“Looks like you’re doing a little gardening too.” I ran my fingers through my own hair.Emerald might look good in mine, I thought, before shaking such a silly thought from my head. I was an innkeeper who hosted literary events. Given the wide variety of guests who visited Chapters, it was best if I kept my appearance, like my manner, gracious and unassuming. No matter how boring and confining that sometimes felt.
“Just trying to fight some of the weeds. Seems like they can take over if you let things go even a few days, especially at this time of year.”
“Absolutely, and it’s probably the best time to do it today, even though it’s hot. Most of the tourists are over at Morehead City right now.” I made a face. “I don’t know about you, but Ialways hate it when I look up from weeding and find visitors staring at me over my back fence.”
Ellen stroked the long fur on the Yorkie’s back. “Yes, the streets will definitely get busier in the evening. But perhaps I should’ve left Shandy inside. I don’t want him to bother your guests with all his yapping.” She grinned. “I don’t call him the ‘holy terrier’ for nothing.”
“It’s fine. Chapters’ walls are thick enough to block out most outside noise, even a yippy dog.” I leaned over the gate to pat Shandy’s head, earning a sloppy lick across my hand in return.
Ellen fixed me with her intense, and somewhat disconcerting, gaze. “You have a full house for the week, I hope?”
“No, unfortunately we aren’t completely booked.”
“You should’ve rented out any extra rooms to the fishing folk. Lord knows they’re always looking for places to stay in the area. I had someone knock on my door just the other day, hoping I’d rent a room during the tournament. Which I won’t.”
“I thought that would be disruptive to my other guests.” I frowned. “I guess if I’d lived here longer, I would’ve known not to schedule this author celebration for the same week as the Big Rock tournament. But I had no idea how many visitors it brought to the area.”
“It’s one of the largest fishing events in the world, but cut yourself some slack, Charlotte—people who don’t live here don’t realize just how huge it is. You might want to remember it for next year, though. Isabella used to forgo her literary events and rent out to the fishing crowd for top dollar.”
“Next year, sure.” I mentally chided myself. I could’ve used the extra money. Although Chapters did pay for itself, I had littlein the way of extra funds and was reluctant to ask Ellen for too much from the trust. “But I’d already planned this Tey event when I realized the conflict.”
“Live and learn,” Ellen said. “At least, as you told me yesterday, you have some local people paying to participate in the events even though they aren’t staying with you, right?”
“Fortunately.” I curled my injured finger in to touch my palm. I really could’ve used the lodging fees. Next year I’d know better.
Ellen shook her head. “You aren’t as ruthless as Isabella. She had a firm rule that anyone who wanted to participate in the literary events had to stay at the house, at least for a night. Even if they were local.”
“Really?” I fanned my flushed face with one hand.What an idiot I am. Not even as savvy as Isabella, a woman fifty years my senior.“I’ll definitely know better next year. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. There’s a lot to do before tonight’s party.”
“Of course,” Ellen said. “Come on, Shandy. Let’s grab ourselves some water and a snack, shall we?” She gave me a little wave before heading toward her back door, the Yorkie trotting at her heels.
I cast one glance toward the garden. After noting that Scott and Julie were still engaged in what looked like a lively conversation, I grabbed the flower buckets and carried them into the kitchen.
Alicia spared me one glance before turning her focus back to her vigorous scrubbing of the counters. “Call for you. I didn’t pick up because I was elbow deep in cleaning. Anyway, they left a message.”
I set the buckets in one side of our deep double sink. “Oh? Well, maybe I better check that before I do anything with these flowers. Just in case it’s someone wanting a future reservation. You don’t need to mess with the roses, by the way. I’ll collect some vases and deal with them as soon as I check that phone message.”
“Don’t worry, I’m always happy to leave the floral arranging to someone else,” Alicia said, as I headed into the pantry.
Since we needed to provide phones in our guest rooms, we still had a landline. I punched the playback button on the answering machine connected to the phone.
The caller announced herself as Claire Stevenson. My mother.
I shook my head. I should have figured. Mom always called the landline number rather than my cell phone, and left her full name. She’d told me that she’d been trained to do so when she’d called her aunt in the past, so that Alicia would know to leave the message for Isabella rather than answer it herself.
Mom’s message was a request that I return her call, which I did after checking my watch. Mom had left Dad to care for their menagerie of rescue dogs and cats so she could visit my older sister, Sophie, and her family for a few weeks. Since Sophie lived in California, I always checked the time, aware of the three-hour time difference. I’d once accidentally phoned Sophie at eight, which was five in the morning her time. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Oh hi, Charlotte, thanks for getting back to me. I have some great news I couldn’t wait to share.” Mom’s effervescent tone sparkled over the phone. I smiled. While both my sisters had inherited Mom’s bubbly personality, I was more reserved, like my dad.
“Sophie is pregnant again?” I asked, since that was one of the few things that could inspire my mom to call me in the middle of the day.
“Heavens no, she’s forty-five now, you know. And while it’s certainly possible, I don’t think either Sophie or Bill want more than the three they’ve already got.” Mom’s bright laugh rang in my ear. “I mean, little Jaden is such a handful, I think they said enough is enough a while ago.”
“Yeah, he’s something else. Wait, did you hear something from Mel?” I held my breath, hoping this was true. My younger sister, Melinda, a costume designer, lived in New York City. She had just turned forty a few months ago, a milestone the family had celebrated at my parents’ home in Charlottesville, Virginia. Mel had married her longtime partner, Beatrice, two years before, in a ceremony made bittersweet for me by the combination of Mel’s joy and Brent’s absence.
“Yes!” my mom said in a triumphant tone. “The procedure worked. Bea is pregnant!”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, my chest tightening. Brent and I hadn’t been able to have any children. We’d been discussing adoption right before he died.
