Hallie would have expected that people who had owned and run a bed-and-breakfast for the last forty years—coincidentally, the very one that she still worked at—would be a little bit more curious as to its current state.
But no. They hadn’t had a question. Not a nosy inquiry. Not even a, “Hey, how have things been going with the new owner?” It was like they’d been replaced by pod people who only existed in relation to whatever Mason and Claire had going on.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket at the same time one of the teams scored a touchdown; she welcomed the distraction from watching Mason and her dad high-five like they’d had something to do with it.
Brynn Fitzpatrick - 6:30 p.m.
Check-ins for New Year’s Eve Eve have all been completed! No issues to report.
Hallie smiled down at her phone. For the first few days she’d been gone, she’d texted Brynn every morning, checking in on how things were going at the inn. By day three, Brynn had started preemptively sending her a morning update, along with an evening one for good measure.
She’d come to look forward to them, especially with the drudgery of her day-to-day vacation in Colorado. Vacation was a generous term when you considered that she didn’t get to sleep in, didn’t get to pick activities, didn’t get to nap, and had rarely left the house except to do physical activity.
She responded quickly.
Hallie Thatcher - 6:30 p.m.
You’re a pro! I don’t even know whether I’m needed there anymore.
Brynn Fitzpatrick - 6:31 p.m.
Trust me, you are.
Hallie put her book safely on the end table, hoping that it was high enough to keep it away from the twins. She folded her jogger-clad legs underneath her and leaned her elbow on the arm of the sofa—aka her home away from home.
Hallie Thatcher - 6:31 p.m.
Tell me more…
She didn’t know what she was about to hear, but Brynn could make even the most benign interactions seem hilarious. Especially because she took them so seriously.
It didn’t bother Hallie. If anything, it was a welcome breath of air: someone who, like her, wanted to do a good job. Reese had been serviceable in her role as the day-to-day manager of the inn when she’d been getting trained, but it was very clear that as the new owner—along with being a successful entrepreneur—Reese’s talents lay elsewhere.
During the two weeks that Hallie had spent with Brynn before coming to Colorado, however, she’d learned that Brynn tackled everything thrown her way with an intense, methodical approach.
Brynn didn’t necessarily see it that way, which meant that getting these updates through Brynn’s lens had become one of the only sources of Hallie’s enjoyment over the last week.
The minutes felt agonizingly long while she waited for Brynn’s reply to come through.
Brynn Fitzpatrick - 6:34 p.m.
Well, Greg and Candace were NOT in a good place earlier today.
Hallie laughed out loud. She was desperate to know what Brynn’s first version of that message had been. The bubbles had disappeared and reappeared before this likely more sanitized version had come through.
Greg and Candace were the class couple of The Stone’s Throw, their on-again, off-again relationship a constant source of delight and frustration for Hallie. Even with their ongoing drama, Candace was a more efficient cleaner than anyone else who’d come through over the years, and Greg was a whiz with any handyman task that cropped up around the inn.
As she’d learned in trying to hire another manager, good help was actually really hard to find, so if she had to play mediator or send them to their opposite sides of the property as needed, it was a small price to pay for quality execution in their respective roles.
Still, she groaned when she imagined Brynn trying to handle them. Mostly because it seemed really unfair to Brynn.
Hallie Thatcher - 6:34 p.m.
Is everything okay now?
Brynn Fitzpatrick - 6:35 p.m.
Yes. I gave them a feelings wheel.
