Nothing else.
Outside, I stopped by cabins seven (Sea Breeze) and eight (Sea Froth), where assigned staff were already emptying furniture. Each cabin in the garden and each room in the main house were individually designed, all sharing the same ‘seaside cottage’ theme and name.
“Morning,” I called to Lani, who was leading the temp staff hauling furniture and accessories into storage. Dayna was there too—I’d made sure she had enough work to stay full-time, knowing how much she needed it as a single mom.
Upon getting to the main house, I caught sight of the contractor’s truck pulling in, followed by another carrying a dumpster.
“Morning,” I called again as the team began unloading. I headed straight to Dave and his foreman, who was already barking orders.
“Ready to break stuff?” I asked.
Because that’s what the day needed.
Demolition.
FOUR DAYS INTO THErenovations, the inn looked like it was holding its breath and hanging in the balance.
Scaffolding crept up like ivy on the sides of the cabins that’d been stripped to their bare bones, and workers buzzed between them. The upper rooms in the main house were emptied and sealed off, and the restaurant was officially indoor-only until the new deck was ready. Once work began on the main house, it would shut down completely.
I’d taken a dozen pictures on my phone before noon—angled shots of gutted rooms and structural beams mid-replacement—and sent them to Sebastian with the caption:“Progress report: photogenic chaos.”
He replied with his usual thumbs-up, then added a line saying,“Steel reinforcements in the right lighting are poetry.”
I found myself smiling stupidly at my phone.It wasn’t that funny, Ruby.
Later, I drove to town. I parked just off the main street and made a quick stop at the insurance office to finalize the claim paperwork. The heart of Coral Bay was a grid of sun-soaked streets stretching out from the main avenue. Tourists and locals loved it alike for the pastel buildings, ornate flower boxes, small shops, and mix of palm trees and tall gums. The beach promenade was dotted with cafés and souvenir shops, mostly quieter this time of year. The residential neighborhoods unfurled from both sides of the center, curving with the bay in a gentle crescent. Somewherenear the tip of it stood my inn, a yellow cluster dipping in green that was visible even from here.
I grabbed a coffee at my local spot, where a ship’s wheel sat mounted above the pastry case.
George, the owner, asked about the inn as I waited for him to make me his signature dark roast, something between comfort and rocket fuel.
“It’s hanging in there, and this brew will help me do the same.”
He smiled proudly. “It’ll do that.”
Evangeline’s flower shop, Bay & Bloom, was just down the block, but I spotted only Marcy, her employee, through the window, and kept walking.
Now, as the sky turned coral and gold, I opened my front door to let Rio and Evangeline in.
“Your fairy godmothers have arrived,” Rio called out, the ‘g’ slightly lingering in her throat.
“You see now why I couldn’t leave here and meet you at the Shore Thing?” I asked, hugging Rio first, then Eve.
“Yeah, we saw,” Evangeline said into my shoulder. At five-foot-two, she reached my chin. “But it’ll be beautiful and worth it in the end,” she added when we pulled apart.
We went inside. Rio held a bag from the health shop, and Evangeline carried a small, wrapped bundle. They dropped both onto the kitchen island, next to extras from this morning’s breakfast buffet—which hadn’t gotten much action now that only a handful of guests remained—and the bottle of wine I’d uncorked earlier.
“If either of those has caffeine, you’re my favorite,” I said, eyeing the goods.
“I brought lavender,” Eve said. “For the house. Or your pillow. Or your bath if you ever stop long enough to take one.”
“You’re the sweetest,” I said, already unwrapping the bundle and breathing in the scent.
Rio opened her bag. “And to complement it, energy drops and bars. All-natural.”
“Thanks. My energy is getting maxed out,” I admitted to both.
Evangeline sat at the table and looked around. “Wow,” she said softly, taking in the dust-caked sneakers by the door and the building plans on the coffee table. “How are you holding up? For real.”
