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Cheryl shoved her pale hair back into her bun. She shot a guilty look at Abby before turning back to the boy. “You promised to stay put.”
“It was my fault. Josh kept me company while I ate, but I should have made sure you knew where he was.”
“I told you this afternoon, Josh is no problem,” Abby added. She didn’t mind the boy hanging around the B and B.
Cheryl twisted her hands together. “I don’t...”
“He’s okay with us.” Abby glanced over at Gray. “I mean...me.”
“Marion only needs me for another hour.” The young woman covered her mouth with one hand. Her fingernails were chewed to the quick.
“I’m okay, Mommy. You want a picture?” Josh pulled out a sketch pad and a mammoth box of crayons.
“Where did you get those?” Cheryl’s mouth fell open.
“I saw them at the store,” Gray mumbled.
Abby was surprised to see color brightening Gray’s cheek. She hadn’t thought anything could embarrass him.
“I remembered to say thank you,” Josh piped in.
Why did Gray have to be so sweet? Abby was trying to resist the man. She moved over to Cheryl, catching her hands so she wouldn’t twist them anymore.
“He’s okay with me.” Abby lowered her voice. “If he gets tired, I’ll tuck him in on the sofa.” She waved over to the sitting area.
“Thank you.” Cheryl nodded to Gray and then touched Abby’s arm. “For everything.”
Abby squeezed Cheryl’s fingers. “No problem.”
After Cheryl went back up to the ballroom, the small group sat in a comfortable silence. Abby closed her eyes. Michael hummed as he cleaned. A dishwasher rattled. Josh’s crayons scratched against the paper and then stopped. From across the table, she could smell Gray’s cologne.
The table jostled, and Abby pried her eyes open.
Gray was lifting Josh up. “He fell asleep, like someone flipped a switch.”
He settled the child on the sofa, tucking a throw around him. When he came back to the table, he asked, “Is Josh here whenever Cheryl works?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She could barely keep her eyes open.
“Do something for me.”
She tipped her face up. “What?”
“Make sure they’re eating. Put it on my tab.”
“I’m not charging you.” Abby clenched her jaw. “Cheryl’s my employee.” She took care of her own.
“But...”
She waved a hand in the air, wanting him to stop talking and let her rest.
“I want you to let me pay.”
“No,” she mumbled.
He grunted. The table rocked as he sat back down.
She closed her eyes again. Bliss. A few minutes of rest and she’d be able to go a couple more hours.
Gray tapped her hand. “You need to tell me what I should do if you fall asleep. I don’t want to get in trouble like yesterday.”
The heat of his fingers warmed her whole body. She smiled without opening her eyes. “If my head drops to the table, kick me.”
“Maybe what you need is to get out of the kitchen,” he said. “When do you get a day off?”
“Tomorrow,” she mumbled.
“Let’s eat out tomorrow night.”
Eat out? He was hitting on her. Again. “Gray, don’t.”
“We eat together all the time. Let me take you out for a change.”
She sat up and pulled her hand away from his. “I don’t date guests.”
“Who said anything about dating? I said dinner. I’d like to thank you for the gourmet meals you’ve served me.” His blue eyes held hers. “Think of it as an olive branch for the mess I made of your day yesterday. One more way to say sorry.”
She frowned.
“It’s just dinner,” he coaxed.
“I guess.” She nodded slowly. “Not a date.”
His gaze stayed on her mouth.
The memory of his kiss made her breath catch in her chest.
“Great.” He blinked, breaking the spell between them. “I’ll come down later and grab a cognac. There’s a basketball game I want to watch.”
He headed out the swinging door, and the kitchen seemed empty without him.
Her breath came out in a whoosh. Why had she agreed to go to dinner? It had to be exhaustion and his darn blue eyes. And the sweet way he treated Josh. Even so, this dinner was bound to be a mistake.
The monotonous chore of loading dishes didn’t take her mind off Gray. Saying good-night to Cheryl and Josh only made her remember how kind Gray had been to the little boy. He had such an easy way of chatting with guests. They had such lovely conversations, and he filled his jeans out... Whoops. Not going to think about that.
“Need anything else?” Michael asked, wiping down the stove.
“No. I think we’re done. Thanks.”
“See you in the morning.” Michael left as she finished cleaning the counter. Abby would have liked to have gone to bed, but since the sisters were all together, she’d called a short meeting even though it was nearly midnight.
