“I mean, you’re here. So, yeah, things are looking up.”
Her words hit me harder than she probably meant them to. Josie hasn’t doubted for one second that I’d save this place. The faith she has in me is the heaviest thing I carry some days.
“Oh, on this week’s episode ofIndependent Woman, I fixed the water heater today,” I say because I don’t know what else to talk about. “YouTube is a lifesaver.”
“Proof you can do anything.” She refills her plastic cup, along with mine. “Also, I have an idea, and I need you to not say no immediately.”
“That’s never a good start.”
“What if we tried to do a fundraiser or something to cover all the costs for the B&B?”
I take a long drink of rosé. “Josie.”
“You’re so stressed, Wendy. I see it. And people love to support small family businesses. Seaside has been here for decades, and if we frame it right, we could get donations and maximum visibility for future bookings. I’ve already started writing down some fun ideas. Mia said she’ll be happy to helptake photos, and Juniper even offered to share an event on the Salty Pages accounts. We can save this, sis.”
“Gran would hate that. You know how she is about charity. She’d say other businesses needed it more. Also, it’s important to her that no one else knows we’re struggling. Mainly because she doesn’t believe we are.”
“So, we don’t package it as a fundraiser. We offer it to her and the public another way, like a celebration. The Fourth of July is coming up. We could do something then.”
I really appreciate that she wants to help. “I’ll think about it.”
“I know what’s at risk, Wen. At some point, we have to try some different things.” Josie pushes her messy braid off her shoulder and looks at me with warm eyes. “I’m not asking for permission. I’m telling you so you’re not blindsided if I move forward with it.”
I stare at her. This is Josie’s version of taking charge, and as much as it makes me nervous, she’s not wrong. I’ve been doing a lot, and the numbers still aren’t where they need to be, even with Carter’s reservation keeping us afloat.
“Can I look at your plan before you do anything? I really don’t want to upset Gran,” I say.
“Deal.” She beams and takes another drink. “I’ll finish compiling my ideas, then get with you.”
We finish the bottle of rosé while she sorts and tells me about a fight she witnessed between two tourists over a beach umbrella.
“And a lifeguard had to break it up!” She does voices for each character.
By the time she gets to the part where one of them threw a flip-flop, I’m laughing hard enough that I think I might lose control of my bladder. She offers to open another bottle, but I’m already too tipsy for that. She packs her shells in her bag and leaves the rejects in a small pile on the counter.
“Love you,” she says, pulling me into a hug that smells like sunscreen.
“Love you too. Hope you sell a hundred bracelets tomorrow.”
“Shit, me too.”
She leaves through the front, and I eventually see her walking toward the beach path. Her bag bounces against her hip.
The sun fades, and the sky turns a dark purple over the water. I sweep the floor, then throw the load of towels in the dryer. Tomorrow morning, I’ll fold them.
By seven p.m., I’ve crossed almost everything off my list. I go upstairs and shower away the day before changing into some silk shorts and a tank top. When I reach for the remote to my TV, I notice the paper bag with Carter’s tequila and chocolate that’s sitting by my door.
The rosé is currently making my decisions. I grab the bag and start climbing the narrow stairs that lead to his room.
chapter six
Wendy
Iknock before I can talk myself out of it. The bag is tucked into my arms as I listen for footsteps. When I hear nothing, I set the bag on the floor so he’ll see it when he returns. As I’m folding the brown paper closed, the door opens. Carter looks down at me with his hand on the frame.
“What a surprise.”
He’s wearing khaki shorts and a white button-up that’s open. The fabric moves with the breeze. His hair is damp, and I focus very hard on his eyes, not allowing mine to wander down his body again.
