“Nice. A warm, inviting home.” Something he hadn’t had for the past twelve years.
Ariel took a bite of gouda and sourdough, then lowered her voice. “Caleb, what if I become your renovation brainstorming partner and you help me with the band? You’ll get to play music again, and we’ll work together on our challenges. Plus, of course, we’ll pay you. It’s a win-win.”
The hotel—a win-win. He’d thought so years ago, back before he’d started running from this rattletrap inn. Today was a different story.
He stuck out his hand, and she took it. “Call it an even trade instead of paying me, and I’ll give it a try.”
What choice did he have? Accepting her offer couldn’t make anything worse.
Chapter Four
When Caleb and Ariel stopped at Granddad’s first-floor hotel suite for her visit a half hour later, the place sounded more like a party venue than a respectable hotel owner’s rooms. Inside, an older, upbeat song by Miss Dahlia and Ariel blared from a speaker. A dozen or more voices sang along, the lyrics often interrupted by wild laughter and clapping.
“Um, I’m not sure what’s going on in there.” Caleb had known this job might someday involve breaking up a wild party. But in his grandfather’s suite? Never crossed his mind. Where did Granddad get a speaker with this kind of output, anyway?
“Sounds like a party.” Ariel’s eyes sparkled as she pulled an envelope from her purse. “I usually carry about a dozen of our CDs so I can bless people with them. To me, CDs sound better than streaming. I’ll give one to your grandpa and hope I have enough for everyone.”
“They’ll like that.”
However, if the racket coming from the suite was any indication, Caleb might regret having texted Granddad forpermission to bring Ariel to his home. He rapped on the door, not expecting anyone to hear.
That’s when Miss Dahlia’s distinctive laugh rang out.
Raising his brows, he opened the door, prepared for anything.
So he thought.
His gaze skimmed the thirty or more people in the oversized living room, lights low and coffee tables and end tables filled with snacks and drinks, and landed on Miss Dahlia dancing with?—
No, it couldn’t be.
He blinked. Looked again at the famous Miss Dahlia Denton, who could capture the heart of just about any man in this part of the world, dancing a country waltz with Augo Kennedy. Caleb’s confirmed-bachelor, former-preacher, female-avoiding great-uncle Augo. Smiling warmly and light on his feet, his little Lucy-dog sitting nearby, watching every step.
Although dancing couldn’t have been easy on the faded Berber carpet.
And Granddad? He sat on one of the two brown couches, next to Great-Aunt Annabelle, instead of the recliner he’d held down since his stroke. The grumpy old man even grinned for a change.
Caleb glanced around for a place to sit with Ariel, but the elderly population of Jonathon Island filled every seat in the huge room and much of the impromptu dance floor. Aunt Annabelle, her close friends Henrietta Hudson, the retired baker, Ray Martinez, the retired surgeon, and his wife, Peggy, a retired nurse. An assortment of other seniors either two-stepped, country-waltzed, or watched.
Apparently, this party had rolled into the hotel during Caleb and Ariel’s dinner on the patio.
“Let’s try to get through this crowd. That’s Granddad over there on the end of the couch.” Caleb motioned for Ariel to walk ahead of him. What would all this commotion do to Granddad’s blood pressure?
Next thing he knew, his grandfather had somehow scooted over and made room for Ariel next to himself. Granddad—the man who just this morning could barely reposition himself in the chair or take a few shuffling steps from his bed to the bathroom with a home health aide assisting.
Caleb puffed out a breath. Such was the power of a pretty woman.
He reminded himself to guard his own heart.
“Took you long enough to get here,” Granddad shouted over the music, shooting a scowl at him.
Just when Caleb thought maybe his grandfather would speak a kind word of approval to him for bringing his favorite singer right to his couch…
Granddad touched a button on the little purple Fender speaker next to him—wherever that had come from—and lowered the music’s volume from a front-row-concert roar to a level at which they could actually hear their own voices. Everyone stopped dancing except Uncle Augo and Miss Dahlia, who seemed not to notice, lost in their own world.
When Caleb introduced Ariel to his grandfather, the older man held out his hand. “You and your aunt sing the most encouraging, uplifting music I’ve ever heard. It’s an honor to have you at my hotel.”
Hishotel? Last Caleb knew, Granddad had foregone all responsibility and turned over this shabby heap of an inn to Caleb, either to revive or to bury. Or, apparently, to turn into a sixties-plus dance club.
