No rest for the weary. Ben downloaded the zip file, then stared at the cookie he’d stolen from the pantry. He’d missed dinner, but the cookie held no appeal.
After Cami had left, he’d gone back to work, cutting up his “memory” tree. He’d stacked the branches to use for firewood, but the trunk could be milled for lumber. Cole Danner was picking it up tomorrow. In exchange, Cole would give him lumber back for repairs around the inn.
Speaking of repairs… He spied the inspector’s folder under Cami’s blue one. Note to self: Ban the use of folders at the Emerald.
The weight of the last few weeks settled on him. If this were just any ole inn, a place he didn’t love and treasure, he’d sell in a heartbeat. No question. Cami’s offer was fair. There was a huge part of him that wanted to do just that. Let it go. Get on with his life. If all went well with the Emerald and Hong Kong, he might make South Pacific regional director. One director bonus check was more than he’d make in ten years running Hearts Bend Inn.
As it stood now, he made a good salary. Viridian paid for his apartment and gave him a food stipend to eat from resort kitchens. He was able to tuck a little into savings and send financial support to his parents. But if he made director?—
Was that the answer? Work hard, get to regional director, and fund the inn’s repairs? But that’d be at least another three to five years. He’d have to hire a staff to run the inn. Could he find trustworthy folks? How could he keep an eye on things when he was so far away?
Then there was the matter of the debt. His savings account was generous but not quite up to two hundred grand.
There were his folks. Now in their early sixties, they might be ready to come off the mission field. They could live at the inn. Run things. Though Dad had never once expressed any interest in the family business. In fact, he’d run from this place the moment he graduated from high school. Said he had a different calling on his life.
“What should I do, Dad?”
The tenor of his father’s voice resonated across his heart.
Sell, follow your calling.
Then again, Dad didn’t fully grasp how the inn had saved Ben.
Enough. Brooding never helped, so Ben stirred himself, reached for the cookie, and started working through the rest of his emails.
Besides the applications, Jordan had sent twelve more emails, four with problems and the solutions already outlined. All he needed was Ben’s approval.
Jim’s emails always required research, and emails from the builder, engineer, city inspectors, health inspectors, and insurance agency were packed full of questions and information.
Another email from Jordan dropped into his inbox. He was in the office bright and early.
After the Hong Kong call, Jim is going to be on-site to check on our progress.
For the first time since he’d arrived in Hearts Bend, Ben felt the stress. He really needed to be in Sydney. The entire resort chain was holding their breath on this one. The opening must be a success.
Ben peeked at Cami’s folder. He was asking for a solution, and here it was staring him in the face. So why turn it down?
Take the offer and get back to your real job.
Cami had given him forty-eight hours, and ten hours had already ticked off the clock.
From the lobby, the front door chime sounded. The doors locked at 10:00 p.m., so new guests had to ring the bell.
Ben found an older couple waiting on the porch, arm in arm, the man wheeling a small suitcase behind him. They were dressed in their Sunday best—the woman even wore a small red hat pinned into her gray hair.
“We’ve a reservation. Room Twelve.” The man stretched out his hand in a greeting.
Ben shook his hand, escorted them to the reservation desk. “Let’s see…Mr. and Mrs. Walker? We have you for two nights with the honeymoon package.” Myrtle May and the housekeeper went all out for the honeymoon guests—which they didn’t get very often if Granny’s records were accurate. “Complete with bubbly and chocolate-dipped strawberries.”
“We’re not really honeymooners.” The woman looked up at her husband. “But it’s our anniversary. We honeymooned here forty-eight years ago. We were young and didn’t have a lot of extra cash, so we took a little day trip from Knoxville to Hearts Bend for a town festival. We had a flat tire just outside of town. Dan got soaked trying to put on the spare. Turned out it was flat too.”
“We thought we’d have to spend the entire night in the car,” the man said. “It was raining so hard we had no choice but to leave the windows rolled up and?—”
“It was like a sauna, even with all the rain.” The woman looked as in love as ever. “Finally, a police officer drove by. He arranged for a tow truck, and they brought us here while the car was in the shop.”
“We looked like drowned rats!” The man’s laugh was youthful and energetic. “The owners put us up, free of charge. Said they kept a room just for situations like ours.”
The woman motioned to the upright piano shoved against the wall on the other side of the fireplace. “His wife played for us while the husband rustled us up some dinner and sweet tea.”
