“I was on my way to clean up, so thank you.”
“Find a new buyer for the inn? Listen, son, don’t worry about me. If the new owners don’t want to keep me on, I’ll go on and retire. I’m set for it.”
“You’re in good hands. Akron is buying the inn. Specifically, Cami.”
“Really?” Ray shook his head. “Like I said, I’m all set to retire. I understand you got to do what you got to do.”
Ben leaned against the barn. “You sound like you don’t approve.”
“It’s not up to me.” Ray looked at Ben, one hand casually in his pocket, the other hanging by his side. Not at all ruffled by Ben’s sharp tone. “Did you pray about it?” When Ben didn’t answer, Ray went on. “If you don’t ask, He can’t answer. Ever think He might have something for you better than that fancy place Down Under? That your yellow brick road is right here in Hearts Bend? You can’t live your life running from the things you fear or trying to be somebody you’ve cooked up in your head. You have to be the man God made you to be.”
Afraid? Was he afraid? Somewhere in the twilight, a mourning dove cooed a hallowed lament. Ben wasn’t afraid to talk to God. But why bother Him when Ben already had a great plan for his life?
In Ben’s experience, God had a way of changing a man’s plans, and he wasn’t a hundred percent on board with that right now.
“Don’t be like your great-great-uncle Ned,” Ray said. “He collected all sorts of grand stuff from around the world with the intent of building a hotel and a home right here in HB. He spent thousands when the estates were failing in England. Bought all sorts of rare antique pieces. You know what he did with it all?”
“Well, since there’s no big hotel or fine house in town, I’m guessing nothing.”
“Yup, packed a lot of the stuff in this barn. The rest, all that gorgeous furniture, burned when the old warehouse went up in flames in ’38.”
“I’m not Great-Great-Uncle Ned. I’m not acquiring and not building. I’m doing something with my stuff, as you put it.”
“You’re missing the point, son. Your uncle Ned was looking for happiness in grand things, in money. But none of it made him happy. That’s what I’m asking you, Ben. Are you happy?”
The question struck an exposed nerve. Ben had never asked himself that question, but suddenly his entire body resonated with it.
Of course he was happy. He was living his dream. He was successful.
But was he happy?
Ray nodded a good evening but after a few steps turned back. “Your granddaddy always used to sit at his desk with the door closed when he talked to God. Nine times out of ten, he came out with an answer. If not, he emerged with peace, believing God was taking care of him and your granny.”
Ben watched Ray walk away and stayed there, leaning against the barn wall until he had to follow the inn’s lights back to the porch. Guests filled the dining area, and the part-time girl, Lori, was taking orders.
Inside the office, Ben closed the door, then sat at his grandfather’s desk. The only light was that of the small desk lamp.
Bowing his head, he prayed, feeling every bit like one of the lilies in Ray’s garden, trusting God to take care of him and show him the way.
13
Five days had passed since Cami had sent Ben a text—not that she was counting. She settled into her seat inside the Frothy Monkey in downtown Nashville with her sister across from her for a latte and Danish. As they finished their chat, Annalise’s phone rang with a Vicki Carmichael song.
The moment Annalise answered, the singer began to cry.
“…spilled the beans…media everywhere…cancelled…two weeks away…wedding.”
The more Vicki went on, the more pale Annalise became. “Okay…okay…don’t worry. We’ll work it out, we’ll work it out.”
Annalise hung up and started for the parking lot. “Someone went to the media and revealed the location of the wedding. Vicki canceled her contract with the Oasis. The media is all over the place.”
Cami cleared the table of their trash and hurried out to meet Annalise, who stood next to the car.
“How can people be so heartless?” Annalise said. “Obviously, it’s a breach of the non-disclosure, but now she needs a new wedding venue. Worse yet, this ‘source’ has labeled her a bridezilla. She’s not, and I feel bad I painted her that way in the beginning. She’s just a bride wanting the wedding of her dreams.”
Annalise got in the passenger seat while Cami slid behind the wheel. “You’re the best wedding planner in Nashville?—”
“I’m not, but thank you.”
