“I can do laundry,” Dani offered.
“You don't know how to do commercial laundry.”
“I can learn.”
The phone rang again. Kate braced herself for another cancellation, but it was Rick from Coastal Supplies.
“Kate, I'm sorry, but I need payment on your account before I can deliver today's order.”
“We're only thirty days past due.”
“I know, but with the article... my boss is nervous about extending more credit.”
Kate looked at the invoice. Eight hundred dollars for cleaning supplies, toilet paper, basic necessities. “I can pay half now, half next week.”
“Cash only. Sorry, Kate.”
After she hung up, Kate stared at the computer screen. They had the money, technically. But if vendors were getting nervous, demanding cash, that would shrink fast.
Rosa appeared in the doorway. “Miss Kate? Room 7 is complaining about noise from the renovation. Room 3 says their shower isn't working. And Mrs. Porter wants to speak to you about the article.”
Of course she did. When she wasn’t visiting family in Massachusetts, Mrs. Porter stayed at the inn most of the year, always in Room 2, always complaining about something.
Kate found her in the dining room, where Marcy was serving breakfast to their remaining guests. Only six people in a room that could seat forty.
“Mrs. Porter.”
“Kate.” The older woman's face was pinched with disapproval. “This article is deeply concerning. I didn't realize the inn was in such dire straits.”
“We're not. We're under renovation, fully funded.”
“By your grandmother who abandoned your family.” Mrs. Porter sniffed. “The whole thing seems sordid.”
Kate bit back her first response. “The inn is improving. You'll benefit from the upgrades.”
“Will I? Or will you price us loyal customers out?” Mrs. Porter gestured at the half-empty dining room. “I come here because it's affordable and familiar. Not fancy.”
Before Kate could respond, a crash came from above. Plaster dust drifted down from the ceiling. Ben's crew was starting on the second-floor bathrooms.
“Unacceptable,” Mrs. Porter declared. “I'll be checking out.”
“Mrs. Porter, please...”
But she was already heading upstairs to pack.
Kate returned to the desk to process yet another checkout. Tom appeared, looking worse than yesterday. His shirt was wrinkled, his usually perfect hair unkempt.
“I've been on the phone with my contacts at the paper,” he said. “They won't retract without proof of inaccuracy.”
“It's all accurate, just private.”
“Exactly the problem.” Tom pulled up a chair. “We need damage control. Maybe a counter-article? Human interest piece about Pop's care, family reunion, renovations?”
“More publicity?”
“Strategic publicity.”
The front door opened and Ben came in, covered in plaster dust. “Sorry about the noise. We found rot in the bathroom subfloor. Have to fix it now or risk the ceiling below collapsing.”
