“You tried to stop them?”
“I couldn’t,” he said, his voice wavering. “See, back in the day, your mother was an even better singer than your aunt. After she was crowned Tennessee State Fairest of the Fair, RCA offered her a contract. Your mom was set up to become a star. But before she could fulfill the contract, we had—we got married, and she moved here with me instead.”
Wait, was he saying Mama was pregnant with Ethan when they got married? She’d never thought about that, but Daddy had all but said so.
And it had ended Mama’s career, crushed her dream. “You thought you should let her have her way.”
“It was more than that. Your mother wanted to give you opportunities she couldn’t have. You’re even more talented than she was, so she felt she owed you the chance to become a star.”
“But why me? Ethan and Charlotte sing as well as I do.”
“Because you’re Ariel Sullivan—the Sweetheart of Nashville.” He held her gaze as if searching her heart. “You love people and you’re not afraid to show it, just like Dahlia and your mom. They didn’t make it in show biz because of talent, but because of their hearts. Dahlia knew you’d fit right in with her.”
Ethan and Charlotte loved people too. That much she knew. But they did express love differently than Ariel and Aunt Dahlia did.
The Lord had created all three of them as individuals.
Daddy drew in another deep breath and puffed it out. Looked up. “Storm clouds are getting closer. Let’s get you some chicken, then get you on your horse.”
Ariel was pretty sure she’d heard the last from her father on the subject. But with his answers came an understanding and a freedom she’d never dreamed of tasting.
Chapter Twelve
If Caleb had felt any sense of inn-keeping accomplishment, it disappeared at six o’clock Monday morning.
In his office—or Grandfather’s office, depending who was asked—Caleb opened the hotel’s reservation software and discovered most of his rooms vacant.
He strode to the lobby and found Sarah at the reception desk. “Have you seen our occupancy rate this morning?”
Sarah clicked the mouse and pulled up the program, looked up at Caleb. “Not good.”
Her response hurt more than his failure, which had nearly smothered her once-upbeat, cheerful attitude. “I expect to have lean Sunday nights, but this is disastrous. Especially since the Grand fixed its water problem and reopens today.”
“Most of the Grand guests reserved less than a week, so they’ve been gone a couple days. About half of them to the Grand, according to Harry. Only the rooms in Miss Dahlia’s name are occupied.”
Caleb groaned inwardly. “We need to learn to compete with the Grand. Today. First let’s look at our reviews and find out what’s going on.”
Soft footsteps sounded near the now-expanded breakfast bar, and he detected a familiar floral scent.
Ariel. He hadn’t seen her, and any woman could wear flowered perfume, but he sensed she was here. Serene, kind, gentle. Exuding calmness that helped him think when she was around.
Not to mention the fact that she understood him. As no one else ever had.
Before long, her name would stop appearing on the reservation screen. Her light footsteps would fall somewhere else. Her pretty lips would smile at others, not him.
Of course, he’d known all along that her stay was temporary. But the sad fact now felt real.
He’d grown accustomed to her routine. Her morning sourdough toast with butter spread on peanut butter. Blueberries. Sweet tea. Her smile and cheerful greeting, that crazy-cute Tennessee accent rolling from her lips, helping him take on whatever problem he faced that morning.
However, only Caleb could solve his vacancy issue. Time to start figuring things out on his own.
Ariel wandered over now, plate and glass in hand, wearing a pink “Goodness of God” T-shirt with jeans and high-heeled sandals, her dazzling smile knocking him a bit off balance.
“Where’d you spend your Sunday?” he asked for lack of a more interesting greeting.
“Out on the farm, digging up family secrets like gold doubloons. You?”
“Playing rummy with Granddad and listening to crickets.”
