Vienna stopped outside the bedroom Andrew had deemed ready for its finishing coat of paint, called up a smile, and stepped through the doorway. “Your painting partner, reporting for duty. Hand me a brush and point me to a wall.”
As she spoke, Matt swung around, the paint in the can he’d been about to pour into a tray sloshing dangerously close to the lip.
He gave her faded T-shirt, worn jeans, and holey socks sans shoes a quick scan.
“I know, I know.” She raised her hands, palms forward. “I won’t win any fashion contests. But this is the only set of ratty clothes I threw into my suitcase for what was supposed to be a short stay. And I didn’t bring any shoes I want to splatter with paint, hence the lack of footwear.” She lifted her foot and wiggled her toes.
His gaze dropped to a polished nail peeking out a hole, then whipped back up as he cleared his throat. “I, uh, thought you were going to the shop.”
“I don’t have to open it until noon. I can put in an hour or two here. We need all hands on deck, with the Thompsons out.”
“They’ll be back tomorrow.” He filled her in on the text he’d received. “You don’t have to do this, Vienna. You’ve already invested too much time and effort into the rehab. Why don’t you chill out, take a walk on the beach?”
“As someone once said to me, standing around watching other people work doesn’t sit well.” She grinned as she parroted back his comment from three weeks ago. “I’m glad for the good news about Paige’s mother, but they’ll still be a day behind. I’m happy to pitch in and help keep everything rolling—unless you’d rather work alone.”
She hoped not. But if he balked at her offer of assistance, she’d have to bring up the breakfast issue faster than she’d intended this morning.
“No. The extra pair of hands is welcome. I had another inn-related issue to discuss with you anyway.”
Could it be the breakfast problem?
That would be ideal. Coming from him rather than her would make the conversation less awkward. The last thing she wanted to do was sound critical of his sister.
“See? We can kill two birds with one stone. But put me to work first. That will let me be doubly productive.”
“Would you like to edge or roll?”
“I’ve done both. While I was growing up, Mom repainted our apartment every other year. We went through the entire rainbow, though thankfully not all at once. Since I was a more precise edger than Mom, that job tended to fall to me—but I can do either.”
“Edging it is. You can have your pick of brushes.” He indicated several lying on the tarp beside the paint tray. “There are also damp rags down there. I have an extender for the roller, so the ladder is all yours.”
She crossed to the tarp and selected a brush while he poured paint into the tray. After taking the can from him once he finished, she motioned to the other side of the room. “I’ll start over there if you want to roll the opposite wall. That should keep us out of each other’s way.”
She picked up a rag, positioned the ladder in front of a window, and set both the can and rag on the fold-down tray. “What’s the issue you want to discuss?”
“I talked to Kay after we got back from church. Cora’s been admitted to the hospital.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry to hear that. How sick is she?”
“We don’t have any details yet, but they’ve put her on IV antibiotics. We’re hoping the infection is superficial and not antibiotic resistant. They’ll know more after they get the lab results. Whatever the findings, though, this setback will extend her recovery.” Matt dipped his roller in the tray, but instead of withdrawing it, he angled toward her. “Kay wants to stay in Boise another week to help her.”
This must be what he wanted to talk about, not the breakfast issue.
She shifted mental gears, working through the ramifications of that change in plans. “She’d miss the soft opening and most, if not all, of the blogger weekend.”
“I know. I told her I had to check with you before she commits to extending her stay. If you don’t want to take on the opening without her, we’ll regroup. But if it makes any difference to your decision, I can stay an extra week.”
A bonus week with Matt?
Sold.
“That would be helpful.” She stepped up on the ladder, trying to keep her tone businesslike despite the tingle of anticipation zipping through her. “Is your partner okay with that?”
“Yes. We have a very qualified part-time vet working with us who’s been picking up the slack in my absence. I doubt they’ll miss me.”
“In that case, I’m fine with the arrangement. I imagine Cora will appreciate having Kay around a bit longer, given the complication that arose.” She ran her fingers through the pristine bristles of the brush in her hand, which were about to get messy. Just like this conversation. “Did Kay happen to mention our discussion about the food at the inn?”
