“Thanks.” I resort to dry sarcasm, but she’s not wrong. Yesterday, Gwen and Dawn forced me to relax with a girls’ spa night—part celebration of the pop-up, part scheme to take my mind off of things with Max. Infused water and a sheet mask can’t work miracles, though. When I caught myself in the mirror this morning, the bags under my eyes and my pale complexion aged me ten years.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Stacey says. “We could all use the help. It’d be a good time, what with that museum kicking off.”
Even thinking aboutDesert Dazefeels as if I’m wringing my insides like a soaked towel. The pop-up’s doing exactly what Max planned—exactly what we wanted when we made it together—but I can barely stand to look at it because it just reminds me of him. And yet, despite that, Istillwish he were here to help. He did a lot this summer, not only forDesert Daze, but for The Mirage, too.
“HVAC comes first,” I say, trading one god-awful topic for another. “Did you know my mom repaired the heat pump?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Stace,” I whine. “Why did you let her do that?”
I inherited my mom’s DIY attitude, but no matter how capable I fancy myself to be, I wouldn’t dream of touching the geothermal heat pump. One mistake and I’d face a multithousand-dollar bill, exactly like the one I have now.
“You think anything I coulda said would have changed your mama’s mind?” Stacey pulls her legs to the side so I can squeeze into the other desk chair. “Didn’t matter if repairs took her tentimes longer than hiring a pro, or if it ended up shitty as a back-alley spray tan. She liked doin’ it her own way.”
“But you knew about her repairing the heating system?”
Her shoulder lifts in a guiltyyes.
Our HVAC system crapped out this morning, with multiple valves and connection points looking like they lived through at least one world war. The maintenance guy came out for his quarterly inspection two weeks after my mom died, and I was a shell of a human then. He’s been gracious in tweaking and holding the place together without requiring significant repairs, and Iknewhe told me the parts couldn’t hold out much longer. With everything going on this summer, though, this impending disaster slipped under my radar.
“She probably didn’t wanna worry you,” Stacey says.
“But what she did made it worse.”
“Good thing forDesert Dazethen, right?”
I have to catch my breath. The barn has become a living memorial to what Max and I had for the briefest blip in time. As much as I love seeing the place alive again and filled with people, the success rings hollow.
“Hon, you gotta book a few weddings, and you’ll be set,” Stacey says. “We can hold ourselves over until some of those deposits roll in, don’t you think?”
I rub my temples to chase away a growing headache and nod. While I hate operating paycheck to paycheck, a few happy couples could make up for this loss. It would be great if they could email me in the next five minutes, though. Months sometimes pass between a couple viewing the property and actually booking.Desert Dazehas gotten us some recognition, but we need brides and grooms to use that renovated space, stat.
Because I can’t bear to talk about the barn anymore, I change the subject. “So, I heard you wanna retire.”
Stacey opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.
“Max let it slip.”
“The bastard.”
“He didn’t mean to.” Even now, I want to defend him. “It’s what you want, right?”
She deserves to retire at her age after many years of unwavering dedication. When Max mentioned it the other night, I was only shocked that the topic hadn’t come up sooner. She’s ready to sit back and relax, not work at a struggling little hotel in the desert.
“I shouldn’t have made you work here as long as you have, and—”
“Nobodymademe work here,” she corrects me. “Working alongside your mama, and with you, has been one of the greatest joys.”
“Stace.” I can’t handle any more goodbyes. The lump in my throat swells, and my vision goes blurry. “I’m so, so excited for this next chapter of your amazing life.”
“I know.” She sniffles, and the phone rings. “Oh, let it go to voicemail.”
“’Kay.” I battle the urge to pick up the receiver. “The best thing my mom ever did was hire you. I would have been truly lost these last two years without you here.”
I didn’t have years with Mom showing me the ropes. Even when I filled in from time to time at the front desk, I didn’t comprehend everything that went into running this place. Stacey stood by me, patient and helpful and always letting me lead. She had to have known that taking over made me feel closer to my mom. I wanted The Mirage to live on—Mom couldn’t, but at least her life’s work could.
My gratitude and love for the woman next to me explodes, and I grip her in a tight hug as a few tears squeeze out.
