Chapter Three

Googling “wood rot” and seeing the photos of termites was all it took to have Sarah reconsidering her free accommodations at Dove’s Nest. The wood tunnels around the baseboards in the downstairs main bathroom looked like the perfect home for these insects, and they weren’t exactly the guests she wanted to share a B&B with. Sitting on the deck, she was about to call the local five-star hotel’s reservations desk when a car turned into the circular driveway.

She smiled for the first time that day, seeing her best friends, Jessica and Whitney, climbing out of Whitney’s banana-yellow Miata convertible. Whitney had bought the car a month ago, and it was perfect for the spirited, upbeat woman. No one would dare mention that it lacked a back seat for all the kids Whitney’s fiancé, Trent, insisted they wanted.

Sarah put her phone back in her pocket and met them at the top of the deck stairs. “I thought I wouldn’t see you guys until tomorrow,” she said, hugging them both at the same time. They had wanted to give her time with her family while they were still in town for her grandmother’s funeral, but seeing them now brought a rush of tears. Growing up, Jessica and Whitney had been more than friends; they were her sisters by heart. It was tough the last few days being in town and not seeing them, but they were here now, and she wasn’t sure if the tears were joy at seeing them or at finally being able to let go and grieve her grandmother. Maybe both.

“We couldn’t wait any longer,” Whitney said.

“And when we got your text that you’d inherited Dove’s Nest, we wanted to make sure you didn’t walk straight into the ocean,” Jessica said.

She didn’t admit that for a heartbeat or two, she had contemplated doing just that. “It’s tempting,” she said. “What’s with the bowling shirt?” Jessica’s shirt was white with bold red sleeves and a single red stripe down the front, with an embroidered logo on the left-hand side that read Bay’s Singles.

“She joined a coed league,” Whitney said, the eye roll implied in her tone. “As if dart club and competitive ax throwing weren’t extracurricular activity enough.”

Jessica shot her a look. “It was supposed to be a singles team, but apparently, ‘single’ just meant ‘not married.’ So now I’m stuck carrying an awful team with two actively not single couples and Bert Elliott.”

“The hardware store guy?” Bert had worked the paint counter for years. “Isn’t he married?”

“Recently separated. Again, not exactly single,” Jessica said as Sarah led the way to the outdoor seating on the side of the house. She wasn’t sure if the deck could hold all three of them without another hole-in-the-floor fiasco. The sun was getting low in the sky and the furniture on the patio was positioned around a stone fire pit. Despite needing a fresh coat of paint, the Adirondack chairs were in surprisingly good shape. Given what she had seen so far of the rest of the furniture in the B&B, the patio seemed the best option for a visit with her besties.

“You’d date a sixty-two-year-old man if he was?” Whitney asked Jessica, hanging her purse over the back of a chair and removing her gray suit jacket.

“Hey, Bert is a sweetheart, and he always makes sure I have a cold bottled water at each game. That’s about the most attention I’ve had from a man in a long time.”

“That’s just desperation talking.” Whitney rolled the sleeves of her silk blouse and undid the top button. Her golden, sun-kissed skin was enviable.

“Hey, if I date Bert, I could get Sarah a discount on paint,” Jessica said.

Sarah laughed. “Who said I was doing any painting? A sledgehammer might be useful, though.”

The familiar banter helped remind her of how much she’d really missed them. They kept in touch with weekly FaceTime chats, but when they were together like this, she realized how that barely seemed enough. They had all gone to school together since kindergarten, but they really became friends in the fifth grade when Jessica had started a “single child club.” The three of them had bonded over their joint disappointment that their parents hadn’t given them the courtesy of a sibling.

Jessica and Whitney still lived in Blue Moon Bay and saw each other frequently. Sarah struggled with feeling like the third wheel or the one left out, but she had her busy job in the city as a consolation. Her friends understood her lack of availability.

“Wineglasses?” Jessica asked, taking a bottle of red from her oversize purse, followed by a box of cream-filled pastries from her bakery, Delicious Delicacies.

Sarah’s mouth watered, and she wasn’t sure which she craved more—the alcohol or the carbs. “I’ll see what we have. Save me something covered in chocolate,” she said, hurrying inside. She grabbed three of the largest glasses she could find, washed them quickly, and carried them outside.

Whitney had the bottle open already. “So, how bad is it?” she asked as she poured.

Should she mention her near-death experience? Probably best to keep the embarrassing story to herself. Her friends already had plenty of adventure stories with her as the leading role of klutz. She had spent years trying to rewrite that narrative, plus they would worry about her. Best to keep that story for another time.