Dolley burst into the kitchen, a champagne bottle in her hand.
“Success,” Bess called out as she followed, carrying three flutes. “They loved everything.”
“How’s Marion doing?” Abby asked.
“Everything’s under control,” Dolley said. “Let’s pop this bad boy. We rocked.”
The sisters gathered around the kitchen table. Golden liquid fizzed in their glasses.
“To the Fitzgerald ladies,” Bess said, raising her glass.
The reasons Abby worked so hard to bring Fitzgerald House back to its glory were gathered round the table. She swallowed. Mamma had started the recovery. When Great-Aunt Cecelia had gotten sick, Mamma had asked Abby, Bess and Dolley to take over. But Abby had always been in charge. She had the relevant experience, and as the oldest, she’d always felt it was up to her to fix what her father had broken.
“Great party, ladies,” Bess said.
“Did we have enough servers?” Abby asked.
“Amy and Cheryl did well for their first time. We could have used one more,” Bess said.
Abby made a note on the tablet by her side. “I’ll talk to Marion.”
Bess yawned. “I’ve got to work tomorrow. Can we make this quick?”
“Sure. Samuel’s given me his bid.” Abby fanned the papers out in front of her.
“What’s the bottom line?” Dolley filled her flute again.
“To finish the third floor, he’s quoting a little over a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Crap.” Dolley ran a hand through her curls. “No wonder you keep pushing back the software upgrade.”
“Samuel’s also given us ballpark numbers for turning the carriage house into the restaurant. That’s another three hundred thousand. If we add carriage house guest rooms, it’s just under a hundred thousand.”
Everyone groaned. The estimate might as well have been millions.
They talked through the possibilities and drank their champagne.
“The carriage house suites could be a little more modern. We could keep the furniture lighter and bring in the garden theme.” Bess nibbled on her thumbnail until Dolley slapped her hand.
“Great idea, but the carriage house renovations will have to wait.” Abby’s chest ached. “Third floor first.”
“I agree,” Dolley added.
Bess covered Abby’s hand. “When you moved back from New York, all you talked about was opening a restaurant.”
Abby shrugged. Realism had set in the minute she’d sat with the B and B’s accountant.
She was the reason Maurice had received the rising star designation. She wanted a real star rating to show him up. Without a restaurant, she would never be rated. She would just be...a B and B cook. Nothing special.
Dolley stuffed a tart in her mouth. “We have to finish the rooms in the main house first.”
Bess shook her head. “Shoot, what if we can’t get them booked?”
“We will.” Abby swallowed the lump forming in her throat. They had to. “Samuel’s bid has an option that allows us to finish one room at a time. If Nigel helps during the day, the short-term cost will be lower. In the long run, though, it will cost more, because the subcontractors would have to keep returning, rather than doing everything in one go.”
Bess cradled her head in her hand. “Why can’t this be easy? How about a loan?”
“Dolley?” Abby asked.
“I’ll make some inquiries next week.” Her sister grew thoughtful. “Maybe there’s a development loan we can tap.”
“We should extend that darn balloon,” Bess complained. “It’s hanging over our heads like a...”
“Noose?” Dolley filled in.
“That pendulum sword thing.” Bess waved her hand back and forth.
“Wow, you guys are morbid.” Abby figured she shouldn’t have held this meeting after a long day of work for all of them.
The kitchen door creaked as someone pushed it open. The sisters turned in unison.
Gray’s dark hair appeared in the doorway, and Abby’s stomach fluttered as if the champagne bubbles were tickling her.
“Hi ladies, still—” Gray frowned and looked at the bottle, the flutes and papers covering the table “—working?”
“Yeah. All work and no play—that’s us.” Dolley waved him over. “Hey, you know about our renovations. Can you tell us if these bids are reasonable?”
What? Abby kicked Dolley’s shoe.
Dolley glared. “What was that for?”
Abby tipped her head toward Gray and frowned.
He leaned against the dining alcove’s half wall. Those steely blue eyes held hers as he took of sip of the cognac he’d carried in with him.
“He’s a guest,” Abby hissed. A guest she’d kissed. The best kiss of her life.
“I don’t mind,” he said.
But Abby did. This was Fitzgerald business.
Gray moved to the table. Dolley scooted over to make room for him as he took a seat. “What’s going on?”
“Samuel’s just finished the last second-floor room, but we want to open up the third floor,” Dolley said.
He nodded.
