She’d come here to do business, but once she’d stepped onto the grounds, the daughter inside of her had yearned to be heard.
The text was from Meghan, Cami’s favorite associate at the shoe boutique she loved to frequent. Shoe sale this weekend. Ten percent off Louboutin, Prada, Choo, and Blahnik. At the moment, shoes were the farthest thing from her mind. Which meant miracles did happen.
She took a moment to respond. This would be her last sale with this shop. From now on she’d have to find shoes in Indy.
Tucking her phone away, she turned to see Ben next to her. “I just realized Cottage Three was the one you shared with your mom.” He raised his hat off his head and settled it back down. Apparently, he wasn’t comfortable with this either. “I take it you’ve not been back since.”
“I’ve not, no.” Cami walked on. “Can we tour the inn?”
As they approached, she could see the shutters were slightly crooked and paint-chipped.
Ben led her to the back door and gestured for Cami to go first. “The kitchen,” he said. “Needs work but I won’t give you the nitty-gritty.”
The hall led them past the kitchen, where they were greeted by a huge golden retriever. A wide smile spread across the aging dog’s face.
“This is Bart, Myrtle May’s most recent rescue. She adopts aging dogs and gives them their forever home.”
“Makes you love her all the more, doesn’t it?”
Myrtle May danced down the hallway. “Howdy again, Cami. Ben, I need to take Bart for a walk.” She followed Bart out the front door, her raspy voice singing, “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine. Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!”
“You can see why she was never offered a recording contract,” Ben said. “But she gives the place atmosphere.”
Was he doing it on purpose? Charming her. And where had he been the last fifteen years? She didn’t see a ring or a ring tan line, so she assumed he wasn’t married. But in love? Engaged? Entangled?
Cami paused by a large bulletin board posted outside the kitchen. Papers of every color and size were haphazardly pinned to it. Apartment for rent, dinner specials at Angelo’s, Fourth of July at the Scott Farm, and a huge flyer announcing the square dance next weekend at the old community barn.
“The lobby furniture is relatively new,” Ben said, and Cami followed him into the open space of the lobby. “But the rest needs a bit of work.”
Cami walked behind the sofa, which faced the large wood-burning fireplace. “I sat here in the lobby with Mama and Dad and my sister one Christmas Eve. Didn’t your grandparents go all out?”
“Every year, without fail.”
“We had so much fun,” Cami said. “We didn’t know it’d be our last—” The memory lane tour must end. None of it would bring Mom back or restore the years since. Memory lane wouldn’t change what had transpired with Dad. She was here to do business. “What kind of business does the inn do?”
“To be honest, not a lot. The books are a mess, but I’ll get into it. Granny was the charm of the inn. Granddaddy was the businessman. After he died, things got lax.”
“I understand.” Her entire family had let things go, everything really, after Mom died. Took Cami years to figure out who she was, who she wanted to be.
Cami inspected the bookshelves where guests left behind their paperbacks. On the oak table was a book on Tennessee wildflowers.
“I think you’ll find my offer is fair.” She turned toward the reception desk, and that’s when she saw it. Mama’s painting. The pastoral scene of the inn’s grounds showing a silhouetted couple in the bottom third. They sat on a wrought iron bench, his arm lovingly around her shoulders, their heads leaned together.
“That’s the painting,” Ben said.
“Yeah, I know. I watched her paint it.” The emotions swirling in her were sentimental, messy, and chaotic. “The bench…” She stepped toward the painting. “The bench in the garden… It’s gone.”
“Don’t know what happened to it. I can’t remember when I last saw it.” Ben stood next to her. His warm skin carried the scent of sawdust. “When I was in college, maybe.”
“College? Where’d you go?”
“UT.”
“What? I was a Georgia Dawg.”
“Well, I won’t hold that against you. I bet you were one of the cool people. I was in my dorm studying, wishing I was cool.”
“You were always the coolest, Ben.” Cami shook her head and stared back at the painting.
