Oh no. Please don’t let it be something Richard wants to change.
Richard puffed his chest, his folded arms rising with the action, and cleared his throat in anticipation.
Andie’s adrenaline burst into a rapid sprint.
“There’sonefactor that can affect every guest’s experience at the inn,” Trenton started, his tone laced with reverence. “A factor that will make or breakanyestablishment—and that’s the treatment of its staff.
“We have loyal men and women working at this inn,” Trenton continued. “I know most of them personally. And let me assure you, they’re dealing with everything life has to throw at them—from premature birth to untimely death and everything in between. They’re hard workers, they deserve our respect, and I won’t see their wages nor their raises decreased through this transition or beyond.”
Andie took in the passion in Trenton’s brown eyes, a sense of awe rising within her.
Richard exhaled his trapped breath.
Andie felt herself do the same. Richard might be difficult and less than warm in his approach, but he was far from stingy.
“We wouldn’t dream of lowering any wages around here,” her older brother said.
“Yeah,” Emmitt agreed. “We wouldn’t want to do that.”
Andie nodded in case there was any question as to whether she felt the same.
She watched as Trenton’s shoulders softened a bit. He nodded, seeming to gauge their sincerity, and then extended an arm to Richard.
“Well then, welcome to The Homestead.” He shook Emmitt’s hand next. Then moved to Andie at last.
She gave him a firm handshake, liking the feel of his palm on hers. It was the calloused hand of a hard-working man; she’d never known how attractive that could be.
Andie’s chest rose as a feeling of unity came over her and, she dared say, the whole room as well. At least, she hoped her brothers felt it too—the same sense of pride and purpose. They had an inn to run, after all. Staff and guests to care for.
It was unlike anything she’d pictured herself doing, yet in the lamplit space, surrounded by her brothers, Betty, Trenton, and Lucy too, Andie found what she’d been searching for since she left her old life behind—purpose. Not an imagined purpose like the one she’d concocted with the horses, but a genuine drive to make this place the best it could be.
Throughout the meeting, that sense of unity and respect held firm. As they discussed nightly rates, check-out times, and seasonal vacancies per the average year, Trenton’s speech of sorts replayed in Andie’s mind. Each time, Trenton’s words—his passion, his overall sense of goodness—settled into deep and unexplored parts of Andie’s heart.
“Well, I think this meeting was a great success,” Betty said as they wrapped things up for the night. “I’d like to add that, as management, owners, and what have you, Milt and I always felt we should join in on the action, and that’s how we taught Trenton as well. We found that spending time with our guests creates a sense of family and unity. It makes people, even the staff, feel at home.”
“I like that,” Andie said, another wave of appreciation moving through her.
There was still a long way to go. One of the most pressing matters being that of the additions each needed to make in the months ahead. That thought pressed at Andie as they brought things to a close.
“One last thing,” she piped as the worn-down shed came to mind. Richard had addressed the plans he hoped to implement. Emmitt had brought up some projects he wanted to pursue. And while Andie had mentioned a few ideas of her own, she’d forgotten the one she hoped to work on first. She couldn’t imagine anyone would have an objection to it, but she may as well check off the technicality while they were all in one place.
“That old shed out there,” she started, flipping open her notebook and readying her pen. “It’s a real eyesore. I wonder if we could—”
“We can’t,” Trenton blurted.
The room fell silent. All but the lagging tick of an unseen clock.
“We can’t…what?” she asked, heart picking up a rapid pace from the sheer discomfort of it all.
“Tear it down, take it out, whatever you have in mind,” Trenton said. “I built that thing with my granddad, so it stays. That’s the end of it.”
Heat flushed into her cheeks and chest. “Fine.” She was about to spin on one heel and bolt for the door, but Andie couldn’t let him off so easy.
“And for future reference,” she added, folding her arms and leaning on one hip. “You don’t have to ram things down people’s ears to be heard. If you have a reason for keeping it, say it like a civilized human and I’ll hear you just fine.”
Trenton held her gaze as another bout of silence slipped by. “Fine,” he muttered through clenched teeth at last.
A wave of satisfaction pushed through her.
