“I should ask how you know that, but you’ll tell me you did your homework.”
“Keith Niven told me.” Her smile was genuine, not the practiced one that could seal a deal. He liked her real one even better. “He said he’d tried to get some people interested in case you wanted to sell. No one would bite, so he called me. He knew I used to come here as a kid.”
“I had an offer from Frank Hardy, but it was very lowball.” Ben reached for the folder again. “My grandparents devoted their lives to the inn. Got married in ’56, bought this place in ’59, the year Dad was born. Selling makes me feel like—” A rotten grandson. It was bad enough he’d not been there for Granny when she needed him. Now to sell her beloved inn?
“Makes you feel like a bad grandson?” So, the girl with gorgeous eyes was also a mind reader. “Life goes on. You can’t stay in the past. This was your grandparents’ life work. Yours is with Viridian. Go, enjoy, have fun. Live your life and sell me this place.”
“True, but are you going to take care of it personally? Keep an eye on things? What are you going to do with the inn?”
“I won’t be in charge of the property personally. I’m heading to Indianapolis, but it’ll be good, trust me.”
He laughed. “Solid answer, Jackson.” He handed back the blue folder. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“What? I’d think you’d recognize a good deal when you see one. You can’t just let the inn sit here and go to rot.” She shoved the folder at him again. “Do you have the money to pay the bank loan?”
“So you know about the loan too?”
“Give me a few more days and I’ll tell you your shoe size.”
He laughed. “The great Cami Jackson knows all.”
“Tell you what. Take some time to think it over. You have forty-eight hours.” Cami extended her hand to Ben.
Her grip was firm and confident, and fit perfectly with his. He had a crazy urge to hold on to her a bit longer. But she pulled free and turned for the door.
“Call me.”
“I’ve got your number.” He held up the folder.
Watching her go, Ben wished he was fifteen again, sitting with her in the tree house, leaning in for a kiss.
With a sigh, he dropped to the desk chair and reviewed her offer. It was a good offer. He bet he could negotiate some, get a higher price. He’d divide the money between his parents and Myrtle May. She could buy a small house in town. He’d set aside some for Walt and Ray.
“Well, well, all your barking at me about leaving the reg desk vacant, I return to find you in here and not out front.”
Ben jumped up. “Oh man, I totally forgot. I was talking to Cami and?—”
“She’s a nice girl,” Myrtle May said. “Beautiful, don’t you think?”
The woman was fishing, but he wasn’t biting. He held up the folder. “She wants to buy the inn.”
Myrtle May stepped back, eyes wide. “Really? What did you say?”
“That I wasn’t sure. But she wants an answer in forty-eight hours.”
“Well, goodness, she doesn’t give a man much time.”
True, but life never gave a man much time.
4
Ben’s computer chimed again with another incoming email. Seventy-three emails and counting. Not to mention two calls from his boss in the last hour. Jim had made it very clear Ben needed to be in Sydney as soon as possible. Ben guessed he regretted giving him the summer to finalize his grandmother’s—no, his—estate.
Jordan’s multiple emails cemented Ben was needed Down Under.
Ben, is there any way you can get here earlier? I know you have your grandmother’s estate, but things are moving fast. Jordan.
Ben, here are the applications for the reception staff. I need your top forty by the end of the week. I’ll set up Zoom interviews. Jordan.
