"Cascade View Inn, this is Sage.”
"Ms.Winters, this is Bradley Miller from First National.I'm calling about your loan status."
I sink onto a kitchen stool."Good morning, Bradley.How's the...banking?"
"Ms.Winters, I need to inform you that despite the recent increase in bookings, your account shows insufficient funds for the upcoming payment due November 20th.”
"But that's..."I do quick mental math."Two weeks away.And I have bookings.Lots of bookings.Twelve this weekend alone!"
"Yes, I see the projected income.However, after operating expenses, you'll still be approximately eight thousand dollars short."
Eighteen thousand.
Might as well be eighteen million.
"I have the SafeStay partnership," I say desperately."Luke Sterling?—"
"Mr.Sterling's company has paid the installation fee, yes.But according to the contract you provided, the bulk of the partnership benefits are marketing-based, not direct financial investment."
Right.
Because I'd been so focused on getting Luke here, getting publicity, getting noticed, that I hadn't thought about actual cash flow.
"Ms.Winters, I've advocated for you with the board, but they're losing patience.If you can't make the November payment..."
"I know."My voice comes out small."Foreclosure proceedings."
"I'm sorry.Is there any way you can secure additional funds?"
I look around my kitchen—at the peeling linoleum, the ancient appliances, the window that doesn't quite close all the way."I'll figure something out."
"I hope so.The inn has been in your family for generations.I'd hate to see..."
"Yeah," I interrupt."Me too."
I hang up and stare at my phone, trying to process how I'm still drowning despite everything.
Despite Luke.Despite SafeStay.
Despite working eighteen-hour days and becoming a goat farmer and letting my sisters think I have my life together.
A knock at the door interrupts my spiral into despair.
I find my handyman Tommy MacReady on my porch, tool belt slung low on his hips, expression grim.
"Morning, boss.We need to talk."
"Good morning to you too, Tommy.Would you like some coffee?Maybe a side of doom with your pronouncements?"
He doesn't smile, which is concerning.Tommy always smiles.
"It's the roof," he says, pulling out a folded estimate."That patch job I did last month isn't going to hold through winter.You need a full replacement on the north side."
I take the paper with numb fingers, unfold it, and nearly choke."Twenty-two thousand dollars?"
"That's the friends and family rate.Anyone else would charge thirty."
"Tommy, I don't have twenty-two dollars, let alone thousand."
