Pearl shrugged. “Maybe. If Henry doesn’t screw things up. You know he still has a grudge against Rena after all these years.”
Rose pressed her lips together. “I never really understood what that was about. They were such good friends.”
Leena sat back in the seat. “That was a long time ago.”
“Yes, well, better days are ahead for us and for the town,” Pearl said.
Leena sighed. “I just hope those girls are up for the challenge. Rena said she’d send us some angels to help with the town, but judging by what I saw tonight, we might have our work cut out for us.”
Chapter Five
The room was nicer than Gina had expected. Not Hyatt Regency nice and nothing like the expensive luxury hotels she was used to—or rather, had been used to. That was all in the past. She might never be able to afford those hotels again.
The room was spacious, with a king-size bed and a large window overlooking the ocean. The brown-and-orange color scheme was a bit outdated, but she supposed that had been popular in the 1980s when the hotel was last open. Despite the age of the motel, the room showed only minimal signs of wear and tear. Perhaps Gram had updated it shortly before she was forced to close.
At least the room didn’t smell moldy, she thought as she opened the window and breathed the salty sea air. And the view was spectacular. The old place did have a few things going for it.
She collapsed onto the bed. It was surprisingly comfortable. But the nonmoldy room and comfortable bed didn’t make her feel much better as she checked her email to find only spam. She’d reached out to some of her and her ex-husband’s old friends to see if any one of them had heard from her husband, Hugh, but so far no luck.
She threw the phone on the bed in disgust. The entire world, including Maddie and Jules, thought she was getting a divorce, but the truth was that Hugh had disappeared along with their sizable bank account and his young secretary, Holly.
That had been almost six months ago, and Gina had no idea where he was. Gina had visions of him and a bikini-clad Holly on a tropical island. Those visions had hurt at first, but at that point she couldn’t care less about Hugh or where he was. The only problem was that without knowing his whereabouts, she couldn’t very well serve him with divorce papers. Oh, and the money, that was a problem, too, because he’d taken it all, and she had no idea how to get her half back.
She could tell that her cousins thought she was rolling in money, but she was completely broke. It was proving to be quite an adjustment.
Her phone pinged, and she grabbed it off the bed. The message wasn’t about Hugh; it was her neighbor, Melissa. Mel was back in Beacon Hill, an exclusive section of Boston where she’d lived with Hugh. Mel didn’t know about Hugh’s disappearance either. She thought they were simply getting divorced and Gina was looking to downsize. Mel was actively searching the condo listings for Gina and kept messaging her with potential units.
Thankfully Gina’s name had been the only one on the mortgage and title of the heavily mortgaged home she’d shared with Hugh, so she could sell it without him being present. Maybe his insistence on her name being the only one associated with the home should have been a clue, but she’d been blinded by his charm. She’d been lucky to get out of the home without owing money. But she had nothing to put down on a new condo, and she’d had to keep putting Mel off by claiming the ones Mel presented to her were not suitable. Hopefully if she held off long enough, she would figure out a way to recover the money Hugh had stolen.
She could figure that out, couldn’t she? Hugh’s voice rang in her head, evaporating her confidence.
“It’s a good thing we have money. You don’t really have many skills,” he’d said.
When he’d said that, she’d thought it oddly insulting, but then he’d laughed that charming, dimple-producing laugh, and she’d figured he was just kidding. But she did have skills, didn’t she? Maybe she’d never had a chance to showcase them with Hugh. She’d spend most of her time staging the high-end properties that Hugh sold. He’d said she had a knack for furniture placement and coordinating accessories.
Maybe Hugh had been right. She didn’t have the skills to find him or her money. That was for sure.
Glancing around the room, she found herself automatically staging it. It needed an upgrade, but it wouldn’t take much. Maybe move some things around, get some new, coordinating bedding, a new rug, shower curtains and some rolled-up towels in the bathrooms to give it a spa effect. New paint was a must. But she was getting ahead of herself. She wasn’t going to be there long enough to decorate the place.
She hefted her suitcase onto the bed and started to unpack. The room actually had a decent closet and wooden hangers. The bureau drawers opened smoothly, but the bulky bureau took up a lot of room. Did motel guests really need a big bureau? Maybe a smaller one built into the closet would open up the space for a nice chair.
But just because the motel had wooden hangers and possibilities didn’t mean she would be staying. Nope, renovating a motel was not for her, especially not with her cousins. They were the last people she wanted to work with, particularly Jules. She and Maddie hadn’t exactly proven they were up for the job before. The failure at the Surfstone motel had done a number on Gina’s confidence, even though it was mostly all their fault. That, if nothing else, was the reason she would be leaving the Beachcomber as soon as possible.
She’d made Gram a deathbed promise that she would come there, and she’d fulfilled that promise. Luckily, she hadn’t promised how long she would stay. And as for her promise to enjoy the simple things… well, what did that even mean?
Chapter Six
Maddie breezed into the kitchen early the next morning. She’d been pleasantly surprised at the condition of her room. She’d slept hard and awakened optimistic about the future of the motel.
But first, coffee.
“Where is the coffee maker?” she muttered as she scoured the room, looking for the Keurig and K-Cup setup she was used to at home.
She didn’t find a Keurig. All she found was an old-fashioned coffee maker with a basket and a pot. It was white with a yellow gingham decal across the top. It had a name, too—Mr. Coffee.
“Okay, Mr. Coffee, let’s see if I can figure you out.” She rummaged in the basket the welcome-wagon ladies had given her and found coffee filters and ground coffee. But she couldn’t figure out how to get the thing working, no matter how hard she fiddled with it. Maddie had many strong suits, but understanding gadgets and technology was not one.
“Fine. I can hold off on the coffee.” Frustrated with the machine, she sat at the table, took a notebook out of her purse, and set it beside her open day planner. First, she needed to figure out what jobs absolutely had to be done at the hotel, then she could schedule the dates. There were plenty of things they could do on their own, and if the loan came through, she could move on to bigger projects. She had no idea how much they might get for a loan, and it was important to prioritize. Maddie was very good at prioritizing.
