She decided not to think about it and followed Lottie’s husband back outside.
* * *
It wasn’t going to work. Annie sat in the Jeep that she’d parked on the clamshell driveway once she was back at the Inn. From there she could see two gray-haired ladies on the patio chatting with the young honeymooners, all of whom were drinking what looked like lemonade, all gazing toward the harbor and the sailboats and the lighthouse and its beacon that blinked red every sixty seconds. From where she sat, she could tell that the conversation was upbeat, the pleasant white noise of summer vacation.
But Annie wasn’t on vacation; this was her life. And she knew that her plan to focus on her book promotions, at the exclusion of her other responsibilities, simply would not work. Not this week, anyway, which promised to be as busy as the week of the Fourth of July, with its pulse set to quicken the next day when Simon arrived. He and his assistant (whoever it was) would total seven guests, with the honeymoon couple, Mary Beth Mullen, and the Indiana sisters. Adding the four year-round tenants—two singles and one couple—the count increased to eleven people who’d be depending on Francine by day and Earl by night—both of whom, of course, must be worn out by now. Annie wished she’d paid closer attention to the state of their well-being. And as upset as she was about Kevin having taken off, she suddenly realized that she hadn’t been carrying her share of the load, either; she’d selfishly expected that the place would run smoothly with her barely lifting a finger.
Shutting off the ignition, she faced the facts. The Inn was thriving, but she could not sit back while two people she loved were being run into the waterfront-property ground. Her writing life would never—could never—be more important than her island family.
So she got out of her Jeep, waved at the folks on the patio, and skipped into the back door of the Inn. Francine was in the kitchen, scooping batter that was bursting with cranberries into a loaf tin. Bella was in the corner, pretending to grill plastic burgers in her Fisher Price Food Truck, which Earl had bought, not built.
“Annie!” Bella squealed and threw open her arms.
Nothing is better than this, Annie thought and knew that Murphy—though her twin boys had often been lively and rambunctious—would have agreed. Swallowing the tickle that rose in her throat each time she thought of her old friend, she picked up Bella, gave her a quick hug, and turned to Francine. “Stop what you’re doing,” Annie said. “Right now.”
Francine slipped her hand into a potholder mitt. “Yes, ma’am,” she said with a salute. “Right after I stick this in the oven. I’m trying to get a jump on tomorrow. I’m betting we’ll be busy, what with . . . you know.”
“Yes,” Annie said. “I know. I also know I told you tostop. Right. Now.”
“Stop,” Bella repeated. “Right. Now.”
Francine frowned and brushed a runaway strand from her brow. “You look serious.”
“I am,” Annie said. “Get your things. You’re going to Jonas’s. You’re not going to wait until tonight. You are officially on vacation for an entire day and a half. I don’t want to see you until Wednesday for breakfast. As for tomorrow, it might not be brunch at the Harbor View, but I’ll serve your cranberry bread, and I’ll fix something else. Maybe something with eggs. Or yogurt and Cheerios. No matter what, I promise you, everyone will survive. I don’t want to see you until Wednesday morning.”
“But . . .”
Annie walked over and nudged her with her hip. “Out of my way, please. I have bread to bake.”
“But we need more cookies . . .”
“I’ll ask Lucy to come back and make them in the morning.”
“But in the morning the rooms will need cleaning . . .”
“I know how to do that.” Perhaps she’d give Lucy a quick training on how to run an inn beyond the kitchen. After all, maybe in years to come, Francine and Lucy would be the Inn’s proprietors. She blinked, not knowing where that last idea had come from.
“But you have to pick up Simon . . .”
“I’ll manage. And I’m giving Earl a day off, too.”
Francine looked confused. “Why, Annie? Did we do something wrong?” Her big eyes glossed over.
With one arm holding Bella, Annie folded the other around Francine. “Oh, my God, no. You are amazing. But you deserve a break. Please let me do this.”
Francine laughed, then stepped from Annie’s grasp and untied the strings of her apron. “All right, you win.” She set the apron on the counter, then held her arms out for Bella. “Come on, little one. We’re being booted out.”
But Annie held up one hand. “Not so fast. I saidyou’reon vacation. That includes a break our little Miss. You are going to Jonas’s, and I am going to babysit. End of discussion.”
More tears welled up. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. But because I do believe this little lady has outgrown my bottom bureau drawer, you’ll need to tell me where her travel bed is. Bella and I are going to have a sleep-over.”
“Would you like that?” Francine asked, as she touched Bella’s chin.
“Yes, please,” Bella responded, as if she understood the word “sleepover.” She was a happy little girl and, best of all, she clearly knew that she was safe with them.
* * *
