeting, punctuated with questions from her mother. “I think the cost shocked him, though.”
Mom lowered her voice as several people converged on the taco stand and joined the queue. “Did he agree to let you work for free?”
“I gave him a convincing argument, but I’m not certain I persuaded him. I expect he’ll discuss it with his sister.”
“No mention of the barter idea?”
“No.”
“I can bring it up again, if you like. I have all the ingredients for those brownies at home, and a neighborly visit wouldn’t be out of line.”
“It may be more peaceful if I stay elsewhere, Mom. I think he’s going to offer his contractor a room too, and from what I gathered, work will be going on at all hours. It could be noisy there.”
“You know the door’s always open at my place.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Here you go, ladies.” Charley set a large bag on the counter. “Did I overhear you say Matt has found a contractor?”
“I think he has.” Vienna counted out bills and handed them over. “Did you happen to notice the young couple sitting on the bench next to mine last week, while I ate my tacos?”
“I did. Is he the man Matt is going to hire?”
“Yes. His wife will be helping him.”
Charley gave a slow nod. “That should work out fine. You ladies enjoy your lunch. There’s a spot over there with your name on it.” He motioned to an empty bench.
“Let’s grab it quick.” Mom took her arm and hustled her toward it.
Vienna kept a tight grip on their lunch until they’d staked their claim. “This was lucky.”
“I know. The wharf benches are prime property. An ideal place to enjoy Charley’s divine tacos.”
Keeping tabs on two seagulls that fluttered down to the pavement a few feet away, Vienna doled out the parcels wrapped in white paper. “Anything interesting happen at the shop today?”
“As a matter of fact, I did have a bit of excitement. I got a call this morning from a regional bookselling trade organization I joined when I opened the shop. Bev’s Book Nook has been named best independent bookstore of the year.”
Vienna stopped unwrapping her taco. “That’s fantastic. Congratulations. Did this come out of the blue?”
“No. I knew I was in the running. But I didn’t think I had a chance of winning.”
Mom dipped her chin and worked a stray piece of red onion back into her taco, giving the task more attention than it deserved. “My store is eclectic, as you’ve seen. Typical for a woman who’s always marched to the beat of her own drummer.” Her lips curved into a wry twist. “And aside from the gift of a wonderful daughter, I’ve never been rewarded for following my heart or taking the road less traveled.”
Never.
By anyone.
Not her parents. Not her wonderful daughter.
As Charley’s comment about the fine line between acceptance and tolerance replayed through Vienna’s mind, regret bubbled up inside her.
When had she ever told Mom she was proud of her? Embraced her unique attributes instead of merely put up with them? Celebrated or praised her mother among her acquaintances? How often had she let other people’s opinions undermine her gratitude for the unconditional love Mom had always offered her?
She took a slow, deep breath.
It was too late to undo all those mistakes. The past couldn’t be changed. But neither did it have to be repeated.
“I think this is wonderful, Mom—and well deserved. You worked hard to create a shop that’s unique and popular and welcoming. It’s more than a bookstore. From everything I’ve seen and heard, it’s become a community gathering spot. It deserves to be recognized. You deserve to be recognized.”
The soft flush that stole over her mom’s cheeks was yet another first. And another indication of the short supply of praise in her life.
“I appreciate that, sweet girl.” She reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “It means more than I can say.”
Vienna squeezed back. “Tell me about the award.”
Her mom complied as they ate their tacos and threw occasional tidbits to the patient gull duo cuddled nearby.
“So I asked them to ship it to me after the awards ceremony two weeks from Saturday.” Her mom finished off her second taco.
“Wait.” Vienna stopped eating. “You’re not going to get it in person?”
“No. There’s a conference in Seattle the prior week, and the awards dinner is the finale. I didn’t expect to win, and closing the shop during tourist season to make a trip up there would put a dent in my revenue. So I didn’t sign up.”
“But I’m here now. I could take care of the shop while you’re gone.”
Mom hesitated . . . then shook her head. “You didn’t come out here to work in my shop. Besides, it’s too late. The deadline to register for the conference was weeks ago.”
“Couldn’t you at least go for the dinner? I bet they wouldn’t say no to a winner if she was able to attend the awards program at the last minute. This is a big deal.”
Mom patted her mouth with a paper napkin. “You really think I should go?”
“Absolutely.”
“And you wouldn’t mind watching the shop?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Well, maybe I will.”
“No maybe about it. You should go. I wish I could be there too.”
“I believe I read somewhere that they’re going to livestream the program, if you want to watch.”
“You bet I do.” She wiped her fingers on her napkin and took her mom’s hand again. “I’m proud of you and what you created here, and I’m glad you got your dream with the bookshop.”
Her mom sniffed, and a shimmer appeared in her eyes. “You know what I’m most glad about? That we’re sitting here together on a bench and enjoying each other’s company. This”—she lifted their linked hands—“was always my biggest dream.” With one more squeeze, she released her grip. “Now let’s enjoy these tacos before they get cold.”
For the rest of their meal, Vienna filled her in on more details about her meeting with Matt, and by the time they parted at her car and Mom continued on to the shop, she was already thinking ahead to next steps with Sandcastle Inn.
Working on-site would be easier in many ways while she pulled all the pieces together, but it wouldn’t be difficult to run back and forth as necessary once she relocated to either the Gull Motel or Mom’s. And she wouldn’t have to deal with the distraction or discomfort of noise and dust and construction chaos . . . and Matt. Which was good.
Because what if Kay’s brother had offered her a room, she’d accepted, and he began to feel the sparks as much as she did? What if those sparks combusted?
That could wreak havoc with her career plans.
The key to finding a stellar position that met all of her criteria—including personal time—was to keep her geographic options open, not limit them to a single market.
Like San Francisco.
So as she worked on the inn project, she’d consult with Matt by phone and email as much as possible to keep in-person contact to a minimum. She’d also confine her on-site visits to working hours when Andrew and his wife would be roaming around the inn rather than sequestered in their room.
That was her plan—and as long as she stuck to it, she ought to be safe.