Reese had arrived late the night before. Her flight from San Francisco had been delayed, but she’d made it to the inn just as the summer sun was setting. This morning, after far too littlesleep, she’d made sure to pad over to her window to watch the sun rise across the Atlantic Ocean, a sight she had sorely missed in her twelve years on the West Coast.
Northern California, at least along the shore, had its many charms—progressiveness, inclusivity, a bustling tech scene—but it was never a substitute for how captivated she felt by New England. The West Coast was bold and vivid and jarring in its expanse. Her little slice of Massachusetts, which she’d called home for the first eighteen years of her life, was defined by small communities littered along the coast, with lobster shacks and town squares and more antique shops than a person here for a weekend trip could ever hope to visit.
The Stone’s Throw Inn was a perfect encapsulation of all the things she had loved about growing up in Stoneport. Set at the edge of town against the rocky shoreline, the main building was situated far enough back from the sea that the Thatcher family had created an outdoor oasis of adirondack chairs and firepits to enjoy the view.
And the sounds. God, she’d missed the sounds.
The gentle lapping of the waves as they reached the coastline. She’d always loved how they lulled her, better than any sleep meditation app she’d found since. The seagulls, possessing more confidence than was probably safe for them as they made their presence known with low, piercing keows. They bobbed and weaved and shot up high in the sky, circling for fish below or an errant french fry dropped by a tourist.
“Okay, where were we?” Reese looked up to find Hallie flipping through a three-ring binder on the concierge desk. It seemed like she was looking for something specific, though what that was, Reese had no idea.
Reese had liked Hallie immediately. She was focused, thoughtful, and had a knack for problem-solving. She wondered how Hallie felt about her parents selling the inn, if she was really as amenable about the situation as she seemed. Basically, Halliewas training her own replacement, and, in the process, giving up a family legacy that must have defined her entire life.
Reese knew a little something about that—about feeling like decisions were made around her instead of with her and that, in the grand scheme of things, what she wanted didn’t matter all that much.
But she wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes. The Stone’s Throw Inn was 100 percent hers. Hers to help thrive. To accidentally tank into the pits of despair. To plod along in survival mode as she went prematurely gray from the stress of what she was realizing was a far more difficult and nuanced job than she’d given hotel owners and managers credit for.
She touched her dark hair, paranoid that it was already happening.
Even if it were, she told herself she didn’t care. The most important thing was that not her father nor Grant nor Megan were involved in this venture. And, gray hair or not, it was a small price to pay for autonomy and control.
“So, how do you go from successful tech entrepreneur to the owner of a forty-year-old inn? Your family’s in hotels, right?”
Reese scrunched up her face before she realized she was doing it. She hated being compared to—or contrasted with, for that matter—her family, but Devereux was a big name in a small town.
Hallie closed the binder in front of her and folded her hands on top of it. Maybe she hadn’t found whatever she was looking for. “Touchy subject?”
She liked how forthright Hallie was. Clearly a person who’d grown up dealing with people her entire life, she wore her ability to navigate conversations like a second skin.
Reese was trying to soak in the unspoken teachings Hallie could provide just as much as the litany of lists and tasks that she was working to memorize.
She ran her finger across the shiny surface of the front desk, which stood chest high and provided a much-needed barrier betweenherself and the rest of the world. “I’m not sure if you like or dislike my father’s hotel group, but I can say with absolute confidence that he has nothing to do with me purchasing The Stone’s Throw.”
The Thatcher family knew that she was the one purchasing the inn, but she’d come in with an all-cash offer. She knew they’d appreciated that she wasn’t part of a large conglomeration, and it was her goal to maintain the charm of a place that had become a part of the town’s fabric over the last four decades.
As far as business transactions went, it had been fairly straightforward. No board. No investors. No percentages of ownership. She ponied up the cash, and then the proverbial—and literal—keys were in her hands.
Hallie had agreed to stay on for six months. Reese would keep her on forever if she wanted to, but she had no idea what Hallie’s long-term goals were. Sooner than later, she may find herself hiring a new manager, someone who’d never know the inn the way Hallie did.
God… what in the ever-loving hell had she gotten herself into?
In the last few years at her company, she’d been relatively insulated from all the ‘people-ling’ aspects of her role. That was a technical term she’d learned about at business school, clearly.
Megan had been the one who’d schmoozed with investors and still networked with their business school alumni while Reese had tucked herself away to tweak the software functionality and run the numbers on profitability and do any myriad of things that an early-stage founder did daily to ensure their dream could continue to exist.
Maybe if she’d been a little more dialed in on the people aspect of things, she wouldn’t have been so shocked by everything that had happened back in San Francisco.
“I assumed you weren’t working with them, given that they’d already made an offer,” Hallie said, studying her.
Reese pursed her lips. “Oh?”
“About a year ago, before my parents were seriously considering selling.”
“Why didn’t it work out?” She tried to sound casual, but she’d at least admit to herself that she was wildly curious. She was pleased, at least, to realize she was taking another page out of Hallie’s playbook on forthrightness.
Her father had made it clear years ago that she was never the sibling who was being groomed to take over The Devereux Group, and since then, she’d tried to put anything business-related to the side. It was the only way she’d be able to have a productive relationship with her family.
“It was a good offer. Not as good as yours,” Hallie said with an impish smile, “but my parents had actually started the process of selling to them at the time. The financing fell through, though I don’t know a ton more than that. Our lawyers said that deals fall apart all the time before they ever reach the finish line.”
