Ben picked up the contract from Frank Hardy and flipped through it one more time. He’d upped the offer to five hundred thousand. Probably because Mr. Graham guilted him into it, but the property was worth so much more.
Keith had called with some prospective buyers, but so far, no progress. Ben had reached out to the Grangers in Georgia, but they’d just purchased a similar project in Johnson City and decided to pass. They wished Ben luck, but what he needed was a miracle.
Tomorrow was August fifteenth, and he had to get back to Sydney. He felt a twinge of regret that he’d miss the wedding. On the surface, the inn looked good—though there was still work to be done. But the cottages had been painted and furnished, and the grounds had been trimmed and manicured to perfection.
Insurance would cover the kitchen upgrade, but Ben had paid the deposit to get things going. Walt, along with the contractor, had gutted it yesterday. Annalise had found a caterer who was willing to work without access to the kitchen.
With his experience and contacts in the industry, Ben had gotten a great deal on an industrial oven, dishwasher, and fridge. Frank was getting more than his money’s worth.
But was it all for nothing? What if Frank leveled the place the minute Ben left town? He’d indicated to Mr. Graham he wanted to keep the inn as a town landmark, but something about this deal felt off to Ben.
Maybe he should humble up and call Cami. The idea made him cringe. He’d leveled her on the phone, hadn’t listened to a word she’d said. Just blamed and accused her. By the twist in his spirit, he knew he needed to apologize no matter what happened with the inn.
Ben glanced around the old office, which was starting to feel so comfortable. He’d prayed two weeks straight sitting at this desk. While he wasn’t a holy roller, declaring the Gospel from the rooftop, he was confident he’d spend the rest of his life pursuing the God of love.
His gaze fell on the picture of Granny and Granddaddy he’d knocked off two months ago. He felt their happiness, their joy and hope for all life had in store for them.
“Y’all are face-to-face with Jesus. Tell Him I need a clear answer here. Do I sign Frank’s contract or hold out for an eleventh hour surprise?”
He closed his eyes and breathed in, trying to be still and listen. Then with a wash of peace, he grabbed a pen and put it on the signature line.
“Here goes.” He was just about to sign when?—
“Hey, Ben!” Myrtle May hollered from the front desk.
“On my way.” Ben dropped the pen and headed for the lobby, where he found Myrtle May holding one of the old doorknobs.
“Closet knob from Room Ten,” she said. “Just when we have a big fancy wedding on our heels.”
Ben reached for the antique piece. “I don’t think we have any more like this. We’ll have to try to find something online that looks similar.”
“Ask Ray. He’ll know.”
“I know from the last doorknob that fell off. The one I found was the last in the box.”
Myrtle May just stared. The one that said Look again.
Out in the barn, Ben had begun searching for the knob box when he heard Ray call out. “Ben? Back here.”
“Myrtle May sent me out to look for doorknobs.”
“I just set the knob can on the workbench.”
“How convenient.” Ben walked around the shelves to the workbench. Sure enough, the can was on the bench next to a blueprint tube.
“Ray, what’s in the tube?” Ben glanced in the can to find a single doorknob. “Are you kidding me with these doorknobs? Is this the can of endless doorknobs?”
“Got me. I think the Good Lord is saying He’s the one that opens and closes doors.”
“I wish He’d make it clear which doors I’m to open and close.”
Ben opened the canister and rolled out the blueprints to see an expansion plan for the inn. More cottages, a bigger pool, even a lazy river, and a small café area to expand into a full-service restaurant. He hadn’t known his grandparents had had this much ambition about the place.
But plans like this would bring the inn into the modern era and make it extremely competitive. Keeping it quaint and homey, the place would be a destination for weddings, receptions, parties, and reunions.
Except expansion took cash. Which he did not have. And he was probably selling. Stan from the bank had suggested Ben look for an investor, but that took a ton of time and work. Which made the two lost weeks he hadn’t known Cami wasn’t buying the inn all the more critical.
Ben held up the knob and grinned. One knob. Because one knob was all he needed. Was this a sign?
