2
The last hotel on earth Ben Carter wanted to run was his grandparents’ country inn with its dark basement of steep stairs and mountain of boxes.
The stairs from the basement of Hearts Bend Inn to the small private office space Granddaddy and Granny had used for the last sixty years seemed to grow steeper with each load of boxes Ben carried up.
Granny had decades’ worth of boxes in the basement. Had Granddaddy known she never threw anything away? Yesterday, Ben had thrown away guestbooks from the 1950s, ’60s, and ’70s. Granny had taken over full management of the inn when Granddaddy had grown too sick. Her organization skills had been, well, lacking. She’d kept everything—bills, letters, receipts. Even the weekly flyers from the grocery store. Like anyone needed to know the price of milk five years ago.
But if he could, Ben would happily talk to Granny about the price of milk, or anything she wanted, just to see her face again.
He’d been so busy the last five years, launching new and marquee hotels for the prestigious Viridian Jewel Resorts around the world, that he’d not come home enough. He’d not helped out. Which in his mind made him a bad grandson. Especially after all his grandparents had done for him.
He set the box down next to the old desk. He could still see Granddaddy sitting here in the solo light of the lamp, balancing the books.
He should have been here for Granny. Should have seen that she needed help before and after Granddaddy passed. They’d run the inn together for sixty-one years, so he’d figured she didn’t need him. Never mind she kept telling him everything was fine. Go on and live your life, Benji. Open those big, beautiful luxury hotels.
He’d believed her because he’d wanted to believe her.
Grabbing a handful of old tax returns from the box, he fed the paper shredder. As the machine hummed, he stared out the window toward the vegetable and herb garden on the east side of the inn. Sunlight streamed in, brightening up the whole room. Even if this place was a mess, at least it was a cozy mess with plenty of light.
The shredding work was mindless, but it gave him time to consider what else needed to be done. He’d been compiling an extensive to-do list since he arrived two weeks ago.
He only had the summer to get things settled, make decisions before he had to be in Sydney. The Emerald, a stunning world-class resort and the newest hotel for VJR, would be their marquee property in the South Pacific. This hotel would open up Asia to them, and Ben was heading the team. It had to go well. He was lucky his boss had let him come home to square up the estate.
But he must be back in Australia by September first. The last month was critical. As it was, he spent his evenings answering emails and texts from his boss and the team.
He fed another pack of papers through the shredder. He was exhausted.
Mr. Graham, Granny’s lawyer, was stopping in today. He’d insisted on coming to the inn for coffee and cookies and for what Ben suspected to be bad news.
His phone vibrated in his back pocket. Jordan, his second-in-command in Sydney, had texted a picture. It was the promotional angle of the fifteen-story building. The lights inside glowed against the dark sky, the huge white domes of the Sydney Opera House lit up in the background. Perfect. Things were coming together, which eased a bit of his stress.
The inspector was set to give them the CO in a few weeks, and if possible, he wanted to be there. Setting up the lobby, the kitchen, the dining hall, the rooms, the spa required a lot of time and attention to detail.
If everything went well, and it would, Hong Kong was next. Investors were already lined up.
Thanks to his grandparents, the hotel business was in his blood. All his years at the Hearts Bend Inn checking in customers, waiting tables in the small dining room, mopping the kitchen, cleaning rooms, changing bed sheets, and fixing plumbing with Granddaddy looking over his shoulder had set him up for his career with Viridian.
The Emerald would solidify his career. He would not, could not fail. The irony of dealing with details for the Emerald while standing in his grandparents’ old-fashioned place in the middle of Podunk, Tennessee, was not lost on him.
His phone pinged with another text from Jordan.
Don’t forget we have a video call with the Hong Kong investors next week.
As if he could forget. The call fell right in the middle of the night for him, but he’d be up and dressed to impress.
It’s on my calendar.
The quicker he figured out what to do with this inn, the quicker he could return to his life. His calling. To Sydney.
He finished the shredding and broke down the empty box. When he tossed the cardboard toward the pile against the wall, he managed to knock a frame off the desk.
Sorry, Granny.
Ben retrieved the old frame and set the picture in its spot of honor. The loving couple beneath the glass were a snapshot of love, of a blissful marriage, of home. Granddaddy, in his Army uniform, hugging Granny outside the inn. Happiness, love, commitment—all written across their faces.
Granddaddy had left his mark on the world as a decorated Korean War vet and retired from the Army after twenty years. He’d been a loved and respected citizen of Hearts Bend and the hero of Ben’s life.
Ben gathered the tipping stack of cardboard and carried it to the dumpster hidden behind a fence and stand of trees. As he returned to his office, he paused just outside the kitchen doors and peered into the inn’s lobby and dining area.
