Cami laughed. “I don’t know, how matronly do you want to be?”
“Less than a hundred, if you don’t mind.”
“Then ninety-nine it is.”
Cami didn’t want to confess that one hunky man had been on her mind all week. Ben Carter. From how he looked without his shirt—downright drool-worthy—to how real and down-to-earth he’d been. How he seemed to really care about the inn even though he had an incredible job waiting for him in Sydney. Viridian resorts were extraordinary. Staying at one was on her bucket list.
Meanwhile, this Wednesday marked a week since she’d given Ben the forty-eight-hour deadline.
You have forty-eight hours.
She cringed at the memory. Please. The deadline had made her sound like a henchman in The Godfather. Made her sound like a bully. She never gave potential sellers that kind of rush. But she’d been emotional and mixed-up after seeing Mama’s painting, after all the memories.
Ben’s delayed response had given her time to think and plan. She had to go back to Hearts Bend and win him over. Then she’d remembered the flyer about a barn dance on the bulletin board outside the inn’s kitchen. After a quick shopping trip last night, she was ready to do-si-do in a lace dress and pair of leather cowboy boots.
She’d wanted to use this drive to the wedding venue to tell Annalise about the inn, but it suddenly felt personal. Talking about business was easy. But talking about the pieces of her heart that touched on her memories of Mama often seemed impossible.
“What about you, Lise? You feeling okay? You look puny.”
“I’m fine. We ate sushi last night, and it didn’t sit well with me.”
“You hate sushi.”
“Exactly.”
Cami squeezed her sister’s hand. “All right, tell me more about Vicki’s wedding so far, without all the ideas and changes. What’s her theme?”
“She loves color. Wants lots of flowers and eclectic table settings. She loves antiques, yet she sends me pictures of modern weddings with gold-and-white themes. I can’t talk to anyone about anything without making them sign a non-disclosure. One will be included in all the wedding invitations. It must be signed when they return their RSVP.”
“Remind me to never envy the rich and famous.”
“Which reminds me, you’ll have to sign this”—Annalise reached into her bag and pulled out a folded legal document—“before we go in.”
“You mean I can’t take a bunch of pictures and post on social media?”
Annalise laughed. “No.”
In Cami’s eyes, her sister still looked tired and a bit green. The BMW’s GPS told Cami to take the exit on the right. Well, if she was going to tell her sister about the inn and Ben, now was the time. They’d arrive at the venue about the time Annalise dug in for the deep, personal questions.
“I put an offer on the Hearts Bend Inn.” Cami gripped the wheel, waiting for her sister’s response.
“You what?” Annalise pressed her hand on Cami’s arm. “Does Dad know?”
“He will. It’s in the system, but I’ve not closed yet.”
“You really want to go back there, Cami? Why?” Annalise’s questions mirrored Cami’s. Especially why.
After her big show-off last week, the why question had begun to surface. Why would she want to own the place where her mother died? The place her father hated. The place where words had been exchanged.
“Jean Carter died, and her grandson, Ben, inherited it. Keith Niven emailed and said Ben might be willing to sell. Ben works for Viridian Jewel Resorts and?—”
“Ben? Your first-kiss Ben?” Now Annalise teased her. “Is he still cute?”
“No, he’s a downright hunk. Really handsome. He’s opening a marquee hotel in Sydney, and he has to be there the same time I have to be in Indy.”
“Do you think he’ll sell? I mean, the Carters owned that place since the late ’50s. And I think they inherited from someone in the family. It’s a legacy.”
“He’s not sure. He’s considering my offer. The place needs a lot of work. A local businessman, Frank Hardy, offered to buy it for the amount of the bank loan, but that was an insulting offer. You know him. He’s Sam Hardy’s dad.”