“No.”
She dipped the brush in the paint. Took a deep breath. “We may have a problem. I’m not picking up a lot of excitement about or interest in creating the kind of gourmet breakfasts the inn clientele will expect. I know she bought in to the concept at the beginning, but I get the feeling she may have bitten off more than she can chew.”
His resigned expression suggested he wasn’t surprised. “I was afraid this would happen. She’s a decent cook, but in my experience, she’s rarely tackled anything I’d call gourmet. I assumed she’d up her game after she bought the B&B, but in the few brief discussions we had about food after she decided to go with the high-end concept, I didn’t get a warm and fuzzy feeling.”
“Me neither.”
Grooves dented Matt’s brow, and when he spoke again, he sounded annoyed. “Instead of spending a couple hours a day at the garden center her friend owns, she ought to be practicing in the kitchen.”
The garden center interludes were news, but it was wiser to leave the criticism of Kay to her brother.
“Maybe she needs the break from caregiving duties. You said she loves flowers.”
“She does, and I don’t begrudge her an occasional change of scene. But now we’re in a pickle.”
Vienna sighed. “I feel like part of that is my fault. I assumed when she signed on for the upscale positioning that she was equipped for the job.”
“Don’t blame yourself. I think she had dollar signs in her eyes after she heard what kind of bucks that type of inn could bring in. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I know her—and I remember her skills in the kitchen during my growing-up years. I should have talked to her more about the food, made certain she was capable of rising to the occasion and wasn’t overreaching.”
Whoever was at fault, lamenting over the state of affairs wasn’t going to fix their dilemma.
Vienna began stroking on paint. “I’d offer to pick up that chore if I could, but I’m no chef either. Plus, I’ll be super busy with a million other details. In a pinch, I could probably pull off breakfasts and buy afternoon treats for the soft opening, but gourmet fare is essential for the bloggers.”
The wrinkles on Matt’s forehead deepened. “Any suggestions?”
“I’ll ask Mom tonight if she has any chef connections in the area. The bookstore is a mecca for people from near and far, and it’s possible she may be able to give me a lead.”
“What if she can’t?”
“We could hire a catering company in Coos Bay to provide the breakfasts and afternoon snack trays until we line up a cook. People at these kinds of places expect the food to be fresh and prepared on-site, but we have to get the inn open. The longer it stays shuttered, the longer it will be before your sister begins recouping her investment.”
“Yeah. I know.” He lifted the roller from the pan and began coating the dinged-up wall Andrew had patched with a masterful touch. “Let’s hope your mom can offer a suggestion or two. If you’ll follow up with her on that, I’ll contact the landscaping company Eleanor mentioned at church this morning and see if they’ll come by to spruce up the grounds. I’ll also call the housekeeping service Kay was using and get us back on their daily schedule. This place will need a massive cleaning once Andrew wraps up too. There’s drywall dust everywhere.”
“Are you sure they’ll have people available?”
“Kay said they promised her they would. It’s a small, family-run company based in Bandon.”
“Then aside from the breakfast issue, we should be set. I called the charity that’s picking up all the furniture we’re not repurposing. They’ll be here later this week. Do you think Andrew will give us a hand putting all the new furniture in place once the bedroom carpets are laid?”
“I’ll ask. I doubt he’ll say no.”
“What are his plans after this job is finished?” She worked her way around the corner of the window frame and started down the side.
“He hasn’t mentioned anything specific. I know he’s hoping it leads to more work in the area. I’m going to broach that with BJ this afternoon. If she’s as busy as she claims, maybe she can divert a few jobs to him. I think she’ll be impressed with his work.”
“How could she not be? The inn looks great. All his repairs, inside and out, seem to be top notch.”
“They are. And speaking of plans for the future . . . I’ve been mulling over Eleanor’s comment at church this morning.”
She leaned in toward the wall, working the brush as close to the edge of the wood frame as she could. “Which one?”