“Bad,” she said simply. “And Wes Sharrun had the nerve to try to guilt me into renovating.” “Guilt” may be a strong word. He’d simply suggested she think about it. But she did feel guilty, and it was partly his fault.

Her friends exchanged looks.

“What?” she asked, biting into a chocolate pastry. The combination of cocoa and sugar made her eyes close as she savored the burst of flavor dancing on her tongue.

“Wes was here?” Whitney asked.

“A few hours ago.”

The two women stared at her as though waiting for her to elaborate.

“Well, how was seeing him again?” Jessica asked, tying her dark, wavy hair back from her face as the early-evening breeze off the ocean picked up.

Sarah waved a hand. “I see him all the time on Facebook. It was no different.”

Except that it was totally different. Her former crush was no longer a cute athlete who she’d tutored for two years and never had a chance with, given he and Kelly were the school’s famous couple. Now he was a hot-as-hell business owner, widower, and single dad. One who had encouraged her to invest a ton of her savings into restoring an old family property she wanted nothing to do with.

“That’s a lie,” Whitney said, sipping her wine.

“That was a schoolgirl crush I had on him years ago. And I’ve totally forgiven him for the incident that we’re never to discuss.” Maybe telling her friends what had happened that night years ago or her revenge fantasies since then was a bad idea.

“Okay, we’ll pretend to buy that,” Whitney said, kicking her feet free of her sandals and folding her long legs under her on the chair. At five foot nine and 120 pounds soaking wet, her blond bombshell of a best friend had missed her calling as a fashion model. Instead, she was head of marketing and tourism at the mayor’s office in town.

“So, what do you plan to do?” Jessica asked.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly.

“So many hotel chains have been after this amazing location for years; you could reach out to one of them,” Whitney said.

“Grandma always said no to their offers.”

“She loved this place,” Whitney said softly. “Even if keeping it wasn’t in her best interest.”

Sarah heard her friend’s unvoiced warning. Would she be repeating her grandmother’s mistake if she kept it and renovated in the hope of saving it?

“How was the funeral?” Jessica asked, changing the subject as she reached out to squeeze Sarah’s hand.

The comforting gesture was something she hadn’t realized she’d needed. The last few days had been busy with the funeral and will, and she really hadn’t had time to mourn the loss. “Nice. Private. The way Grandma would have wanted it.”

Her grandmother spent her life opening her door to strangers, but her heart had been reserved for family. She always knew everything about everyone within minutes of meeting them. People loved to open up to Dove, but the older woman had always kept her own secrets close to her chest.

“Everyone’s gone already?” Jessica asked.

Sarah nodded. “We did manage to get a family photo before they left, though.” Unlocking her cell phone screen with her thumbprint, she flicked to the photo and handed the phone to Jessica.

“Aww…this is a nice one,” she said, tilting the phone so Whitney could see. She squinted, peering closer. “Who’s the guy in the background?”

Whitney dragged her finger and thumb across the screen to enlarge the view of the beach. “Isn’t that the old guy who lives down near south pier? He’s always out there on the beach with his metal detector. I’ve never seen him around here before, though.”

“He doesn’t have a metal detector here,” Sarah said, looking at the photo. She hadn’t even noticed him on that side of the beach that day.

“Friend of your grandma’s, maybe?” Jessica suggested.

Sarah shrugged, taking the phone back. “Maybe. He didn’t talk to us.” Most likely just a stranger strolling the beach that morning. She could crop him out if she decided to frame the picture.

“Did your grandmother leave a note or anything, explaining this?” Whitney asked, gesturing around them.

Sarah nodded, reaching into her pocket for the ambiguous five-word sticky note she’d been trying to figure out all day and handed it to Whitney.

“A Post-it? That’s it?” she asked.

“Grandma kept things brief,” Sarah said, gulping her wine.

“You’ll know what to do,” Jessica read over Whitney’s shoulder. They looked at her. “Do you?”

“Nope. Other than selling it, what else can I do?” She checked her phone. She’d left three messages for her boss, who was now ignoring her calls, and Sarah recognized the power move that said she was on thin ice. “I really need to get back to L.A.”

“Have you heard about your promotion yet?” Whitney asked.

“Not yet. Being here isn’t exactly helping.” She bit her lip. Her boss was a workaholic. She never took time off and didn’t love the fact that she was expected to give her staff holiday time. This time off was the first “vacation” Sarah had taken in four years. She loved her job at Digital Strategies, where she worked developing new apps for long-distance communication and teleconferencing. And with the promotion, she’d be working directly under the VP of development, a position she’d been busting her butt for, hoping it would give her more freedom and flexibility to work on projects she was passionate about.

