The elevator door shuts, and Gabby turns to him. She zeros in on him with a shocked expression. “What was that!?”
Oh, god. He digs the balls of his palms into his eyes, frustrated. Why the hell didn’t he recognize Calvin Lowe? He follows the entire band on social media, watches their lives, and plays their songs on a loop. You’d think a fan as big as him would recognize their guitarist, but no—he never thought he’d meet him in the parking lot of his inn.
It never occurred to him that was a possibility. It was the sunglasses andthe ball cap, he tells himself, and also because his presence didn’t quite grab as much attention as it did when he was onstage.
“That was so uncool of me, damn it,” Miles groans. “Anyway… what was your surprise?”
“Thatwas my surprise!”
Miles groans again.
“He was here a few months ago with his family. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be bummed you missed him.” She gives him a look. “He booked a room this weekend, and since you were in town, I thought… oh, this’ll be a pleasant surprise! Since you did the art for their first album, I thought you’d have something to talk about.”
Right, that was also a huge reason he liked the band so much. Years ago, they got in touch with him to paint their debut album cover, and it pretty much jump-started his career. “He probably doesn’t know who their management hires for their album covers. Besides, he probably already thinks I’m a creep.”
“Nah. You’ve got a lot of time to work your charm on him. He’s probably here to unwind. Did you see the rumors?”
“What charm,” he mutters. “You mean that the band’s breaking up?” Yes, he’s seen them—he’s chosen to ignore them. Call him dramatic, but he wouldn’t be able to survive the heartache. “Those are rumors. Do you need my help with anything?”
“No. Go find your mom.”
“She’ll get a good laugh at the shit I pulled.”
“She will.”
Suddenly, realization dawns on him. “Shit!” He smacks the reception table loud enough to startle Gabby. “I shouldn’t have thrownthat receipt!”
“What receipt?”
“It was a signed autograph…!” Miles groans and holds his head. A mean note written by Calvin Lowe himself? Even if he wouldn’t confirm it, Miles is convinced it’s him.
“What are you talking about?”
He doesn’t even answer her, he just walks away dazed.
Chapter Two
Mom is not in the dining room, on the deck, or at the lake. He checks the rooftop garden—Mom’s favorite place—and it’s empty. Sighing, he sends her a text asking where she is and gets no response. She’s terrible with technology; he wouldn’t be surprised if she forgot she even had a phone.
He’s about to give up and head to the house when he remembers her office at the back of the building. When he gets there, a small room at the back with a sign that says ‘Management’, he finds it unlocked, but Mom is nowhere to be seen. He takes his phone out and texts her, and takes a seat by her worn-down office chair while he waits.
The office is stuffy, especially with the curtains currently drawn, blocking the view of the lake from the window. There are bookshelves with titles that used to belong to Dad, and potted plants that are Mom’s addition. It’s endearing how the office has both their personalities.
He sends a quick voice message to Mom, which is pretty much just him whining. “Maaa, where are you? I told you I was getting here soon.”
After waiting another five minutes without a response, he gives up and grabs a pen. He opens draws to search around for paper, finding binders and documents, but no notepads. Absently, he wonders if they should design notepads for the inn with their logo on it. Other inns did that, right?
He gets to the lowermost drawer, and yanks it open. There’s a stack of papers stacked in it, and the topmost sheet immediately catches his attention.
There on the paper, in big red letters, are the words “Payment Overdue.” Even looking at the words is nerve-wracking. Frowning, he scans over the page. It’s a warning from the bank saying that if they don’t settle their accounts soon, further action will be taken.
He has no idea what the next steps would be, but it doesn’t sound good. At all.
“Oh god,” he mutters, face going white as he goes to the next page. The amount they owe the bank is ridiculously big, and the inn is listed as their collateral. Miles hunches over the pages, his hands cold.
Putting the letter away, he goes through the other pages in the drawer—financial reports—and he goes over the tables and numbers. With every moment that passes, he has a harder time breathing. His heart pounds in his chest.
He only really found out the inn needed a lot of help when a patron from the gallery mentioned he had visited, and that it hadbeen very quiet, and then made a passing statement about how they could probably hire more staff. Miles had rung Gabby up right away, and after a lot of prodding, she admitted to him that she didn’t know the specifics, but she was pretty sure their finances were dire. Miles decided to head home indefinitely after that conversation.