“About all the pets in Hope Harbor. It got me wondering if there’s actually a market here for a vet.”
Vienna stopped painting. Twisted toward him. “Are you suggesting that vet might be you?”
He shrugged, his nonchalant manner at odds with the sudden intensity vibrating in the air. “The idea has interesting potential.”
“But you have an established practice in San Francisco.” She was still trying to wrap her mind around his out-of-the-blue comment. “Wouldn’t your partner be upset if you walked out?”
“Until Zoe came along, I’d have said yes. But she fits in at the practice. We all clicked from the get-go. It’s possible we would have hired her permanently anyway.”
Vienna swiped a wayward drop of paint off the back of her hand with the rag. “Have you ever considered a major career change like this before?”
“No.” He dipped the roller in the tray again, taking care not to oversaturate and risk widespread splatter as he applied the paint. “I think Steve and I expected to be partners until we retired. I realize a transition like this would shake up everyone’s plans, but sometimes plans change—by choice or by chance. Choice is always preferable.” He paused. Swallowed. Resumed painting.
He had to be thinking about all the plans he and his wife had made for their life together and the family they were creating.
“I hear what you’re saying, but it can be hard to switch gears midcourse. There are so many unknowns.”
“There are anyway. And the danger of being too locked into plans is that we can breeze right past forks in the road that could lead to an even better destination than the one we had in mind.”
She scrubbed at the stubborn residue of paint clinging to her skin. “So are you seriously thinking about leaving San Francisco behind?”
“I wouldn’t put it in the serious category yet. More like toying with an unexpected potential opportunity. I can see the appeal of living in Hope Harbor, can’t you?” He locked onto her gaze as the intensity ratcheted up another notch.
“Um . . .” Was he asking her whether she found the attributes of the town enticing—or the idea that he might be thinking about calling it home?
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” He went back to rolling the walls.
“You didn’t.” Not exactly. “I guess I never thought about it. I mean, since there aren’t any positions here that line up with my career goals, the possibility of staying hasn’t been on my radar.”
“I didn’t think there were any opportunities in my line of work either, until Eleanor planted a seed. But nothing may come of it. A decision like that has a ton of moving parts, and if any of them are out of whack, it can deep-six the whole notion. If you need a paint refill, let me know.”
He was done talking about a potential career relocation.
Vienna made a yeoman’s effort to switch gears, but while the conversation shifted to other topics, one of his comments kept looping through her mind.
“The danger of being too locked into plans is that we can breeze right past forks in the road that could lead to an even better destination than the one we had in mind.”
Mom would agree with that sentiment. Bev Price had never passed up a fork in the road without at least poking her nose down it.
But what happened if you followed one and it led to a roadblock or dead end?
Mom would dismiss that concern, of course. She’d say you just had to find your way back to the main road or forge a new path.
Vienna sighed.
For a woman who’d always planned her life out to the nth degree, courting such danger was a scary thought.
Yet sometimes, as Matt had said, you weren’t given a choice about forks. Like with her previous job.
And that was turning out fine. The inn project had been fun, and it positioned her well for the sort of future she’d always envisioned.
Unless she altered that vision.
A headache began to throb in her temples, and she massaged her forehead.
Must be the paint fumes.
“Do you mind if I raise the window higher?” She tossed the question over her shoulder to Matt.
“No. Is the smell getting to you?”
“A little.”
“You want to stop?”
“Not yet.” She raised the sash and inhaled the fresh air.
Didn’t help.
The smell must not be the culprit.
And in truth, she already knew that.
Her headache was the direct result of Matt’s revelation about his potential career shift.
That was a curveball of the first order.
And she didn’t like curveballs.
In baseball, they might add interest to the game and keep batters on their toes, but it was hard to get a home run out of them. A swing and a miss were more common.
Likewise in life.
Yet now that he’d thrown her one, she couldn’t ignore it.
Because assuming Kay was in over her head here and having buyer’s remorse, there might be a different career option worth contemplating for a certain out-of-work hotel professional—if she was willing to take a gigantic leap of faith.
And that was a huge if.