“Staying in town for a while wouldn’t be so bad. We love having you here.” Jessica nodded. “And you can help us plan Whitney’s wedding.”

As one of the bridesmaids, Sarah would be heavily involved in her friend’s big day…if Whitney ever committed to a date. A year since she’d gotten engaged, Whitney turned a shade paler whenever anyone asked when the big day would be.

Like now.

“Do we have a date yet?” she asked.

Whitney squirmed on the chair. “We’re getting closer to nailing down a day…” She sipped her wine.

“So…fall?” Jessica asked.

“Maybe fall…maybe next spring,” Whitney said, unfolding her legs and sitting forward on her chair. “Right now, we’re dealing with Sarah’s dilemma.”

Sarah suspected Whitney had good reason for putting them off, and she respected her friend’s privacy, so she shot Jessica a look that said, Let it go for now.

Her cell chimed with a new notification, and she dove for it.

But she frowned, seeing the Facebook message. “It’s a Facebook message from Wes.”

I’ve attached the quote for renovations based on the inspection we did months ago. Let me know what you think.

“It’s a quote for renovations,” she told her friends.

“How much?” Whitney asked.

Sarah lowered the phone and shook her head in disbelief. “You know, that guy has a lot of nerve just assuming I’ll do what he wants. I told him I didn’t know what I planned to do yet.”

“How much?” Whitney repeated, sending her a look that suggested her past grudge was showing.

Sarah sighed as she skipped the list of things needing repairs and found the price at the bottom. She squinted to look at the dollar amount. “Could that be right?” She’d estimated at least double what he was quoting. She quickly responded, asking Wes if there was a mistake.

Seconds later came his reply: Incentive pricing to give the inn a second chance.

She sighed.

“What did he say?” Jessica asked.

Sarah showed her friends the message.

“Well, the price to fix this place up couldn’t possibly be better, and you could work from here, right?” Jessica said.

Her office did do most of their work remotely with just weekly meetings or pitch presentations in the office… Sarah stared at the old house. Could she do it? Obviously her friends wanted her to, but putting her own life on hold didn’t exactly appeal to her. But then neither did seeing a historic building and her grandmother’s legacy disappear.

“I think I need more wine for this decision,” Sarah said, picking up the bottle. Three drops trickled out.

“Is there any in the cellar?” Whitney asked.

Sarah’s eyes widened. “I’d totally forgotten about the cellar. Let’s go check.” They stood and followed her inside. “I feel like I should ask you to sign waivers before entering,” she said, stepping over a loose floorboard in the entryway. “Be careful on the stairs.” She hit the light on the wall above the curving, concrete stairwell heading down to the cellar. The dim lighting and low ceiling made her shiver.

“This is creepy at night,” Jessica said, echoing her thoughts.

“It’s kinda Phantom of the Opera-ish,” Whitney said. “You could totally use this staircase in pics for the sale brochure.”

They reached the big wooden crescent-shaped door with its iron ring handle. When they were kids, the cellar used to make the best hiding place. She hadn’t been down there in years, though, and it was no doubt just a castle for spiders and mice by now. She shivered at the thought as she pulled, but the door wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck.”

“Grab the ring,” Jessica told Whitney.

“On three…”

They pulled, and this time the door flew open.

Sarah entered, feeling along the wall until her hand hit the switch. As the space illuminated, her breath caught. Wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-floor wine racks were full of dusty bottles.

“Holy shit,” Whitney said, entering. She approached a rack and picked up a bottle, then blew the dust away. “This is a 1987 merlot.” She picked up another one. “This one is from ’79.”

“These are all vintage, too,” Jessica said from the other side of the rack. “There has to be thousands of dollars’ worth of wine down here.”

“Everything is organized by type…and date.” Unexplainable excitement rose in Sarah’s chest as she continued scanning the rows of liquid gold.

Jessica rejoined them, a bottle of wine in each hand. “I think this is a sign.”

Sarah shook her head. “You think everything is a sign.”

“This cellar would be an amazing draw for a potential buyer, if they could get past the deteriorating exterior,” Whitney said, then held up her hands in defense of Sarah’s look. “Just sayin’.”

Sarah released a deep breath as she stood in the middle of the cellar. This cellar was a treasure, and the price to renovate was reasonable. She’d make the money back after the sale. And she didn’t really need to be on-site to do her job. She could drive into the city whenever necessary…

Whitney and Jessica continued to stare at her expectantly.

Sarah sighed. “Fine, Grandma—you win. Here goes nothing,” she said, taking her cell phone from her pocket. Opening the message from Wes, she typed quickly before she could change her mind: When can you start?