Collin looked between them, puzzled. “An emergency?”
“Involving,” Kitty continued with conviction, “a wreath.”
Collin frowned, as if he was trying to imagine a wreath doing something urgent. “Surely it can wait.”
Meri opened her mouth to argue.
I lifted my hand.
Both Meri and Kitty stopped immediately, as if my palm had hit an invisible wall.
“It is fine,” I told them quietly.
Kitty’s eyes widened.
“Lydia,” Kitty hissed softly, “don’t do this alone.”
“I’m not. You are all right there,” I murmured before I looked at Collin again. “What do you want to say?”
Collin straightened, delighted that he had been granted the floor. He smiled in a way that suggested he believed this conversation was already going well.
“I have been observing,” he began.
Lucy gave a tiny cough. Dad’s eyes closed briefly.
Collin continued without noticing. “This inn, this project. The way you all work together is impressive.”
I tapped my foot impatiently.
“It has also become clear,” Collin added, “that while you are resourceful, the situation remains vulnerable.”
“Vulnerable,” I repeated dryly.
“Yes,” he said, nodding gravely as if he were delivering an official report. “The risks are considerable.”
Dad stepped forward. “Collin, if you are about to lecture us on finances, save it.”
Collin waved a hand. “No lecture. Only solutions.”
Kitty made a low, strangled sound.
Collin turned to me with an earnest expression. “Lydia, you are an intelligent young woman. Capable and determined. A leader, frankly.”
I fought the urge to look behind me for the person he was describing.
“And,” he continued, “you are also, as far as I can tell, unattached.”
Lucy shifted, ready to step in. Jane’s eyes went wide. Mom’s mouth fell open.
Meri murmured, “Oh no.”
Collin smiled warmly, as if he had just announced a surprise party.
“The arrangement I have in mind would solve multiple issues at once,” he said.
Kitty moved toward him, hands raised. “Collin, no.”
He ignored her with impressive dedication. “It would keep the inn in the family.”
